The invitation to visit the shrine of St Hild came a little later. At the time Hildegard was on her way to the stables, drawn there by the sound of raised voices.
The boy who delivered the message was gasping as he ran up. ‘Come when you will, domina, now or after the next Office?’
‘After the next one.’
‘I’ll tell him so.’ He ran off.
She continued towards the stables and the sound of shouting, having already decided to see how their horses were being cared for and, more importantly, what might be said about Sir Ranulph’s black stallion and Edred, when the unusual sound of a woman’s voice rising to a desperate level attracted her attention.
When she entered the cobbled area behind the storehouses, Edred’s wife was standing in the middle of the yard, pleading with a couple of men who were throwing a few meagre belongings down into the yard from the loft above the stalls where she was living with her children. They were apologising all the while, the children were wailing, and a man shouting orders and telling them to get on with it was only interrupted when the bursar appeared from under the arch opposite leading from the monks’ precinct.
It was obvious that someone had over-stepped themselves and was now having the widow thrown out of her home.
Expecting him to put things right, Hildegard was astonished when he gave the widow a supercilious stare as she dropped to her knees with hands clasped. ‘Stop this howling, woman. You’re disturbing the prayers of the brotherhood. We can hear you all over the abbey.’
‘But my lord,’ she sobbed, bursting into a flood of tears, ‘how can you throw us out? I have three small children. What are we to do? Where can we go? Please, my lord, help us!’
‘How dare you! Are we to give you free lodgings? What if everyone came to us on their knees, blubbing and demanding special consideration? What then? Are we to give free houses to everyone who asks?’
‘But, my lord, my husband gave you good and faithful service—’
‘What? When he swindled us and stole our gold from our very coffers? You dare say he gave good service?’
‘My husband was an honest man. He would swindle no-one. He honoured the Church and was faithful to its doctrine all his days!’
‘Lie upon lie! Hold your tongue!’
‘But what am I to do now? To be thrown out on to the streets! Are we to wander like vagrants now he is dead? Please help me!’
‘Look to your problems yourself and don’t bother me with them.’
‘But it’s because of you that we’re in such dire straits!’
‘How dare you speak to me like this? Get up, woman. And then get out! Take your belongings with you.’
The toddler began to howl again and the two older children stood as silent as mutes, shocked to see their mother in such distress and to witness the inexplicable anger, as it must have seemed, of someone they had been taught to revere.
Hildegard took a step forward but was forestalled when the widow clutched the bursar round the knees and cried, ‘But, my lord, how cold your heart is! Please give us time! I implore you!’
The bursar pushed her away, kicking out until he broke her grasp round his legs. ‘How dare you touch me! Get away!’ he shouted. ‘You say you need time. I ask what for? Why do you need time? What have you to wait for, woman?’
‘But he’s not even in the ground!’ Her sobs were heart-rending.
The bursar was unmoved. ‘He’s dead. Do you think he’s going to resurrect himself? For sure, God won’t do it. The man was a thief and a liar. The abbey will be wealthier without him.’
Bursar Hertilpole half-turned with such a snigger of disgust it made Hildegard catch her breath. Even then he had not finished. Glaring back, he rasped, ‘Now get out! I give you until sunset to remove yourself and all your chattels.’
Without another word he stormed from the yard.
Hildegard ran after him then stopped and returned more slowly to the woman. She could not even remember her name. What was it? Anna – that was it.
‘My dear Anna.’ Hildegard bent down so that they were on a level and took one of the widow’s hands between her own. ‘I heard all that.’
‘He is throwing us out, domina!’ The woman began to sob again. ‘I have three children, one of them no more than a baby. Are they to sleep rough in the street? We have no-one. All our friends – such as they are’ – she cast a baleful glance up to where the two men were standing in the open aperture of the loft – ‘are here in the abbey. We have lived here ever since we married. Edred gave his life to making things easy between the town and these …’ She wiped the back of one hand over her tear-stained face. ‘These contemptible men. They were happy enough to go along with him when they were getting paid for their trouble, but now we need them they stand gawping. Where’s their friendship now?’
