Read Online The Rose of the World by Alys Clare - Free Book Online

to the shelves with practised hands and mixed herbs for a drink. She set out a dry crust of bread and a strip of salted meat, eating the food slowly while she arranged her thoughts. When she had finished, and the herbal concoction was coursing through her body, she made sure the fire was dying down, packed up her bag and left the hut.
    She moved swiftly and silently and kept to the shadows. Dressed in black as she was, with her hood over her head, anyone glancing at her would have taken her for a nun. She crossed the cloister and walked along to Abbess Caliste’s room, tapping softly on the door. Invited to enter, she went in and shut the door behind her.
    â€˜Tiphaine!’ Abbess Caliste’s face lit up. The big table in front of her was, Tiphaine noticed, strewn with pieces of vellum, each covered in tiny rows and columns of figures and what Tiphaine assumed were words. ‘How good it is to see you. Is there any news? Will you sit down?’
    Tiphaine shook her head. ‘Thank you, no. It is possible that some visitor to Hawkenlye may have heard or seen something concerning Rosamund’s whereabouts, and—’
    â€˜And you wish to go among them and ask,’ Abbess Caliste finished for her. ‘Of course you must! Oh, Tiphaine, the family must be beside themselves with anxiety!’
    Tiphaine nodded. ‘Aye, for she is young and vulnerable.’
    Abbess Caliste looked down with a frown at the work spread before her. ‘I would help if I could, but the king’s agents were here yesterday and I have a great deal to do.’ She sighed. ‘Their demands are all but impossible.’
    â€˜It is a heavy burden that you bear, my lady abbess,’ Tiphaine said.
    Caliste looked up at her. Tiphaine did not often address the abbess by her formal title – there were old and profound ties between the two of them that made their relationship unique – but just then she had done so deliberately, intending to remind young Caliste exactly who she was and encourage a little confidence. ‘You can do it, if anyone can,’ Tiphaine added, her voice so low that she was not sure Caliste heard.
    Caliste closed her eyes and her lips moved in a silent prayer, then, looking at Tiphaine, she said, ‘Tell me if you discover anything. May God help you all in your search.’
    Tiphaine nodded. Then she turned and quietly let herself out of the room.
    Next, Tiphaine went to the infirmary and spoke to Sister Liese. Sister Euphemia had at last acknowledged her years and now spent her days in Hawkenlye’s home for aged monks and nuns. Although she was always willing to offer help and advice, her legs and feet were swollen from decades of hard work and she found standing painful. She liked to sit in her chair by the door or, when the weather was warm, outside in the sunshine, watching and thinking. Sister Liese was a woman of middle age who had come to Hawkenlye on the death of her husband and had quickly proved to be a dedicated healer with a particular gift with the young. She had calmly acknowledged that taking over from Sister Euphemia was a hard task and, during her early years in the abbey community, she had been modest and self-effacing. Now that Sister Euphemia had finally retired, Liese had stepped into the role to which she had been appointed and, in her own quiet way, she was proving to be almost as firm a rock as her predecessor.
    Tiphaine told her briefly about Rosamund. Sister Liese nodded. ‘We have few patients at present,’ she said. ‘All have been here for at least two days, so it is unlikely that they can offer any helpful information. I will, however, be sure to ask anyone who comes in.’
    Next Tiphaine went down to the vale, where the monks were tending to the needs of a handful of hungry-looking pilgrims. Brother Erse, Hawkenlye’s carpenter, was performing old Brother Firmin’s task of fetching holy water from the shrine. Brother Firmin