Gisborne: Book of Pawns (22 page)

Sister Thea must have sensed my disquiet because she nudged me gently and nodded to her lap. With one hand she passed me an end of a slim knotted cord. As I watched her in prayer, she closed her eyes and her fingers slid over the other end and at each knot she would pause and her lips would move. I looked at the grubby end she had passed me and ran my fingers over the whipped cord from one knot to the next.

Unaccountably I began to think on a simple prayer.

‘Protect Cecilia, Lord,’ One knot.

‘Protect Marais.’ Another knot.

‘Protect all those in Cazenay.’ Another knot.

‘Care for Wilf’s and Harry’s souls and those of their families.’ Another knot.

By this time I had almost reached Thea’s hands as she sat blithely pursuing her own devotions. So I slid my fingers to the bottom of the cord again.

‘Bless Lady Alaïs, my mother.’ A knot.

‘Bless the Lady Ghislaine.’ Another knot.

I took a breath and stared at the window and as I closed my eyes could only see a pair of storm blue eyes gazing back. I bit my lips and as my fingers slid to the last knot I prayed in the silent way of Saint Eadgyth’s - ‘Father, bless Guy of Gisborne and protect him.’

A movement in front drew my attention and I opened my eyes to see the Prioress stand, cross herself and turn to walk to the door. The nuns followed two by two, leaving Thea and I to bring up the rear as she slipped the estimable cord and her hands beneath her tunic. I smiled my thanks and she turned away and went toward the frater whilst I went to my cell. The sky had the vivid tinge of dusk about it and I realized how tired I was. Knowing the expectation was that I should attend each devotional - Vespers, Compline, Vigils, Lauds and Prime - before Guy collected me, I resolved to sleep as best I could.

I slept deeply, and at each of the bells I barely reacted to the sound so that Thea’s hand would shake me gently. I would roll off the cot, totter after her in the shadows and enter the fusty smelling chapel. At Compline the window showed nothing but a strip of dark against the deep shade of the stone walls and I closed my eyes to doze rather than pray. At Vigils and despite my best intentions, I found myself slumped on Thea’s shoulder but she was kind and betrayed no disappointment at my worldly manners.

She passed me her little cord and I followed my self-styled prayer circuit but it led to musing on Guy’s face and I gave up and just counted my chilled toes … again and again. This was the test and I had failed miserably. There was not a shred of the religious soul in my body and I knew how false it would be to become a nun and that I would do a religious house no favours by my presence … moneyed or otherwise.

At the end of each devotion I would crash back down onto the cot which squeaked and groaned, and freezing cold, I would swaddle myself as tightly as if with a death shroud. Each time, despite the cold and the discomfort, I would fall asleep thinking on my future.

Finally the bell rang for Prime and this time I met Thea in the cloister, feeling guilty at her absurdly pleased expression. At the end of the devotional, we followed the Prioress to the frater and I sat with a huge sigh, an empty platter lying in front of me. But the Prioress once again passed me a piece of crusty, fragrant bread and some cheese and on the table was a pile of polished apples whose red and white stripes were the only colour in the room. For liquid refreshment we had ale – a shock when I expected the spring water of the day before. The light in the room was bright and the air fresh, as if the nuns were excited to begin a new day.

The Prioress led all the women outside and as I followed she met me at the door and crooked her finger. She was a stately woman and we moved along the cloister away from the nuns who had gone to their separate duties.

‘Master Gisborne will be here within the hour and Sister Thea will collect you from your cell. I am glad that you have attended our devotions and that you might have found some measure of comfort in prayer because I saw you at Lady Ghislaine’s graveside and I noticed in the chapel that you had been weeping.’

How alert you are, R
everend Mother.

‘I do not know the connection between you and I do not wish to, but we at Saint Eadgyth’s are ever grateful to she and her son. Without the monies that Master Gisborne pays us, it is doubtful that we should continue here quite as comfortably as we do.’