Unnoticed, the yard doorways had filled with stable hands and house servants drawn by the sound of the quarrel. One or two shifted uneasily and stared at the ground.
‘Listen, I’m not from here and know of no-one whom I might approach on your behalf …’ Clearly it was no good asking for leniency from the bursar. ‘But you will not be thrown on to the streets so long as I am here. Trust me. If it comes to it I will pay for your lodgings until we can find somewhere more permanent.’
‘Pay?’
‘Of course. My priory has the means. We can spare enough to help you now you’re in need. What else is our wealth for?’
A shadow fell over them both where they knelt. When Hildegard glanced up she saw that it was Hertilpole again. He loomed over them, his dark face tight with repressed rage. ‘I see you have misunderstood the situation, domina. If you will allow me to speak in confidence – away from the servants’ – he cast a black glance at Anna – ‘then I will acquaint you with the facts of the matter. Come!’ He held out an arm to invite her to rise.
Hildegard squeezed Anna’s hand. ‘Wait for me. I will not abandon you.’
She rose to her feet.
He stretched out an arm to invite Hildegard to precede him. Then she was ushered underneath the arch into the abbey precinct.
He led the way to a shadowed corner of the north cloister at present empty. When he turned to face her his glance was bleak.
‘Your compassion does you credit, domina. But then, we revere our nuns for that very quality. They are the bleeding hearts of our ministry. They guide us in the ways of the weak and humble and we are the better for listening to them.’
Hildegard was on her guard. She could almost read his thoughts as they hammered in straight lines towards the words he next uttered.
‘You see,’ he continued as if to a small, rather stupid child, ‘it is like this. I mean it as no criticism, but I would not expect you to understand the subtlety of these people. That woman and her misguided husband have been living off the abbey’s resources for years. They have enjoyed a comfortable bolt hole on our property at our expense for far too long. Their needs have been met. They have never complained. At first we were pleased to have found a man who could speak on behalf of us with the rough-hewn fellows in the town. Let me tell you, they are always pushing for some exaction, first one thing, then another, always some grievance which they bring to our door as if we are responsible for their wretched lives.’ He gave one of the thin smiles that never reached his eyes. ‘The fact of the matter is we need to get her out because her husband had outstayed his welcome, and this is as good an opportunity as any. Besides, with a new man coming in—’
‘So you’ve already found a substitute for Edred?’ She made no attempt to disguise her disbelief.
‘Not yet, but soon. Of course we shall. You must try to understand the practicalities of our needs. This is a large and busy monastic establishment. We are the most important land-holders in the region. We have many visitors. We need a man who will work on our behalf. In return he will need somewhere to live from where he can fulfil his duties. It is obvious the woman cannot stay. She cannot stay! And that’s final. There is no room for hangers-on!’
‘And her children?’
‘Exactly. It simply will not do! I’m sure you can see that.’
‘I feel you’ve been precipitate, my lord. She is grieving for her man. He is scarcely cold. He is not yet buried. And you uproot her and her children so hastily? I would have expected more concern for her welfare and her understandable grief at such a time. If we nuns are tolerated for the compassion we bring to the monastic orders, then we should at least be heeded. This is a clear case of injustice.’
Hertilpole drew back as if bitten. ‘This sounds like a criticism.’
‘Take it as you wish.’
‘I must remind you, domina, you are a guest here.’
‘As I am aware, my lord.’
He leaned forward to say softly into her face, ‘Your privilege can always be revoked, my lady. I don’t care what Order you belong to. You are here in our domain now. Do not forget it!’
With this warning and without another word, he swept away. She watched him stride down the entire length of the vault towards the church before she turned.
Anna was standing among her scant belongings with her children clustering round her when Hildegard returned to the yard. A few onlookers had come forward. They were in two camps – those who had the courage to risk their own jobs and support a woman in distress, and those too frightened to do so. ‘What did he say to you, domina?’ Anna looked apprehensive.
