The Novice’s Tale (27 page)

As they filed out, Dame Claire gestured questioningly from Frevisse to Domina Edith. Frevisse gestured back that she had indeed told Domina Edith what they had learned. Dame Claire offered to accompany her again today. Frevisse found she wanted it very much, but less from need than because she was afraid of what she was going to face outside the cloister; so she smiled and shook her head, refusing. The questions she meant to ask today would not need Dame Claire going into trouble with her.

The trouble came as soon as she crossed the yard toward the guest house. She had been watched for, she guessed, because as she reached the top of the stairs, Master Montfort stepped out of the door to block her way. He was swelled with importance and stood there, hands on hips, waiting for her to speak and show she was impressed.

Frevisse gave him a curtsey and stood, eyes down, waiting for him to get on with whatever his business was.

Montfort gave up first and said with blustered authority, “The word is that the novice Thomasine has taken sanctuary by your doing. Is that true?”

“It is by God’s doing and with my prioress’s permission,” Frevisse said meekly. But she did not resist the urge to look up and be gratified by the angry red that welled up in his face.

“So she is in sanctuary and admitting her guilt?” he demanded loudly.

“She is in sanctuary and admitting nothing but her innocence,” Frevisse returned, pitching her voice to match his so that it carried across the yard to all the listening ears.

Sir Walter pushed past Montfort. “And you’re the one who put her there? Who warned you?”

“Warned me of what?” asked Frevisse innocently. She was aware of Robert among the men crowded into the doorway behind him. .   “That… that…” began Montfort.

“That we meant to arrest the woman for murder, that’s what!” shouted Sir Walter.

Frevisse said in a clear, carrying voice, “Yes, we were told by a voice in the night that you purposed to break into our cloister, where no man should ever step even in humility, much less in violence. It was God’s will that we learned it, so Thomasine could be put in safety against your coming.”

A disconcerted murmuring swept through everyone listening, and Montfort crossed himself. Even Sir Walter was taken briefly aback, but then he snarled, “Which dreamer among you repeated such foolishness?”

“It was not a dream. And now you have told me with your own words that our message was a true one.”

That did not please Sir Walter either. The color of his face began to match Master Montfort’s. “I want to see that she’s truly claimed sanctuary, and is in it now,” he snarled.

“God’s church is open to all,” Frevisse said graciously and, bowing her head, moved aside to let him pass, but she could not resist murmuring softly, “Only, I pray you, go in by the west door,
not
the cloister.”

Sir Walter’s breath hissed in sharply, but he bit back his retort and stalked down the steps, some of his men and Robert following him. Master Montfort, trying to regain lost authority, stayed where he was and warned, “You have her tucked away for now, Dame, but remember there’s a limit to how long she can cling to sanctuary. You and your prioress are doing yourselves no good this way. Why not make it simpler for all of us and have her out of there now?”

“Because she’s not guilty,” Frevisse replied.

“Ha!” Montfort exclaimed, and stalked away after Sir Walter.

Frevisse thought of the things her Uncle Chaucer might say when baffled, and they were far more expressive than that. But facing Montfort and Sir Walter had been the most unpleasant thing she anticipated, and now it was done. With relief, she turned to what came next.

The answers came slowly but steadily. By early afternoon she had talked to everyone who had gone with Lady Ermentrude to Sir John’s, and learned that the men had had nothing to do with their lady once she arrived there nor been close to her on the ride back or at St. Frideswide’s. Maryon and the other lady-in-waiting had been close to her now and again all of those times, and Lady Isobel and her servants had come and gone from her chamber at the manor. All of that Frevisse learned partly from the men, mostly from the other lady-in-waiting, Anne, who was more than ready to leave off her inventorying of Lady Ermentrude’s belongings for Sir Walter and gossip with a friendly nun.

“Oh yes,” she assured Frevisse gladly. “I remember all of those dreadful two days. No, she didn’t stop to drink anywhere at all along the way from here to Sir John’s. She rode fast, and my small mare was hard put to hold the pace. And then we had to turn around and ride back the next day. It’s a wonder she isn’t broken in the wind, poor thing.”

“What happened after she arrived at the manor house?”

“Oh, shouting. Not right when she rode in, mind you. They were surprised but they greeted her well. Only she was having none of it, just swept them into the solar and slammed the door to and then started. The shouting, I mean.”

“So it was a quarrel? Between Lady Ermentrude and Sir John?”

“Yes, but mostly between her and Lady Isobel. Sir John said little and that almost too quiet to be heard, except once in a while he’d raise his voice to warn theirs down. All that we could hear through the door but not much else.” Anne smirked knowingly and leaned closer to Frevisse. “Though Maryon, mind you, could say more. She was that determined to know she slipped right up to the door and put her ear to its crack.”

Frevisse nodded. Cat-sly Maryon would be just the sort to do that, she thought. But she kept her face merely gossiping-interested and asked, “What did she hear?”

“A great deal, may be, but she wouldn’t say, though I did ask her. But whatever it was, it wasn’t what she was thinking to hear. I could tell that by her face at the time.”

Puzzled, Frevisse asked, “What was she thinking it would be?”

The woman shrugged carelessly. “Well, I don’t know. I was sort of behind her shoulder there at the door—” She caught herself and looked carefully at Frevisse to be sure she was not taking it wrong.