I must have looked surprised because she swiftly counteracted any likely response.

‘You did not know? Then I must prevail upon your discretion. It would not do for us to betray Master Gisborne’s confidence.’

I nodded.

Gisborne, you come at me always from secret places
.

The Reverend Mother scrutinized me and I felt the pressure of her gaze.

‘I had thought you were family but I can see by your ignorance of our beneficence that you are not. Let me say this. Lady Ghislaine was someone blessed by God. We loved her in her short time with us. She was dying when she arrived at our door and yet having her here was like having God’s Light shining. It is difficult to put into words but when she died she left us all better people. Her son knows this and whilst we did all we could for her and he thinks to repay us, in truth we wished we could have done more and he needs do nothing. Sometimes however, a prioress must take what God provides and in this instance, He provides us with a gratuity. We are in turn, grateful.’

I wanted to say something but was without words. Would she understand if I said that I cared for Lady Ghislaine’s son? Would she understand my fear
of
him and
for
him? I remained silent and as if she understood, she indicated my cell.

‘There is warm water for you to wash and we have taken your old clothing away. Sister Thea will collect you when Master Gisborne arrives. In the meantime, perhaps you should rest.’ She began to turn away, her robes swinging around her. ‘And perhaps you might pray.’

With that she left and I knew I wouldn’t see her again, but a new dimension had been illuminated and I stored it in my mind to think upon. I washed my face and hands, using what was left of the piece of soap, took the small comb and ran it through hair that was then twisted into a knot and then I sat on the cot, waiting.

But I was never one to wait with ease and jumped up, my limbs busy, my mind busier. I wondered if it was anticipation of what was to come, or perhaps of seeing Gisborne but whatever the issue causing my distrait, I determined not to wait in the cell, but to go back to the bottom of the orchard.

Everything around glittered, the sun spring bright. The headstones glared and I squinted as I read Lady Ghislaine’s name. I did not speak this time but noticed a rose lying with my self-styled cluster of the day before. A stunningly folded petal that looked as if it were shaped from fabric, a bud that had almost but not quite opened, as if it were shy of showing what it really was. It was as faded as a copper platter that might have been found in the ancient burial mounds that littered the fields of England. I had never seen a colour like it, almost implausible. Kneeling on the dew-wet grass, I touched it with my finger.

‘You have found my mother.’

My heart clanged but far less sweetly than the Priory’s bell. It rang with warnings of dangers past and present, of what was to come and I couldn’t help the way I jumped.

‘You startled me.’

I stood and looked from the rose to him.

‘Good morning, Ysabel. Are you rested?’

‘Thank you, I am. And yes. As you say, I have found your mother.’

I dared him to speak, to laud her praises as the Prioress had done, but he maintained a silence and I felt prompted to speak again.

‘It’s a beautiful rose, I have never seen anything like it.’

‘Indeed. It is a mere adolescent and grows on the priory wall. It was a cutting from my mother’s garden. She found some specimens of wild rose that she loved and blended them. She had thought to carry it to Anjou.’

So she was a gardener.

‘It’s the colour of old copper.’

I could barely believe that we stood over his mother’s grave and blandly discussed elements of botany and reached up with my hand, indicating that he help me off my knees. His palm slid over mine and grasped and he pulled gently.

‘It’s good to see you this morn, Guy. I confess to feeling at odds and awry with what is to come; your companionship gives me a modicum of strength.’

‘A modicum? Then I must try harder.’

He gave me that sideways look and I smiled.

‘Already I feel happier. I must tell you that I have failed miserably as a would-be nun. I am altogether too self-indulgent.’

We began to walk and I noticed he didn’t look back toward his mother.

‘Indeed.’ He spoke in a voice that had an almost invisible lilt to it. ‘Whilst the doors of the church would no doubt always be open to you, I must say I cannot see you succeeding as a Sister.’

