The Nun's Tale

Twenty-three

Lucie paced the kitchen, from the open door to the fireplace, while Bess sat at the table, stripping mint branches. Lucie sighed. ‘So many answers, yet still so many questions. If Stefan loved Joanna as Edmund claims, why would he have murdered the brother she loved so much?’

Bess put aside her work and brought a pitcher of ale down from a shelf. ‘You must be in need of this. I am.’ She poured a cup of ale, passed it to Lucie, poured one for herself, drank. Her nose and cheeks flushed with the impact of her husband’s strong brew. ‘Thank the Lord for my Tom.’ She grinned at Lucie. ‘What are you thinking?’

Lucie stood by the window, cup in hand, frowning. ‘Of what did Hugh and Joanna speak when they met? I must know that.’

Bess grunted. ‘’Tis curious, isn’t it? She was so angry with her brother for leaving without a word, still begrudging his deserting her years ago. What were those two up to?’

Lucie slowly lifted the cup to her mouth, but paused, lowered it. ‘And the medal, Bess. Mary Magdalene. Such a curious patron saint for a girl of thirteen. The patron saint of repentant sinners. Of what sin was Hugh thinking when he gave her that medal?’ Lucie began to pace again. ‘I assumed that Matthew Calverley was right, that his wife despaired of Hugh and Joanna because of her family taint. But might it have been something else? Something Hugh and Joanna had done?’

Bess took another long drink, her eyes faraway. She nodded. ‘And they meant to run off together.’

Lucie finally sat down opposite Bess and sipped her ale, staring into her friend’s face, seeing her own questions mirrored in Bess’s shrewd eyes. ‘Why did Stefan kill Hugh and not just capture him? He made enemies, doing that.’ Lucie put the cup down, pressed the heels of her hands into her brows. What else? Something niggled at the back of her mind. ‘Stefan would have spied on Hugh and Joanna before he went into Hugh’s house. What did he see that threw him into a murderous rage?’ Lucie met Bess’s frank look and nodded. ‘“Noli me tangere.” Who said that to Joanna?’

Bess tapped Lucie’s cup with hers. ‘Why did she run away with Stefan and then murder him?’ A knowing nod.

‘Where is Daimon?’

‘He and Sir Robert went to St George’s Field. They will return soon.’

Lucie found it difficult to wait for an escort, but it was no use arriving at St Mary’s before Joanna woke.

Sir Robert returned early from St George’s Field, exhausted, admitting his age. Bess rose from her seat. ‘Come, Sir Robert. Let us go back to the tavern and rest. Lucie has business with Daimon. Some heavy lifting.’ Bess winked at Lucie.

When Bess had led Sir Robert safely away, Lucie asked Daimon to escort her to the abbey. He agreed at once, eager to oblige her in any way.

But for the church bells the city was quieter on Sunday than on other days. People moved about the streets, but they did so in more measured paces. It was midday, the sun warm on Lucie’s back as she crossed the abbey grounds. She noticed little of her surroundings, rehearsing in her head how she would confront Joanna.

Prudentia rose from Joanna’s bedside as Lucie entered and hurried over, her hands outspread, her ruddy face crumpled in distress. ‘God help her, Joanna will take neither food nor drink today, Mistress Wilton. She says she must die now. That it is Our Lady’s wish. You must reason with her.’

Lucie assured the infirmaress that she would try. ‘And you must have some food and rest. Go now. I shall watch over her.’

‘I should stay with her.’

‘God go with you, Dame Prudentia,’ Lucie said firmly. ‘I wish to speak with her alone.’

‘Ah.’ Prudentia was suddenly all smiles. ‘Then I shall of course leave you with her.’ She shuffled off in good cheer.

Joanna lay on the bed with the medal pressed to her heart, her eyes fastened on Lucie. ‘I have confessed my sins. You have heard?’ Her voice was hoarse.

Lucie took a seat beside the bed, dipped a spoon into the cup of wine the infirmarian had poured for Joanna, grabbed Joanna’s jaw with one hand, pressed the spoon to Joanna’s closed mouth. Joanna tried to turn away, but Lucie held her firmly. ‘You shall drink this, Joanna, for we must talk.’

Joanna pressed her lips together.

‘Must I bring in Daimon to pry open your mouth? For I shall, Joanna, so help me God. You should be grateful that I have discovered your secret, the sin you have not confessed. If you died without confessing it, you would die in a state of sin, not of grace.’

Joanna relaxed her jaw, accepted the spoon, coughing as the liquid trickled down her dry throat.

Lucie nodded, sat back. ‘When you wish for more, ask.’

Joanna studied Lucie’s face. ‘What secret?’

‘I speak of that sin of which you repented all those years ago. Of which that medal is a symbol.’

Joanna’s eyes went cold.

Lucie took a deep breath. ‘How young were you when you and Hugh became lovers, Joanna?’

