The Alchemist of Netley Abbey: Eighth in the Hildegard of Meaux medieval mystery series

by Cassandra Clark

  ‘What business do you have with the abbey?’ Then, incautiously, she answered it herself. ‘Armaments, I suppose. Arms for your lord? They can be brought in more discreetly to Netley than to the town quay at Hampton. No-one here will guess what he’s planning.’

  His response surprised her. ‘Do you have evidence for that?’

  She shook her head. ‘What more evidence would I need than that of plain logic? Given what has been happening in London, what else would someone bring secretly into the country at a time like this in order to strengthen his hand?’

  ‘Hah!’ He threw his head back. ‘Rumour! Just like a woman!’

  When she raised her hand again he stepped back. ‘My apologies, domina. That was unfair. It’s only that we have come to the same conclusion ourselves. With what we, too, call logic. Masculine logic.’

  ‘We?’ She ignored his ridiculous claim to an objective system of rational thought as it was too commonplace to counter.

  Instead of replying he asked, ‘That really is Hubert de Courcy lying in there with a broken leg?’

  She offered a wary nod at this change of tack. Clearly he did not know everything.

  ‘He’s one of Abbot Philip’s men?’ Half to himself he said, ‘This place is as full of surprises as Westminster.’

  He bestowed on her a glinting, moonlit, humourous, bitter smile and for a moment his dark-eyed charm disarmed her but then she began to move away with a dismissive goodbye in Welsh. He was dangerous. If his lord Arundel wanted he could have them arrested, without the need for any legal charge. Look at the slaughter at Westminster during Lent.

  He called after her, ‘Prince, you called me. Are you going to stand by that and give me your fealty?’

  She kept on walking.

  When there was a sufficient distance between them she turned to see if he was going to go into the infirmary but he was standing in the shadow of the porch, scarcely visible, head cocked on one side as if listening to something. As she watched he seemed to melt into the shadows and she had to blink to make sure he had really vanished.

  Before she could think of returning to Hubert the three mercenaries came marching round the corner of the infirmary from the direction of the stables.He must have picked up on the sound. But why leave? They were allies.

  ‘I tell you,’ one of them was saying, ‘that’s his horse and it’s saddled and bridled ready to go.’

  ‘Then we have to make sure we get to him before he gets to it.’The dark-haired, raw-boned captain of the three who had hoped to outface Gregory that afternoon was marching a pace or two in front of his men as if to emphasise his leadership.

  ‘But where the hell is he? Saw him earlier. I know I did. Then he vanished into thin air like a wraith. They say the Welsh are magicians.’

  ‘Yes, well, we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t get chance to use any of his spells, won’t we?’

  ‘If we plant ourselves here we’ll see him when he emerges from his hole,’ said the leader. ‘Settle down now and keep your eyes skinned. He’s got to come out some time.’

  ‘Aye, and he’s as trapped as a rat – ’

  ‘Hold on! Who’s that?’

  One of them had noticed Hildegard coming onto Cloister Garth.

  ‘It’s a nun.’

  The three came over. She knew who they were looking for before the captain even spoke. ‘We’re seeking a man of ours, sister. You ain’t seen any man lurking about by hisself, have you?’

  ‘Several, captain. The pilgrims are gathering to take ship as soon as the tide is right.Is he anyone in particular?’

  ‘He certainly is.’ The captain made a brief though belated obeisance. ‘He’s a turn-coat. An intruder in the abbey precinct.Shouldn’t wonder if he isn’t planning to murder everybody in their beds. But don’t be alarmed. We aim to apprehend him before he does so, following our orders.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘And then, if it’s of any concern of yours, we’ll take him back to Arundel Castle where he’ll receive his just desserts.’

  ‘Of what crime is this miscreant guilty?’

  ‘Treason, sister. A most heinous crime.’

  ‘I shall certainly let you know if I see a traitor wandering about.’ With that she walked on leaving them to ponder the nature of irony.

