Heart of Ice

Heart of Ice Read Free Page B

Book: Heart of Ice Read Free
Author: Alys Clare
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infirmary, watching while two of her nursing nuns began carefully to remove the clothing from the corpse in preparation for washing it. Not a pauper, the infirmarer mused to herself, nor yet a rich man, if these garments are a guide; the cloak, tunic and hose are quite new but of poor quality. A young man, she thought, looking at the dead face, not yet twenty, I would guess, and no doubt just beginning to make his way in the world. God bless him, he’ll advance no further in this world.
         She was silently praying for the young man’s soul when Sister Caliste said softly, ‘He is ready for you, Sister.’
         The infirmarer stepped forward and, carefully turning back the spotlessly clean linen sheet with which the nursing nuns had covered the corpse, began her inspection. She worked quickly and thoroughly, barely speaking, and when she was finished she said, ‘Sister Caliste, be good enough to hurry and tell Brother Firmin that he can stop beating his breast; this death has come about through no fault of his, since it was not through tripping on any crack in the path that this young man fell in the pond.’ Sister Caliste bowed and hastened away. Then, turning to Sister Anne, the infirmarer added, ‘And you, Sister, must go and find the Abbess and ask her if she could spare me a moment.’ Sister Anne’s mouth had dropped open. ‘Quickly now!’
         With a bob of the head and a muttered ‘Yes, Sister,’ Anne too scurried off.
         Sister Euphemia stood alone by the dead man’s body. Perhaps I am mistaken and have been too hasty to remove the blame from Brother Firmin’s cracked path, she thought. Gently she pushed back the wet hair from the corpse’s forehead and looked again, studying the front of the head intently for some moments. No, she decided eventually, I am not mistaken.
         When, not long afterwards, the Abbess entered the infirmary and, escorted by Sister Caliste, made her way to the curtained recess, Sister Euphemia was quite ready for her. She made her reverence and then said with admirable brevity, ‘My lady, this young man has been slain by a blow to the top of his head, after which he either fell or was pushed into the pond. The death must be investigated and we must therefore seek help.’
         The Abbess stood quite still, listening to the infirmarer and studying her with expressionless eyes. As soon as Sister Euphemia finished speaking, the Abbess turned to look at the young man lying on the cot. Tenderly she put up a hand and touched her fingertips to the terrible blow on the top of his head. She said calmly, ‘Yes, Sister, indeed we must send for help.’
         Sister Euphemia opened her mouth to reply but then, as if the Abbess could no longer maintain her air of efficient indifference, she muttered passionately, ‘This was done with great force. See, Sister, how the bones of the skull have been crushed! What can he possibly have done to bring down such hatred upon himself? He is but young, and—’
         She did not complete her remark. Achieving detachment once more, she straightened up, lifted her head and said, ‘I shall send word to Gervase de Gifford down in Tonbridge.’
         ‘And—’ the infirmarer began. She stopped herself.
         But her superior had already read her mind. ‘Yes, Sister,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘I shall also send word to Sir Josse and ask, if he is not too busy, if he will kindly pay us a visit.’
     
    Gervase de Gifford sent a message back to the Abbess that he would be at Hawkenlye first thing in the morning. The monk who had ridden off to New Winnowlands to find Sir Josse d’Acquin did not return that evening, which was no cause for alarm since he would undoubtedly have been pressed to come in, warm himself by Sir Josse’s fireside, refresh himself with a good, hot meal and a jug of ale and stay overnight. Expecting just such a turn of events, the Abbess had given the brother – it was young

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