Once again, she wished William were here. At the moment, he was the only person she trusted.
She glanced up to find the bishop watching her closely, so closely that she knew precisely why he had wanted to speak with her. Her stomach lurched.
“I would like to learn more about the healing you can do.”
“Oh?” She waited, not offering anything more. She wanted to see what he thought of it. Of her. If he judged her good or evil for it.
“I have never met anyone with an ability such as yours. How does it work?”
She could detect only curiosity in his question. How best to answer him? Though she didn’t know why her mother hadn’t trusted the bishop, her warnings were not to be ignored. The less she told him, the better. “I wish I knew.”
“Can you heal anyone?”
“Nay. There are many limits to it.”
He took her hand again, turning her palm up as though he expected it to look different. “From where does the healing come?”
“I cannot say though I like to think God—”
“Nay. That is not what I meant. Does it come through your fingers or your palm?”
She frowned and pulled her hand back. What a strange question. “I have no idea. Why do you ask?”
“I’m convinced you and I can do amazing work together. With your ability and my position, people will travel from far away to see us. But first, I must understand this ability you have.”
“I’m pleased you brought this up,” Cristiana began, though she was anything but. Now was her chance to make it clear that she would not be used, that her gift only allowed her to heal a few not the masses. “As I said, there are many limits to my ability. I can only heal a very few. Giving those who are sick or injured false hopes would be a terrible thing.”
He nodded, a kind smile lingering on his face as he held her gaze. “I see.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. Though she would like nothing more than to heal all those in need, she’d learned long ago it was not possible. She didn’t understand why she’d been given this ability but had determined she was meant to heal those who crossed her path through no means but God’s. “I’m glad you understand.”
“The abbess mentioned how you prefer to keep your skill a secret.”
“Aye. I would ask that you please do so as well. As I said, I cannot help everyone and I—”
“Don’t you agree that it would benefit you if you knew more about this gift?”
Cristiana studied him closely. He seemed quite rational about the topic. No strange light showed in his eyes. No sign of fervor lit his face—something she had encountered in the past. Yet she couldn’t ignore the unsettled feeling his question gave her. “What do you suggest?”
He blinked as though he hadn’t thought much about it. “I do not know, but perhaps we can determine a way to assist you in learning more. You should not have to manage your gift alone.”
The words were stated with sincerity, giving her hope. Did she dare trust him? Had her mother misunderstood him? Mayhap William was right and she could rely on him to aid her. She’d lived these past months with grief and fear and loneliness. That might be making her desperate. Certainly it clouded her judgment.
Yet she couldn’t help but hope.
A small knot of tension loosened inside her. The idea of having someone support her and aid her with her ability brought such relief. She hadn’t believed she could risk allowing anyone close, but the bishop’s kind smile reassured her despite the fact that she could think of no way he could aid her.
She traced the pattern of gold embroidery on the red velvet bench on which she sat, trying to decide how to respond to his comment. In truth, there was only one answer. “Of course, I would be delighted for any assistance you could provide me.”
He beamed as though truly pleased at her answer.
Though she still had doubts, she’d keep them to herself for now. Perhaps she’d been wrong about the bishop. Perhaps her mother had been wrong. As much as she wanted to find her mother’s murderer, she also wanted to find a way to work through her grief, to find at least a small measure of contentment in her new life here.
She knew she needed assistance in more than one way. An unmarried woman was an easy target as William had reminded her. One with her skills was even more so. Bishop Duval’s offer to aid her made her wonder if she truly could have a future of some sort. Dare she hope for one?
Bishop Duval grasped her hand and squeezed it tight. “Bless you, my child.”
With a reminder to herself that she had to stay here for the foreseeable future, she pushed aside her doubt and returned his smile. The sooner she gained the bishop’s trust, the easier things would be.
***
Bishop Duval studied the progress of the construction with Abbot Clarke by his side, unable to hold back a smile. Now that Cristiana was here, everything would change. He needed to tell the abbot of the additional funds he intended to request from the chapter soon; better to get it over with. Not that he expected the abbot to agree with his plans but he didn’t want the man to argue against him either.
“When the cathedral is complete, it will bring the light of God to the masses,” Thomas said with satisfaction as he strolled amid the construction. “I’ve decided to expand it even more than we originally discussed.”
Abbot Clarke frowned. “I’m not certain a structure so large is what this diocese needs.”
“Nonsense.” Thomas ignored the abbot’s concerns as he did each time they spoke. The man refused to see his vision.
“Do you expect the relic to bring in that many pilgrims?”
“’Tis a piece of the True Cross,” Thomas said. “They will flock here from leagues away and pay handsomely to see the cross.”
“I don’t remember hearing of the church at Madesborough bringing in much while it was in their possession.”
“They only required pilgrims to give what they could afford.” Thomas waved his hand in dismissal. “That is a ridiculous notion. If people want to see it, they will find the money needed to do so. I embrace King Henry’s motto, qui non-dat quod habet non-accipit ille quod optat. He who does not give what he has, does not receive what he wants.”