  Unwilling to change direction now the militiamen were on the watch she headed towards the refectory but there was no sign of Gregory or Egbert within. Deciding she would warn them about Glyn Dwr when they came down for Matins she went back into the cloister.

  It was empty.

  Pools of shadow lay in the intervals between the flickering lights of the cressets but nothing moved within the pools. From where she was standing she could see the three mercenaries at the far end within sight of the infirmary, the other buildings, and the stable block on the opposite side. Between them the door of the refectory stood open spilling forth a wedge of light and making visible anyone who crossed it. From inside continued the hum and buzz of conversation.

  Apart from the mercenaries on look-out the garth remained empty. From their corner the men had a clear view of anyone attempting to cross it.

  She wondered what to do. It made no sense to imagine they were searching for Glyn Dwr as if he were an enemy. Yet what else was she supposed to think? She decided that the best thing was to return to Hubert on the pretext, if challenged, that she was returning to see if there was anything he needed for the night – and with that in mind she retraced her steps. The three on watch were sharing a flagon of ale or wine, and talking in bored, desultory tones while throwing dice on the flagstone at their feet. This time they ignored her.

  As soon as she stepped into the shadow of the porch at the infirmary doors she discovered she was not alone. He was still there and to confirm it she heard him whisper, ‘Hush, now. It’s Owain.’

  ‘What is it?’ she matched her whisper to his own.

  Close to her ear he asked, ‘Are those three fellows still lurking about out there?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘I’d prefer it if they didn’t find me. They’re after drawing and quartering me – then taking off my head and spiking it on London Bridge with my limbs parceled out to frighten the king’s friends in four different cities. Are you going to shout and warn them I’m here?’

  ‘And if I do?’

  ‘I doubt whether you’d manage more than a squeak.’ He showed the blade of a knife.

  ‘I don’t know your quarrel with them but any enemy of Arundel is a friend of ours. If you want to keep your head on your body for a little longer there’s another door inside the infirmary which comes out round the back of the building. From there you can probably reach your horse where it’s waiting for you in the stable yard, or so they said.’

  ‘I saw you talking to them.’ He looked as if he was working out whether he could trust her or not.Then he came to a decision. ‘I shall put my life in your hands, domina. I have no choice. You see, I am unarmed. Can you show me the door you mention?’

  ‘Walk ahead of me so they see only one shape should they chance to look this way. Quick, slip inside. Go now.’

  Hubert was reading his book again. He looked up in surprise when he saw Hildegard hurry in with a stranger striding with firm military steps in front of her.

  ‘This is Prince Owain Glyn Dwr,’ she announced, before he could say anything. Anxious to get Glyn Dwr outside in case the men should follow, she whispered, ‘Hubert, don’t ask me why but I’m going to save his head from those ruffians of Arundel’s who are sitting in wait for him in the garth.’

  Hubert understood at once. ‘Owain. Prince. There’s a door half-way down the hall – ’

  ‘I’ve already told him about it.’

  ‘Then go with him,’ Hubert suggested. ‘Hywel uses it all the time to reach his workshop. From there it’s a short step to the stables.’

  When Owain gripped the abbot’s hand, he said, ‘For King Richard – ’

  Hubert replied, ‘An
d the true Commons,’ adding, ‘Godspeed, my friend.’

  >They had already reached the door when there was a bang behind them and the double doors at the entrance slammed back against the wall as the three men stormed in.

  Pushing Owain out of sight, Hildegard managed to cruck her head under the lintel and close the door noiselessly behind them. They were just in time.

  ‘Hurry!’ she urged the prince.

  Running on ahead she led the way round the side of the building, passing the wall of the frater and crossing a short open space into the lee of the lay-servants’ quarters. A lighted candle in the window of Hywel’s workshop made her grab Owain by the arm and pull him in through the door. Hywel was at his work bench. He jerked to his feet in alarm.

  At that moment he was holding a lighted spill to a heap of charcoal in a brass dish underneath a retort. Now it fizzled out. His face was stark with fear until he recognised the intruders.