‘He uttered only a warning to keep my nose out of his business. Nothing to worry us. Now, what do we need to do next?’
‘I have a friend or two here, after all, bless them,’ Anna replied. ‘I cannot reveal the names as they are given me in confidence, but I’m told there’s a small lodging available at present through Master Dickson. He will charge rent but not much as the place is no more than a single chamber. It’s near the footbridge and will be enough for me and my little brood until we can think more clearly about our future.’
‘Can you pay the rent?’
‘I will find a way.’
One of the bystanders stepped forward. ‘They’ve taken everything of value from her, even the contents of her purse, saying Edred stole whatever she had and it now belongs back in the abbey.’ He spat to one side. ‘We’ve had a whip round and have come up with enough for the first week’s rent.’
‘Then let me meet this Master Dickson and settle the rest long enough for her to find her feet. Will that help, mistress?’
Anna gripped Hildegard by both hands. Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I am more than grateful, dear, blessed lady.’ She dropped to her knees and a sob shook her before she regained control. ‘I shall pray for you, domina, for your kindness. You have no need to concern yourself with us. We are only servants.’
‘No need for thanks, mistress.’ She helped her to her feet. ‘I am honoured to be able to contribute at all. I fear the problem goes far deeper than your own personal grief.’ She thought it better to say nothing more.
Anna was beginning to regain a vestige of hope and it gave her the confidence to address the group that had gathered round.
‘My husband was an honest man. You all know he was. I will not have his name dragged into the mud because of what these monks say! Take warning, you silent ones with your disapproving faces! The next man to be vilified might be yourself! Then look to your friends if you still have any!’ She scooped up her baby from where it clung to the hem of her skirts, hoisted the toddler on to one hip and called for the third child to follow. ‘We’ll go down to meet Master Dickson straight away.’
‘I’d like to come with you but I have something to do here before I can come.’
‘Then if I may, I’ll wait for you. I shall be honoured if you will come down with us.’
The fellows who had been throwing her belongings out of the upper floor had descended into the yard and one of them, in a shame-faced way, interrupted to say, ‘We’ll carry her things down there now before Dickson rents it on to somebody else. We best be quick about it. There’s enough here,’ he jingled some coins in his palm, ‘to secure it.’
A few moments later. The church.
An acolyte met Hildegard at the west end to conduct her behind the timber screen that cut off the laity from the rest of the nave. When they went through she gasped at the unexpected splendour that met her gaze. Behind the screen, hidden from the eyes of the poraille, the spectacular edifice of the nave was awe-inspiring in anyone’s eyes. Massive columns painted in strong colours of dark red and black ranged from one end to the other. Halfway down, a further partition screened the choir from view but the soaring columns were visible over the top where they held up the carved wooden vault like great oak trees supporting the massive canopy of a wood.
High windows let in a rainbow of vibrant colours, every pane telling a story from the books of the Bible, type and anti-type, as she remembered from her time in York at the glass-painter’s house. Everything with its opposite, its mirror image. All of life. The dark side and the light.
Finding it difficult to avert her gaze or forget the troubling thought that she was being beguiled by the abbey’s grandeur, she stumbled after the acolyte who led at a brisk clip through the choir to the east end with its enormous painted window where the high altar stood. But he did not stop longer than to bend his knee and make the sign of the cross before conducting her swiftly behind it to the farthest end of the building where, in the space behind the altar, there was a small, plain shrine.
It was nothing much more than a simple ledge covered by a linen cloth. On it was a bursa worked in Opus Anglicanum and inside, she assumed, lay the reliquary, and inside that, the precious lock of hair. She knelt in reverence to honour St Hild.
Eventually the rustling of a trailing garment on the polished tiles made her lift her head to witness the arrival of the abbot. His feet shod in embroidered kid-skin boots made almost no sound as he approached. It was the soft garments, silk brocade over a long linen under shift, trailing behind him that announced his presence.
