by E. M. Powell
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Silvanus went over to one of the long tables, where loaves were being kneaded in a fog of flour.
‘Silvanus is currently overseeing all the production of the abbey’s food and drink,’ said Philip. ‘My refectorer has been laid up for many weeks in a Welsh house. He went there on pilgrimage but broke several bones in a riding accident.’
‘An unfortunate occurrence,’ said Barling. He noticed that Silvanus kept his beady eyes on the visitors to the kitchen, as if aware he was being discussed.
‘Yet fortunate that I have such a competent brother to look after his duties.’ Philip lowered his voice. ‘Now, if you will step this way.’ He led Barling and Stanton over to one of the huge brick fireplaces set into the wall. It was built up on either side to allow the positioning of an iron grill over it.
The fire burned brightly and the huge pot of water on top of the grill boiled in fierce bubbles and steam.
‘This is where he was found?’ Barling made sure his own voice was low too. Stanton kept his counsel, for which Barling was grateful. He berated himself for not asking to see the kitchen when it was quiet, for no reason other than that he could have handled this with far greater sensitivity. But what was done was done.
‘Yes,’ replied Philip. ‘The fire had been damped down and covered for the night as always. But the murderer had brought it back to life even as he took Cuthbert’s.’ He lowered his voice still further. ‘In case you’re wondering, that is not the same grill. This one is a replacement. One of the lay brothers who works our forge melted down the one we found him on and fashioned a new candlestick for the church from it.’
‘A touching gesture, as well as a practical one,’ said Barling.
‘It was. And unusually sensitive.’ Philip took a quick glance over his shoulder. ‘The lay brothers are hard workers, but not thinkers, if you see what I mean. Other than that, all is as I described.’
‘Is the door we came in the only way into this kitchen?’ asked Stanton.
‘Yes, it is,’ replied the abbot.
‘But it leads from the cloister,’ said Stanton. ‘From inside the monastery.’
Barling tried to catch his assistant’s eye. ‘Stanton, stop. This is neither the time nor the place.’
‘It is a fair question, Barling,’ said Philip. ‘And in answer to it, come with me.’ He led them over to the tall windows. They contained no glass, only wooden shutters, which stood half-open to let the steam out. ‘As you can see, this is all that covers the windows. They do have a locking mechanism, but that was rarely used. It is difficult to work and the shutters are opened and shut all the time. The shutters would have been closed, but not locked. It would not have been difficult to enter and depart by the same way, leaving them looking undisturbed.’
‘I see your point,’ said Barling. ‘It is a shame they were not locked, then.’
‘They have not been locked in thirty years before this terrible event,’ said Philip firmly. ‘But they are now.’
A bell pealed from outside. Maurice, no doubt.
‘You may well have less of an appetite by now,’ said Philip. ‘But I would request that you join me in my hall. It is probably very presumptuous of me, but I did tell my guest that the King’s men would be eating dinner with us today.’
‘We would be most pleased to do so,’ said Barling, with Stanton nodding his thanks as well.
And pleased indeed he would be.
For to eat with the guest would be to eat with the outsider.
That the outsider turned out to be a woman was most unexpected.
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Juliana Kersley pulled her fur-trimmed red-and-blue woollen robe more tightly around her as she and the guestmaster approached the abbot’s hall along the gravelled path.
‘Oh, Silvanus,’ she said, aware that she was becoming short of breath. ‘I must confess to being a little nervous.’
As ever, her dear Silvanus offered her his instant help.
‘Nervous, my lady? Oh, I am sorry to hear you say such words. Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘A moment, please.’ Juliana paused, willing her fluttering heart to calm. ‘I cannot quite believe that I am to meet the King’s men. Here, of all places.’ A place where there was not another woman for miles.
‘Of course.’ Silvanus stopped with her. ‘You do look quite pale. Here, take my arm that you may steady yourself.’
She accepted his wool-clad arm, her own hands in her best soft leather gloves. ‘Well, if my complexion is pale, then so much the better. At least I will not look like a weather-worn peasant.’ She cast him a look from beneath her lashes, a look that had served her well for the majority of her forty years. And still did.
