Threads of Treason (17 page)

She had to gain access to Sister Sybil – she was, after all, from a family dispossessed by the Normans. But Therese knew so little about her views. She had not come across any occasion when she could talk to her and Sybil kept herself to herself except for an occasional conversation with Winifred and Aelfgyth. Therese was running out of individuals who could be the link between the key and the Impostor and now Sybil seemed the most likely.

Prioress Ethelburga finished reading and started giving out the morning’s work. She pointed out that the growing season was getting the better of the gardening team of Sisters Leofgyth, Winifred and Aelfgyth and that they would need additional help.

‘
Sisters Maude, Mildred and Therese will join them this morning in their labours,’ she directed. ‘The animals are out on their summer grazing now and the servants can deal with what jobs are left.’

Therese had hoped she might be asked to thread needles in the sewing room. She felt she had been at the Priory long enough. But, yet again she would have to wait to talk to Sister Sybil. Nothing would be gained from making a fuss, so she followed the others out into the garden and, once again, she was given the task of hoeing. Maude and Mildred joined her. They were grumbling to each other about being taken away from their usual tasks of animal husbandry, which they far preferred.

Their conversation drifted over different subjects as they progressed down the rows until they started arguing about the day it snowed late in February. Mildred insisted it occurred on the Sunday and Maude said it did not. Until then Therese had been only half listening to them, now she was attentive. They both remembered that some of the plants and animals had already been responding to a few days of spring-like weather when a cold, gusty wind blew up, but which actual day it happened was in dispute.

‘
That was the day Prioress Ursula and the Impostor fell to their deaths,’ said Maude.

‘
I’m sure it was the day before,’ complained Mildred, sounding more interested with her argument than the plight of the fallen nuns. ‘We’d opened the top doors in the great barn to let in the air.’

‘
Yes that’s right, but we opened the bottom doors too,’ said Maude, ‘to let out the muck wagon on the far side of the barn. The servants had filled it and it needed to go out to the muck heap.’

‘
That wasn’t the day the snow came though,’ said Mildred.

‘
Did you see what happened?’ Therese asked them, enthralled.

‘
That’s why I know that was the day of the snow,’ said Maude clearly forgetting her shyness in her eagerness to prove her sibling wrong. ‘The wagon had just left for the muckheap. I was hooking back the door. It was difficult in the gusting wind. And then I heard a scream. It came from the direction of the tower. I ran down the hill a little bit to get a better look and I saw them fall.’

‘
What happened then?’ asked Therese.

‘
I called out to Mildred, but we couldn’t leave the animals. There were plenty of people to help over there and we smelt a bit high by then so I don’t expect they’d have wanted us around anyhow.’

‘
I see,’ said Therese leaning on her hoe. ‘But did you see anything else. Anything else at all?’

‘
I did,’ said Mildred. ‘And so did you, Maude.’

‘
I don’t remember anything,’ said Maude pouting.

‘
Well I do,’ snapped Mildred. ‘There was someone in the woods. I saw him and so did you, Maude.’

‘
A man?’ asked Therese.

‘
I’m sure of it,’ replied Mildred.

‘
Didn’t you tell anyone at the time about him?’ asked Therese.

‘
No, what of it?’ asked Mildred. ‘He could have been collecting kindling for the camp on the other side of the priory. It really does not matter. Does it matter to you?’

Therese regretted instantly forgetting that the twins had already opened up to her more than she could have hoped and she had pushed too far. But this was important information – and unexpected too. She smiled. ‘No, it doesn’t matter to me. I was just curious, you know.’

Maude was frowning. ‘I don’t remember. I think I was seeing to one of the sheep. It had caught its head in the side of its pen.’

They re-engaged in their sibling squabbles and Therese turned back to her work. She used her hoe as rigorously as her mind was working. Who could have been the man in the woods? Could it have been the Impostor’s accomplice – or even the designer of the conspiracy to damage the embroidery? Perhaps she’d gone to the tower not to just try to escape but to signal to him, and when she saw all hope was gone she killed herself. She might even have hoped he’d seen her fall. And if that was the case, who could that man be? She stopped hoeing. Michael the merchant? And if it was? The child Eric could even be the Impostor’s son! Eric gave no hint of having the Norman father Michael stated. Perhaps little though he was, he was a spy. Such probabilities created danger. Thankfully the child was no longer in the Priory, but from what he’d told her, he already had vital information others could make use of. All he had to do was wait to be contacted by one of his own. Even though Michael had been arrested, there were, no doubt, others who could make the connection. No, she told herself firmly, he was just a small boy, placed in her care. Or was he a spy?

Chapter 14

Brother Matthew came towards Eleanor. Nothing in his manner gave away his knowledge of her identity. The scriptorium was on a short break and the monks were taking exercise on the walkway behind the infirmary. Eleanor had slipped her hands up opposite sleeves and bowed her head to give the impression that she, or rather, Brother James, was in deep contemplation and not to be disturbed lightly.

Brother Matthew showed suitable respect as he bowed and engaged Eleanor in conversation. ‘Brother James, I have some news,’ he told her, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘
What is it?’ asked Eleanor in the same manner. Their behaviour, she realised, would not seem unusual as other monks were talking quietly to each other. But a noticeably female voice even in these circumstances would carry like a bell across the drone of male ones so she used a hushed version of her “Brother James” voice.

‘
I have found out why Prince Rufus goes to see Archbishop Lanfranc.’

‘
Why?’ asked Eleanor through gritted teeth. She was already irritated at Matthew’s slow, deliberate manner.

‘
Prince Rufus goes to see him because the Archbishop has told the Conqueror he does not approve of the Prince’s behaviour. He is trying to stop his brawling, womanising and he wishes to modify his expensive tastes.’

