Lilies for Love

by Felicity Pulman

  All eyes swivelled to the chantress, who shook her head and jingled the bunch of keys hanging from her girdle in proof that she had them still.

  'So the pages must be going missing during the day, while the work is under the care of Sister Ursel,' the scribe persisted.

  'But I h-have to leave it sometimes to . . . to attend services. I . . . I cannot move the pages while the inks are wet.'

  Janna was intrigued to notice that the nun's stutter was not nearly so bad while she defended herself. Was it indignation that freed her tongue, or did she only stutter while she was reading the word of God or the teaching of St Benedict? She listened intently as the argument raged about her.

  'Are you sure it is not mere laziness, a carelessness of your work that you don't keep it locked away at all times when you are not actually working on the manuscript?' Sister Philippa queried.

  'I must protest, Mother Abbess,' the chantress cut in. Her voice was low and musical, for it was Sister Maria who guided the nuns in their singing, and who kept them on time and in tune. 'If I'm not busy teaching the children and novices to read and to write, I'm either in the library or organising the singing of the Mass. I am not always available to lock away Sister Ursel's manuscript whenever she has to leave it. Besides, she speaks true; it is best not to move the pages until the inks are dry. More than that, I know how punctilious and careful Sister Ursel is of her work, how heavily this sacred trust rests on her shoulders, and how anxious she is to honour our saint by crafting for her the most beautiful work of which she is capable. To call Sister Ursel careless and lazy is a calumny that I cannot permit.'

  Janna waited to hear Sister Philippa defend her remarks, but the nun said nothing, instead bowing her head in sober contemplation of the stone flagging on the floor. Her bid to take over the hagiography had failed. Janna wondered if she would try again. Indeed, what if she had been stealing pages in order to manoeuvre this very situation to use to her advantage? Sister Philippa would bear watching in the future, Janna thought.

  'Once again I ask you all to search the abbey for the missing parchment, and to search your hearts for the truth,' Abbess Hawise said sternly. 'This has happened too often to be mere chance. It seems that whoever is behind this will not confess their crime, but someone must know something, or have seen something out of the way. If you have, I beg you to come to me and tell me what you know. And let me warn whoever is doing this: the longer you compound your error by keeping it a secret, the worse it will be for you when the truth finally comes to light – as you can be sure it will.'

  Full of indignation on Sister Ursel's behalf, Janna came out of chapter into a cold, blustery wind that threw spatters of rain into her face. She shivered, and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. She'd been given permission to leave the abbey, along with Sister Anne, to visit the market in Wiltune. Their mission was to purchase an array of spices from the spice merchants, spices imported from warmer climes across the sea. They were needed by the infirmarian for her various medicaments, and by the cook to season the meat that had been salted and preserved after the late autumn slaying of the beasts, as well as to flavour the fish and vegetables that were their usual fare. Instead of having a spice merchant call at the abbey, Janna had persuaded Sister Anne to go in search of them, suggesting that the marketplace would offer a wider variety and a better choice. 'And a chance to bargain over prices and also see if there's anything new or if we've forgotten something,' she added, smiling openly at Sister Anne's reproving frown.

  Janna noticed Agnes and hurried over to have a word with her friend. 'Will you come with me to market?' she urged. As Agnes began to protest, she interrupted. 'No, hear me out. It will be very different from the fair. No travellers, and very few merchants for at this time of the year there is little fresh produce to sell. And see how dreadful the day is!' Janna flung out a hand to illustrate her point. 'No-one will venture out in this, unless they absolutely have to. Do come, Agnes. I'm sure Sister Anne won't make any objection to it.' She gripped her friend's hand as if to drag her through the gates.

  'No. No!' Agnes jerked her hand from Janna's grasp and put both her hands behind her back.

  'It's a chance to see what it's like outside the abbey. Don't you want to see Wiltune, Agnes?' She held her breath, hoping her friend would change her mind and say 'yes'. It would make up, in some part, for the last disastrous outing for which Janna still felt responsible.

  There was a short silence. Janna wondered what other argument she might use to persuade Agnes. 'We may even see Master Will,' she coaxed. 'He asked after you last time I saw him, Agnes. He is very fond of you, you know. Very fond.'

