The Nun's Tale
Authors: Candace Robb
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective, #Crime
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Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781446440711
Reprinted in Arrow Books 1998
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Copyright © Candace Robb 1995
The right of Candace Robb to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
First published in the United Kingdom in 1995 by William Heinemann
This edition first published in 1995 by Mandarin Paperbacks and reprinted 7 times
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 0 09 942742 7
To the people of York, past, present and future.
Wykeham noticed Thoresby’s brooding expression. ‘You think there is more to this nun’s death than an unhappy runaway struck down with fever?’
Thoresby met the eyes of the man who was positioning himself to take over as Lord Chancellor. Perhaps they were intelligent eyes. He shrugged.
‘A nun runs away to a lover. ’Tis always the story,’ Louth said, pouring more brandywine, though his face was flushed by what he had already imbibed. ‘Think no more of it.’
Thoresby closed his eyes, weary of idle speculation. He would like to know more about the dead nun, yet what would be the gain? She was dead, buried. He tapped his fingers impatiently in time with the steady plop of a new leak behind him, near the window. Perhaps the ominous ache in his bones was just the rain and his too many years of living.
Candace Robb studied for a PhD in Medieval and Anglo-Saxon literature and has continued to read and research medieval history and literature ever since. Her novels grew out of a fascination with the city of York and the tumultuous fourteenth century. She is published in twelve countries and ten languages.
Also by Candace Robb
THE APOTHECARY ROSE
THE LADY CHAPEL
THE KING’S BISHOP
THE RIDDLE OF ST LEONARD’S
A GIFT OF SANCTUARY
A SPY FOR THE REDEEMER
A TRUST BETRAYED
I thank Lynne Drew for being an insightful editor with inexhaustible patience and a sense of humour; Jeremy Goldberg and Pat Cullum for fielding questions about everyday life in the fourteenth century; Karen Wuthrich for reading the manuscript with a critical eye; Christie Andersen for a delightfully dramatic reading of the galleys; Charlie Robb for taking on a plethora of supporting jobs, including outline doctor and mapmaker; and Jacqui Weberding for navigating the North.
Additional thanks to the talented professionals who smooth the way: Evan Marshall, Patrick Walsh, Victoria Hipps, Rebecca Salt, Clare Allanson and Joe Myers.
Glossary
| a plant of the genus |
| a pension or allowance provided by a religious house permitting the holder to retire into the house as a boarder; purchased for cash or by a donation of land or property |
| a mill that cleanses, shrinks and thickens (fulls) cloth by means of water and pestles or stampers |
| men’s attire; a flowing gown, often floor-length and slit up to thigh level to ease walking, but sometimes knee-length; sleeves large and open |
| a chapel dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary, usually situated at the east end of the church |
| mistress |
| an area of the city not subject to royal administration; for example, the Liberty of St Peter is the area surrounding the minster which comes under the archbishop’s jurisdiction |
| a large wooden cup |
| a large church or cathedral; the cathedral of St Peter in York is referred to as York Minster |
| the fifth of the seven canonical hours, or the ninth hour after sunrise |
| the finest quality white bread, made from flour sifted two or three times |
| income supporting St Leonard’s hospital, dependent on the harvest (Peter’s corn) |
| the first of the seven canonical hours, or sunrise |
| see |
| noon |
| private room on upper level of house |
| a thick slice of brown bread a few days old with a slight hollow in the centre, used as a platter |
J
oanna hoisted her pack and trudged through North Bar, entering Beverley as the bells of the great Church of St John rang out. She had been walking since sunrise; the sun was now overhead and the coarse weave of her habit chafed at her clammy skin. The city’s streets curved snakelike along the Beck and Walkerbeck, and as she walked Joanna glimpsed the fast-flowing streams through the houses. She imagined shedding her clothes and sinking into the cool, rushing water as she and her brother Hugh had done as children in the river near their house.
It was a damp, cloying heat. Though this day was sunny and hot, it had been a summer of torrential rains and the dirt streets were waterlogged. Where the sun shone down between the houses, steam rose up, creating a fog that blurred Joanna’s vision. She found the dreamlike effect disorienting. The houses shimmered; lines dipped and spun. She clutched her Mary Magdalene medal and whispered prayers as she walked.
Laughter and the merry sound of singing tempted her as she passed a tavern. She yearned to enter and wash down the road’s dust with strong ale, but she must not call attention to herself in such a way, a nun travelling alone.
Not far past the tavern she spied a churchyard with a shaded well. Surely this was a safe refuge. Joanna slipped through the open gate and set her pack down under a shading oak that thrust a root up through the mud. Glancing round to check that she was unwatched, she shed her veil, her wimple, her gorget, folding them neatly on her pack, then unclasped the Mary Magdalene medal and set it on top. She drew a bucket of cool water, cupped her hands to drink, then splashed her face, head and neck.