The Shattered Rose (33 page)

He wanted to protest that, but there hardly seemed much point. If he gave in to his impulses and released Jehanne by force, he'd end up either exiled or in custody himself, which wouldn't help anyone. "I would like to see the Lady Aline and the baby, to be sure that they, too, are well."

With an audible sigh, the mother superior led him across the garden to the other side of the cloister.

"Wouldn't it be more suitable for them to be housed nearby?" Galeran asked.

"These were our only two empty rooms, my lord. Many people have asked for hospitality during the king's visit."

But do you lock all your guests in? Galeran wondered as the nun again unlocked a door. It wasn't worth fighting over. Jehanne was safe, if rather tense. As long as Aline, Winifred, and Donata were also well, he'd let it be until tomorrow.

The mother superior ushered him into another small room very like Jehanne's, but this time crowded with two narrow beds and a cradle. Aline leaped to her feet with fretful energy. "Galeran! Thank heavens."

She would have flung herself into his arms, but the mother superior stepped firmly between them. "Conduct yourself properly, young woman!"

Aline pulled a face, but settled down. "A troop of men brought us here. They had the king's seal and—"

"Yes, I know," said Galeran. "Don't worry. It will all be settled tomorrow. How's Donata?"

Aline looked toward the cradle in which the baby slept. "Well. But I don't know why they've split us up. We're to call when she needs feeding, then one of the sisters will take her over to Jehanne."

Galeran looked at the mother superior. "Well?"

"I was told to keep the Lady Jehanne alone so that she could contemplate her sins in peace, my lord. Children are not peaceful. She has stated that she appreciates every aspect of the arrangement. The child will be taken to her whenever necessary."

It was all stupid, but no more so that a hundred other incidents in which government had become embroiled. What worried Galeran was that such matters could get out of hand. He didn't want to worry the women, however, so he smiled at Aline and Winifred. "Probably Jehanne will be the better of some tranquility. She's had little enough of it the last year."

With that he left, and allowed himself to be herded out of the convent with only one backward look at Jehanne's locked door.

* * * * *

Aline sat back down on the hard bed, thinking. She wished she'd been able to talk to Galeran in private, for she didn't like this situation at all. She needed to talk to Jehanne as well and make plans. What if some silly judgment were made to give Donata to Lowick? They had to be ready to act!

In the short journey from Corser Street to the convent, Jehanne had ordered Aline to keep Donata safe at all costs. But how could such a young baby be safe away from her mother?

No, if the worst happened, they had to be ready to escape together. It shouldn't be impossible. The convent wasn't guarded. All that held them was locked doors.

She went to inspect the door, and discovered locked doors could be quite formidable. This one was thick, iron-strapped oak, and the lock was heavy iron too. It seemed strange that a convent would have such secure rooms, but perhaps they were often called upon to hold prisoners.

Winifred just sat looking quietly miserable, but Aline paced. Perhaps it would be better to wait patiently for the morrow. Any attempt to escape could be seen as rebellion against the king's orders.

She didn't know enough about such things.

She desperately needed to confer with Jehanne.

Donata began to stir, and Winifred picked her up, obviously pleased of something to do. The baby looked around, chewing on her knuckles.

"She'll want feeding in a moment or two," said Winifred. "I'll change her."

Then Aline had an idea. She picked up her embroidery materials and the babe's blanket. With quick stitches she worked along the edge the message,
What do you want to do?
adding some ornamental stitches to disguise the words. Surely Jehanne would notice that the work was new and decipher the message.

When Donata was ready, Aline wrapped her in the blanket, making sure the stitchery was visible but not too clear, then went to the door and called out. In moments a smiling nun took the baby, cooing to her, and carried her away.

Aline was reassured by the nun's friendly manner, but it made this imprisoned separation even more peculiar. What was behind
it,
and did it have any implication for the crucial hearing before the king?

