A Dark Night Hidden by Alys Clare Read Free Book Online

wanted in the Abbess’s room and, after a short wait, there was a soft tap on the door.
    In answer to the Abbess’s quiet ‘Come in’ a young nun in the black veil and habit of the fully professed opened the door and advanced into the room. She was, Josse could see, very nervous; the oval face with its high cheekbones had a pink flush, and the clear blue eyes were very bright. Even with the severe, starched white wimple that concealed the jaw, neck and throat, and the forehead band that covered the hair, it was plain to see that this girl was a beauty. It pleased him to watch her graceful movements as, with a low bow to the Abbess, she straightened up and stood, head bent, hands folded in front of her, to wait for her superior to speak.
    ‘Sister Phillipa, this is Sir Josse d’Acquin, a good man and a true friend to our community.’ The Abbess indicated Josse, and Sister Phillipa turned and gave him a radiant smile. Temporarily bowled over by its intensity, Josse quickly decided that it was more a reflection of the young woman’s nervous state than of any sudden rush of emotion towards him. They were, after all, total strangers. ‘We have been looking at the example of your work,’ the Abbess was continuing, ‘and we are agreed that it seems right that you be given the task that I have in mind.’ She paused, and Josse guessed she was weighing her next words. ‘Hawkenlye Abbey has been asked, as have other foundations, to pray for our great King Richard, for he has need of our prayers. His lady mother, the Queen Eleanor, has been very generous and given us a gift of coin in recognition of our intercession on the King’s and her own behalf. With this bounty, Hawkenlye will prepare a herbal, in the names of the King and his mother.’
    Josse noticed that Sister Phillipa was trembling. Touched that the painting of the herbal meant so much to her, he wished he could see her expression. But she stood with her back to him, facing the Abbess.
    ‘Sister Phillipa, will you make the Hawkenlye Herbal?’ the Abbess asked gently.
    And, with what sounded like a sob in her voice, Sister Phillipa said, ‘Yes. Oh, yes !’
    The short February daylight was almost over when Josse left the Abbess. They had shared a happy moment together after the blissful Sister Phillipa had departed; as the Abbess had remarked, it was a rare pleasure to give one of her community tidings that brought such joy.
    Josse realised that it was too late to think of riding on to New Winnowlands tonight. So, having checked with Sister Martha that his horse would be well looked after – there was no need for such a check, but he always enjoyed exchanging a few remarks with the brawny nun who tended the stables – he took the path that led out from the rear of the Abbey and made his way down into the Vale.
    In the Vale was situated the miraculous Holy Water spring that was the reason for the Abbey’s having been sited where it was. The spring was housed in a simple little shrine, two of whose walls were formed from the rock out of which the magical waters ran. Beside the shrine was a rough and ready shelter where pilgrims who came to receive the waters could take their meals and, when necessary, put up for the night. A little way down the track was the dwelling where Hawkenlye’s monks and lay brothers lived. It, too, was rudimentary, with few comforts other than a roof, four rather insubstantial walls and some thin old mattresses and blankets.
    What the monks’ dwelling lacked in amenities it made up for in the warmth of the brothers’ welcome. In particular, that of the two lay brothers, Brother Saul and young Brother Augustus, who were Josse’s particular friends. As Josse stuck his head in through the open doorway, Brother Saul saw him, got up and came over to embrace him, crying out, ‘Sir Josse! It’s good to see you! Come in, come in, and warm your toes by the fire!’
    ‘A fire! Great heavens, Saul, you’re getting soft in your old age!’