‘A peasant? Oh, my lady.’ Silvanus patted her gloved hand with his own bare one, which was red from the cold. ‘That could never be so. Even if you were to dress in the coarse wool of the penitent and daub your face with ash, your radiance would still shine through.’
Juliana met his broad smile with one of her own, as much as a response to the monk as it was to test that her white silk wimple sat securely around her face. She could curse this day’s raw wind for threatening disarray to her appearance, but all was well. ‘Shall we proceed, then?’
‘Whatever my lady wishes.’
My lady wished she could run on ahead and confirm what Silvanus had already told her about the unexpected other visitors. Two men of the court. One of around her age, the other close to that of her daughter, a daughter who sat idling at home. Unmarried. If things went as she hoped they might, then after all the years of donating her late husband’s wealth to the abbey, it looked as if she, Juliana, might be rewarded in ways of which she had never even dreamed.
But she needed to take measured steps alongside Silvanus. She’d laced her dress as tight as she could at the sides, the better to show off her still-narrow waist and her ample breasts.
Finally, they were at the door of the abbot’s hall and Silvanus opened it with a flourish.
Juliana swallowed hard. ‘Thank you, Silvanus. You have been most helpful.’
‘I am sure they will receive you with every delight, my lady.’ He lowered his voice and gave her a deep bow as he ushered her in. ‘As I am equally sure your sweet presence will charm them utterly.’
She gave her most appealing little light laugh. ‘Oh, Silvanus, you are too kind, as ever.’
‘Lady Kersley.’ Abbot Philip hurried to the door to greet her with a bow, as Silvanus left her with one of his own.
‘My greetings to you, my lord abbot.’ She kept her gaze on Philip’s familiar thin face, lest she appear too forward.
Philip went on. ‘My lady, may I present Aelred Barling, clerk to our lord King.’
Juliana looked to the fireplace, to where Philip indicated, her smile already bright.
It almost fell. Almost. Yet it did not. She was far too skilled at presenting a face to the world that suited the occasion and not what she was feeling inside.
The clerk was a short, slight man. With a thin, dun-coloured tonsure. Utterly unappealing.
‘My lady.’ The man gave a respectful bow.
At least he had good manners. And he’s from the King’s court, Juliana. He’s not some grasping local lord. Her own fierce reminder kept her smile warm. Inviting. ‘The honour is all mine, good sir.’ She moved her gaze to the other man present. And briefly cursed fate twice. Once for making her old enough to be this handsome, blue-eyed young man’s mother. Twice for having a daughter who was about as lively as a tree stump and not a great deal more appealing. ‘And this is?’ she asked.
‘Hugo Stanton, assistant to Barling, my lady.’ The abbot did not even bother looking at the young man. ‘Barling, Lady Juliana Kersley is here as an esteemed guest of this abbey.’
‘Why, Abbot, you make me sound like a bishop.’ She hauled her gaze from the delicious Stanton and pursed her lips charmingly at Philip. ‘I hope I cannot be confused with one?’ She ra
ised her brows at him.
‘Never, my lady,’ said Philip.
She turned to Barling again. ‘Silvanus informed me of your arrival, sir. I was most keen to greet you in person.’
‘And I you, my lady.’
Oh? This was better. Perhaps it was to her advantage that this man was so underwhelming. He would not be used to attention from a woman such as her. ‘That is most kind of you, sir. I too desired to make your acquaintance but this has been the earliest opportunity. I have been secluded in Masses as part of my pilgrimage here. Private Masses, you understand.’
The clerk inclined his head to show that he did.
‘Lady Kersley is one of Fairmore’s greatest benefactors,’ said Philip by way of explanation. ‘May I ask that we take our place at table, my lady?’
‘Certainly.’ She did so, the others following, which pleased her. That would show her sumptuous robe at its best.
As the abbot blessed the food, she assessed the table’s wares.
Good white bread. Pottage that contained large chunks of mutton. Three fish dishes. Roasted pigeon. A milk pudding. Wine. A feast, no question, and an especially fine one. The King’s men could not fail to notice that she was a most important guest of the abbot.