It would be a while before Donata returned, for Jehanne would surely keep her as long as possible, so Aline sat and took up her more normal embroidery. She kept making mis-stitches, though, for her mind wasn't on it. In addition, the light from the small, high window wasn't really adequate for fine work. She wished she had her distaff. She could spin thread in the dark.

One problem suddenly occurred to her. She didn't think Jehanne had any needlework materials with which to reply.

Winifred lay on her bed and went to sleep. Aline envied such placidity.

* * * * *

Jehanne saw the embroidery immediately, but she settled to feeding Donata, in part because the middle-aged sister was hovering, gazing besottedly at the baby. Another nun who perhaps was not suited to her life? Jehanne decided Raoul was right, no matter what his motives were. If Aline wanted a husband and children, she should find that out before committing herself to the veil.

Donata, bless her, did not seem to be finding her situation bothersome. She nuzzled impatiently at Jehanne's breast, then latched on to it and settled—with an amusing sigh of relief—to filling her belly. Sister Martha left, and Jehanne could loosen the blanket to smooth out the new embroidery.

She laughed out loud. Clever Aline!

Her amusement faded, however. It was an excellent question. What
did
she want to do?

Jehanne had made, and intended to keep, resolutions to stop being so militant. Days earlier, she had promised to leave matters in Galeran's very capable hands.

But in this crisis she was not sure he was capable. He'd told her about Agnes, the woman taken in adultery, and the solution that had come from her punishment. Even so, he couldn't, or wouldn't, see that their situation was the same.

Jehanne knew she had to suffer some punishment for her sin, and as she had said, in a way she would welcome it. It was not just that the community must see matters put right; she herself must feel that the balance had been made even again. Until she did, she wasn't sure she could let herself be happy again.

A court battle would do nothing to put matters right in her heart. Especially a court battle between the two men who had given her a child, a battle in which one of them must die. She simply could not live with that.

Thanks to Bishop Flambard, however, Jehanne now had a means to ease her soul, and possibly to prevent any fighting. But she couldn't do it by patiently staying here until it was all over.

When Donata was satisfied, Jehanne unwrapped the babe and laid her on the bed. As she played games with her daughter, moving her arms in time to nonsense songs, she considered the bishop's unexpected involvement with her imprisonment.

The king had ordered their detention here, but Bishop Flambard had ordered this solitary confinement and close guard. Apparently he had only to tell Mother Eadalyth of Jehanne's wicked sin to get the woman on his side.

It was Flambard, too, who had ordered Jehanne's specific punishment—ten strokes of the rod every three hours. She did not thank him for that, but it could well save them all, in more ways than one.

Mother Eadalyth had no kind thoughts about Galeran, either. "A man who would permit such sins to go unpunished is a sinner himself," she had declared while rolling up her sleeve for the first serving not long before Galeran’s arrival. "He is like Adam succumbing yet again to Eve. You are to be pitied, my child, for being so poorly ruled."

Jehanne wondered if the mother superior had modified her views at all on meeting Galeran. He wasn't the convincing picture of a weakly doting husband. But as long as he refused to punish her, that was what everyone would think.

And of course he
was
doting, she thought, smiling sadly at her bastard daughter. Though not weak about it. He doted on her just as she doted on him. They would both fight and die in the other's cause.

That was the problem.

But since she'd caused the disaster, it was for her to sort it out and to suffer any pains, even if Galeran were furious afterward.

She grimaced, acknowledging that she was failing in her resolutions of being a proper woman, able to wait patiently for the men to sort it out. It wasn't her nature, though, and so she could do only as she saw right and pray God to guide her.

What was right at the moment was to accept her punishment, galling though it was, and then use it as a weapon against the bishop. But that meant she must attend the hearing the following day to show her back, to show the king how Flambard had overridden his orders.

The mother superior would never permit it.

Galeran wouldn't cooperate, either. In fact, if she let him know about the beatings, he'd put a stop to them. But Raoul might be more practical if she could get a message to him. The only way of doing that was through Aline. She couldn't imagine how, but it was the only chance.