‘I can’t imagine succeeding at anything right now. I tell you, I’ve never felt more displaced in my life. A woman in straightened circumstances has little choice. Men are able to pull themselves out of their situations by many means, as you are aware. For women there is the church, marriage or prostitution. None of those appeal and I would prefer to think I am not suited.’

He took my elbow and guided me through the opening in the hedge.

‘What would you do if you could cut your own cloth?’

‘If I could legitimately do anything I liked, I have always admired the
trobairitz.
Do you know of them?’

‘You surprise me. Such a profession! It means lady troubadour, does it not?’

‘Why yes,
you
surprise
me
that you know.’

We had reached the end of the path through the garden and had stepped into the cloister.

‘I know something of Aquitaine, Ysabel, and can see the charm of what you would wish. There is freedom for such women that resonates with you, obviously. Perhaps when this is over you can return to Cazenay and pursue such a thing.’

Perhaps I could, but whilst my Cazenay cousins adore the troubadours, they would not wish one of their own to become a travelling poet. They believe in a social hierarchy as much as my father’s peers.

I could see Sister Thea at the door to my cell and I turned to Gisborne.

‘Excuse me for one moment, I have some things to collect.’

I left him and walked to Thea’s side. She gave me a warm smile – as if she recognized the blush on my cheeks from something in her past. We went into the cell, one after the other and she gave me a small sack that I pulled open as she passed me the comb to place in the bottom. She picked up the neatly folded cloths and I examined the ache that was as pronounced as the previous day, my belly and breasts taut, reminding me of my womanhood. She dipped her head as she placed these on top of the comb and I gathered the bag shut and pulled it over my shoulder but she stayed my hand.

She dug deep into the folds of her robe and pulled a small hemp string free. It was plaited and knotted at intervals and I knew instinctively that she was giving me support. That she had watched me use her own cord and had thought to assist me further.

How kind and how prescient.

I ran my fingers over the plait, stopping at each knot and then reached forward and hugged the nun and I’m sure it was not my imagination that I heard a little intake of delighted breath.

We left in exactly the manner that we had done everything in the last day - Sister Thea at my side as she led Gisborne and I to the gate. We passed the scriptorium and the nuns therein looked up. I would swear one face, younger than the rest, had a look of yearning. I wondered what her thoughts told her; to desist and follow the Path or to think on what might have been if
Fate had
led her a different way.

As we reached the gate, I turned to Thea and took her hands. I could be silent no longer.

‘Thank you, Sister,’ I whispered as I squeezed her palms.

She opened the gate with much key rattling and Gisborne passed through as I stood next to her, almost as if I was afraid to proceed.

But Thea gave me the slightest push and said very softly in a voice as sweet as the bell, ‘Go kindly, my lady, and God bless. I shall pray for you.’

Before I had time to acknowledge the effort she had made on my behalf, she had shut the gate and locked it.

The walls of the Priory stood at my back and Guy waited in front of me, two horses held. ‘Ysabel? Is aught wrong?’

Wrong? God above, where do I begin?

‘Nothing that wasn’t wrong before, only now a lot closer,’ I replied as I took the reins from him and grasped the stirrup.

But he took it away and turned me from the horse’s side.

‘I swear that as long as I am able, I shall keep you safe. Rely on me.’

Our eyes locked and I wanted so much to believe in his omnipotence. Instead I took the stirrup again and as I mounted, the leather of the saddle creaking, I merely said, ‘Thank you. It is appreciated.’

I followed behind, my horse a spritely bay gelding, his ears pricked and his coat sleek and smooth to the touch. As we walked along the road away from the Priory, I heard the bell for Tierce. Hard to believe it was so early in the day and already I felt as if I had been up for hours. I fiddled inside the sleeve of my tunic where I had pushed the hempen string and pulled it out. It was a pretty piece of knotting and weaving. I had a thought that Wilf and Harry would approve as I tied it in a circle and slipped the bracelet over my knuckles to lie on my wrist.