“I’m not certain your interpretation is what the king means,” Abbot Clarke said.
“Of course it is. Sir William and Sir Henry should return with the relic within a sennight.”
He scowled as he thought of the problem Sir William might cause. Father Markus had told him that he’d seen the knight and Cristiana meet in the courtyard. That would not be tolerated. He did not want Cristiana distracted from what he needed her to do.
Someone in the crowd called out a request for a blessing. Thomas glanced at the man-at-arms who stood nearby to make certain he would keep anyone from approaching. At the man’s nod, Thomas made the sign of the cross in the air then turned his back on the small group who had gathered at his presence.
“Can you envision it as I do?” he asked the abbot. “As the simple villagers enter the cathedral, the soaring ceilings will draw their eyes to heaven.”
“Aye, to draw the soul away from earthly possessions. I’m aware of the purpose of the architecture.”
“The stained glass windows will portray scenes from the Bible and cast a golden glow over the interior, inspiring the people inside.” He saw it so clearly. Why couldn’t the abbot?
“I appreciate the effort you’re making to share God’s word with the people, especially since they understand little of the service as it’s said in Latin, but—”
“Do you know they say the lancet windows are pointed at the top to keep demons from resting there?”
“I had not heard that.” Abbot Clarke studied the structure more closely. “And what of the spire?”
The bishop stopped and faced the abbot. “What of it?” He knew his tone was slightly defensive, but he couldn’t help it. While he hadn’t told Abbot Clarke that he intended to make the spire of the cathedral taller th
an that of the abbey, Clarke could surely see that would be the case from the structure.
“You’re going to make it taller than the abbey, aren’t you?”
The bishop stared up at the cathedral as though the thought had just occurred to him. “I suppose it will be.”
Abbot Clarke chuckled, the sound grating on the bishop’s nerves. “Everything is a competition with you, is it not, Thomas?”
“I have no idea of what you’re speaking,” the bishop said. “I am thinking only of the people.” Yet his mind was on anything but. He could hardly contain his excitement at the idea of what he and Cristiana could do together. Of the masses that would indeed come to the cathedral, but not to see the relic. He had arranged to acquire it before he had known about Cristiana.
Nay, they would come for her healing.
Already he could imagine a line of people waiting, hoping for a chance to be healed and willing to pay handsomely for it.
Not only were the poor ill. Noblemen would want to be healed as well. They would be eager to pay a steep price to move to the front of that line. Perhaps Pope Clement and King Henry would come. He expected to receive a response from the letter he’d sent to the archbishop soon. That would be the beginning of good things to come.
Meanwhile, he would see if he could aid Cristiana. She seemed to believe her powers were limited, that she couldn’t help everyone. He agreed that was the case now. But he intended to change that.
It might take some trial and error, but he knew he could help her, perhaps lend her some of his power. He wanted to try to bless her and see if that extended her abilities. Surely she could build up her stamina. He was convinced that the more often she healed the more people she’d be able to help. Though he’d never actually brought about a miracle, he believed he had the ability. Now he had the motivation as well.
He’d already told the master builder of the changes some time ago to expand the cathedral beyond the initial plans. Next he’d seek approval from the chapter.
But before he took that step, he wanted to be certain Cristiana understood and shared his vision. He would need her full cooperation, one way or another. After all, he was certain God had put her in his path for a reason. He intended to make full use of her.
“The new plans you have for the cathedral still seem overly large for our city,” Abbot Clarke said. “I’m amazed the chapter approved it.”
Thomas turned in surprise. He’d nearly forgotten the abbot walked beside him. His negativity was not welcome. Thomas saw no need to confess that he had not yet spoken with the chapter about his latest plans. He had wanted to overcome the abbot’s objections first. “Look at the number of workers we have here now. The entire city will prosper and grow right along with the cathedral. The chapter agreed that this location is ideal.”
“Do they have enough money to keep the funds flowing to pay for all of the supplies and the workers? Is it your intention that the new relic will raise the additional funds to keep the work going?”
“Along with a few benefactors.” Bishop Duval had no intention of revealing all of his plans to the abbot. He wanted word of Cristiana’s ability to spread naturally. Like a true miracle.
“I understand you have a ward.”
Thomas frowned. He wished he knew who fed the abbot information, for he seemed to know things far too quickly. “Indeed. Lady Cristiana arrived two days past. She seems to be settling in nicely. She recently lost her mother.”
“So I understand.”
“Of course.” He gritted his teeth before unkind words escaped his mouth.
How did the abbot already know so much about Cristiana? Thomas wouldn’t be surprised if Abbot Clarke also knew of her healing gift. When word spread of Cristiana’s talents, the archbishop, and perhaps even the pope would know his name. The success of Abbot Clarke would be forgotten by the entire region. The man would no longer be a thorn in Thomas’s side.
