The Nun's Tale Read Free Page A

She’d said that the nun who had died at Longford’s the previous summer had brought it with her, offering it to Longford as a relic. Louth had taken it home with the weapons and the letter.
    A generously hefty bag of coins had convinced Maddy to stay at the house. She was to alert them if Longford returned or anyone else appeared.
    Had Maddy come to Louth to report visitors this morning?
    He found her sitting in a chair by the fire, a thin young woman clutching a mazer of mulled wine in trembling hands. When he greeted her, she lifted up to him eyes red-rimmed and frightened. ‘I cannot go back there, Sir. I dare not!’
    ‘What is it, Maddy? Has your master returned?’
    She shook her head. ‘’Tis the ghost of poor Dame Joanna. She’s come back for the milk of the Virgin. Weeping and wailing and beating her chest and praying that she should die. She’s not at rest, Sir.’
    Louth did not absorb Maddy’s story at once, so far was it from what he had expected. ‘Dame Joanna? What can you mean, child?’
    Maddy took a gulp of wine. It did not ease her tremors. ‘Please, Sir. ’Tis just as they say, the dead walk when they are not at peace. ’Tis Dame Joanna – she’s come back because of the relic. She must have the bottle she brought to my master.’
    By now Louth had caught the drift of the girl’s story. ‘Dame Joanna, whom your master buried last summer? She has returned? She is at the house now?’
    Maddy crossed herself and nodded. ‘I came to you straight away. I’d come in from the kitchen to open the shutters. I do it mid-morning every day, to keep it fresh in there in case the master returns. There she was, in the corner by the shelves, wrapped in a blue shawl, whispering about the milk of the Virgin. Such a ghostly voice. Like angels’ wings aflutter. And when she’d searched all the shelves she fell to her knees and wept and beat at her breast. Oh, Sir, the lamentations of the dead are not for us to hear unless we may help them! You must return the bottle!’
    Louth was not one to believe in the dead walking, but until now Maddy had seemed to him a sensible and trustworthy young woman, not one to lose her head. ‘You think this apparition seeks the relic Dame Joanna brought from St Clement’s?’
    Maddy nodded and took another gulp of wine.
    ‘Was she in the house when you left?’
    Maddy nodded again and crossed herself.
    It was not what Louth had hoped. Nor did he believe that the dead would walk for the sake of a lost relic. Men with far more reason to lie unquiet in their graves stayed put. But Maddy had stuck to her post until this moment, and she deserved his attention. Could this be a clever ruse to get Maddy out of the house? After more than a month of close watch, had someone fooled them to get inside? The thought propelled Louth to act.
    He called for his squire and instructed a servant to hurry to the provost’s house to ask him to come to Longford’s. ‘Sir Richard might be at Mass at the minster. Do your best to get him as quickly as you can.’ Louth turned to the serving girl. ‘Now, Maddy, do you wish to come or stay here where it is safe and warm?’
    Maddy glanced at the fire with longing, but shook her head. ‘’Tis my place to come, Sir. And I must see for myself what you see. I will not rest if I am not sure what happens.’
    Louth admired her pluck. ‘Then come along. We must not keep her waiting.’
    Though it was beyond mid-morning on a sunny day, the light was dim inside Longford’s house. Louth heard the woman, alternately weeping and whispering, before he made out her form in the shadowy corner. He could not understand what she said. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he noted that the windows across the room from the apparition were still shuttered. He motioned for his squire to open them. The apparition threw up a slender hand to protect her eyes from the light. A decidedly physical gesture, Louth thought. He doubted that a spirit’s eyes would be