The Nun's Tale Read Free Page B

sensitive to light.
    Louth crept up to within a few feet of the blue-draped figure, so close that he could reach out and touch her head. He could see little more than a light-blue mantle or shawl, stained and torn, wrapped about a slender form. The hand held up to the face was dirty. The figure had a strong, mouldy scent, but it was the odour of unwashed flesh and clothing, not decay. So, Louth reasoned, neither a spirit nor a corpse.
    ‘Who are you, Mistress?’ He spoke in a gentle tone, but loudly enough to be heard over her whispering.
    She pounded her chest thrice and murmured, ‘Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa,’ then sobbed and crumpled to the floor. Louth did not know what to make of it. He was relieved when Ravenser slipped quietly in the front door and joined him. The provost crouched by the inert figure, sniffed, rose quickly, putting a handkerchief to his nose. ‘Who is she?’ he whispered.
    Louth shrugged. ‘I know not. But she is a fleshly apparition, I think.’ He knelt down and gently pulled the mantle back, uncovering greasy, matted hair. The woman seemed unconscious. Louth cautiously turned her over and touched the delicate, tear-stained face. ‘Come, Maddy,’ Louth called softly. ‘She is warm to the touch, a living being. Tell us if this is Dame Joanna.’
    Maddy tiptoed forward, a hand stretched out in front as if to protect herself from a sudden attack. When she was still too far away to see the woman’s features in the dim light, she said, ‘She was not so thin as that, Sir.’
    ‘Come closer. I have touched her and have not suffered.’ Louth reached back to Maddy. ‘Come. Tell us if it is she.’
    Maddy crept close, then recoiled.
    Louth nodded. ‘It is the smell of unwashed body, unwashed clothes, Maddy, not decay. Come. Look at her face. Is this Dame Joanna?’ The woman lay still, her eyes closed.
    Maddy leaned close, then jumped away, nodding. ‘’Tis her.’
    ‘Are you certain?’
    ‘As much as I can be. If I saw the colour of her eyes, I should be certain. I have never seen the like. Clear green, if you can imagine.’
    Louth sat back on his heels, wondering how to proceed. ‘Is there a fire in the kitchen, Maddy?’
    ‘Aye, Sir.’
    Louth’s squire, John, crouched down beside him. ‘Shall I carry her there?’
    Louth nodded.
    John scooped up the woman and stood. Maddy hurried before him, leading the way to the kitchen. Louth pulled two benches together near the fire and John gently laid down his burden. The woman stirred, eyelids fluttering.
    ‘Some brandywine, Maddy!’ Louth called.
    The serving girl brought a cup. As Louth lifted the woman’s head, he noted that her hair was pale red. He was more and more confident that this was Dame Joanna. He put the cup to the woman’s mouth and whispered, ‘Drink slowly.’ Some of the wine spilled down her chin. A hand fluttered up to the cup, touched it. The lips parted. She drank, then coughed. Louth helped her sit up. Her eyes opened, but did not focus. Clear green eyes stared out into the distance.
    Maddy nodded. ‘You see the eyes. ’Tis her.’
    Louth held the cup to Dame Joanna’s lips and she drank again, then pushed it away. ‘Can you understand me, Dame Joanna?’ The green eyes glanced at Louth with no expression. He was uncertain whether she even saw him. ‘You are in Will Longford’s house in Beverley. Can you tell us what happened to you?’
    The pale brows came together in a frown. Then the eyes cleared and focused on his. She grabbed his shoulder. ‘The milk of the Virgin. Is it here?’
    ‘It is close by.’
    ‘I must return it.’
    ‘You must return it to St Clement’s?’ Louth asked.
    ‘I wear Our Lady’s mantle, you see.’ She clutched the blue shawl to her. ‘I have risen from the dead – as did Our Lady. But it should not have happened so. I am a Magdalene. Our Lady said I must return to die.’
    ‘Our Lady told you that?’
    The eyes opened wide, guileless, innocent. ‘The