Without speaking he knelt beside her to offer up a prayer then rose to his feet, inviting Hildegard to do the same.
‘Here it is,’ he breathed. ‘Our most precious relic.’ Several rings glinted on his slender fingers as he indicated the little altar.
‘It must be a great sorrow to you, the Chapter and the entire fraternity of monks and novices to be forced to put a price on so singular and precious an object,’ she murmured.
The abbot’s pale-blue gaze acquired a suggestion of un-assuageable sorrow. ‘Our duty is first to the Lord of mankind and then to our brethren. We are committed to poverty and yet we must feed ourselves or become a burden on the community of Whitby like the friars with their continual begging for alms. We delight in divesting ourselves of anything that might obstruct us in our duty of praise, humility and obligation. St Hild will always remain in our hearts and prayers.’
That over, Hildegard waited to see what he might do next.
After a pause for another short prayer to the saint as intercessor, he reached out to open the embroidered bursa to reveal the reliquary, a small container of lavish design fashioned out of dark gold and studded with stones. He lifted it up and held it so that the light from the great east window struck it, causing it to sparkle with a million jewelled lights. Holding it in the palm of one hand he offered it to Hildegard and suggested she open it.
Cautiously she lifted the lid and looked inside.
A clipping of russet-brown hair tied at one end with a string lay on a purple silk cushion.
‘May I?’ She wanted to touch the hair to see if it was real. At a nod from the abbot she reverently ran a finger along the curving tress. It felt coarse. There was a suggestion of some resin-like substance to the touch. That first impression may have been disappointing because she had unwittingly expected more.
After a suitable hesitation when she silently questioned whether it might be human hair, she asked, ‘And may I be told how it came into your possession, my lord abbot?’
‘We have always owned it. In the dark days of the Northmen’s invasions it was hidden in a secret place by one of the monks fleeing the flames when the abbey was burned to the ground. From there its journey is unknown until on the day the foundation stone of the new abbey church was laid it appeared as in a miracle and has remained secretly in the shrine to St Hild ever since.’
‘I and my prioress at Swyne were in ignorance of its existence until your courier arrived with a missive to announce the fact. We are most grateful to be included in your invitation to possess such a rare and precious relic, should you eventually deem us worthy.’
‘The fact that you are here, domina, is proof enough that we consider you worthy owners of it. St Hild will guide us to its resting place of her choice.’
‘And how can we ascertain her views on the matter?’ She made a small, regretful smile. Hildegard herself would not give tuppence for a switch of horse hair, no matter how solemnly presented. Her prioress, however, for reasons of her own, might still be willing to pay whatever it cost. She had to take the next few steps with care.
Replacing the lid, she handed it back to the abbot with due reverence.
‘May I know the procedure we must follow?’ she asked meekly when he rejected her invitation to speculate on the manner of Abbess Hild’s guidance.
‘You were chosen as the first to view it. After you suggest what you are prepared to offer as adequate exchange, the lord bursar will invite the other applicants to view it, one by one, and they will be expected to do likewise.’
‘And your final choice between these offers will not be made until the feast of Epiphany?’
‘I’m sure we can hasten things along should your offer be acceptable. We will not expect you to remain away from your cloister longer than necessary. I know you will wish to return to Swyne as soon as possible.’
Hildegard inferred from this that he wanted rid of the Cistercians, unsettling his monks with their questions into matters that did not concern them. If she offered what he deemed a good price they could all be off back to Meaux at once, Epiphany or not. She wondered how he would square this with the other applicants who were left hanging around. Unwittingly he supplied the answer.
‘Our discretion in this matter will be absolute. Our formal announcement about its new custodian will not be made until the Saint’s feast day on the seventeenth of November next.’
‘But that’s almost a year hence.’
He bowed his head. ‘As you say.’
Did it mean she might barter successfully if she had the nerve to offer what in other circumstances would be a derisory figure? What could she get away with? Had she really understood what the abbot was hinting, that the price of the relic was what he would pay to get rid of them – thereby leaving two murders unsolved and the abbey able to sink back into its private bed of corruption?
