Выбрать главу

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘There is not another like Aelle. He has no child of his own and his successor is his cousin’s son, a weak-minded fool who wishes nothing more than to hunt fowl in the marshes by day and whittle wood in the evening.’

‘I pray,’ Ambrose said gravely, ‘that you are right.’

‘I am,’ Isabella said firmly. ‘The Saltwych community has had its time and will degenerate to nothing.’ Then, as if surprised at her own prophetic words, she said ‘Oh!’

Ambrose got up and embraced both her and Brice. ‘I will send word of this happy news to your kin at Readingbrooke,’ he said, with a warm smile for Isabella. Then, delight flooding his face, ‘And, indeed, we must also impart the miraculous tidings that Galiena is returned to us. But for now we will drink the health of the newly betrothed couple!’ Turning towards the door that led to the kitchens, he shouted, ‘Julian! Bring us the best wine!’

As the day reached and passed noon, Helewise felt that she should set out back to Hawkenlye. The revelries at Ryemarsh were clearly going to continue for quite a time and, she thought, why not? Both couples had something to celebrate; a betrothal in one case and a joyous and unexpected reunion in the other. She hoped that Josse might offer to ride with her but, failing that, that Ambrose would supply an escort from his household.

She had spoken quietly to Ambrose and he had asked that the Hawkenlye community say masses for the soul of his groom, Dickon. To her surprise, he had added, ‘And, for all that she was a pagan and set out to do me great harm, please also pray for the woman who impersonated my wife.’ He paused, then whispered, ‘Now let her be buried under her own name.’

Guessing that he probably felt a superstitious dread at the thought of the Hawkenlye grave that was marked with his wife’s name, Helewise nodded.

Josse must have guessed that she wanted to be on the road for, as soon as they had finished the midday meal — which took a long time — he approached her and said, ‘I am ready to leave as soon as you give the word, my lady. We can be back at the Abbey by nightfall.’

Ambrose, Galiena, Brice and Isabella all came out to the courtyard to see them off. Helewise was helped on to the golden mare, Honey, and Josse swung up into Horace’s saddle; both horses looked sleek and well fed from their brief stay in the Ryemarsh stables and Josse muttered to Helewise that they had a lively ride ahead of them.

‘I will visit Hawkenlye soon, if I may,’ Galiena called out.

And Helewise, understanding, called back, ‘You will be welcome, you and your lord.’

But Josse, looking down at the radiant girl and her dignified husband, his lined face filled with a luminous joy that took years from him, muttered, ‘Perhaps it will not prove necessary.’

They did indeed have an exciting ride. Sensing the mare’s impatience, Helewise held her in; there was one more thing she wanted to ask. ‘Sir Josse,’ she said when they were out of sight of Ryemarsh, ‘why did you question Isabella so closely concerning the murder of her husband?’

‘It seemed cruel to you, my lady, that I pressed her hard?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But I am sure you had your reasons.’

He said, after thinking for a few moments, ‘I saw her deliberately fly her hawk at Aelle. He was chasing us and he would doubtless have harmed some or all of us had he caught up with us; he had already given poor Brice that alarming bruise on his face. Isabella’s intention was clearly to defend us. But still, it was a calculated act and it is certain that the hawk’s attack probably blinded Aelle and caused him to fall to his death.’

She understood. ‘And you wished to reassure yourself that she acted out of what she saw as necessity,’ she commented. ‘She was, in short, not only protecting her friends but also, and perhaps more crucially, avenging her late husband.’

‘Exactly,’ Josse replied.

And, despite her own misgivings, Helewise decided from his set expression that it was probably best to say no more about it.

The lively horses were eager to run and at first Josse — who, as always, had been displaying his usual uneasiness in the company of the golden mare — seemed anxious in case Helewise could not stand a full gallop. But now she was impatient to be home. I’ll show him, she thought gleefully, I’ll prove that, although I’m a nun, I haven’t forgotten how to ride!

With a cry of delight, she kicked her heels into Honey’s sides and felt the mare leap off. Flying, feeling the wind of their fast passage tear at her veil, she heard Horace’s thundering hooves beat against the hard ground as Josse came after her. And she found herself laughing from sheer happiness.

She had been back at Hawkenlye for a day when Isabella came to speak to her. Helewise had spent some time thinking back over the impostor’s time at Hawkenlye and several things that had puzzled her about the woman whom she had believed to be Galiena Ryemarsh were now clarified. Why she had been so heavily veiled all the time, for example. Why she had refused to pray in the Abbey church but instead spent her time crouched in the corner of the shrine down in the Vale. Why she had shouted at poor Saul when he went in to clean the steps. Why, too, the serving woman, Aebba, had slipped away to the forest; she must have been looking for her accomplice, desperate to speak to Fritha so that the two of them might find a way to deal with the unexpected arrival of Ambrose.

And now that poor young woman — that pregnant young woman — was dead. It was, thought Helewise, all very sad.

It was a relief when Isabella was announced. She had brought her two children with her and Brice had escorted them all to the Abbey. She wished, however, to speak to Helewise alone and so Brice was going to take the children off down to the Vale to see Josse. Josse was about to return to New Winnowlands and now, Helewise thought, feeling pleased for him, he would have company on the road home because Isabella’s party had only come for a brief visit and would ride away with him.

The children had been brought in to be presented to Helewise. The handsome young son had nice manners, she thought, and she noticed in passing that Isabella’s daughter had her mother’s wide eyes, although their colour was different …

When the others had left the two women alone in the privacy of Helewise’s room, she turned to her guest and said, ‘Now, Isabella. What can I do for you?’

‘It is a question of what I can do for you, my lady Abbess,’ Isabella replied.

‘Indeed? Please, go on.’

‘I have been speaking to Ambrose about the woman who pretended to be Galiena,’ Isabella said. ‘I knew her. Fritha was also a child of the Saltwych community, as no doubt you realised, and she was closely related to Galiena. She was her half-sister, born to the same mother but by a different father.’

‘She resembled Galiena quite closely,’ Helewise said. ‘As you do too.’

Isabella smiled. ‘I am related by blood to Galiena but it is not such a close tie. She is my second cousin. There are few families at Saltwych and most of the people are distantly related. But, if I may return to the reason for my visit, it is to ask you whether you and your nuns have resolved the question of how Fritha died.’

‘I regret to say that we have not,’ Helewise admitted. Watching Isabella’s calm face, she decided not to mention the fact that the dead woman had been pregnant. If Isabella did not know — and it was difficult to see how she could have done — then there did not seem any need to tell her. ‘Poison was administered,’ she said, ‘of that my infirmarer is reasonably certain, for there seems no other way to explain Fritha’s terrible, fatal symptoms.’