The power and wealth the next fortnight would bring left a smile on his face. His fortunes were about to change. Fate was treating him kindly at last. Though it had not been easy, he’d eliminated the problems he’d created when he was a weaker man. He would not make the same mistakes again.
Bishop Duval intended to make certain that fate continued to shine on him, no matter the cost.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Good day to you.”
Cristiana looked up from her conversation with Father Charles to see a tall man with a wine-colored mark upon his face approaching them, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his black robe.
“And to you, Abbot Clarke,” Father Charles responded with a smile as he stood. “Have you met Lady Cristiana, the bishop’s ward?”
“I have not yet had the pleasure,” he said as Cristiana rose. “I see I should have remedied that sooner.”
Cristiana couldn’t help but smile at the abbot. His charm was evident in both his smile and his words. “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure.”
“I was just visiting with the bishop and thought I would take the opportunity to greet you.” He held out his hands and she offered hers, which he squeezed tight. “I’m very sorry to learn of your recent loss. You must miss your mother dearly.”
His gaze held hers as much as his hands did. Something about his steady regard, his obvious sincerity, brought tears to her eyes.
Her grief overcame her at the most unexpected moments. Sometimes it was a particular scent that brought back a memory of her mother. Sometimes it was the tilt of a woman’s head that looked familiar. Whatever the cause, it flooded her with emotions so strong that she had difficulty holding back her tears, as she did now.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Your eyes look just like hers,” he said.
“You knew her?” Cristiana asked, her breath catching.
“Of course. She often visited here.”
“I’ll leave you to become acquainted,” Father Charles said with a frown. He bid them both goodbye and hurried from the chamber, making Cristiana wonder at his behavior.
“I wasn’t aware she’d journeyed here,” she said as she turned back to the abbot, trying to overcome her surprise. “It is some distance from our home.”
Why had her mother kept that from her? Cristiana felt as though she hadn’t known her mother at all.
“I’m certain she had good reason for keeping her trips here to herself.” The abbot seemed to understand his comment had taken her aback.
“Perhaps,” Cristiana agreed to be polite, but she couldn’t think of any rationale for her mother to keep the destination of her journeys a secret. “I knew she visited friends without me. I preferred to remain home.” She looked up at him, wondering if he knew of her healing ability.
He nodded, but showed no sign of curiosity. “Journeying from the abbey is nothing I’m fond of either. I appreciate the simple pleasures of my own bed and familiar faces at my table.”
“Do you know when she was last here?”
The abbot frowned. “I think it was nearly three months past.”
Cristiana’s stomach dropped. “Are you certain? That would’ve been just before her death. She told me she intended to visit a friend in Dubly who was feeling poorly.” Though she knew her mother had been killed on the road that led to Longsbury, she was still shocked to have confirmation that she’d actually been here. Shocked and hurt.
“Dubly is some distance from Longsbury. It seems unlikely that she would visit both places. But in answer to your question, aye. There’s no doubt she was here.”
“Whom did she visit with?” Fresh in Cristiana’s mind was the bishop’s denial of knowing her mother. Surely he hadn’t lied to her about it.
“That I cannot say though I know she knew many here.”
“Including the bishop?” She knew anger tinted her tone, but she couldn’t help it. How dare he lie?
As though sensing he treaded on a delicate subject, the abbot hesitated. “I would have thought so, but I do not know for certain. Bishop Duval
entertains many people. There is a chance he did not know her personally, but she dined in his hall.”
Cristiana said nothing, trying to understand what all of this meant, to comprehend this new information. To realize that the bishop had lied was shocking, but to learn that her mother had was so much worse. Only one question struck her.
Why?
Why had her new guardian and the only person she had trusted and loved both lied to her?
***
“I believe it would be wise to seek an inn for the night,” Henry suggested as he studied the grey sky heavy with clouds.
“I agree,” William said. “I had hoped we’d make it farther, but I have no desire to travel in the rain.”
“A warm meal and a soft bed would do us both good,” Henry added as he scratched at the jagged scar on his cheek.
After traveling so long with Henry, William knew the weather often made his old injuries ache, and the oncoming storm was no exception. Henry’s scar itched when the weather turned and William’s shoulder used to ache, giving them both something to complain about but not anymore. William couldn’t thank Cristiana enough for that.
The lady was never far from his thoughts. He wondered how she fared in the bishop’s care and hoped all was going well for her. He tried to shove aside the memories of her in his arms, of her passionate kisses.
How he wished he had met her under different circumstances, that both of their lives were simpler. In all his travels, he’d never met a woman who stirred him so. Despite her determination to escape him or perhaps because of it, he’d come to admire her. That admiration had grown into something more—something he wasn’t yet prepared to name.
“We should arrive at Madesborough by midday on the morrow if the weather cooperates,” Henry said as they reached the inn’s stable. “I hope this storm does not linger overlong.”
“I would like to obtain what we came for and leave as quickly as we can,” William said.
“Anxious to return to your lady?” Henry asked with a smile.
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