Joanna clutched the medal.

‘Young enough not to know what you did? Incest is not a venial sin, Joanna. Did Hugh rape you?’

Joanna’s eyes widened. She lifted her head from the pillow. ‘Rape?’ She gave a surprised little laugh. ‘Did your captain need to rape you? I think not. I think you rejoiced when you saw the hunger in his eye.’ She lay back down with a conspiratorial smile. ‘And why not love my brother? Why should I be denied perfection because I was his sister? You think your captain is handsome.’ She waved away anticipated protests. ‘Hugh was more handsome still. Strong, brave, everything a man should be. I adored him.’ Joanna shrugged her eyebrows. ‘That, too, is sinful.’

Lucie wondered about this new mood. ‘Then you did plan to run away together?’

Joanna’s eyes were teasing one moment, filled with tears the next, though she tried to keep the smile frozen on her face. ‘We were off to France.’ A sob escaped. Joanna dabbed at her eyes. The smile vanished. ‘But he was not perfection. What he did to Will Longford — ’ She shook her head, closed her eyes. Her paleness worried Lucie. Even Joanna’s lips were chalky. Lucie offered her the cup of wine. Joanna drank with one eye on Lucie. ‘I could not confess this sin to Brother Wulfstan.’

Odd that Brother Wulfstan inspired a timidity in Joanna. No one else seemed to. ‘You are attempting to commit an even more serious sin — to end your life.’

‘It is Our Lady’s wish.’

Lucie knew the futility of arguing Joanna out of her delusion. ‘What did Hugh want with the seal of St Sebastian?’

Joanna looked surprised. ‘I have just told you my brother and I were lovers. Have I not shocked you?’

‘I want the truth. At the moment, that is all my concern.’

Joanna shrugged. ‘The seal would introduce Hugh as du Guesclin’s man and get us a safe conduct to France.’

‘From Scarborough?’

‘No. Farther south.’

‘Why France?’

‘No one would know we were brother and sister. We could be wed.’

Lucie marvelled at the naïvety. Joanna and Hugh had reckoned without the long reach of the Church. But perhaps the Church turned a blind eye to du Guesclin. So they had planned to marry. ‘What of Stefan?’

Joanna turned away. ‘He never offered marriage.’

‘I am surprised your brother did. Mercenaries rarely attach themselves to a family. But then, Hugh must have loved you very much to be so angry with Longford.’

Joanna’s breath caught. She crossed herself. ‘I cannot forgive what he did to Longford. I thought it had been quick. But what he must have suffered! Dear God, when I felt the earth raining on me, I could not remember how to draw breath. I could not scream. The earth was crushing me, pressing into me.’

‘I did not think they had truly buried you.’

Joanna shook her head. ‘But the feeling.’

‘You told this to Hugh?’

‘He already hated Longford. What I told him was just the excuse. Longford had made Hugh look a fool to the Percies. I know Hugh. That is why he left without a word. He knew I would not want him to do it.’

‘He was a cruel man?’

‘He once burned the hand of a servant for a silly mistake. Hugh laughed while the boy howled. I could not bear it. I grabbed the boy’s hand and pressed it into the snow.’ Joanna’s voice suddenly flattened. ‘My Mother hated Hugh.’

‘Yet you loved him.’

‘It takes strength to be cruel.’

Lucie thought the opposite. ‘Why did your mother hate her son?’

Joanna struggled to sit up, refusing Lucie’s help. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms about her legs as if anchoring herself. ‘The way she died, walking into the water. . Did she take her life? Because of him? Or because of us?’

Lucie said nothing.

‘Mother came upon us. Naked, in my bed. Hugh and I. She did not punish us. She simply said that a child born of us would be cursed. She gave me a plant to chew, so that I should not beget monsters.’

‘Did you go to St Clement’s in repentance? Is that why you took your vows?’

Joanna pressed her forehead to her knees. ‘If I could not have Hugh, I thought I wanted no man. But I was wrong. I found Stefan.’

So she had loved Stefan. At least cared for him. ‘Where is Stefan, Joanna?’

Joanna raised her eyes to Lucie’s. The green eyes swam with tears. ‘He is no more.’ The voice a quivering whisper.

‘What happened?’

Joanna closed her eyes, rocked from side to side, letting the tears fall. ‘He had a wife. Did you know?’

‘Yes,’ Lucie whispered.

‘Jesu, I am accursed. My love is always sin.’

‘Stefan followed you to Hugh’s house?’

‘Hugh told me what he had done. But not the whole truth, not like your captain said. Hugh only said he had returned to Beverley to bury Longford in my grave — alive. He promised to protect me. Care for me.’ Her voice broke. Lucie handed her the wine. Joanna drank. ‘He had the seal. He had written letters for our safe passage, sealed with Sebastian’s emblem. We would go to France. But we must go quickly. Right then. He was gathering his things. He said the house was no longer safe. His men had deserted him.’

