The Nun's Tale (39 page)

‘Because I convinced Daimon that Sir Robert need not know. In truth, Brother Sebastian led us with such urgency that Sir Robert could not have kept up with us.’

‘And you in your condition? Are you to be running down the streets in the middle of the night?’

‘I did not run.’ Lucie took off her apron. ‘And now I must go and lie down before supper. If you wish to continue this, you must come up.’

Owen followed her.

She lay down on the bed and asked him to pile several cushions under her feet. He sat beside her, took her cap off and smoothed back her hair.

‘Tell me what you saw.’

Lucie described the room, the overwhelming odour of blood, the neck, the womb.

‘Why her womb?’

‘I do not know, Owen. I feel that I know nothing about Joanna. I have spoken to her so often, yet I cannot even tell you what makes her laugh, what she likes to eat . . . I do know what she hopes for – death.’

‘You should not be with such people now.’

Lucie closed her eyes. ‘I am not about to break apart, Owen.’

‘She will give you nightmares.’

‘She already has.’

‘You see?’

Lucie propped herself up on her elbows. ‘Stop a moment, listen.’ She described the dream.

‘You see? What will the baby be like with you dreaming such dreams?’

‘Owen, for pity’s sake, you are going to drive me mad! Can you imagine what sort of thoughts my mother had while she carried me? Do you think in all that time she did not remember the soldiers raping and torturing the women in her convent? And her brother impaled on a pike? What of all the women of Normandy who gave birth while they trembled in their houses wondering if their village would be the next one put to the torch? I am not ill! Your mother had many children. You tell me she barely paused in her daily chores to give birth.’

‘She was not dealing with madwomen.’

‘She was dealing with you!’

‘Well, if I am mad, it’s you who has driven me to it.’

Lucie suddenly felt laughter bubbling up from deep within. She grabbed both sides of Owen’s beard and pulled him down to kiss him.

He raised himself a little, stared into her laughing eyes. ‘It is
you
who is going mad.’

‘No. I am just content. This is more in the tradition of your homecomings.’ She pulled him down again.

Dame Isobel jerked awake. Joanna moaned and squirmed in her sleep. Brother Wulfstan had advised a strong sleeping potion tonight, and Isobel had duly given it to Joanna. Her dream must be troubling indeed.
Merciful Mother, do not let her harm herself.
Isobel leaned over Joanna, took her hands. ‘’Tis but a dream, Joanna. Mary and all the angels protect you. And the mistletoe. We have put the mistletoe in the doorway.’

Side to side, side to side the head thrashed. ‘Evil. Evil. Evil. Evil. Evil. Evil. Evil . . .’

I
t was early morning and Tildy bustled about the kitchen while Lucie, Owen, and Edmund argued about Edmund’s meeting with Joanna.

Edmund sat stiff and rigid, carefully groomed for the occasion, his thinning hair smoothed down with perfumed oil. He wore a houppelande of light brown, plain, but well cut and almost new. ‘I would rather be alone with Joanna. She will be distracted by others in the room.’

Lucie admitted that might be true, ‘But Joanna is easily thrown into confusion. She is comforted by my presence. You will be the better for it.’ She wondered about Edmund’s feelings for Joanna.

‘I should be there,’ Owen said to Lucie. ‘I know Edmund’s story.’

And had perhaps become too fond of him to judge him. ‘You are too abrupt with Joanna,’ Lucie said. ‘She will be agitated, no matter how well we plan this. But with me there is a chance she will stay calm longer.’

Edmund tapped the table nervously. ‘It is a private matter. I wish to speak with her alone.’

Owen shook his head. ‘Nothing in Joanna’s life is a private matter until we learn what she knows about the deaths that have occurred in her wake. She teases us with knowledge of them. We must come to an understanding.’

Lucie knew she should have more faith in Owen’s ability to handle Joanna, but she could not shake the feeling that he would frighten her deeper into her shell and they would be back where they had begun. ‘We must not swoop down on her like hawks,’ Lucie warned, ‘or we will frighten her.’ She turned from Owen’s irritated glare and faced Edmund. ‘Still, you must see that either Owen or I should be there. We must observe how Joanna behaves when she sees you, what she says. Perhaps she was not so when you were with her, but now she speaks in riddles and digressions. It would be difficult for you to remember all of it, and you might forget something of great significance to us. Your purpose is different. You seek your friend; we seek to learn much more.’