‘
So,’ said Eleanor, ‘he may be disgruntled with his father after all?’

‘
That looks a definite possibility.’

‘
What happens during these interviews?’ asked Eleanor. Even speaking quietly she could sound crisp, more so than she intended.

‘
They are in private,’ said Matthew. ‘What I have told you has slipped out through overheard conversations between one of the Prince’s guards and Brother David. Indeed the Prince’s pride is somewhat hurt over it.’

‘
Thank you, Brother Matthew. I haven’t been here long enough to be trusted with the gossip.’ Eleanor noticed a change among the monks. They were separating to make a path through the middle of their number. Brother David was giving sly little glances to each monk, expecting them to defer to him and receiving their excessive respects as if he himself were a Bishop. There was no mistake, however, that he was making his stooped progress towards Matthew and herself.

‘
That information was not just ordinary gossip, Abb…, Brother James,’ Matthew faltered. Brother David was almost upon them.

On his arrival they both bowed deeply as the others had done and he nodded his head in recognition.

‘
Brother James of Caen,’ Brother David addressed Eleanor.

She bowed again.

‘
I have news of one of your brethren.’ The whites of Brother David’s eyes were heavily veined and the flesh about them grey. This was more than age, thought Eleanor. Perhaps he was aiding his sleep with the contents of the cellar. He seemed sober enough now. His persistently rude tones she’d come to expect.

‘
Oh?’ asked Eleanor trying to contain her embarrassment – as far as she knew she had no ‘brethren’.

‘
Brother Richard of Caen. He is one of Bishop Gundulf’s men involved in the building program.’

‘
I see. I’m not sure if I’ve met the man. Our skills are of a different order. I work in the scriptorium, he works on buildings.’

‘
You must know him. He is about your age. You must have been novices together.’

She was about to say that she undertook her training in Bayeux and realised that this would be a mistake as there would be immediate suspicions raised about her loyalty with the shadow of Bishop Odon cast across her Brother James persona. ‘I do not remember him in particular,’ she said instead.

‘
You will have much to talk about. He will be here in a couple of days. I will arrange for you to sit close to each other at meal times so that afterwards you and Brother Richard will be able to talk. He will be most impressed to have the company of someone he has so much in common with.’

‘
Yes, Brother David,’ said Eleanor, bowing this time so low he could not see her reddening neck and cheeks.

When Brother David had reached the doorway, Brother Matthew turned to her and said, ‘Two days.’

‘
I know, I know,’ she snapped.

Odon embraced his nephew. It was good to hold young Robert de Curthose close to him. They broke apart and made their way up the embankment of the river at Dover docks.

‘
Did you have a good journey?’ asked Odon.

‘
Thank you, Uncle. All is well with me. The little sea was calm and we made good time.’

‘
We will ride up to the castle. I’ve brought horses down for you and your men.’

‘
You treat me well.’

‘
Your mother favours you, even if your father does not,’ said Odon. ‘And I respect your mother. It is good to see you, but what brings you to England in such haste?’

‘
I came as soon as I got your letter. Such rumours of my interference with the embroidery will do me no good.’

‘
You did not need to come yourself,’ said Odon smiling upon his nephew. ‘Your written assurance would have been enough for me.’

‘
I wanted to have confidence of your trust in me, Uncle.’

‘
Of course I trust you, Robert. So much so I plan for you to take the embroidery back with me to Bayeux when it is finished. They are on the last panel and soon all will be ready.’

‘
That will be a great honour, Uncle. Hopefully the King will be pleased with us for once.’

Odon laughed. ‘You might be right, but we shall have to wait and see.’

Although time passed slowly for Therese in St Thomas’s Priory she still felt that she must act quickly. There was no doubt that the last panel of the embroidery would soon be complete and if anyone was going to attack it here that must happen soon. She had yet to converse with Sybil. In fact, she was so quietly spoken, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever really heard her speak. And Therese doubted that she would be able to make a useful contact with her before the embroidery was removed without a little deviousness of her own. This morning she had an opportunity to lay some bait to tempt any Anglo-Saxon activists out into her view because she was following Aelfgyth down towards the dovecot. And Aelfgyth would be the carrier of that bait, hopefully to Sybil.

They passed the dovecot and went to the garden store. Aelfgyth’s small body wriggled into the crowded shed and brought out two egg baskets one of which, just days before, had been the bearer of that tiny note giving Hilda’s name. Therese had to be sure Aelfgyth had been the one who put it there, but she did not wish to give away that she’d acted upon it, so she said innocently, ‘I was interested in your note about Sister Hilda.’

‘
I shouldn’t have sent it to you. Sister Leofgyth said you had talked of nothing but our little tragedy.’ Aelfgyth opened the dovecot door and went in.

Therese followed. The doves cooed in harmony around them as gentle as the sweet sound of Beatrice’s singing voice. ‘Just new girl curiosity,’ said Therese offering up one of the baskets for filling.

‘
That won’t work with me. You are the only Norman here. A fact that has not exactly gone unnoticed. We thought you were checking on us so I threw you that name to see what you would do with it. But it is clear you are not as intent on pursuing the matter as we thought.’

‘
What do you mean?’ asked Therese. She was getting nearly as good as Sister Miriam at looking incredulous when inside her throat was tightening with fear. Her outward innocence betrayed nothing of her inner turmoil. She stood motionless with her basket outstretched.

‘
I thought you would pursue Sister Hilda. But you clearly haven’t, or you would not be here now.’ Aelfgyth put a handful of eggs in the basket.

‘
I’m sorry?’ asked Therese. The air was heavy with the scent of the birds.