She had no embroidery tools with her, unfortunately, so, leaving Donata to kick and chortle by herself, she searched the room for anything that would make a mark. She found nothing, but the floor was simple beaten earth, and so she made mud with a little drinking water and laboriously printed a message on the blanket.

Jehanne could read, but did very little writing, and with the inadequate materials the message looked more like a mess than words. She could only hope Aline would decipher it. Hearing footsteps, she hastily wrapped Donata again, and handed her over to Sister Martha.

Then she went to her prie-dieu to pray, and to wait for Mother Superior Eadalyth's strong right arm. In simple honesty, she offered her pains up to God and His mother, seeking forgiveness for her sin, but, more important, protection for Galeran and Raymond. She cared not at all for Raymond of Lowick, except as someone she had known most of her life, but she knew that she had entangled him in this mess.

In order to strike against God.

She shuddered at the thought.

Oh, yes, she deserved every stroke Bishop Flambard had ordained for her. She could almost bless him, if not for a certain crossbow attack, which she was sure was Flambard's work. Raymond would never stoop so low.

Sometime later she heard the lock turn and the door open. A faint rustling told her the mother superior was rolling up her wide outer sleeve.

"May the Lord forgive his wretched sinner," intoned Mother Eadalyth, and the rod cut.

"Amen," Jehanne responded as steadily as she could.

Dear Mary, help her, but the strokes hurt more on her already-sore back. She gripped the wood of the prie-dieu and strangled all noise other than a gasp at each stroke. She counted them silently.

Another four.

She could endure another four.

Another three.

Two.

Last one.

It almost broke her and made her weep, the relief that it was over.

For this time.

In another three hours, however, or another six, she would cry out. All people had limits. Her pride shuddered at the thought of wailing under the blows, but pride was a silly tiling.

As the lock turned behind the departing mother superior, Jehanne lowered her head and prayed, offering her pain for the safety of all, and victory in the end.

* * * * *

Aline had watched the sun's reflection move a quarter way around the room before Donata returned, sleeping peacefully. Aline took her, glad now that Winifred was snoring. She put Donata in the box that served as a cradle and gently unwrapped her blanket, substituting a fresh one.

At first it just looked as if someone with dirty hands had handled the blanket, but then she saw that the dirt was writing. She shook her head. She had learned to make letters in the convent, but Jehanne had always used scribes, and it showed.

Still, allowing for awkward shapes and strange spelling, the message seemed to be
I
must go to hearing. Raoul.

Aline let out a breath and rubbed the blanket together so that it looked merely dirty. So, Jehanne wanted to go to the hearing. Since she'd specified Raoul, she clearly didn't think Galeran would help her.

Aline sat on the edge of her narrow bed and thought.

She was sure that judicial hearings before the king were not usually attended by women. Perhaps this was one of Jehanne's less inspired ideas, coming out of her need to always be involved in whatever was happening.

On the other hand, Jehanne had begun to come to terms with that fault. Aline really didn't think she would be trying to attend the hearing out of willful impulse. She had something of importance to contribute, something that couldn't be achieved by a simple message.

However, they were all prisoners, and though the convent was not a formidable prison, it was strong enough.

Aline sighed. In view of Jehanne's message, she supposed she had to try to engineer an escape.

Then a new range of problems came to mind.

Jehanne could not separate from Donata for any length of time, and escaping with a baby would be very tricky indeed. Moreover, if Jehanne wanted to attend the hearing, it would be best if she escaped not long before it. Trying to hide all night from a full hue and cry, screaming babe in arms, was enough to make anyone quail.

Aline saw why her cousin had mentioned Raoul. He was just the sort of man who might be able to arrange all this, and there was the additional benefit that he was foreign. If the king flew into a rage at their behavior, Raoul could flee back to his native land.

Alone.

Aline pushed that thought away and settled to making real plans. By the time the nuns emerged from the nones prayer, she had a strategy of sorts. It would have to wait for vespers, though, and so she sat to unpicking her message from one blanket, and stitching another in a clean one, explaining briefly what she intended.