The Order of the Lily (57 page)

It was some time before the girl returned.

‘You are welcome to enter, M'lord,' she announced, opening the gate and directing them towards Lady Mary's rooms. ‘Sister Bernadette will see you shortly.'

‘Where do you think the sword might be?' Catherine asked, settling the baby upon a fur rug.

‘I do not know.'

‘Did you never ask your aunt?'

Simon scoffed and turned his attention to Mary's desk. ‘Many times and on each occasion she denied all knowledge.'

Catherine sat down beside Gabby and closed her eyes. The last time she had been in this room her benefactor lay helpless in her arms, papers scattered all over the floor. The memory felt old, as though the events occurred a lifetime ago. How naive she had been. Starved and abused by a woman who thought herself close to God, Catherine accepted servitude and indignity because she had not the courage to question her circumstance. She doubted the old women would recognise the novice who had been so tormented. That girl no longer existed.

Catherine turned her attention to Simon. He was searching through numerous parchments and pushing unwanted documents aside. ‘I remember now the last time I was here, Gillet asked me if Salisbury had taken anything from this room.'

‘And had he?' asked Simon.

Catherine shook her head. ‘No, but so much more of my past makes sense to me now.'

A portly nun breezed into the room and Simon quickly stepped away from the table. ‘Lord Wexford, I apologise, but we were not expecting your visit. Your aunt is on pil-grimage to Bath to take in the restorative waters. Her ill health continues and I believe that she is to be away for some time yet.'

Simon smiled politely and folded his arms. ‘I'm sorry to hear it. My wife, Lady Wexford, is a former novice of Denny and she was looking forward to greeting Lady Mary.'

‘I am most disappointed by her absence,' added Catherine, moving to her husband's side. ‘We had much to discuss.'

‘You are most welcome to stay. Several of the nuns have confirmed your status, Lord Wexford, so I am happy to offer you the use of Lady Mary's private quarters.'

‘That is most kind,' Catherine replied, not recognising the older woman. ‘You are newly settled at Denny?'

‘I was Abbess at Waterbeach, but your aunt closed our convent. She moved us all here.'

‘I was close to many of the sisters here at Denny. I do hope I will be permitted to visit with them?' Catherine asked. ‘Sister Cletus, in particular, was always very kind to me.'

‘Then it is with a sad heart that I inform you of her passing. The winter has been harsh and many of our older congregation now lie within the arms of the Lord.'

‘Oh, that is … unexpected. I will pray for her soul.'

‘I did not know her well, but the sisters spoke highly of her talent,' continued Sister Bernadette. She escorted her guests from the reception room to the adjoining suite used solely by Mary St Pol. Catherine's eyes widened at the opulence found within. Her husband's aunt had always insisted that her congregation be frugal to the point of destitution, yet she evidently enjoyed quite a different manner of living.

Catherine accepted Sister Bernadette's offer of assistance and allowed Gabby to be whisked away to the kitchens, where she knew he would be smothered with attention.

‘You said that Sister Cletus was mute?' asked Simon.

‘Yes,' replied Catherine.

‘Then we must assume she took her secrets to the grave.'

‘What shall we do?'

‘It will soon be Vespers,' Simon observed. ‘And we will not have long to search. I suggest we make our way down to the cloisters now.'

‘I have given this much thought, Simon,' Catherine began, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. ‘I lived here for nearly seventeen years and know every twist and turn in every corridor, every loose stone and every creaking door. I cannot recall seeing a sword in all that time.'

‘Are you sure you have entered every room?' he asked as they passed the refectory.

‘Until today I would have insisted that the answer was yes. That was until we gained entry to your aunt's inner sanctuary. Do you think perhaps …?'

‘Yes, I had considered that the sword is hidden there.' Simon paused and waited for several novices to pass. ‘But we can search those rooms tonight without suspicion. Our time in the communal area is limited, so that is where we must begin.' He suddenly pulled her towards him and brushed his lips against hers.

‘Simon!'

‘No-one is looking,' he smirked.

‘But we are in a … in a …'

‘What? A corridor?'

‘That is not what I mean and you know it!' Catherine smiled. Her husband certainly was a daring man.

A monotonous chanting floated towards them. Mass had begun. They stepped out of the shadows and made their way along the dimly lit passageway that led to the dormitories. Simon pushed open the first door and was struck by the bare reality of religious life. A half-dozen bags of straw had been placed in a line, each covered with a thin blanket. There were no adornments, no stools nor candles. The room was freezing.

‘Is this where you slept?' he asked.

‘No, I was on the other side of the hallway.'

Catherine showed him each of the four dormitories. She left her own until last. ‘This is where the novices sleep.' It was no different to the other rooms inasmuch as the bedding was the same. However, the floor was covered in a green moss.

‘The walls have sunk on this side, so when it rains the water seeps through the stones,' she commented as though it were of no matter. ‘And as you can see there is nowhere to hide anything.'

Simon shook his head in disgust. It was just as well his aunt was away or he may have been unable to hold his tongue.

They returned to the cloister and Simon sat within one of the recessed carrels where nuns were able to read in private.

‘How often did you see your benefactor?'

‘At mass, every day,' Catherine replied.

‘No, I meant how often did you speak directly with her?'

