‘Follow me, my lady.’
Augustus led her into the area where the monks and the pilgrims ate their meals. Sitting at one of the long tables in front of a large bowl of broth sat the young man. Seeing the Abbess, he hastily swallowed his mouthful and stood up to give her an awkward bow.
‘My lady Abbess,’ he said, ‘with all my heart I thank you for taking us in.’
He must have been schooled in the correct form of address, she thought; all credit to him for remembering it amid his many worries.
She moved nearer and sat down on the bench beside him, indicating that he should sit too.
‘You need not thank us,’ she said gently, ‘for it is what we are here for. What is your name?’
‘Waldo,’ he said.
‘Waldo,’ she repeated. She studied him; he was about fifteen or sixteen, with a broad face in which the bones were already strengthening and enlarging into their adult shape. On his cheeks were the beginnings of a beard. His eyes were light brown and, she fancied, had an open, honest expression. His hair, as far as she could tell, was dark, but as it was sorely in need of a wash, she could not be sure. He wore a long-sleeved brown woollen tunic that had been mended several times – very neatly – and, over it, a sleeveless leather jerkin. He smelt of sweat and cabbage.
He waited to see if she would speak again and when she did not, he said tentatively, ‘They tell me that my brother and my baby niece do well, my lady. May I – is it possible for me to see them? They’re only young and it’s likely they may be a-feared, waking in a strange place with unfamiliar faces. Oh!’ Flushing brick-red, he added, ‘That is, I’m sure they’re kindly nuns up in the sick folk’s place. I meant no offence, my lady.’
‘Of course you didn’t, Waldo,’ she reassured him. ‘And you are quite right; it will do your little brother a lot of good to see you, I’m sure, and the baby girl too.’
Waldo made as if to leap up and run off up to the infirmary there and then. She put out a detaining hand.
‘Finish your broth first,’ she suggested. He looked at her and then down at the bowl of broth, obviously wondering if it would breach some rule of Abbey etiquette to eat in front of an abbess. ‘Go on,’ she said softly, ‘don’t let it get cold!’
Gratefully he dipped in his spoon and slurped up the rest of the broth. When he had almost finished and was mopping the bowl with a piece of bread, she said, ‘Waldo, before I take you to see your kinfolk, may I ask you one or two questions?’
‘Questions?’ Alarm filled his face. ‘Have we done wrong, my lady? We thought it was the right thing to do, to bring our family here. My mother died, you know, and my father, and my grandmother and the old aunt.’ Controlling himself with an obvious effort, he muttered, ‘Uncle and Mariah and me, we were beside ourselves. Uncle was wailing and taking on so and it were all I could do to calm him. When the others took sick, we feared to lose them all.’
‘It’s all right,’ Helewise said. ‘You have done nothing wrong and we shall do all that we can for you. But, Waldo, it seems that this disease spreads fast. What I have to discover is where it might have come from. The more we find out about it, the better are our chances of restricting how many other people catch it. Do you see what I mean?’
He had already been nodding as she spoke; thank God, she thought, he is quick to understand. ‘Aye,’ he said. He screwed up his face for an instant as if in pain, then said, ‘It was my mam. She’s maidservant in the household of a Hastings merchant, Master Kelsey, and she’d been looking after him. He came home from a trip away off in foreign places and took to his bed straight away with a fever and that. He has a sister’ – Waldo’s grimace spoke his feelings for the sister –
Augustus led her into the area where the monks and the pilgrims ate their meals. Sitting at one of the long tables in front of a large bowl of broth sat the young man. Seeing the Abbess, he hastily swallowed his mouthful and stood up to give her an awkward bow.
‘My lady Abbess,’ he said, ‘with all my heart I thank you for taking us in.’
He must have been schooled in the correct form of address, she thought; all credit to him for remembering it amid his many worries.
She moved nearer and sat down on the bench beside him, indicating that he should sit too.
‘You need not thank us,’ she said gently, ‘for it is what we are here for. What is your name?’
‘Waldo,’ he said.
‘Waldo,’ she repeated. She studied him; he was about fifteen or sixteen, with a broad face in which the bones were already strengthening and enlarging into their adult shape. On his cheeks were the beginnings of a beard. His eyes were light brown and, she fancied, had an open, honest expression. His hair, as far as she could tell, was dark, but as it was sorely in need of a wash, she could not be sure. He wore a long-sleeved brown woollen tunic that had been mended several times – very neatly – and, over it, a sleeveless leather jerkin. He smelt of sweat and cabbage.
He waited to see if she would speak again and when she did not, he said tentatively, ‘They tell me that my brother and my baby niece do well, my lady. May I – is it possible for me to see them? They’re only young and it’s likely they may be a-feared, waking in a strange place with unfamiliar faces. Oh!’ Flushing brick-red, he added, ‘That is, I’m sure they’re kindly nuns up in the sick folk’s place. I meant no offence, my lady.’
‘Of course you didn’t, Waldo,’ she reassured him. ‘And you are quite right; it will do your little brother a lot of good to see you, I’m sure, and the baby girl too.’
Waldo made as if to leap up and run off up to the infirmary there and then. She put out a detaining hand.
‘Finish your broth first,’ she suggested. He looked at her and then down at the bowl of broth, obviously wondering if it would breach some rule of Abbey etiquette to eat in front of an abbess. ‘Go on,’ she said softly, ‘don’t let it get cold!’
Gratefully he dipped in his spoon and slurped up the rest of the broth. When he had almost finished and was mopping the bowl with a piece of bread, she said, ‘Waldo, before I take you to see your kinfolk, may I ask you one or two questions?’
‘Questions?’ Alarm filled his face. ‘Have we done wrong, my lady? We thought it was the right thing to do, to bring our family here. My mother died, you know, and my father, and my grandmother and the old aunt.’ Controlling himself with an obvious effort, he muttered, ‘Uncle and Mariah and me, we were beside ourselves. Uncle was wailing and taking on so and it were all I could do to calm him. When the others took sick, we feared to lose them all.’
‘It’s all right,’ Helewise said. ‘You have done nothing wrong and we shall do all that we can for you. But, Waldo, it seems that this disease spreads fast. What I have to discover is where it might have come from. The more we find out about it, the better are our chances of restricting how many other people catch it. Do you see what I mean?’
He had already been nodding as she spoke; thank God, she thought, he is quick to understand. ‘Aye,’ he said. He screwed up his face for an instant as if in pain, then said, ‘It was my mam. She’s maidservant in the household of a Hastings merchant, Master Kelsey, and she’d been looking after him. He came home from a trip away off in foreign places and took to his bed straight away with a fever and that. He has a sister’ – Waldo’s grimace spoke his feelings for the sister –
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