by Rue Allyn
“Put that box back,” shrilled a voice. “This is the wrong place.”
“I tell you, this must be the place. ’Tis exactly where that merchant said it would be,” screeched another.
“He must be mistaken. If this were a beguinage, ’twould be filled with the poor and the sick, to say naught of our sisters. Productive activity should throng the air with sound. This house is deserted.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
Juliana slid from the horse. The chaos that met her eyes both appalled and delighted her. She recognized the new arrivals—Beguines from Ghent.
“What goes on here?” Robert bellowed. His posture stiffened.
Save for the quacking of a lone duck, the animals fell silent. All speech halted, and the women froze where they stood. ’Twas almost funny. “Welcome, sisters.”
“Juliana. ’Tis glad we are to see you.” Sister Anna stepped forward. “Where are Berthild, Gretle, and your servants? We need help to care for the animals, to sort and store our belongings and supplies.”
“And I am glad to see all of you. I have been away and cannot tell you where the others are. Until I can discover that, we must take care of ourselves. With a bit of patience and effort, we can all soon be seated in the kitchen, eating a hot meal. Then we will work out how to assign quarters and where to stow belongings. For now let us get the animals unloaded and cared for. Give me but a moment to speak with my escort.”
She moved back to where Robert still sat atop his horse.
“I know you are weary, but our friends and servants seem to have disappeared. Could you go into the town and see if you can discover what happened to them? I must remain here to help settle the new arrivals.”
Robert nodded, his expression impassive. “I will return as soon as possible.”
“Thank you. I owe you a great deal.”
“We will not speak of debts. I but do my duty.”
She watched him leave, her heart aching for them both. Duty seemed the only constant in his life, and he would not even have that if she followed her planned course and did not return to England with him. He would hate her. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to the task at hand.
She gave instructions to the various sisters and soon neat stacks of supplies and personal items lined the courtyard walls. The mules were led to the stables, where they were fed. Two women were dispatched to open bedchambers and make up beds. When all the tasks were done, the women gathered in the kitchen and made a cheerful, noisy business of preparing a meal.
How I have missed this. Juliana had not realized how lonely she had felt here. Dear as Berthild and Gretle were, they did not make up for the camaraderie of a large varied group of women with a common goal.
The new arrivals numbered ten in all. She gazed on each one affectionately, discussing news of friends left behind in Ghent as she moved about the table.
When the meal came to an end, chambers were assigned, and the younger Beguines began the labor of distributing supplies and belongings. Soon Juliana found herself in the kitchen, settled with her back to the door, across from the most senior of the newly arrived women.
“You have done well, Juliana, for the short time you have been in Palermo,” said Sister Anna Maria Costanza y Garcia.
Juliana poured the thick, dark caffe that the weeks in Palermo had taught her to love. She would miss this if she left, but not as much as she would miss these women. Their cheerful empathy and enthusiasm for life would find no equal in the guarded court life of London or the wilds of Scotland.
“Thank you, Sister Anna. Beguines are not greatly loved here, but we are tolerated. Men seem to hold the same view of women no matter what the country.”
“They despise us as evil? I had hoped to escape the sort of persecution Basti’s deputies spread throughout our native lands.”
“Unfortunately, even in Palermo, Basti’s minions stoke fear of the Beguines, but I have not encountered that form of persecution from the Saracens. They seem to regard women as brainless children or beautiful toys to be kept safe, even from ourselves.”
“How did you manage to obtain the coin needed to support yourselves, if women are so constricted here?”
“A local Saracen merchant agreed to market our goods for a small commission. The arrangement works quite well, but few come to us for charity for fear that they will suffer the wrath of Il Mano de Dei.”
Sister Anna sipped at her caffe. “You have an alarming tendency to attract the worst attention from the worst of men, Juliana. First Basti in Ghent, now this local animosity.”
The heat in Juliana’s cheeks became a fire. “I know, Sister Anna. I do not do it deliberately.”
“Since Basti’s persecutions have increased and spread in your absence, I am certain ’tis not your fault. Though I must tell you, his deputies inquired about you at several points along our journey. ’Tis a good thing you came to Palermo. I doubt Basti will reach you here.”
Given the incident with the monk, Juliana knew otherwise, and the news that Basti looked specifically for her was greatly disturbing. The priest was extremely powerful and had the pope’s ear. They might well know of the documents that lay hidden in what was now her room. If Basti succeeded in finding her, those letters would either remain hidden or be destroyed. She could not allow that. Plainly keeping the existence of the documents to herself was too dangerous. Sister Anna was older and had much more experience of the world than Juliana. As a fellow Beguine, Anna would share the same concerns. Her arrival at this moment was fortuitous, for Juliana desperately needed counsel she could trust.
Juliana rose to open the portal behind her and check to be certain no one was nearby. Then she closed the door and returned to her seat.
“What are you doing?” Anna asked.
“I have information I need to share with you, but you must tell no one else until we decide what action is best.”
“You alarm me.” Worry flushed Anna’s features.
