‘I understand, Abbess.’ Berthe’s face had set into a strangely adult, resigned expression, which looked incongruous on one so young.
Helewise’s heart turned over with pity. ‘But you may stay here, Berthe,’ she said. ‘Without becoming a postulant, I mean. Sister Euphemia is always on the look-out for suitable young girls to train as lay nurses, and you are certainly suitable, she tells me.’
For a moment, Berthe’s face lit up. But then the depression fell again. ‘It is a lovely idea, Abbess,’ she said politely. ‘But not possible.’
‘Because of Alba?’ Helewise asked. The girl nodded. ‘But you can be free of her, if she is sent away!’
Berthe turned sad eyes to her. She said dully, ‘We can never be free of Alba.’
Hating herself, wanting above all to talk to the child, give her what consolation she could, instead Helewise gave her a short adieu and, turning away, set out back to the Abbey.
She could not bear to sit in her room while she endured the prolonged wait. There was work she could have been getting on with — there was always that — but she could not concentrate. Her mind kept filling with images of Berthe slipping away, running to find Meriel, and breaking her heart as she sobbed out her story. Of Augustine, following her, watching from behind some great tree and recording everything with his observant eyes to report back to his Abbess.
In the end, she went over to the Abbey church, slid into her accustomed place in the stalls and opened her burdened heart to God.
While the Abbess prayed, Berthe and Augustine were engaged in almost exactly the actions she had imagined.
But somebody else was following behind Augustine. Someone whose involvement, had she been aware of it, would have surprised the Abbess greatly. .
Augustine came to find her sooner than she had expected. She was back in her room, calmer now, about to go through the cellaress’s latest report when there was a soft tap on the door.
In answer to her response, Augustine came in. Trying to read his face as he greeted her, she thought perhaps he looked relieved.
‘Did the plan work?’ she asked.
‘Aye, Abbess. First, let me tell you that Meriel is safe and, as far as I could tell from a brief glance, seems to be none the worse for a spell of living in the open.’
‘Thank God,’ Helewise whispered.
‘Amen. You were right, Abbess,’ Augustine hurried on, the story seeming to burst out of him, ‘soon as you’d left the Vale, Berthe slipped away. I only managed to trail her because I was expecting her to go off somewhere — she was very clever, she went inside the lean-to and got out through a loose panel at the back. Anyway, like I said, I managed not to lose her.’
‘Where did she go?’
‘I thought at first she was heading up to the Abbey but, before she got to the rear gate, she turned off to her left, circled round the side of the Abbey, then crossed over the track that leads off to Tonbridge and went into the forest.’
‘The forest!’ Dear Lord, Helewise thought. She knew only too well what dangers lurked in the great Wealden Forest.
‘Aye.’ He seemed hardly to have registered the brief interruption. ‘She headed off down a deer path, and it led right into the trees, through thick undergrowth. Then it met a wider track, which led into a clearing. Really, Abbess, you’d never have found it if you didn’t know where to look, or unless, like me, you were following somebody. It was so well hidden.’
‘And what was in the clearing?’
‘There were some shelters. Rough sort of shelters, made of a few poles covered with branches and turfs. Charcoal burners’ camp, I reckon it was, although there hadn’t been fires there in a long while. Well, no more than a little cooking fire, which was burning away nicely. Cooking somebody’s dinner, I’d say, from the appetising smell.’
‘Meriel’s dinner?’ Helewise hardly dared breathe.
With a wide smile, Augustine nodded. ‘Aye. Meriel’s dinner. She came out of one of the huts as Berthe ran into the clearing.’
‘And she looked well, you said?’
‘She did that. Much better, I’d say, than when she was here in the Abbey. She looked radiant. She raced over to Berthe, hugged her, and she was starting to say something, laughing all the while, when Berthe stopped her. Must have told her about Alba, I reckon. Because, whatever it was, it stopped the laughter on an instant.’
Helewise’s mind was racing. The great flood of relief at hearing that Meriel was alive and well was receding a little, and now other anxieties had shot up. I know of folk who dwell in the forest, she thought. I have encountered them, and lived to tell the tale. But that does not mean that I have forgotten how perilous they can be. .
‘She was happy?’ she asked Augustine. ‘Radiant, didn’t you say?’
‘Aye, both of those.’
If she has already encountered the forest folk, Helewise thought, and still appears so cheerful, then perhaps I am worrying needlessly, and they are no threat to her. But, oh, I am afraid for her!
On thing she could and must do, she decided, was to prevent any more harm. ‘Augustine, thank you,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘You have done very well. You have, in fact, achieved all that I asked of you. But now I have to give you an order which you may not like.’
‘Anything, Abbess,’ he said stoutly, bracing himself as if preparing for some risky, exacting task.
She hated to disappoint him.
‘You must return to the Vale, and you must stay there,’ she said firmly. ‘You must not reveal to Berthe that you followed her, and you must not follow her again. Whatever happens.’
His face had crumpled into a ferocious scowl. ‘But, Abbess-’
‘There are no buts here,’ she said with quiet finality. ‘You may go, Augustine.’
Obedience made him bow to her before he left. Observing the resigned set of his shoulders, she was quite sure he would do exactly as she had commanded.
Now, she thought, I must visit Sir Josse. I hope and pray that I shall find him rested and willing to accompany me on an excursion.
She crossed the courtyard and approached the infirmary. As she went inside, it occurred to her also to hope that Josse’s fever hadn’t affected his memory, and that he still remembered the way to the charcoal burners’ camp.
Chapter Sixteen
Having the Abbess visit him was, Josse thought, no rare occurrence. But to have her propose that they set out together into the forest, right this minute before it became too dark, and could he lead them to the charcoal burners’ camp, now that was unexpected.
‘Will you go with me?’ she repeated, face taut with anxiety.
‘Of course, Abbess.’
‘You are strong enough? It won’t be too much for you?’
He wasn’t entirely sure about that, but he was prepared to take the risk. ‘Aye, I’ll manage,’ he assured her. ‘Only-’
‘Only what?’
He had been about to say, only we’d better be sure Sister Euphemia doesn’t spot us, but he decided against it. Whatever had prompted Helewise to make this urgent request was obviously of great importance to her, or she would not have asked him. Best not to distress her by suggesting that the infirmarer might not consider him up to it.
‘Nothing. I’ve been up and about today, and I’m feeling stronger every minute! A walk in the woods in the evening air will do me good. Er — is it still raining?’
Assuring him it wasn’t, she hurried off towards the door, pausing only to beckon to him to follow her out of the building.
It became easier, he discovered, once he got into his stride. To begin with, even the gentle slope out of the Abbey and into the forest had him panting, and it was difficult to conceal from the Abbess that he couldn’t catch his breath.