Philip finished and took his usual place at the head of the table. Juliana sat in hers to his right, Barling to his left, which meant the clerk was directly opposite her. Excellent. As she removed her gloves, she glanced to where Stanton was sitting, further down the table. Definitely not a man held in much esteem by the abbot, despite being here with the clerk. That settled her decision. Despite the far more alluring prospect of flirting with Stanton, it was the clerk, Barling, whom she should and must charm.
‘A feast worthy of this holy day, my lord abbot,’ said Barling.
‘And a feast worthy of a visit from a royal clerk,’ said Juliana. ‘It is indeed an honour, sir.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’
Juliana waited for him to say more, as all men always did, her head prettily to one side to show she hung on his every word. Yet nothing was forthcoming. By the blood of the Virgin, this man really was as dull as he looked. Very well. She could make up for that. She said, ‘Although, sir, the reason for your coming here is one of great tragedy. It was sad enough for me to arrive and not see Abbot Ernald, but to have Brother Cuthbert lose his life in such a dreadful way while I have been staying here . . .’ She put her fingertips to her lips and shook her head in a fetching display of noble grief. ‘This will be a visit that I will not remember as fondly as my others.’ She gave a sad sigh. ‘I have always held dear memories deep in my soul of my times of devotion with the monks and long rides alone in the hills, in order to aid my contemplation. Now my soul will be filled with distress at what has happened. I was tempted to leave but Abbot Philip persuaded me to stay, as did dear Brother Silvanus too.’ She smiled at Barling again. ‘I believe God guided Abbot Philip’s hand,’ she said. ‘For, had I left, I would not have met such an esteemed man of the court.’
‘Indeed.’ Her reward was a small smile in return and a nod. ‘Do you visit Fairmore often, my lady?’
She’d got his full attention. Such as it was. But she had it – that was the important thing. ‘Regularly rather than often, good sir. I travel here every year during the week before Christmas, so I have time to rest and prepare for the feast of the Nativity. I have done so for the last ten years, since my dear husband, Hubert, died. Widowhood is among the hardest of crosses to bear.’ She dabbed briefly at her eyes. ‘I pray you have not had to endure such grief.’
‘I have not, my lady,’ came his swift response. ‘For I have never been married.’
While his dullness made that understandable, it did not always follow. But he had confirmed what she’d hoped. Barling would be able to take a wife. Juliana thrilled inside, keeping her features suitably composed. ‘It is the deepest joy, sir, to share in the holiness of a good marriage.’ She had to be careful. While she had no doubt that Stanton would respond in a heartbeat to the promise of the lifted skirts of a woman, she knew with equal certainty that this dry little clerk would scare off easily. ‘I make my pilgrimage here to pray for Hubert’s soul alongside the brothers of this house. I remain until the day of prayer for all the benefactors has concluded.’
‘Prayers that are heartfelt in their thanks too,’ said Philip. ‘Before his death, Lord Kersley gifted Fairmore a couple of buildings in York to help us in our wool trade. It has helped us no end.’
Juliana nodded politely, though Philip’s interruption was most unwanted. At least it confirmed her great wealth. She spoke before Philip could do so again. ‘And I have continued to support this house. This year, I have brought a donation of many books.’ How pleased she was that she had. This was bound to impress the clerk. ‘A collection without compare, Brother Elias said when he took receipt of them. And so many, he said too. He was quite overwhelmed, I think.’ She gave another of her little sighs. ‘To give is such a great joy.’
‘Most generous of you, my lady.’ Barling poured out some water, leaving his wine untouched.
A quick glance told her that Stanton did the opposite. She cursed the fates again, but it mattered not. At least the clerk would not be one to lose her carefully guarded fortune to drink.
‘That is very kind of you to say so, good sir,’ she said. ‘But I am as my late husband was, and the abbey has returned that generosity many times over. For Hubert is buried here in the monastic cemetery. I will be granted the same. I could ask for no greater reward.’