She thought it best to kneel and say some inaudible prayer to St Hild, the protector of women and nuns in particular. If there had been Cistercians around in her day, she felt sure the abbess would have been an enthusiastic supporter just as she was for her own Benedictines.
The guest refectory.
Preparations for the main meal of the day were bringing servants in and out of the kitchens with loaded platters and shouts of ‘Mind your back!’ And ‘Make way, there!’
The two musicians, a lute player and a piper, the ones who had entertained the guests before, were running through a few tunes in the space between the trestles. None of the guests had made an appearance yet. Hildegard sat down to wait for Gregory and the others and considered all that had happened.
She was still somewhat dumbfounded by the possible implications when Luke came to tell her that the others were waiting for her in the gatehouse to hear what she thought of the relic.
‘You’ve seen it?’ he asked.
When she nodded he said, ‘Tell me about it when we meet the others.’
Rumours about the eviction of Edred’s widow had already flown round the monks’ warming room and now she told him she intended to go down to meet this Master Dickson who was playing an invisible part in the matter.
She dragged on her cloak. ‘It looks as if it’s snowing again.’
He shook a few flakes off his shoulders. ‘It’s more like floating frost. The very air seems frozen. I’m glad the climate in Holderness is milder—’
‘Except when the east wind drives straight off the sea!’
Smiling and blowing on his fingers, he accepted a quick offer of mulled wine. When they were ready and well wrapped up they set off.
Outside the gatehouse.
‘So how much are they asking?’ Egbert came straight to the point as soon as they stepped on to the foregate out of hearing of the porter and his man.
‘This may be my mistake,’ she began, ‘but I got the impression that he will accept whatever it takes to get rid of us. I’m told I have to discuss such prosaic matters with Hertilpole.’
‘He’ll drive a hard bargain. They have a dire need of more gold to add to their coffers. He’ll have to make up the loss of a year’s rents unless they can find the gold Edred is alleged to have stolen.’
‘It’s not as straightforward as that … I believe horse hair costs little, even here.’
‘What?’ Gregory raised his eyebrows.
‘I may be wrong but it felt … odd. Coarse. Sticky. I don’t know what sort of hair those Anglians had but it cannot have been so very different from our own. Each strand felt thicker than human hair. It must have been treated with a kind of resin. Was it to preserve it … or was it a hair dressing? It was too much like horse hair in my view.’ She paused and bit her lip. ‘Who would know?’
She told them about the secrecy the Whitby monks insisted on until they announced the transfer of the relic on St Hild’s feast day in November the following year.
Gregory’s lips puckered. ‘Would they be capable of pulling such a trick – to produce several so-called relics?’
Egbert considered the matter and both men exchanged glances, then began to roar with laughter.
‘They truly think we’re sot-wits!’ Gregory exclaimed.
‘And,’ Egbert pointed out, ‘anyone who gave gold to obtain something that was a fake would never admit it. They’d be mocked from here to kingdom come! Is it likely we’re faced by such cunning?’
Luke was shocked. ‘I say, brothers, these are monks, you know, not pardoners!’
‘Whatever the case, we can’t leave yet. Not until we’ve solved the mystery of the two murders.’ Gregory was firm.
‘I agree.’ Luke was equally firm despite the sudden collapse of his certainty in the existence of natural goodness.
‘Let’s offer a low sum and see what happens,’ Hildegard suggested. ‘Even if they accept out of eagerness to get rid of us, they cannot renege. Then we can think up a reason to stay on. We’ll have time to unknot the mystery, here at the heart of Whitby Abbey.’
That settled, they decided to accompany Hildegard and Edred’s wife to the rented house by the bridge and, with a small child apiece sitting on their shoulders and the third skipping ahead, the monks accompanied Hildegard and Anna down the cliff side into the town.
Once they were safely installed they helped Anna find a cooking pot, laid a fire for her, and seeing that all was as well as could be expected, eventually left her so they could settle things with her new landlord.