Edmund looked down at his hands. ‘I had hoped to see her alone.’ His voice rang with disappointment. Again Lucie wondered about his feelings for Joanna.

Owen stretched his legs out beside the table, leaned against the wall, his arms folded. Lucie noted that he had removed his earring, a sign that he was settled back into his life in York. She smiled to see it. Owen caught her eye, nodded. ‘You are thinking that it is most appropriate that a woman be with Joanna in the room, and thus you win your plea.’

How wrong he was, but how dull she would sound if she told him her true thoughts. ‘There, you see? We are agreed without further argument.’

Edmund shrugged.

*

Brother Oswald greeted the threesome with news of the Reverend Mother’s long night with Dame Joanna. ‘Not, praise God, as before. This time it was a bloodless wakening, a whispered chant of “Evil, evil, evil”. The Reverend Mother apologises that she is not here to greet you, but she required sleep.’

‘Who now sits with Dame Joanna?’ Lucie asked.

‘Dame Prudentia. And Brother Wulfstan has been within for a short while. You will find him there.’

Owen folded himself onto a bench outside the door to wait.

Lucie knocked. Prudentia opened the door and cheered up at the sight of the apothecary. ‘God be with you, Mistress Wilton. Our poor Joanna has just now wakened and Brother Wulfstan has coaxed her to drink some broth. She will be ready for you soon, thanks be to the Lord.’ She spoke in a loud whisper, with much glancing back at the old monk sitting in the chair by Joanna’s bedside. ‘I had worried that she was given far too much sedative last night ever to waken this day, but Brother Wulfstan assures me that the tisane is mild.’

Brother Wulfstan turned round, saw that it was Lucie, and rose, giving a blessing in greeting. Lucie motioned him over to her, introduced Edmund in a hushed voice. ‘How is Joanna? Do we waste our time trying to speak with her today?’

The morning sun shone on Wulfstan’s face, lighting up the white stubble where the razor met the myriad wrinkles ever more visible on his face. His eyes were kindly. ‘It is a good day for her, strange to say. At least I believe I have had the first clear speech with her this morning. She asked me whether God understands that we can be mistaken in those we love, and whether God would accept her repentance for deeds done unwittingly for the Evil One.’

Lucie glanced over at Joanna, who lay back against the pillows, eyes closed. ‘The Evil One?’

Wulfstan nodded. ‘May God lead you to the truth, Lucie.’ He blessed Lucie and Edmund, then touched Prudentia’s arm. ‘Come. Let us leave them to their work.’

There were two chairs by the bed, one on either side, the far one by the window, the near one by the small table that held the spirit lamp and Joanna’s medicines. Lucie motioned to Edmund to sit in the far chair, so that Joanna could clearly see him in the daylight. He crossed the foot of the bed without Joanna’s notice. Lucie sat down and called Joanna’s name.

The green eyes flickered open. ‘Mistress Wilton.’ Joanna looked beyond Lucie. ‘The captain has not returned with more terrible tidings?’ Her voice was hoarse, but rose above a whisper today. Lucie helped Joanna to watered wine.

‘I have brought you a different visitor today. He has come a long way to speak with you. I hope you will be kind to him.’

Joanna frowned, reached with her stubby fingers for the Magdalene medal. ‘Where?’

Lucie nodded towards the other side of the bed. Joanna turned her head, frowned, then her eyes opened wide. ‘Sweet Mary in Heaven!’

Edmund, looking solemn, gave Joanna a little bow. ‘Joanna. Or is it Dame Joanna again?’

‘Would that anything could be as it was.’ Joanna’s eyes shimmered with tears. ‘Have you come to bury me again?’

Edmund earnestly reached out to her, ‘Faith, I never wanted any part of that pretending.’

Joanna shrank from him, turned back to Lucie. ‘He must leave,’ she said firmly.

‘Why?’ Lucie asked. ‘He befriended you once.’

