“No, Mother.” Theodosia gave her a shamed glance. “I am Sister Theodosia Bertrand. I wear these lay clothes for a reason, which I will be glad to explain to you.”
A respectful knock came from the open door.
Palmer looked over. A plump young lay postulant waited there, quivering at her task of serving the Abbess’s guests. The poor girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen, and it was probably just as well she’d chosen the religious life. Her face might have been pleasing enough, save for a terrible scar from a wound that had lost her an eye and reddened the skin down one side of her face.
“Wilfreda, bring in our dinner,” said the Abbess. “Make sure you’re prompt.”
The girl’s mouth turned down in worry. “P-prompt? Wh-what’s that, Mother?”
“Quick, girl. Quick.”
“Yes, Reverend Mother.” The girl ducked into a curtsey and fled like a mouse down a cornstalk.
Ursula sighed. “Lord, give me strength. I think she lost more than an eye when she fell in her mother’s lye bucket.” She turned her attention to Theodosia. “Now, what do you want to know?”
“Is my mother here?”
Palmer shared the desperation in her gray eyes. Amélie was the key to everything.
“No. I may have bent the truth earlier, but told no outright lie,” said Ursula.
Theodosia looked fearfully to Benedict. “Then we are still in danger — ”
“Child, child.” The Abbess interrupted her with a raised hand. “Patience is a virtue. You need to hear me out.”
“Sorry, Mother.” Theodosia folded her hands, her pale cheeks pink.
Ursula went on. “She was here. Becket himself brought her here, many years ago. He had only recently been made archbishop then.”
“Like you remembered.” Palmer met Theodosia’s gaze, and she nodded.
“It was a great sadness to her to have left you behind,” said Ursula. “As to why, she said she was sworn to secrecy. The Archbishop said it was for the best of reasons, but none he could tell either.”
“And you accepted that?” said Palmer.
“My life, the very life of the church, is based on vows of obedience,” said Ursula. “Unquestioning obedience. A notion some people struggle with.” She raised her eyebrows at Theodosia, who colored again. “Yet while your loss gave her great sadness, it also gave her great, great comfort that she had gifted you to the church, to be a great woman of God.”
A clatter came from the doorway.
“Ah, here’s our food,” said the Abbess. “We can talk as we eat — it won’t delay my mouth any.”
The unlucky postulant came in bearing a large platter that held spoons, three hefty bowls of ground pork and bread crumbs in rich gravy, a round creamy cheese, and a tall earthenware jug of ale with matching tankards.
As she set it down on the table, the Abbess spoke on. “All was as ever here, with Sister Amélie living in our community. Then, only a matter of days ago, the messenger who carries the monastic posts told me he had a letter for her.”
Wilfreda placed a dish, spoon, and tankard before the Abbess, then Palmer, and finally Theodosia. She put the cheese in the center, then cast an anxious glance at the Abbess.
“Drinks next, Wilfreda, remember?”
Wilfreda picked up the jug and poured a full tankard for the Abbess. She next went to Theodosia.
Theodosia placed her hand over the top of the drinking vessel. “No ale for me, thank you. May I please have some water?”
“No ale?” Surprise met disapproval in the Abbess’s voice.
“No, Mother. I took it as one of my vows, as an anchoress,” said Theodosia.
“Ah.” Mother Ursula’s expression cleared. “That explains it. Not much call for ale if you’re in one of those cells.” She gave her infectious rasp of a laugh again. “I’ve been digging turnips all morn, so I need to keep my strength up. Wilfreda, when you’ve served Sir Palmer, please fetch some well water also.”
“Yes, Mother.” The girl moved around the table to fill Palmer’s tankard. She poured too fast, and a couple of mouthfuls slopped over the top.
Ursula made an impatient click with her tongue.
“Oh, I’m s-sorry, s-sir.” Wilfreda’s hands shook more than ever.
“It’s naught,” said Palmer. “I’ve spilt a lot more than that in my time. I was one of the most cack-handed pages in the country.”
Her hand flew to the ruined side of her face at being spoken to by him.
“Fetch a cloth along with the water,” said Ursula.
Wilfreda gave her bob of a curtsey again and fled.