What happened next shocked everyone. Hildegard was the first to be alerted.
Having gone down to the riverbank to discuss the fish supplied to the priory at one of the havens, she took the opportunity to gather the last of the brambles in the thicket outside the boundary wall and strayed as far as the lane that would eventually come out near Haltemprice Priory after several miles through uninhabited woodland. It was not a short distance, rather as much as a morning’s ride, and she had no intention of going further than the lane end even though her basket was only half full. But then she heard a horse being ridden fast towards her and in a moment a cob appeared, blowing heavily, its rider whipping it to even greater exertion until he must have caught sight of white Cistercian robes bright against the backdrop of autumn leaves. He pulled his horse to a rearing halt.
‘Domina! Domina! Quick! Fetch help!’ He dismounted and ran towards her, gasping, ‘There’s a body down on the saltings!’
‘Heavens, whereabouts?’
‘Down by Hob’s Creek.’
‘Are you sure it’s a body?’
‘As sure as I stand here!’
‘Then I’ll tell you what,’ she replied, thinking quickly, ‘you ride on to the priory and inform them there. Tell them you come from me, Hildegard. Say we need some good strong lay-brothers, ropes, a ladder maybe, to spread across the mud, all that. I’ll go down and see what I can do now—’ She grasped the man by the arm before he could run over to his horse. ‘Are you sure it’s a body or is it somebody trapped?’
With the tide coming in if they were alive they would not have a chance unless they could be reached quickly. The lay-brothers would need time to gather the equipment and bring it down then drag someone, injured maybe, out of the mud to the safety of firm ground … Could they make it in time?
Already planning how she might get out to them she was dismayed when he shook his head. ‘It was a body, domina. I saw no sign of life.’
With a chill, thinking of Josiana, she asked, ‘And could you tell whether it was one of our nuns?’
He shook his head. ‘It was just a washed-up bundle. Difficult to make out.’
‘But it was a person?… Not just some weed shoaled up on a mud bank in human shape?’
He looked sombre. ‘I’d bet on it,’ he crossed himself. ‘I saw what looked like a face, all puffy—’ He waved an arm helplessly as if to describe the look of it by his gestures.
‘Then hasten along to Swyne and rouse them to action! I’ll go down and see what I can do.’
‘Don’t you go walking on them mudflats,’ he warned as he threw a leg over the back of his valiant little mount. ‘We don’t want two of you copping it.’