Frevisse smiled and said, “Oh, I know how it must be with you. You had to take an interest in the doings of your mistress. With her uncertain temper, you had to be forewarned, on chance it was something you could help, or at least not make your lady angrier about.”

Anne nodded in complete agreement. “You understand it right enough! I thought Maryon was going to grow donkey’s ears, she was listening so hard. But all I could hear was ‘marriage,” and then she gave me an elbow in the brisket and backed me off. Then in a little while—just a word or two longer, no more—she eased away and said it was no concern of ours, we’d best let them be and that’s all I know of it.“

“And in the morning? Did they fight again?”

“Oh, they fought nearly until morning, I promise you! And we thought there’d be more of it when they were rested, but Lady Ermentrude had us all up with daybreak and ready to ride. Not a word of thanks or farewell to our hosts, and only time for me to grab a cup of flat ale and a knob of bread before I had to climb into the saddle and be off. It’s good luck my mare stood it as well as she did.”

“Did Lady Ermentrude drink or eat on her ride back? She came in here rollicking enough.”

“She did that.” The woman giggled to remember it, then stopped her mouth with her hand as she realized to whom she was speaking. “She had a bottle slung at her saddle bow and she drank now and again, especially toward the end of the journey, and no wonder; she rode like the devil was at her heels in all that heat.”

Frevisse nodded knowledgeably, but she felt very far from knowledgeable as she excused herself from the conversation and went in determined search of Maryon.

She found her in the ladies’ chamber, sitting on a clothes chest with an embroidery frame on her lap. It held a pretty pattern of flowers and leaves, but Maryon’s hands and needle were idle. She looked up as Frevisse approached and laid her work aside. “I heard you were still questioning,” she said. “Is Master Montfort going to be pleased with you?”

“As much as he is already.” Frevisse did not sit; nor did Maryon rise. They looked at each other with mutual assessment before Frevisse said, “You’ve been in Lady Ermentrude’s service only a little while?”

For so young and seemingly open a face, Maryon’s showed surprisingly little of any thoughts behind it. She said, “This week and a little more is all. Ever since she left Queen Catherine.”

“You were in the Queen’s service before that?”

“And lucky to be so, surely,” Maryon said readily. “As sweet a lady as ever tread earth. But she’s not much given to leaving Hertford and I’d a mind to see something of the world so I took service with Lady Ermentrude. Only that’s not come out so well, but I’m thinking her grace will have me back if I ask.”

“How did you come to be in her service at all? Wales is a ways and a ways from here.”

Maryon’s slender, dark eyebrows lifted in what was surely a deliberate show of surprise. Then she smiled appreciatively, and dimples showed in her round cheeks. “Now that’s clever of you, to know that’s where I’m from. Yes, I’m Welsh. My brother’s wife is cousin to one of Her Grace’s household officers and that’s how I came by my place.”

“And you left it to see the world.”

Maryon nodded but turned her head away so that she was looking slantwise at Frevisse, like a cat. There was too much satisfied knowing in that look and Frevisse asked quickly, wanting to encourage the woman’s cleverness while she was so proud of it, “So what did you hear at the solar door when Lady Ermentrude was quarreling with her niece?”

Maryon smiled archly. “You
are
a knowing one! I listened, indeed, but there wasn’t much I heard. Something about a marriage in France, or France and a marriage, or something like that. It was a very stout door and Sir John kept quieting them down to where I couldn’t hear what was being said.”

“They didn’t quarrel outside the solar?”

“No, indeed they seemed very careful about that, even Lady Ermentrude, who was never so very careful about most things. Why are you suddenly wanting to know about what happened before she came back here?”

“Oh, for the sake of a riddle,” said Frevisse, to show she could be clever, too, and left her.

Chapter 12

The woman servant who had come with Lady Isobel was seated on the bench outside their chamber. She made no move to stop Frevisse, but Frevisse paused, turned from her intent to talk with Sir John and Lady Isobel because so casual a chance to talk to the woman might not come again.

“God’s greeting to you,” she said lightly, and nodded her head toward the door. “Your lord is still hurting?”

The woman, obviously bored at sitting attendance here, brightened, glad to talk about troubles. “Indeed he is. Wearying my poor lady with his needs and her so good to him she’ll not deny him anything.” She lowered her voice and said, leaning forward as if to give a great confidence, “Fancy, a big, strong‘ man like him letting some passing peddler muck with his tooth because he’s afraid to have it drawn!”

Frevisse was not interested in Sir John’s toothache, but asked without a qualm at her own duplicity, “Do you suppose it was all the quarreling brought it on this time?”

The woman shrugged. “It comes on anytime it feels like, but I’d not be surprised. All that shouting would make anyone’s jaw ache.”

“They argued all the night, I’ve heard. And Sir John told Lady Ermentrude to leave.”

“Now that’s not quite right but close enough. Sir John was the one who tried to quiet it between them, but hardly a word in edgewise they let him have. We could hear them right through the door of the solar most of that evening. But the next morning when Lady Ermentrude came to leave, hardly a word was passed among them, except Lady Isobel sent my lord out to say, nice as you please, that he hoped, it would all come right after she’d thought on it and wouldn’t she break her fast before she left.”

“And did she?”

“Not her! She’d hardly open her mouth to him, and rude wen she did, she was still that angry. Said she had wine to steady her after so harsh a welcome and that would suit her til she chose to dine, thank you. Then off she rode, and Lady Isobel was all white and near to tears and decided she and Sir John had best go after her.”‘