“You are right to be alarmed. When Sister Angelina—one of the Beguines who used to live here—told me she had letters proving the current pope was her lover before he was in orders, I was alarmed too. I became frightened when she added that, in a fit of guilt, the pope had sent her several letters, including an original epistle of Peter . . . ”
“Peter, the rock on which the church stands? The first pope?”
“Yes, that Peter. I will show you the documents tonight in my chamber, and you may see for yourself. This epistle explained his reversal on the place of women in the church. He states that the feminine virtues are greatly misunderstood and misrepresented, and it is through the feminine that true communion with the trinity takes place.”
Anna’s flush of worry drained away, replaced by a shocked pallor. “Sacrilege.”
“Indeed. But which is sacrilege, forbidding women the priesthood or elevating them to it?”
“Tell me, was this beguinage attacked because of those letters?”
“Angelina believed it was. She believed the weavers who attacked the Beguines and burnt the building were incited to do so by Basti’s deputies.”
“Those letters must be broadcast, and in great quantities.”
“Yes, but from where? Sicily is too remote and small, with too few people we can trust. Copying the letters here in sufficient quantities to make any impact would take years. Also with Basti involved, the ports could be watched, and any cargoes searched and confiscated.”
“I agree. We should think this out carefully. We must find a way to get copies to other beguinages in major cities throughout the continent. Each beguinage could make more copies and distribute them. With exact copies coming from so many directions, the church could not confiscate them all and would have to recognize women as priests or abolish the priesthood—which would be an even more satisfying victory for our sisterhood.”
The hope in Anna’s voice inspired a decision. Juliana sat forward. “I know how we can distribute copies.”
“Ho
w?”
“I will not be staying in Palermo. I can carry the copies and distribute them as I travel.” Her hands clutched her cup. For so long, she wished unspoken her vow to return to England. In the end she would be forced to defy Edward in person, but for this cause she would face down the devil himself.
“No, another can go. Basti is too interested in you personally. Besides, you are nee . . . ”
Astonishment glazed the elder Beguine’s eyes.
“What? What is it?” Juliana turned to see what caused Anna to halt in mid-speech.
Robert filled the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a rough crutch beneath his opposite shoulder, and a frown on his face. Berthild, Gretle, Shabaka, and two young men peered around from behind him.
“Robert.” Juliana leapt up, relieved to see him. He’d been so cold when he’d left in search of their companions, she’d half-expected him not to return. She grasped his arm and urged him toward the table. “I am so glad you are returned home. Come, sit down and meet Sister Anna. Berthilde, Gretle, Shabaka, join us please. Robert, your friends are welcome to share our caffe.”
Her fellow Beguines gave small smiles and sat on either side of Anna, hugging her and murmuring welcomes.
Shabaka shook his head. “Thanks be to you, Sister Juliana, but I wish to tend the flocks. With so many new mouths to feed, I must take stock of which birds to cull for a welcoming feast.”
Robert lifted her hand from his arm and folded her fingers around the flowers. He spoke softly to the two young men, who disappeared into the courtyard. Then he set his crutch aside and seated himself beside Juliana, opposite Sister Anna.
“Who is she?” he grumbled.
“Sister, what is a man doing inside the beguinage?” Anna asked in surprise.
Anna and Robert spoke at the same instant. Juliana sat frozen between them, puzzled by the animosity that crackled in the air. Uncertain if the feeling came from Robert, Anna, or both, Juliana smiled and decided her best course was to spread oil on the troubled waters and pray the two could get along.
“As you are aware, Sir Robert, Sister Anna and nine of our sisters from Ghent arrived just before you and I returned from our recent travels.” Juliana selected a daisy from among the blooms, then laid the rest of them on the table.
“Where are the other women?”
“They are busy settling into their rooms.” Juliana twirled the daisy and stared at the spinning bloom. She pulled off one of the petals as she spoke. “Sister, this is Sir Robert Clarwyn, Baron Ravensmere, envoy from my cousin, Edward Plantagenet. I know you are surprised to see a man within the walls of our beguinage, but Sir Robert has been essential to our success here. In fact, we would not have reached Palermo without him. The Nubian you saw is our cook, Shabaka.”
“Your cook seems to know his place and his job. But this man appears to be a knight and we have no use for such. If he was your guide, why is he still here?” The older woman eyed Robert’s decidedly worn appearance and raised a brow in disbelief.
“I can show you my safe conducts, if you doubt Juliana’s word,” Robert spoke with silken threat.
“I would never doubt any Beguine’s word.”
Juliana felt Robert’s low snarl at the implied insult. “Who were those men you had with you?” she asked to introduce a more neutral subject while ripping at another petal.
“They are local men, one Saracen and one Christian, hired as groom and guard in Henry’s place.”
Her brow wrinkled. “In Henry’s place? What happened to him? Did he decide he wished to return home?”
Robert pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze from hers, obviously uncomfortable.
Juliana shifted her glance to her friends, astonished to see Gretle weeping softly. “Berthild, what is this about?”
“Child, I am sorry. Henry is dead. We have just returned from his interment.”
“Dead?” Juliana blinked, certain she had misunderstood. “What do you mean, Henry is dead?”
She felt Robert’s large hand cover hers and gave him a tremulous smile, grateful for his steadying support.
