Read Online The Nun's Tale by Candace Robb - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Candace Robb
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stretched. Melisende sat up, expectant. ‘Yes, we shall go down and stoke the fire. Let Tildy wake to warmth for a change.’ Lucie’s serving girl, Tildy, had been pampering Lucie while Owen was away. With Owen returning tonight and Lucie’s father, Sir Robert D’Arby, arriving by week’s end, Tildy was about to become quite busy. ‘She deserves a treat,’ Lucie said, scratching Melisende’s striped back. The cat blinked, as if in agreement.
Brother Wulfstan’s summons arrived as Lucie and Tildy finished the morning chores.
‘He is not unwell?’ Lucie asked the messenger with alarm.
‘Brother Wulfstan is well. He requires your assistance with an ailing guest.’
Knowing that the infirmarian would not make such a request idly, Lucie instructed Tildy to ask customers to return in the afternoon and accompanied the messenger to the abbey, tingling with curiosity about the unusual summons.
Her haste was rewarded. When Lucie saw the prioress of St Clement’s in attendance in the patient’s room at the guest house, she guessed the identity of the patient shrouded in the curtained bed. She had heard the rumours about Dame Joanna of Leeds.
Dame Isobel greeted her politely.
Brother Wulfstan came forward with open arms. ‘Bless you for coming so quickly, Lucie.’ He led her aside to explain the situation. His face darkened as he moved farther into the tale of Joanna’s disappearance, reappearance, the two deaths that seemed linked to her, the rumour of her miraculous mantle, and her possible danger. ‘Forgive me for drawing you into such unholy concerns, Lucie, but I need a woman’s help in this and I know you have the skill – and the discretion.’
Lucie smiled at Wulfstan’s dear, troubled face. ‘With such sweet words, how could I possibly be offended? Come.’ She took his arm. ‘Introduce me to this fascinating patient.’
With a grateful smile, Wulfstan led Lucie over to the curtained bed. A table had been drawn up beside it. The infirmarian had assembled a wine flagon, some apothecary jars, a cup, spoons and measures, and a spirit lamp on which a bowl of water steamed. ‘The Reverend Mother needs Dame Joanna calm enough to answer questions. She hopes to discover what happened – what drove Joanna away, what brought her back.’
Lucie could well imagine. She suspected that it was Archbishop Thoresby who motivated Dame Isobel.
‘I thought to begin with something simple: valerian and balm in wine, a strong dosage. But I must know whether Joanna is in any pain. The sisters believe she has discomfort from cuts, scratches, bruises, but is otherwise sound. I hoped you might examine her and reassure me.’ Wulfstan turned at a noise from Dame Isobel. ‘Forgive me, Reverend Mother. I do not mean to question you. I am taking my normal precautions. A medicine for one can be a poison for another. We pray God to guide our hands, but He expects us to take care.’
Dame Isobel tucked her hands beneath her scapular and bowed her acquiescence.
Wulfstan turned back to Lucie. ‘I shall be in the corridor while you examine Dame Joanna. I shall await your summons to return.’
When the door had closed behind Wulfstan, Dame Isobel joined Lucie. Lucie opened the curtain. Dame Joanna lay with her eyes closed, her mouth moving as if in prayer, her hands pressed together on her chest. She was wrapped in a clean but shabby blue mantle. Her face was pale. Deathly pale.
‘Dame Joanna,’ Lucie said, and waited for an answer.
The nun continued as she had been.
Lucie leaned over and touched Joanna’s arm.
The woman jerked her arm away, opened her eyes, and stared up at Lucie with alarm.
Could she have been unaware of Lucie’s presence until the touch and then respond so dramatically? Lucie was puzzled. ‘Please, do not be frightened. I am Mistress Wilton, an apothecary. I am to examine you so the infirmarian knows how to treat you.’
The green eyes flicked over to Dame Isobel, back to Lucie. ‘Treat
Brother Wulfstan’s summons arrived as Lucie and Tildy finished the morning chores.
‘He is not unwell?’ Lucie asked the messenger with alarm.
‘Brother Wulfstan is well. He requires your assistance with an ailing guest.’
Knowing that the infirmarian would not make such a request idly, Lucie instructed Tildy to ask customers to return in the afternoon and accompanied the messenger to the abbey, tingling with curiosity about the unusual summons.
Her haste was rewarded. When Lucie saw the prioress of St Clement’s in attendance in the patient’s room at the guest house, she guessed the identity of the patient shrouded in the curtained bed. She had heard the rumours about Dame Joanna of Leeds.
Dame Isobel greeted her politely.
Brother Wulfstan came forward with open arms. ‘Bless you for coming so quickly, Lucie.’ He led her aside to explain the situation. His face darkened as he moved farther into the tale of Joanna’s disappearance, reappearance, the two deaths that seemed linked to her, the rumour of her miraculous mantle, and her possible danger. ‘Forgive me for drawing you into such unholy concerns, Lucie, but I need a woman’s help in this and I know you have the skill – and the discretion.’
Lucie smiled at Wulfstan’s dear, troubled face. ‘With such sweet words, how could I possibly be offended? Come.’ She took his arm. ‘Introduce me to this fascinating patient.’
With a grateful smile, Wulfstan led Lucie over to the curtained bed. A table had been drawn up beside it. The infirmarian had assembled a wine flagon, some apothecary jars, a cup, spoons and measures, and a spirit lamp on which a bowl of water steamed. ‘The Reverend Mother needs Dame Joanna calm enough to answer questions. She hopes to discover what happened – what drove Joanna away, what brought her back.’
Lucie could well imagine. She suspected that it was Archbishop Thoresby who motivated Dame Isobel.
‘I thought to begin with something simple: valerian and balm in wine, a strong dosage. But I must know whether Joanna is in any pain. The sisters believe she has discomfort from cuts, scratches, bruises, but is otherwise sound. I hoped you might examine her and reassure me.’ Wulfstan turned at a noise from Dame Isobel. ‘Forgive me, Reverend Mother. I do not mean to question you. I am taking my normal precautions. A medicine for one can be a poison for another. We pray God to guide our hands, but He expects us to take care.’
Dame Isobel tucked her hands beneath her scapular and bowed her acquiescence.
Wulfstan turned back to Lucie. ‘I shall be in the corridor while you examine Dame Joanna. I shall await your summons to return.’
When the door had closed behind Wulfstan, Dame Isobel joined Lucie. Lucie opened the curtain. Dame Joanna lay with her eyes closed, her mouth moving as if in prayer, her hands pressed together on her chest. She was wrapped in a clean but shabby blue mantle. Her face was pale. Deathly pale.
‘Dame Joanna,’ Lucie said, and waited for an answer.
The nun continued as she had been.
Lucie leaned over and touched Joanna’s arm.
The woman jerked her arm away, opened her eyes, and stared up at Lucie with alarm.
Could she have been unaware of Lucie’s presence until the touch and then respond so dramatically? Lucie was puzzled. ‘Please, do not be frightened. I am Mistress Wilton, an apothecary. I am to examine you so the infirmarian knows how to treat you.’
The green eyes flicked over to Dame Isobel, back to Lucie. ‘Treat
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