  His expression changed. He dropped to one knee, murmuring, ‘My lord Owain!’

  ‘Up, no time for that. I need my sword. I’ll finish them, the blackguards, all three, once I’m armed.’

  ‘I beg you not to think of it. You’d bring the hounds in full cry after you.’

  ‘I have no choice! Where is it?’

  ‘You must leave at once.’ In Welsh he added something Hildegard was slow to catch but then Glyn Dwr objected. Trying to follow what was said she had the impression that he was telling Hywel that he must have ‘it’ – but what? His sword? They were talking too rapidly and Glyn Dwr seemed at last to persuade Hywel of something.

  ‘I give you my word,’ she heard Hywel say. He added, ‘Your sword is here.’ Going to the workbench he pulled aside a cloth under it and drew forth a heavy, business-like weapon. When he handed it over he knelt and touched his forehead to his lord’s hand.

  Owain pulled him to his feet and clapped him on the back. ‘This will be remembered, brother.I’ll get out of here and not disturb the peace of the abbey. They’ll not be dragging me back to Arundel without a fight.’

  Hywel called for Jankin.

  The boy emerged at once from his blankets, rubbing sleep from his eyes, alert to the urgency in his master’s voice. ‘Here, magister.’

  ‘Go out and find those three militiamen wherever they are. If they start to come over here create a diversion. Get them to help find your lost mouse, anything, but keep them away from the stables until Prince Owain rides, understood?’

  Jankin yawned and nodded and then ran out.

  ‘Come with me,’ Hywel instructed, adding, ‘if you will, my lord,’ and with only a cursory bow swept from the workshop whose door, fortunately, gave onto a side of the building out of sight of the garth and separated from the stables by only a short stretch of grass.

  There, waiting in the yard when they arrived, was an already saddled horse with one of the lay-brothers impatiently holding him by the reins. It was so dark, with only one sconce in the wall further down, that it took a moment for Hildegard to discover that it was Alaric.

  Hywel was terse. ‘If anyone comes in wanting horses you’re to delay them as much as possible. Understand?’

  ‘How am I to do that, magister?’

  ‘I leave that to your own ingenuity.’

  While he’d been speaking Owain had pulled himself into the saddle and was heading towards the gate across the cropped grass that skirted the path. He raised one hand when he reached the archway before disappearing silently into the night.

  ‘Back into my workshop, domina. We are busy with an experiment to beat the common ague and know nothing about anything else.’

  ‘Yes, but, where was the night porter just now?’

  ‘Paid.’

  ‘Here, is it that nun again?’ The one called Jack who had finished up underneath his own horse’s belly without his sword was the first to speak as the three men, empty scabbards swinging mockingly by their sides, and after knocking loudly on the door of Hywel’s workshop, marched in uninvited.

  Hildegard bent her head over the work bench, thankful that she had put up her hood so that she looked much like any other nun in white.

  Hywel faced them in immediate, high and invincible rage. ‘Do you fellows have permission from your superior officer for breaking into my workshop in this violent manner when I’m engaged on difficult and important work?’ he demanded. ‘If so, lead me to him. This is an outrage!’

  Stalled, the men milled near the door. Their manner betrayed their suspicion that the man who faced them was a magician with malign powers, someone who could probably put a curse on them as soon as look at them.

  Holding up a vial of some milky liquid, the use of which she had no definite opinion, Hildegard busied herself among some other bottles and retorts on the work bench while watching the men out of the corners of her eyes.

  The raw-boned captain gave a wary glance round the cluttered cell. Its mystery was manifest in the chart on the wall, the symbols for the sun and moon, signs for the planets that everyone knew, and the malevolent glow of a big brass disc with arcane symbols round the rim. It was obvious that there was no possibility of a man hiding anywhere here. ‘Did you hear that noise out in the garth?’ he demanded.

  ‘Noise? I’m too busy to heed the ribaldry of the laity,’ Hywel replied in a cutting tone. ‘Answer my question if you will, captain.’

