The Boy's Tale (6 page)

"And lived away in the country as much as might be and made a happiness for her and Lord Owen. But now the lords of the Council know," Maryon said, "and there'll be no more peace for her, poor lady, or for Lord Owen. Or for the children."

The pity sounded real, and the affection, too, emotions Frevisse had never seen in Maryon before. They might be feigned; she did not doubt Maryon was capable of great deceit when it served her purpose or the purpose of those she served. But the danger to the children this afternoon had been real, and so had Maryon and Jenet's fear. Despite herself, Frevisse heard herself asking, "What lords?"

"My lady most fears Gloucester." The King's uncle, and, until such time as King Henry had a son of his own, the King's heir since the death of the duke of Bedford last year. "But there's the bishop of Winchester, too, and the lords that follow him against Gloucester. He'll not be behindhand in a matter like this."

Frevisse had occasion to know something of the bishop of Winchester firsthand and did not argue that but said instead, "Your lady lied to my uncle five years ago when he came to her with suspicion of what she'd done."

Maryon's tone went milk-smooth again. "She told him true that she was secretly wed and would have a child by spring."

"And left out that she had two sons already," Frevisse said tartly. "Couldn't she have trusted him even that far?"

"He trusted you with that knowledge," Maryon said with a trace of that edge again. "Whom have you trusted with it?"

"No one."

Maryon was silent while she tested that reply. Then with a little nod, she said, "That was well done. And as to the rest, what isn't known can't be told. Even now. We don't know how much is known or by whom for certain. Word simply came that the boys were known of and men were coming for them. We left within the hour after that."

"And hope to reach Wales."

"Their father's people will keep them safe there."

"Until—" Frevisse cut off the question abruptly; her curiosity was taking her too far into things she had no need to know. Instead she said, "We'll give you what protection we can." She heard Maryon's held breath go out of her in a long sigh. "But the sheriff and crowner have to come because of the deaths. There'll be questions asked and you'll have to answer. Your being in the cloister will be suspicious."

'Then I'll go to stay in the guesthall. That will make it simpler." And put her in more peril if her fears were real, and there were men dead to prove they were. "But let the boys, and Jenet to care for them, stay in the cloister."

"There's a child here already. Lord Warenne's daughter. The boys can join her at her lessons, as if they're meant to be here, too. If no one mentions them as being with you, then it might be all right. And they'll be in the cloister and. safe."

She could feel Maryon nodding vigorously. "That might work. It might. Did you try your theory of the boys' parentage on anyone before me?"

"No. But I'm going to have to tell Domina Edith what's toward and ask her approval for it."

"Why?"

"Because she is
my
lady," Frevisse said, "and she still guides St. Friedeswide's."

"They say she's dying."

"But neither dead nor witless yet," Frevisse said.

"And you trust her."

"More than I trust myself."

Maryon's fingers moved on Frevisse's arm as if counting possibilities in the dark, before she let go and said, "All right. But no one else."

"No one else," Frevisse agreed readily; and wondered how she had come to be—because she had assuredly not meant to be—in conspiracy with Maryon, who of all the people she had met in her life was among the most smoothly deceitful.

Chapter
5

The priory's peace was undisturbed in the night, and the midnight office and the dawn's prayers and then breakfast gave no chance for talk among the nuns. Frevisse, for the sake of sleep and to give her full attendance to prayers in their time, had let yesterday's turmoil go from her mind until the problem of their guests needed to be dealt with again, but all through the nuns' light breakfast of yesterday's bread and a cup of flat ale in the refectory she was increasingly aware that Dame Alys must have used yesterday's recreation time to talk at large about what had happened. Under the overt obedience to the rule of silence, there was a tremble of excitement among the nuns, with many glances exchanged, raised eyebrows, and questioning looks. Changes in daily life were few at St. Frideswide's and excitements fewer. Frevisse knew the most would be made of this one, and they did not even know yet about the wounded man in the guesthouse and all the dead. She was not looking forward to chapter meeting this morning, their daily discussion of nunnery business, when they would all be free to ask questions. But at least through breakfast the Rule's injunction to silence held, for though Domina Edith was of necessity not there, Dame Claire was in her place with her authority and her keen eyes moved from nun to nun, reminding them of their duty to eat and be silent for now.

Breakfast was followed by Mass. Then from the church they went to chapter, following which, in the usual way of things, they would scatter to their morning's duties. These warm summer mornings it was usually a tedium to gather in the room that served as chapter house, to sit about on their stools while one and another piece of business was brought out for discussion, and accusations and admittance of misbehavior among themselves were made and disciplines given. But today most of them bustled briskly along the cloister walk, with Dame Alys nearly treading on Dame Claire's heels.

Frevisse, less eager, came last, in no hurry for what was to come. Ahead of her Sister Thomasine, too, walked at her usual measured pace, head down, hands folded into her opposite sleeves. Frevisse supposed it possible she was unaware there was any particular excitement today at all. Given a chance, Sister Thomasine had the admirable ability to lose herself so deeply in contemplation and prayer that she forgot where she was or what other task she was doing even while she went on doing it. There was almost unanimous agreement throughout the priory that she was on her way to sainthood. Assuredly she was the most devout person Frevisse had ever encountered and, unless Frevisse prayed very hard against her own inclination, also one of the most annoying.