  Agnes took a step backwards. 'I am happy here at the abbey,' she said tightly. 'I have no wish to see Master Will.'

  It seemed she'd come up with the worst inducement possible. Silently, Janna berated herself. 'You don't have to talk to him, or even see him if you don't want to,' she said hurriedly. 'Just come and look at the stalls with me. There are such things to buy, Agnes, as you've never seen before or dreamed about!'

  'I thought you said there'd be hardly anyone there?'

  Janna sighed as she looked at her friend's suspicious face. Truly Agnes had changed these past few months. It seemed also true that there was little Janna could do about it. If Agnes was to regain her old, sunny disposition, she would have to bring about the change herself. Still, for the bailiff's sake, she couldn't give up quite yet.

  'If I should see Master Will, is there any message you would like me to give him?'

  'No.' Agnes turned away. Janna was reluctant to leave things as they were, and sought for a diversion. Sister Ursel's downcast face as she walked past provided her with a good excuse to change the subject and bring ease between them once more.

  She nudged Agnes. 'Do you know anything of Sister Ursel's troubles? Have you seen anything, heard anything, that might explain why sheets from her manuscript are being taken and destroyed?'

  Agnes stopped, her ready sympathy already engaged by the problem. 'No, I've seen nothing,' she said slowly. 'Truly, Ursel has much to vex and distress her. Do you know that Chester has gone missing?'

  'Gone missing? Or has the mouse been stolen, just like the sheets of her manuscript?'

  Agnes's eyes widened. 'I don't know. I never thought of that.'

  'There are quite a few dogs kept here in the abbey. Do you think one of them might have eaten Chester?'

  'Oh, I hope not!' Agnes put a hand to her heart. 'A mouse is an odd pet to have, but I do believe Ursel is very fond of him. Actually, she keeps him so close always, I'm surprised he managed to escape. But you're right; he wouldn't last long if any of the dogs found him.'

  'Or cats. You don't see so much of them, they're quite private creatures. But there are some about. In fact . . .' Janna paused, searching her memory. 'There was a great commotion here in the cloister not so long ago, I remember. One of the dogs cornered a cat and was going to savage it, but Sister Ursel got hold of the animal and managed to drag it off its prey.'

  'Sister Martha told me that the abbess reprimanded the owners of both the cat and the dog. She's become very fierce about pet-keeping since the bishop's visit.'

  'The incident wasn't mentioned in chapter,' Janna said slowly, wondering how the gnat had come to hear about it.

  'The abbess is afraid the bishop will hear of it, and will know that his edict has been disobeyed,' Agnes said promptly. 'Nor will she insist that his orders be carried out, for she knows there will be outright defiance if she tries. No, better to keep this quiet. But Sister Martha says that the abbess has put Sister Catherine on notice: if anything like this happens again, both she and the dog will be thrown out of the abbey.'

  'Sister Catherine?' Janna's ears pricked up.

  'It was her dog. He's the worst of them.'

  'But all dogs hate cats,' Janna said, trying to be fair.

  'True, but Sister Catherine doesn't do the right thing with her dog. I've seen her out in the cloister. When it mak
es a mess, she'll leave it if she thinks no-one has noticed. She's been here for so long, she thinks the rules don't apply to her any more.'

  Janna remembered the scene she had witnessed, the shrieking nun who had stepped into the dog's mundungus. Had Sister Catherine been there with her pet? She couldn't remember.

  'I stepped in some once,' Agnes said. 'It's disgusting. The smell seemed to stay on my sandals forever.'

  'You've been here longer than I have, Agnes,' Janna said, anxious to get the lay sister back to the subject that most interested her. 'How do Ursel and Philippa get on together?'

  'I don't know.' Agnes pulled a face. 'We lay sisters live on the outside of the convent. You'd be the one to find that out, Janna.' There was a slight edge to her voice that Janna couldn't miss. 'Why do you want to know?'

  'I wondered . . .' Janna stopped. She had only suspicion regarding Sister Philippa's resentment of Ursel's skill, and where it might have led her. She could be wrong. The last thing she wanted to do was start a rumour that might have no basis in the truth.