  ‘That noise was us. We seek a traitor, magister. We have carte blanche from our commander to seek him out wherever we suspect he might be hiding. I beg your gracious pardon for disturbing your experimenta.’

  He glanced at Hildegard again and one of his companions piped up, ‘Weren’t she her what – just now, I mean – ’

  ‘The sister, my help-meet, is engaged on meticulous work, please do not disturb her. This is a long and costly experiment...Now, if you’ll leave us in peace...?’

  Hywel began to edge them towards the door. Tall, broad-shouldered and angry, with the possibility of divine or, at least, demonic powers at his command, he over-road their resistance.

  They were thwarted, and unsure how or why. Muttering, the three sloped off, the last one to leave giving the door a good bang behind him to show that he knew the friar was a treacherous, deceiving devil and one who had not heard the last from them.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘My gratitude, domina.’ Hywel gave her a long and steady look when they were alone as if trying to unpick the very warp and weft of her thoughts. ‘I wonder how they knew lord Owain was staying in the abbey?’

  ‘They must have tracked him from wherever it was he came from.’

  ‘So it would seem.’

  ‘If I was able to discover the fact by chance I’m sure anyone else, especially if they were looking out for him, could do so.’

  ‘Would you suggest we have informers at Netley?’

  ‘On whose behalf would they pass information?’

  ‘I don’t need to answer that, do I?’ He gave his faint, derisory smile and regarded her with a meaningful glance that came from the depths of his sharp, unillusioned and skeptical intelligence.

  To counter it and draw from it what she could she asked, ‘Why should Prince Owain come here? Has Arundel sent him? If so why are Arundel’s men trying to track him down? Is that also something you will not tell me?’

  ‘Which answer do you want? The first one would be that he approves of Cistercians and fosters their activities. His forebears founded the famous abbey of Valle Crucis in Wales over two hundred years ago. He has always protected it from threat. I suppose he feels the same way about all Cistercian foundations... and the monks and nuns who inhabit them.’

  ‘And other answers? You implied more than one.’

  ‘Those you will have to discover for yourself.’ He frowned. ‘Forgive me. Many lives hang in the balance.’

  Her first thought was that it might be something to do with Abbot Philip’s concerns about the protection he said he was having to pay; her second was that it might be to do with the smuggling in
to the country of armaments. Her third was that it might be a private matter between Glyn Dwr and the earl.

  He who is strongest, wins. That was the lie by which these men of power lived. They blindly forsook the teachings of the monastics, the values of humility, compassion and right living. Bu it was little wonder the teaching was disregarded when the actions of the monastics themselves often ran counter to it. Accusations of hypocrisy were too often well-founded. She was aware of that. Made miserable by the dilemma Hubert had presented to her she could not condemn anyone if they fell short of their vows. She was on the brink of doing so herself.

  Hywel was staring at her as if he could read her mind. His shock of dark hair gleamed in the overhead light from the candles standing on the low roof-beam, placed in that position the better, she supposed, to allow him to work at night. In the silence she pondered the nature of his work, the rumours it attracted, but thought it pointless to ask. He had made it clear he would only tell her what he wanted her to know.

  She glanced towards the door with the intention of leaving but Hywel read her mind almost at once and moved forward to prevent her.

  ‘No, not yet. Wait until Jankin returns and I can send him into the stables to see if the other one has prevented the men riding in pursuit.’

  ‘Alaric, you mean.’

  ‘Him.’

  ‘And you doubt his ingenuity?’

  Hywel gave a start followed by a light laugh. ‘That, yes.’ He cocked his head. ‘I’ve heard no horses leaving since Prince Owain rode out, have you?’

  She shook her head.

  From over by Cloister Garth came a racket as of men searching and not finding.

  Not long afterwards the door opened and Jankin came tumbling inside. ‘I failed you there, magister. When I let the mouse loose they just sneered and tried to stab him with their eating knives saying what a piffling roast he would make. Then they swarmed off to the kitchens to turn everything awry. After that they began working their way down towards here. They’ve gone to search elsewhere now. Did they catch their traitor?’