“He found three men trying to steal our mules and tried to run them off,” Berthild continued. “They fought him. The noise of the fight raised the alarm, and all the guards went to Henry’s defense, but they were too late. He lived long enough to confess and receive extreme unction. He told us he was glad to die in your service and would look for you in heaven if he was received there.”
Sorrow thickened Juliana’s voice. “Where is he buried? I wish to visit the grave.”
“He lies at Saint Olivia’s Chapel.”
“I will take you there before we leave for England,” Robert said.
She shifted to face him. “We will leave soon, I suppose.”
“Aye, within the week.” He maintained his comforting hold on her fingers.
She sighed. “Then I will save my mourning for the chapel. There is much to be done, if I am to be ready in time.”
His eyes widened, but he said nothing, merely giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You are right about that,” Anna announced. “Though I am very sorry for your loss—and yours, Berthild, Gretle.”
“Our thanks for your sympathy, Anna.” Berthild rose and helped the still-weeping Gretle to her feet. “We will seek our chambers now and speak with you on the morrow.”
“Good night, my friends,” Juliana uttered. “Rest well.”
“Thank you, child.”
They left and Juliana looked at her two remaining companions.
“As troubling as your loss is, several matters must be addressed immediately. Those men Sir Robert brought are completely unacceptable and must be dismissed,” Anna said.
“You might wish to reconsider that, sister.” Robert studied his nails. “Do you not agree, Juliana?”
She tore two petals from the stem. “I think that retaining the services of these men will benefit the beguinage.”
“In what way?”
“’Twill create goodwill in the community and allow the Saracens and Christians alike to see firsthand that Beguines are harmless.”
Anna’s eyes went wide. “You mean we should allow these . . . men not only to live here but also to gossip about us?”
Juliana understood how the older Beguine felt. Men were never part of Beguine communities and only part of Beguine lives in the most marginal ways. Males could be traded with, or commissioned to perform labor for a term, but the preservation of the sisterhood and the pursuit of their faith did not allow for the distractions that men generally presented.
“This house is quite large, Anna. There is room for the men near the stables and well away from the women’s quarters. As the beguinage expands, you may change their living arrangements. At present, I believe it would serve the sisterhood well to have these men close to hand.” More daisy petals fell.
“I will bow to your experience for now, Juliana, but I reserve the right to change my mind, especially if our fellow sisters object.”
“Those men will remain as long as Juliana is here,” Robert stated firmly.
“If I find them suitable,” Anna countered with equal resolve and sipped at her caffe.
“I do not think you understand who is in charge here, Sister Anna.” Restraint vibrated in Robert’s voice.
Anna set her cup carefully on the table and locked her gaze with Robert’s. “I know perfectly well who is in charge here, sir. Do you?”
Juliana swallowed, brightened her smile, and threw courage between the combatants. “I have not yet explained to Anna that I will be leaving Palermo soon.” Shifting to look at her fellow Beguine, Juliana set aside the denuded daisy and clenched her hands in her lap. Feeling beset on all sides, she groped for control.
“Sir Robert came with orders from King Edward to find me. Evidently, I am wanted in England.” Surely Sister Anna would see the benefit of sending the copied letters along on the journey to England and allowing Robert to believe Ju
liana’s only motive was her vow to cooperate with him.
“Whatever for?”
Evidently Anna did not see the same advantages. “Uh, Edward wishes me to consider a marriage offer from a Scot’s laird.”
“Since you are a Beguine, you will refuse, of course. Why go all the way to England to do so when you are needed here? Have this baron carry your message to King Edward.” Anna waved in Robert’s general direction, as if she considered the matter settled.
“’Tis not so simple.” Uncomfortable with the conflict between her friends, her beliefs, and her vow, Juliana twisted her hands in her lap.
“What she is trying to tell you, Sister Anna”—a satisfied smirk twisted Robert’s lips—“is that she has vowed she would return to England as soon as you and your fellow sisters could safely reestablish the beguinage here. Since much of the work has already been accomplished, I plan to leave with Juliana within the week. Besides, a vow to one’s king is of greater import than life as a beguine.”
Anna jerked upright. Caffe sputtered from her lips down the front of her tunic. Juliana handed her a clean rag. The older woman swiped at the spill but stared at Robert. Juliana cast him a frown. What could he be thinking to belittle her friends and her faith so greatly?
“Impossible. Juliana would never make such a promise. Would you?” She turned a Medusa glare on Juliana, compelling agreement.
Juliana shifted uneasily on her seat and wished she could become stone instead of the quivering mass of nerves that jumped in her stomach like snakes. “I am afraid I did make such a vow.”
Robert pushed back his stool, grabbed his crutch for support, and stood, folding his arms across his chest.
Anna’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”
“’Tis a very long story,” Juliana said, casting a sidewise glance at Robert. “Too long to tell now. Suffice to say I made the vow and must keep it.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” Her sister-in-faith reached out to grip Juliana’s hand. “You will be forced to renounce your Beguine status.”
Nodding, she swallowed but maintained her smile, reaching once more for a fresh daisy. “Only if I cannot avoid the marriage Edward plans for me.”