  'No reason, really,' she said. With a sigh, she said goodbye to Agnes and walked on towards the gate, where Sister Anne awaited her.

  'And will you be having any more tête-à-têtes with Master Will today?' Sister Anne asked Janna as they left the abbey and entered the marketplace.

  Janna looked at the nun, not quite sure how to answer. Finally, she shook her head. 'I don't know,' she answered.

  'He is fond of Agnes, is he not?'

  Janna hesitated. In the months of working with Sister Anne, she'd come to like and respect the nun. She was sure Sister Anne was not easily shocked; in fact, she wondered if the nun had lived much of her early life outside the abbey, for she seemed to have more of an understanding of the world and its ways than many of the other sisters, judging by some of the complaints they raised in chapter. She decided to trust the nun with the truth, for the truth could not hurt Agnes, who had done nothing wrong, while the infirmarian might well be in more of a position than Janna to help ease the situation, if help was possible.

  'He wishes to wed Agnes, but Agnes will not hear of it.' Janna bent closer to Sister Anne. The marketplace was more crowded than she'd expected, and she didn't want anyone to overhear what she was about to confide. 'It is my belief that fear keeps Agnes in the abbey, for I recall she once confided in me that she would like to marry, to bear children. But that was before Master Will made his intentions plain, before she had any real choice in the matter, and before she came out to the fair with us and saw for herself what life is like outside the abbey.' She looked at Sister Anne. 'And I do blame myself for that,' she said.

  'The timing was ill-judged, perhaps, but the decision to retreat was Agnes's, not yours, Johanna. You had no way of knowing her fear. Indeed, I suspect Agnes didn't know it either until she put herself to the test.'

  'It's such a shame. Such a waste!'

  'Serving our Lord Jesus Christ can never be said to be a waste.'

  Janna smarted under Sister Anne's reproof, yet memory of her mother bid her go on, even at the risk of making matters worse. 'But surely it is possible to serve the Lord in other ways too? Other people can live good lives as well as nuns. Sometimes they may do even better!' she added, thinking of her mother, how hard their life had been, and how her mother had always helped whenever her skills were called upon.

  'Watch your tongue lest it get you into trouble, Johanna.' Sister Anne strode on, making her displeasure plain by the set of her back and the tilt of her chin.

  Janna was about to follow when she noticed Will in the distance. She was sure he'd seen her, but he made no sign, nor did he come towards her. Even as she debated forsaking Sister Anne to go to him, he turned and hurried away.

  Had he given up on Agnes so soon then? Dismayed, Janna hurried after Sister Anne. The nun's disapproval abated somewhat in the face of Janna's excitement when they reached the stalls of the spice merchants. They were expected to pinch and prod, to sniff and taste before selecting their purchases, and Janna took full advantage of the opportunity. Her head swam with giddy delight as she sampled cinnamon, liquorice and sweet white powder, sneezed over freshly ground pepper, and danced about in agony while spitting out a burning mouthful of ginger.

  'Sister Anne? Sister Johanna?' Janna felt great relief at the sound of Will's voice. He carried a small parcel wrapped in a damp, muddy scrap of woven hemp. He held it out as if it was the most precious object he owned.

  'By your leave, Sister,' he said in a low voice, as Janna took the object from him. 'I have here a gift for – for the abbey.'

  Sister Anne inclined her head. 'What is in the parcel?' she asked.

  'The bulbs of white lilies. I beg you to plant them in the garden of the abbey, for I have heard it said that the flowers honour the Virgin Mother Mary, being so pure, chaste and beautiful. For that reason, I believe they are sometimes called the lilies of the Madonna.'

  Sister Anne pursed her lips in thoughtful contemplation. Just as Janna began to fear she'd be forced to give Will's gift back to him, the infirmarian nodded. 'I thank you for your gift, Master Will,' she said briskly. 'We shall plant the lilies and pick the flowers to decorate the church and the shrine of St Edith on feast days.'

  'Thank you, Sister.' Will folded his hands and stepped back. Sister Anne walked on, but Janna lingered just long enough to hear his whisper. 'I know Agnes loves to work in the garden. Please tell her to remember my pledge whenever she sees these flowers, for they remind me of her and they are a living token of my love.'