‘Not often. She rarely conversed with any of the novices, unless it was to impart news of a personal nature or to punish bad behaviour.' Catherine coloured. She had told Simon of the times she had sinned and the discipline she had endured.

‘And this punishment took place in her private chapel?'

‘Yes, it can only be reached via Lady Mary's reception room or through the vestry at the back of the church.'

‘Show me.'

They retraced their route to the St Pol apartments, through to a door that opened onto a flight of stone steps. Simon lit a candle and followed his wife up the narrow stairwell which led to the private chapel. The oak door was ajar and light streamed across the floor. Simon felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and drew his sword. He brought up his left arm, tucking Catherine behind him, as his gazed shifted to the darkened corners of the room.

‘Is something amiss?' Catherine asked as she eased herself forward.

‘I sense …' Simon's words were cut short as a figure stepped from the shadows. ‘Salisbury!'

‘Greetings, Wexford. Decided to join the hunt, have we? I see you brought along a key. Good evening, Lady Holland.'

‘It is Lady
Wexford
,' Simon corrected.

‘For now, however,' smirked Salisbury, eyeing Catherine, ‘I am sure your mother could find you a much better match.'

Catherine moved closer to Simon. ‘I do not require a “better match,”' she retorted.

‘Not now perhaps, but once your husband is convicted of treason.'

‘Treason?' Catherine choked.

‘Not only have you and your husband directly disobeyed your king, it would appear that Lord Holland did not receive a request for the marriage.'

‘Hardly possible since Thomas Holland is dead,' Simon snorted.

‘Yes, and Joan is consoling herself,' Salisbury sneered, ‘by fornicating her way into the Prince's heart.'

Catherine gasped, shocked by the Earl's innuendo. ‘No, you are wrong. My mother— '

‘Only has eyes only for the crown. Thomas should not have suggested that his daughter take precedence over his adulter-ous wife.'

‘What
you
suggest is treason.' Simon rounded on Salisbury, his blade raised.

‘It was you,' Catherine cried in anguish. ‘You and my mother betrayed and killed my father!'

‘Come now, that is harsh. My involvement was miniscule for all that I gained.'

‘And what was that precisely?' Simon demanded.

‘What I always wanted … retribution. Thomas Holland robbed me of my fortune, my good name and finally, my mother. He deserved to die a beggar's death.'

Simon struck first, aiming at his enemy's chest but William deflected the blow. ‘How much were you paid, you filthy bastard? More than a bag of trinkets, I'd wager!'

‘It will never replace what I lost,' spat Salisbury. The blades clashed again.

Simon pushed forward, his strength fed by anger.

Salisbury's face contorted. He defended himself desperately as each attack thrust closer to its intended mark. Forced back, he tripped over a pew and lost his momentum, falling heavily to the floor.

Simon moved swiftly to disarm and sent his enemy's sword skimming across the flagstones.

Salisbury lifted his jaw defiantly as the tip of Simon's blade rested at his throat. ‘Why do you hesitate?'

‘I think it would be far better for you to arrange an audience with the King. He might like to hear of your many dealings, and pardon my indiscretions at the same time.'

‘Somehow I do not think that would please the Lady Joan, or her lover.'

‘You have another suggestion?'

‘I do,' he said, rising. ‘I could speak with Joan and plead your case. Now that she has the Prince's ear, she could be persuaded to act on your behalf.'

Simon kept his blade firmly against Salisbury's throat.

‘With royal consent you could live in relative peace,' persisted Salisbury. ‘Surely you don't want to spend the rest of your life on the run?'

‘It matters little to me,' Simon declared.

‘Perhaps not. But what of your delicate wife?'

Simon's gaze turned to Catherine. She had suffered numerous injuries and illnesses since leaving the sanctuary of the convent. She was not used to life on the road. A stable existence would suit her. Mayhap it would suit them both, he pondered.

Salisbury saw his chance and seized it. He drew his dagger and lunged.

A sharp sting tore up Simon's arm and he stumbled backwards.

Salisbury retrieved his sword and swung around but Simon was upon him. Salisbury dodged the well-aimed strike.

Both were formidable swordsmen but Wexford was growing tired. The two men fell against the altar, sending the wooden cross crashing to the floor. Salisbury groped for something to throw. He grabbed the cloth covering the chalice and tossed it in front of Simon's face, blocking his view. Wexford fell back, defending each blow that rained down upon him. He wanted to encourage his enemy closer, to lure him into a false sense of confidence. Timing his attack perfectly, Simon plunged his dagger into the Earl's groin. Salisbury fell to the floor, his face pale as blood seeped from beneath his braies and he lost consciousness.

‘Simon,' Catherine gasped, rushing into the outstretched arms of her husband. ‘Is he dead?'

‘I doubt it,' replied Simon, staring down at the unconscious man at his feet. ‘But I hope he's finished siring children.'

The noise of their altercation had roused the attention of several nuns, including the Abbess.

‘What is going on here?' Sister Bernadette demanded.

‘We were attacked,' Catherine began.

‘This is William, the Earl of Salisbury who, not so long ago, wreaked havoc upon this institution and injured Lady Mary St Pol,' Simon explained.

‘Remove him to the infirmary,' ordered Sister Bernadette to the nuns. ‘I will send a message to the Bishop. We cannot be expected to deal with this man's continuing disrespect. What am I to tell our patroness? Look at the damage!'