Dame Claire waited outside the door while the nuns filed past her into the room and went to stand before their stools; then waited a little longer for Father Henry, the priory's priest, to come hasting from the vestry to join them. His naturally red face was brighter than usual from his hurry as he strode firmly into the room and took his place beside the prioress's high-backed chair. With everyone now in their places, Dame Claire crossed with her measured, quiet tread to Domina Edith's chair, faced them, and said in her deep, clear voice,
"Dominus vobiscum."
The Lord be with you.

"Et cum spiritu tuo,"
they responded. And with your spirit.

At Dame Claire's gesture, they all sat down together in a rustle of skirts and slight scraping of stool legs on the wooden floor but otherwise in scrupulous silence. Dame Claire's present authority was imposed on her, not desired, but that did not save her from her responsibilities nor excuse any of them from obedience to her. She regarded them wordlessly. Impatient to begin, they looked back at her, amusing Frevisse by how their faces gave away so much of who they were and what they were thinking. Or not thinking, as the case might be. Dame Alys was surly, ill-tempered as always against the world but more particularly today because of the present intrusion into the cloister. Sister Emma and Sister Amicia, shallow as a pair of plates, leaned toward one another, stifling nervous giggles of anticipation in their sleeves. Sister Lucy, Sister Juliana, and Dame Perpetua were on their dignity, attempting to show they were noticing neither the would-be gigglers nor Dame Alys's swelling ire. Only Sister Thomasine was, as usual, apparently oblivious, seated on her preferred stool well to one side and to the back, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes downcast, ready for whatever was to come.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

They crossed themselves and bowed their heads for the prayer to the Holy Spirit for guidance and blessing on the meeting. That done, Father Henry read the portion of St. Benedict's Rule designated for the day, first in his halting Latin and then in English, followed it with a brief platitude meant to serve as commentary, blessed them, and left with rather more haste than dignity, probably sensing what was about to come.

But Dame Claire forestalled them all again by saying, "To calm and settle ourselves, unsettled as we are by these present matters, we will do a silent paternoster now."

Dame Alys visibly swelled with indignation. A fragment of a giggle escaped Sister Amicia despite herself. Without bothering to look at her, Dame Claire said, "A score of aves on your knees before the altar before Compline." Everyone's heads bent quickly and the room was quiet for a parternoster while until a tiny, uneven stir of fabric marked each of them crossing themselves as they finished.

Subdued but undeniable, expectation still showed on most of their faces.

"I suppose," Dame Claire said, "our first business must be the matter of our sudden guests and the satisfying of your curiosity over what happened yesterday."

Nods more eager than judicious agreed with her.

She turned her gaze on Frevisse. "You know as much of this as anyone, and I believe you spoke with Master Naylor at the end yesterday. There's been no word else since then, to change matters, so would you tell us what you understand happened and what Master Naylor had to say, Dame Frevisse?"

All their attention turned toward Frevisse who, keeping her tone and expression neutral, said, "A party of travelers was attacked near here, by outlaws it seems. The two women and two children among the travelers fled here and were so frightened of being followed they were given refuge in the cloister rather than the guesthall. Of the men with them,
 
two were unscathed and one wounded. They're presently in the guesthall. Two others of their group were killed and so were all five of their attackers." Heads bowed and breasts were crossed among murmured prayers for their souls. Frevisse paused until everyone, except Sister Thomasine who was always longer at her prayers than anyone else, had looked up before she said, "With all their attackers dead, there is apparently no more need for alarm."

"Apparently?" squeaked Sister Amicia, unwilling to give up the exciting possibility of being frightened.

"Since all the outlaws are dead," Dame Claire said quellingly, "I think we can be said to be reasonably safe from them."

"And. in any case Master Naylor has had the gates shut and a guard set, as well as sent for the sheriff and crowner," Frevisse said. "And the village has been warned of what happened. If there were still any danger, it would have no chance to come close to us. Master Naylor feels all is safe." Having made the point as clearly as she could, Frevisse sat down, indicating she was finished.

Dame Claire opened her mouth to say something, but Dame Alys pushed in with, "So that's all right. But how long are these folk going to be in the cloister? If they're not in danger anymore—if they ever were—" Dame Alys took a dim view of people feeling they were in danger. With her well-muscled arms and willingness to use anything at hand as a weapon, she had never felt in danger from anyone, nor ever expected to. "—then they can move into the guesthall where they belong, and save our folk some of the trouble of bed-nursing their man with the hurt shoulder." Dame Alys also had a low opinion of those who let themselves be incapacitated by injury.

But her basic conclusion was sensible; Frevisse had been afraid someone would bring it up, and now Dame Alys had, before Frevisse had had a chance to talk to Dame Claire privately about there being good reason Maryon and the children should stay in the relative safety of the cloister. Before the matter could open into a general discussion, or Dame Claire agree with Dame Alys, Frevisse moved her hand to draw attention to herself and at Dame Claire's nod said without time to plan what she was going to say, 'They were very frightened. The women and the little boys."

"Boys!" Dame Alys said distastefully.