‘Stefan heard this?’

‘I do not know what he heard. I think he heard much of it.’

‘Please, Joanna. Why did Stefan kill Hugh?’

Joanna’s face was flushed with wine and emotion. ‘I told Hugh I did not believe that he meant to take me with him. He would desert me again. Stefan was better for me. He had saved me.’ She shook her head. ‘Hugh told me Stefan had not meant to save me, he had simply not liked the idea of burying me alive, which is what Longford meant to do. Stefan thought it was too untidy. He preferred poison. A subtler, painless way to get rid of me and still hurt Hugh.’

This did not sound like the man Edmund described. ‘Is that true, Joanna?’

Joanna shook her head, still clutching her knees to her chest. ‘Hugh lied. He was jealous. I had told him that I was trying to have Stefan’s baby, so he wanted me to hate Stefan. And I saw that.’ Her eyes softened with tears. ‘I saw the yearning in Hugh’s eyes. I could not hurt him. Not Hugh. He pulled me to him and kissed me. That was all it ever took. In a few kisses we were naked and rolling on the floor. Suddenly someone grabbed me and pushed me aside. Stefan. His face was so dark. So angry. I had not seen that side of him. Hugh was naked and unarmed, weak from sex. I reached for Hugh’s things — to cover him — but Stefan struck me on the head. I was stunned.’ Joanna sobbed. ‘Dear God, I wish I had been unconscious. I could not stop Stefan, I could not help Hugh, I could only watch. Stefan drew his dagger and fell upon my beautiful brother.’ She moaned. ‘He stabbed him again and again. His chest, his stomach, his throat, even his face.’ She covered her eyes with her hands. ‘Blood danced in the room. It sprayed Stefan and me. When I stepped onto the floor I slipped in it. Hugh’s blood was in my mouth, on my eyes. My brother’s blood. Stefan slapped me and shouted for me to stop screaming. I did not know I was screaming. He slapped me so hard I fell and hit my head. I could not stand up. I was so afraid — for myself — I knew with all that blood Hugh must be dead. Stefan wrapped me in something and carried me away.’ Joanna drank down the wine.

Lucie refilled the cup, gave it to Joanna, then walked slowly to the window in a daze of blood. She gulped air. Turning, not wishing to sit just yet, she asked, ‘Where did Stefan take you?’

Joanna looked oddly calm. ‘A cave. By the ocean.’ Her voice was steady. ‘He would not speak to me. Would not let me touch him.’

‘Why did you stay with him?’

Joanna frowned as if puzzled. ‘Why, to murder him.’ Her direct look, a challenge rather than an apology, chilled Lucie. ‘He had murdered my Hugh. He must die.’ A long, shuddering sigh. ‘I had much time to think. I remembered what Hugh had said, how they had meant to poison me. And I believed him. How could someone who had loved me do this to me? And I thought how Hugh had murdered Longford as Longford had meant to murder me. So I planned his poisoning.’

‘You poisoned Stefan?’

Joanna rubbed her eyes wearily. ‘I did not know how. Not with what little we had there.’

‘And yet you stayed.’

‘I — ’ she shrugged. ‘I still wanted him.’

Lucie pressed her chilled fingertips to her eyelids.

‘One night, after much wine, Stefan stripped me and beat me — with the hilt of his sword, his hands, his boots — shouting all the while that I was unclean, I had made him unclean, I had made him a murderer. When I was bleeding and bruised and retching, he tied my hands to a post so I could not touch him, and he took me. So violently I thought he meant to kill me. And then he beat me again. And took me again. When he was finished, spent, he left me there, tied up, naked, unclean. I do not know for certain how long I lay there. I know it was days — I saw the light come and go. I lay there waiting to die. I prayed that death would not be slow in coming. I was so cold. Naked upon the stones. The sunshine I saw outside the cave could not reach me.’ She paused, crossed herself. ‘And then one night she came to me.’ Joanna’s voice changed, hushed.

‘Who?’

Joanna smiled. ‘Our Lady. She told me she would not let me die until I returned the vial of her milk that I had stolen from St Clement’s. I told her I could not move. She said I could work the cord on my hands loose enough to slide it up the post. So I obeyed her. She had come to show me the way to peace. It was midday by the time I worked my hands free. My first movements were so painful. It was late afternoon before I wrapped myself in her mantle, took my clothes, and went down to the water to wash.’ She bit her lip, dropped her eyes. ‘And there he was, lying on the rocks.’

‘Stefan?’

Joanna’s eyes focused on something Lucie could not see. ‘He must have slipped. The cliff was always wet with spray’

‘So you did not kill him?’

