It was still dark after Lauds when Hildegard wearily made her way down the steps to the lodge. The infirmarer and two stalwarts had turned up in order to shuffle the stranger out of his sodden garments and cover him decently with a clean sheet. Later the two appointed to keep watch returned.
She left them sitting side by side on a bench drawn up to the patient with a candle burning nearby, alert for anything to cause alarm. After doing what they could the stranger, waking for a few moments, had gone back to sleep and was expected to slumber peacefully into the late morning. Until then they would have to curb their impatience about what had brought him here.
Blanche thrust something into Hildegard’s hands when she appeared.
‘Before you leave, look at this.’
‘Where’s it from?’ It was a leather bag of some kind, shiny with use, and was not as heavy as its bulk suggested.
‘It must have been left by that young fellow up there,’ Blanche replied, indicating the upper chamber. ‘He was in such a state he must have forgotten about it when he fell in through the door. It was just left there in the porch. Are you going to open it?’
The infirmarer, about to leave after a final look at her patient, came over out of curiosity.
There were three or four knotted leather laces holding it shut but the rain had made the leather swell, and they were difficult to untie.
The infirmarer grimaced. ‘Don’t tell me it’s his change of clothes after all our problems finding something decent in which to clothe him!’
‘It’s something hard,’ Hildegard said, feeling again the shape of what was in the bag and trying to work out what it might be. ‘Wait a moment.’ She worked at the knots until eventually using her teeth she managed to loosen them. Pulling open the flap she felt inside. ‘Heavens!’ She withdrew her hand.
Forcing back the leather to open it out she revealed a stringed instrument made of polished elm. It was a beautiful and costly item. She ran her fingers over the silken curve of its body.
‘So that part of his story seems true,’ murmured Blanche.
‘It’s a vielle.’
Hildegard ran her fingers over the strings. They vibrated with plangent melancholy.
Now, instead of solving the mystery about their guest, the existence of something that might confirm his story only added another layer because it made it even more of a question as to why one of the king’s musicians had travelled north of the Humber.
Fear flooded back. ‘It looks as if you’re right, Blanche. Something terrible must have happened in the south to make him flee this far north.’
The infirmarer folded her arms. ‘If something has happened we’d be seeing men-at-arms strutting about by now, you can be sure of that. And our hospitium would be full of groaning wounded.’ She was brisk.
‘Is there anything else in the bag to enlighten us?’ Blanche asked.
Holding the instrument by its neck Hildegard spread out what was little more than hide from the body of a small deer with the addition of leather loops and ties. Apart from a piece of vellum with what looked like a scribbled musical notation there was nothing to suggest a reason for the owner’s arrival.
‘Well, best be getting on. The day is nearly half-over and I’ve other patients to see to,’ said the infirmarer, taking her leave. ‘Keep me informed when he wakes up. I could find no obvious injury. No broken bones. It’s my opinion he was merely exhausted – and took fright in the woods, being lost, like? Keep him calm and I’ll come back and have another look at him later then maybe we’ll get a few straight answers.’ Before she closed the door behind her she added, ‘Old as I am, I cannot deny the pleasure of dealing with a body like his. It makes a change from old women and their rheumatics!’ With a dry chuckle she took her leave.
‘She’s droll,’ sniffed Blanche without humour. ‘She’ll be on her knees muttering hail marys till kingdom come if she doesn’t take care.’
‘She won’t be the only one,’ Hildegard agreed, adding hurriedly, ‘There was quite a flutter among the novices. I suppose you noticed? They’ll no doubt need reining in.’
As she too turned to leave she remembered something. ‘I didn’t see Josiana during the night Office and she wasn’t here just now. Did she return safely?’
Blanche looked alarmed. ‘What, from Haltemprice?’
‘Well there’s been no sign of her—’
‘I haven’t seen her since she left to see those Austin canons yesterday. Wasn’t she staying overnight in their guest house?’
‘I suppose she must have done. It was nasty weather to travel in.’
‘I’ll let you know when she shows up. You look worried? I’m sure she’ll have decided to stay over. She’ll be riding back this morning when it’s light.’
The rest of the day proceeded in its usual orderly fashion with the regular observance of the canonical hours but with a flurry of interest whenever the stranger was mentioned. A few comments were made when they were told he was in no danger and fared as well as could be expected after being out in the height of the storm. He was said to be too drowsy to talk.
The Prioress had already sent over to the guest-master at Meaux to ask him if he would take the fellow in, deeming it more appropriate that monks would attend to him in their own hospitium than in a priory of nuns. All they could do was wait for him to explain the mystery of his sudden appearance, then recover sufficiently to sit a horse and be escorted the few miles to the abbey.
Josiana’s whereabouts were still a mystery. A servant was brought from the house of the conversi and questioned about the maid who had accompanied her but she had also failed to return. All anyone could do was practise the patience they were enjoined to exercise in their everyday lives and wait on events.