“You have no idea what Lady Isabel wants?” Philip asked. He was on comfortable terms with Simon, having served in the lord of Evesham’s household since he was a child of eight.
“I have no idea,” Simon replied grumpily. “My sister has communicated with me very rarely since she insisted on immuring herself in that convent. I cannot imagine why she is so insistent that she must see me now.”
In the distance, Philip saw the spire of the abbey church appear over the trees. He pointed it out to his lord.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “You shall know soon enough.”
Isabel de Leon’s brother and his retinue rode up to the gatehouse of the convent just as the bells were ringing for vespers. The portress told them that they were expected and that rooms in the guest house had been prepared. She summoned grooms to take their horses, and a lay sister to show them the way to their quarters.
Simon could see Isabel after vespers in the cloister, the portress said as they prepared to follow the lay sister across the now-muddy courtyard. In the meanwhile, a cold collation would be served to them in the guest house hall.
“Thank you, Sister,” Simon responded courteously. “Something to eat would be greatly appreciated.”
After they had entered the guest house, Philip accompanied Simon to his room in order to relieve him of his mail. Worcester was officially under the governance of Stephen, and it was wise for any person who might be suspected of favoring Earl Robert and the empress to tread carefully in this part of the world. Simon’s whole party had ridden from Evesham wearing mail shirts under their surcoats.
The room Simon had been given was scarcely luxurious, containing only a bed, one chair, and a small table with a plain pottery washbasin, a pitcher with water in it, and a solitary cup. Philip glanced out the single small window as he waited for Simon to drink some water.
The stone of the abbey buildings looked silvery in the steadily falling rain. He looked across the courtyard at the church and imagined the nuns in their places for vespers, hidden from public view behind a carved altar screen.
Philip knew very little about his lord’s sister except that she had once been married to the Earl of Wiltshire and that after his death she had chosen to reside in a convent rather than to marry again. The lords of Evesham had always been patrons of the abbey of Worcester, which was why she had been sent to this particular institution.
In all these years, however, Isabel had never taken the vows that would have made her a nun. For the last thirteen years she had been content to live as a humble lay sister, working with her hands, doing menial tasks that Philip knew his lord disapproved of.
Simon put down the cup from which he had been drinking and said, “I am ready for you to undress me, Philip.”
They had brought no squires with them, so it was Philip’s place to perform a squire’s service for his lord.
The young knight went to Simon, unbuckled his belt, and lifted off his sword. Next Simon raised his arms so that the blue wool surcoat could be lifted over his head, revealing the mail shirt he wore beneath. Philip laid aside the surcoat and began to unfasten the shoulder buckles that held the mail hauberk in place. Once that was off and Simon was standing in just his linen shirt and leggings, he knelt to undo the spurs that were strapped to his lord’s boots.
There came a knock upon the door and Philip went to open it. A young girl stood there holding a pitcher of water and a towel. He thanked her courteously, took the items, and went to pour the water into the basin so that Simon could wash.
Once Simon was dressed in fresh clothes, Philip went to the room he was sharing with the other knights and one of them helped him take off his own mail. Then they all went down to supper in the small dining hall of the guest house, where they were the only guests in attendance.
After supper was over, the same young girl who had brought the water earlier arrived to escort Simon to his sister. Philip and the other knights stayed behind in the dining hall, finishing their wine and talking in carefully lowered voices.
None of them was completely comfortable being lodged in a convent.
Finally, after the wine was done, two of the knights announced that they were going to go to the stables to check on the horses. The rain had stopped and Philip, who wanted an excuse to get out into the cool evening air, decided to go along with them. He was at the door of the dining hall when he was intercepted by a young novice dressed in a shapeless brown wool dress, who told him that his lord wished him to come to the cloister.
The girl was wearing high wooden pattens to protect her feet from the mud, and Philip followed her across the yard and around to the cloister at the back of the church.
The Worcester Abbey cloister formed a perfect square of stone arches around an open courtyard. Sitting in the middle of the courtyard upon a stone bench were a man and a woman.
The evening sun slanted over the west archways of the cloister and fell on the grass of the courtyard, which still sparkled with drops from the rain that had fallen earlier. The air smelled fresh and clean. Philip crossed the courtyard and came to a halt in front of the two on the bench.
“You wished to see me, my lord?” he asked respectfully.
“Aye,” Simon returned. He turned to the woman beside him on the bench and said, “This is the knight I told you about, Isabel.”
For the first time Philip turned his eyes to look at Simon’s sister.
He saw a face that, while no longer young, was still heartbreakingly beautiful. Isabel’s veil concealed the color of her hair, but her perfectly arched eyebrows were a glossy black. Her eyes were dark dark blue. The merciless light from the setting sun exposed fine lines at the corners of those eyes, but nothing would ever detract from the perfect bone structure that lay beneath her delicate fair skin.
Her eyes were regarding him searchingly, and there was a definite look of strain in their dark blue depths. He met her gaze squarely and tried not to look as dazzled as he felt.
She turned back to her brother and said a little doubtfully, “He is very young, Simon.”
“He is a very competent young man, Isabel,” Simon replied.
Philip stood in front of them and waited.
After a minute she said, “I had hoped you could go yourself.”
“It is impossible.” Simon sounded grim. “I expect to hear from Earl Robert any day now. I cannot be away from Evesham.”
A faint frown dented the skin between her perfect eyebrows.
“Are you absolutely certain that you want to do this, Isabel?” Simon asked. “Frankly, I think Nigel Haslin is so desperate to replace Guy with a new earl that he is seeing in this boy only what he wishes to see. There is small likelihood that Hugh is still alive after all these years.”
“Nigel would not have sent to tell me about this boy if he was not certain that he is my son,” Isabel said. Her voice was quiet, but Philip could hear the emotion that she was trying to keep in check. “He is a kind man, Nigel Haslin. He would not seek to torment me with a pretender.”
“Isabel…” Simon said wearily.
“I have never believed that Hugh was dead,” Isabel said. “They never found his body.”
“If he was alive, he would have tried to reach you,” Simon said.
“Perhaps not.” Isabel’s voice was full of pain. “I was not a good mother to him, Simon. It is quite possible that he did not trust me to take care of him.” She looked down at the tips of the brown leather shoes that peered out from beneath her brown wool skirt. “I did not take very good care of him when he was a child.”
“You did the best that you could,” Simon said gruffly.
She shook her head.
Simon sighed. “I suppose you will not rest easy until we have sent someone to identify this boy.”
She swallowed. Philip had to restrain himself from reaching out a hand to comfort her. “No,” she said. “I won’t.”