Presently there was a soft footstep outside her partly opened door and a quiet tap sounded. Calling out ‘Come in!’ Helewise rose to greet her visitor.
Galiena Ryemarsh wore a dove-grey silk gown and was heavily veiled in fine linen, arranged so that the hem fluted prettily but concealingly around her face. A headdress modestly covered her hair. Helewise’s first impression was of a woman of fashion dressing as she believed fit when entering — albeit only temporarily — a convent full of nuns.
Her second impression was that Galiena looked older than eighteen.
‘You are Galiena?’ Helewise asked, although there could hardly be any doubt.
‘I am. Thank you for receiving me, Abbess Helewise,’ the girl replied.
Resuming her seat, Helewise indicated the low stool that she kept for visitors. ‘Please, sit down.’
Galiena did so. She moved, Helewise noticed, gracefully, and the tall, slender body sank down on to the stool in one smooth movement. The long linen veil fell in graceful folds to the floor, pooling with the grey silk of her gown on the worn stones. It was an attractive picture and, had Helewise not realised it was unlikely, she might have thought Galiena had deliberately planned it.
Galiena looked up and Helewise met the bright blue eyes. ‘You know why I am here,’ the girl said.
‘I do. My infirmarer tells me that there are things that she may be able to do to help you and I pray that it will prove so.’
‘I pray, too.’ The girl’s tone was fervent. ‘My husband is much older than I am, my lady, and our years together will probably not be as long as either of us would wish, so you see there is some urgency in this matter.’
‘But such things have a timing of their own,’ Helewise protested mildly. ‘Children are not necessarily begotten at our convenience.’
‘The remedy must work swiftly. It must!’ the girl cried. For a moment a hot pink flush coloured her pale cheeks but then, as if already regretting her hasty words, she said meekly, dropping her head so that her veil hid her face, ‘Of course, it is as you say, my lady. God will send us a child in His own good time.’
Or not, Helewise thought, although she did not say it aloud. ‘We shall make you comfortable while you are with us,’ she said instead. ‘You have already been shown your accommodation, I believe, and I trust you find it satisfactory.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Galiena said. ‘The room is somewhat small, but I shall be adequately comfortable.’
‘I am delighted to hear it,’ Helewise said with slight irony. ‘It will be a pleasure to have you as our guest and we shall do our utmost to help you,’ she added courteously.
Galiena smiled as if to say, naturally!
Fighting to keep a pleasant expression on her face, Helewise said, ‘I am told that you arrived alone? Was it wise to travel without an escort?’
‘I did have an escort,’ Galiena said quickly. ‘My maid and my husband’s stable lad. But it is quite a ride back to Ryemarsh so, as soon as the gates of Hawkenlye were in sight, I dismissed them and sent them on their way.’
‘I see.’ Helewise frowned. The girl’s explanation was perfectly reasonable and, had anyone else given it, Helewise might have been impressed at the selfless motive that had prompted the premature dismissal of the escort. As it was …
I am being foolish, Helewise told herself firmly. I am wasting the Lord’s precious time on silly fancies.
Getting to her feet, she said, ‘I believe that you are to speak with my infirmarer in the morning so, if there is nothing else, I will let you get to your bed.’
Taking the cue, Galiena too rose. ‘No, I think I have all that I want,’ she said, frowning slightly as if checking through a mental list. ‘I will bid you good night, then, my lady.’
She bowed, straightened and turned, then glided out of the room.
Helewise listened to the quiet footsteps receding. For a little while she battled with herself. Then, giving up, she strode over to the open door, closed it rather too forcibly and, safely shut in her room, cried out, ‘Well, really!’
She returned to her chair and flung herself down. The cheek of the girl! I think I have all I want, indeed! As if Helewise had been offering to fetch her a bedtime drink, wash out her personal linen or find her a softer pillow!
She sat fuming for some time. Then, as habits of charity reasserted themselves, she began to regret her outburst. The girl is troubled and upset, she reminded herself. She is clearly quite desperate to give her husband this longed-for child, and why should she not have her wish? The dear Lord knows, enough babies are born to those who do not want them, cannot support them and have little love for them. Is it not something eagerly to be desired, that the healthy young wife of a man of wealth and position conceives and bears a child?
The reasoning was sound enough. Why, then, Helewise asked herself, was she left with the feeling that Galiena Ryemarsh was a determined and ruthless young woman who would stop at nothing to get her own way?
‘I am ashamed of myself,’ Helewise whispered softly. She stood up, then, falling to her knees, began to pray. With sincere contrition she confessed her lack of charity and the unreasonable way that she had jumped to judge another human being, one, moreover, who had come to Hawkenlye for help. Knowing that these were faults she would have to share with her confessor in due course made her guilt lift slightly; Father Gilbert would view them as gravely as she did and the severity of her penance would probably reflect that. Until she could open her soul to him, she resolved that she would go out of her way to be kind to Galiena.
By acting in charity towards another, the nuns said, you could override antipathy and even downright dislike. That was why you sometimes observed a sister silently and unobtrusively performing small acts of kindness for one of her fellow nuns; it was never easy, at least to begin with, but very often, with God’s grace, it worked.
Helewise sighed. The strength of her reaction against the prospect of doing kind little deeds for Galiena Ryemarsh only went to show how important it was that she start as soon as she could.
4
The next day was as hot as its predecessor. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky and there was no breeze to cool the nuns and monks as they worked through the long hours of toil. To add to the usual daily quota of problems, greater or smaller in nature, a swarm of bees had appeared out of nowhere and settled in the eaves of the stable block. Sister Tiphaine, who knew more about bees than anyone else at Hawkenlye, was trying in vain to keep the nuns calm while she readied a skep for the new swarm, but two of the young postulants had gone too near and one of them had received several stings. From the fuss she was making, Sister Euphemia had been overheard to remark caustically, you would have thought she had been cast into Hell and was being prodded by red-hot pitchforks.
Helewise, making a determined start on her resolve to be kind and generous of heart towards Galiena, offered up a special prayer for the girl at Matins, at Prime and at Tierce. She did not know exactly when Sister Euphemia planned to interview Galiena — the infirmarer had not been specific — and so Helewise sent word to the infirmary asking Sister Euphemia to report to her as soon as there was anything to report.
Sister Euphemia came to see her in the middle of the morning.
Helewise, taking in the expression on Sister Euphemia’s face, realised immediately that things had not gone well. Reaching for the jug that stood on her table, she poured out a mug of barley water and handed it to the infirmarer, who took it with an absent nod and downed it in one.
‘That’s better.’ She smacked her lips. ‘Thank you, my lady.’
‘You looked as if you needed a cool drink,’ Helewise observed.
Sister Euphemia grinned briefly. ‘It was as obvious as that?’