She spotted an impressed twitch of the clerk’s eyebrows. He would be well able to guess at the size of the donations to Fairmore that had obtained a resting place for the Lord and Lady Kersley.
‘I am sure they pray that that will not be for many years, my lady,’ said Barling.
‘We do,’ said Philip. ‘Every day.’
Juliana ignored him and kept her gaze on Barling. ‘As do I. Though I pray they will not be lonely years. I have grown so weary of those.’ She cast the clerk a look that she knew would be sad. Brave. Moving. She waited for his response.
To her utter annoyance, it was Philip who answered again.
‘I have no doubt that your parish priest will continue to try to change your mind until that day, my lady.’ Philip sniffed in displeasure. ‘We have the same problem here with the priest of Gottburn.’
‘Forgive me if my question is impertinent,’ said Barling, ‘but what is the complaint of the priests?’
Juliana kept her features smooth, looked from one man to the other as if this interested her. In truth, she could strike the abbot for taking Barling’s attention from her.
‘The priest of the village of Gottburn spends much of his time railing at the fact that we have a graveyard here where some of his parishioners choose to be buried,’ said Philip.
‘Not the cemetery in which I will be buried,’ said Juliana quickly, inwardly furious that the abbot could now be presenting a diminished view of her status to the clerk. ‘I will be lying with my husband.’ She tapped the tabletop with a fingernail. ‘With the monks. Not some common villagers. Is that not so, my lord abbot?’
‘Most certainly, my lady,’ said Philip. ‘Most certainly. You will be within our walls, the people of Gottburn will remain outside.’
Juliana nodded and took a modest sip of wine, searching for a sign that the clerk understood. Her fingers tightened on her goblet in delight. He was nodding.
‘Priests can be unhappy when their flock look elsewhere for their souls to be guided, Barling,’ said Philip. ‘That is all. It is nothing new.’
‘And I find that priests can be most irksome in their demands for tithes,’ said Juliana, determined to bring Barling’s attention back to her. ‘That is also nothing new.’
Barling was taking a drink of water. But his reply, when he’d finished, was not what she was expecting.
‘Now, if you will excuse me, my lord abbot, Stanton and I have much to see to this after
noon.’
She could see Stanton had not been expecting it, either. The young man still had a mound of food before him. He had a huge appetite. Of course.
‘Do not let me keep you, Barling,’ said Philip with a wave of his hand.
Her mind whipped through several suggestions. She had to find a way to meet the clerk again – and in circumstances where they would be alone.
Barling rose to his feet as Stanton did the same.
‘My lady.’ Barling bowed his leave of her. ‘An honour to have met such a good friend of the abbey.’
She had to make her move before she lost her chance. ‘As it has been mine, good sir,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you will join me for a ride some morning? It would be most enjoyable.’
But her suggestion was a poor choice: she could tell from his look.
‘Thank you for your gracious invitation, my lady,’ said Barling. ‘Alas, I am presently occupied with the tragic event that has taken place here.’
One poor choice would not be the end of it. She would just have to think of something else. ‘Of course.’ She raised a hand, the better that he would see the heavy gold rings that encircled her fingers.
As he went to the door with Stanton, Barling paused. ‘I am sorry to further interrupt your meal. But one question, if I may.’
Juliana’s hopes leapt and then fell again as the clerk’s question was directed at Philip.
‘My lord abbot, what is the name of the priest of Gottburn?’
‘It is Theobald,’ replied Philip. ‘May I ask why?’
‘I like to have a complete record, my lord. That is all.’ He left with Stanton before there could be any further enquiry from Philip.
Juliana took a deep drink of her wine. The clerk Barling was not at all what she had expected, but he would still be a great prize.
And so long as he was within Fairmore’s walls, she would take every opportunity to win him.
Chapter Fifteen
Stanton hadn’t expected the outsider to be a woman, but that wasn’t the biggest surprise he’d had during their meal with the abbot. No. That would be the sight of the hard-eyed Lady Juliana Kersley, a lusty woman if ever he saw one, setting her sights on Aelred Barling.