Joanna focused on Lucie. ‘But I did. If I had run away, he might not have fallen. He was so angry.’ She shook her head. ‘It should be clear to you. I am guilty.’

‘He was dead?’

‘I did not go too close. I washed myself and dressed. I had my mission for the Virgin. Then I could die in peace. That is all I wanted.’

Lucie found it difficult to believe that Joanna had not gone near enough to Stefan to see whether he breathed, whether someone might yet save him. ‘You walked away without knowing?’

Joanna nodded. ‘It was over.’

Who was crueller? Hugh or Joanna? ‘Did you go into Scarborough? Tell anyone?’

Joanna looked askance. ‘Tell whom? Edmund would have murdered me then and there. I could not allow that until I had found the vial and returned it.’

‘Can you be so unfeeling? Stefan might have been alive. Don’t you wonder if he lies there still?’

Joanna shrugged. ‘I suppose he does. Unless he slipped into the sea. I hope that happened. It is a kinder death.’

As she stared at the madwoman before her — for surely Joanna was mad — all Lucie wanted was the comfort of Owen’s arms. She shivered with cold on this warm July day.

When she left Joanna, Lucie was grateful that Daimon asked no questions, just accompanied her to the abbey church. She sank down in front of the statue of the Virgin, put her head in her hands, and wept. Maddy, Jaro, Colin, Longford, Hugh, Stefan, Jack — all dead; Joanna yearning for death. Even Mistress Calverley seemed to have willed her death to escape the tragic truth of her children. Not just their forbidden love but their cruel insistence on having their way, no matter whom it destroyed. For Lucie the overwhelming tragedy was that none of this could ever be put right. Even if Joanna and Hugh had managed to escape to France and live as a married couple, they would have earned their momentary happiness by three deaths, and they would have lived with that knowledge. A confessor might have shriven them of their mortal sins — all but one. And that sin, of brother and sister living as man and wife, would have damned them for all eternity. Unless they parted. And then all would have been for nought.

Now even Hugh was gone. And Stefan. Leaving Joanna alone with her memories. Memories that made death seem a kindness.

A long while passed as Lucie worked through the emotions that gripped her. The bells rang out for nones. In the choir, the monks chanted their office and departed. At some point in the afternoon, Daimon had brought Lucie a stool. Now she sat, leaning her tired back against a pillar, staring at Our Lady, uncertain how to pray for Joanna. As the bells rang for vespers, someone knelt beside Lucie, gathered her in strong arms.

‘Lucie, my love,’ Owen whispered, ‘it is over. Come. Let us go home.’

She wiped her eyes, looked up into Owen’s face, dark with worry. ‘Over? No. Not for Joanna. It will never be over for Joanna.’ Owen pressed her head to his chest, but Lucie had seen Edmund whisper something to Daimon, who gasped, then crossed himself. She pulled away from Owen. ‘What do you mean, “over”? What is over?’ That look in his eye.

Owen shook his head. ‘Not now. Come home.’

‘What has happened to Joanna?’

Owen tried to lift her.

Lucie fought him. ‘You said it, Owen. Now tell me.’

‘Joanna jumped from the window. Her neck was broken.’

Lucie’s stomach lurched. ‘But she did not confess the deepest sin, Owen. Not to a confessor. Only to me.’

Owen pulled her close, kissed her forehead. ‘Perhaps it was enough. We shall pray that it was.’

Jasper and his friends from the school sneaked round to the archbishop’s gaol to glimpse the men being led out in shackles.

‘What did they do?’ one of the boys asked.

‘Killed a nun,’ another replied. ‘Pushed her out of a window.’

Jasper shook his head. ‘No one pushed her. She jumped.’

They all turned to Jasper with wide eyes, remembering his authority.

‘Did Captain Archer see it?’

‘No.’

‘Did anyone see it?’

‘Dame Prudentia, the infirmaress,’ Jasper said. ‘She cried a lot and said it was her fault. But the captain told her that when people are determined to do such things, no one can stop them, just delay them.’ Jasper gazed round at the attentive faces lifted towards him. This was a benefit of being an apprentice in the Wilton apothecary that he had not foreseen. ‘Those men wear the livery of Captain Sebastian of Scarborough. He was a traitor, but now he fights for our King.’

‘How did that happen?’

‘Captain Archer went to Scarborough and convinced him to fight for Right.’

All heads turned to study the livery of the shackled men.

‘But look at the one coming out with Captain Archer. He’s wearing the livery, but he’s free.’

Jasper ducked back behind the corner of the building. Owen might not be pleased to see him there. ‘That’s Edmund of Whitby,’ Jasper told his friends. ‘He helped the captain a lot, so His Grace the Archbishop has pardoned him. But he must return to Scarborough and answer to the Percies. He’ll be under guard, but unshackled.’

His friends peered again round the corner to watch for any further action. They were disappointed there were to be no beheadings or hangings.