  'I will.' Janna felt her heart flood as she recalled Agnes's delight in the wild flowers growing in the fields, and her wistful comment about their perfection. Will could not have chosen a more apposite gift for Agnes – for, in spite of what he'd told the infirmarian, Janna knew quite well that this gift was for Agnes rather than the abbey.

  As the bailiff strode off, she took a long look around the marketplace. This was her last taste of freedom for a while. She smiled as she spied a happy family group in the distance, the father swinging a young boy around and around in circles, while the boy squealed his delight and his laughing mother clapped and cheered the performance. Giddy with the movement, the father set down his son and staggered a few steps. The mother rushed to take his arm to steady him. She looked up into his eyes. They exchanged fond smiles, and. . .

  Janna's heart stopped. It was Godric and Cecily, along with Hamo. They had not seen her. For a few long seconds, she stared at them while the world stood still.

  At last the silence ended, and the market came back into focus. Once more Janna could hear the cries of the traders, sense the bustle going on around her, smell the mundungus of the animals mixed with the earthy scent of market produce. Life was going on all around her, but inside she felt as cold as death, and as dead as stone.

  Janna turned her face from her friends, and from the marketplace, and hurried after Sister Anne into the shelter of the abbey.

  FIFTEEN

  TO TAKE HER mind off the shock of seeing Godric and Cecily looking so happy together, Janna immediately sought out Agnes on her return. Sister Anne had told her to plant out the lily bulbs, but Janna would not do it unless Agnes was there to witness both their burial in the earth, and to hear who had given the bulbs, and why.

  She found Agnes busy directing a group of weary travellers to the guest house, and waited until they had gone and Agnes was free. Then she showed her the wrapped parcel and told of their meeting with Will. Agnes heard Janna out in silence. Janna thought she could detect the glint of tears in her eyes as she said, 'Master Will has given a lovely gift to the abbey.'

  'To you.' Janna wasn't about to let Agnes lie to herself, even if it was at the cost of their friendship. 'Let's plant them in the cloister garth, so all the sisters can enjoy their beauty. You choose a spot and I'll go and fetch a pick to break the ground.'

  'Do you really think Master Will meant it when he said these flowers remind him of me?' Agnes asked, when Janna retur
ned.

  'Beyond a doubt,' Janna assured her, and handed over the package of small bulbs. 'He gave these to you. You must plant them yourself.' She smacked the pick down into the iron hard ground, digging deep to loosen the earth.

  Agnes took the bulbs and knelt down. As Janna continued to dig, Agnes scooped out little nests in the loose earth and, following Janna's instructions, carefully set each bulb upright inside the hollows. With enough ground prepared, Janna threw down the pick and helped Agnes sprinkle soil over the bulbs.

  'There'll be lilies gracing the altar of St Edith by summer,' Janna assured her, as she patted earth over the last of the bulbs.

  'And what shall I do then?' Agnes turned to Janna, her distress plainly written across her face. 'I like Master Will, but I hardly know him. I can't even begin to think of him as a husband!'

  'You could get to know him better, if you would only give him a chance.' Janna kept her head bent and her hands busy. This was more of an admission from Agnes than she'd ever dared to hope. She didn't want to take any risks, or spoil such a promising train of thought.

  'How can I come to know him when I cannot leave the abbey?' Agnes's voice was bleak with despair. 'I have taken my vows. I cannot break them.'

  'But they are not your final vows, surely? Is it not possible to get dispensation? Can you not ask Sister Grace about it? After all, you were only a child when you came here!'

  'You've heard the story of Wulfrid and the Saxon king and the founding of our abbey, Janna. You know that she was a nun, but the king forced his attentions on her and our dear saint was the result of their union. If Wulfrid was not free to marry a king, how could I ever be free to marry the bailiff? And then there's Sister Angelica. Do you remember, she told us that she'd made a mistake coming here, and how much she'd come to regret it. But she would not break her vow – and neither will I, Janna. No.' Agnes looked fiercely determined as she shook her head. 'I won't even think about it.'