‘No!’ Joanna spoke now in a loud whisper, stretching her right hand across the covers to Lucie. ‘None of them befriended me. They lied. They stole my soul.’

Lucie put her hand in Joanna’s, but resisted when Joanna tried to pull her uncomfortably close. ‘No one took your soul, Joanna. You lie here before me alive, with your immortal soul still to answer for.’

Joanna shook her head in an exaggerated manner, like a spoiled child. ‘No. I have no soul. No longer.’

‘Joanna, please tell me where Stefan is,’ Edmund implored. ‘Then I shall leave you in peace.’

Joanna turned to him, suddenly smiling. ‘Leave me in peace? Truly, sweet knight, what peace might I have?’

Edmund hesitated, frowning in puzzlement over Joanna’s shifting mood.

Joanna clutched the medal, bowed her head to it.

Edmund reached for her, touched the mantle.

Joanna pulled it away from him. ‘Do you understand what you touch?’

Edmund smiled engagingly. ‘’Tis the very mantle I gave you when we were on the road to Scarborough.’

‘You?’ Joanna looked shocked. ‘Never!’ She sat bolt upright, wrapping the mantle more tightly round her. To Lucie she said, ‘You see? Pernicious liars. We must not trust them. We can neither sleep nor turn our heads. They must die. What else is there for it?’ She turned back to Edmund, who was looking alarmed. ‘The Blessed Virgin Mary draped it round my shoulders when my soul was taken away. I was very cold.’

Edmund crossed himself. ‘God forgive me, I did say it was Our Lady’s. You were so frightened and cold. I wished to comfort you.’

‘And now you try to trick me and take it from me. You have heard about the miracles the mantle has performed and you covet it.’

‘’Tis not Our Lady’s mantle, Joanna,’ Edmund cried. ‘I had it from a weaver in Beverley.’

Joanna hunched her shoulders and drew up her knees. With both hands she held the Magdalene medal up to her forehead.

Lucie understood Edmund’s frustration. ‘We must be patient.’ She smoothed Joanna’s hair. ‘All Edmund wishes to know is where Stefan is, Joanna. He is missing.’

Joanna peered up at Lucie. ‘Stefan was evil. So was Longford.’

Lucie could see that Joanna used her to avoid speaking to Edmund. Lucie moved the spirit lamp so that it would light up Joanna’s face, and then stood. ‘I shall leave you two to speak.’ She moved to the chair by the door, far from them, in the shadow.

Joanna lay still for a time, then turned to see whether Edmund was still there. When she saw him waiting patiently, she laughed at him. ‘I know you. Steadfast Edmund.’

‘Steadfast is Stefan’s virtue, not mine.’

‘Was a time I thought so. But when Hugh told me . . .’ Joanna leaned towards Edmund with a solemn expression, as if about to reveal something of great import. ‘You see, Edmund, he told me everything.’

Edmund shifted on the stool, looking uneasy. ‘Hugh? What did he tell you?’

Joanna wagged her finger at him. ‘Everything.’

‘What is everything?’

‘Stefan meant to use me and then discard me.’ Joanna lay back against the pillows, covered her eyes with her hands for a moment, then dropped her hands at her sides as if exhausted.

‘That had been our plan, I confess, but Stefan changed his mind. You know that. You left Scarborough with him. He would not have left with you if he still meant to discard you.’

‘And why not? We went down to the sea to watch the ships depart. Sebastian’s ships. We often did that. And now. Now Stefan will ever and anon watch the ships go sailing off . . .’ Joanna held the Magdalene medal up to Edmund. ‘Do you remember this? See this?’ She held up the side depicting Mary Magdalene standing with Christ before His tomb; she pointed to the inscription. Edmund frowned at it. Joanna laughed. ‘You cannot read. Of course. Neither could Stefan. But he understood what it said.
Noli me tangere.
He knew that phrase full well.’

Edmund looked honestly confused. ‘I do not understand.’

‘ “Touch me not.” Christ said that to her. She had given everything for Him and He said that to her.’ Joanna’s tone was neither amused nor angry, but rather indignant. ‘Mary Magdalene had found His tomb empty. Mine is not – did you know?’