So what have we got so far? Hildegard asked herself for the hundredth time as she tossed and turned in the small hours. At least there was no getting up in the middle of the night for Matins nor even, as it transpired, for Lauds. In the circumstances she might have welcomed the distraction.
She surveyed in her mind the likely events of the day ahead. They would find the lay-brother on his manor, wherever it was, he would confess all and that would be that. The fellow would be punished. And Lydia would still be dead. End of story. Another brief chapter in life here on earth. Maybe Josiana was right. Sometimes it was too bleak to bear.
Half-asleep, she went down to break her fast. The Prior would have to send men to the suspect’s manor to fetch him back to face the judgement of the court. The Sheriff at York would be informed. It was out of her hands now. They might leave as soon as Josiana was ready and their horses could be saddled up.
The friars here kept the canonical hour of Prime at least, no doubt seeing it as a fitting start to any day, and Alaric was ready and leading their horses from the stables when Hildegard went out into the garth.
A little stable lad was running alongside him and Alaric announced, ‘This is the lad who heard the horses leaving in the middle of the night.’
‘It wasn’t quite the middle,’ the boy corrected.
After a greeting Hildegard asked, ‘So if it wasn’t the exact middle of the night how long was it after you crawled into your straw?’
‘A while, the men were still carousing, one or two of them, so it was not too late.’
‘And how many horses?’ she asked. ‘Could you tell?’
‘Two. That’s why I thought it might be the pilgrims who were heading for Beverley except that next morning they were still here and coming down yawning like everybody else and complaining of tiredness and how far was it to St John’s shrine anyway, and then looking more cheerful after a few mugs of small beer and their pottage, saying how they were looking forward to it, despite the likelihood of more bucketing rain.’
‘These are the pilgrims who accompanied Josiana part of the way back, are they?’
Alaric said they must have been as there were no others on the same pilgrimage, so far as he knew, and the little lad agreed.
‘By the way, where is Josiana?’ Hildegard asked, realizing they had reached a dead end, and now eager to leave. ‘I thought she was already down?’
‘I haven’t seen her this morning, domina.’
Hildegard called a servant. ‘Go up, if you will, and rouse my sister nun from Swyne, will you? It’s time we left.’
The stable lad petted the horses and hung round as humbly as he could while Alaric kicked a stone with impatience, staring towards the guest house with a frown.
A stone bell tower had recently been erected near the church.
It was tall, too tall maybe, slender and as ephemeral as even Josiana might expect. Its shadow in the watery sun stretched from one side of the garth to the other, such was its height.
Eventually the servant reappeared. ‘She’s not there, domina, bed made, things gone. Anything else I may do for you?’
Hildegard rolled her eyes with impatience and, with brief thanks, returned indoors just as the elderly guest-mistress was coming out.
‘I hear you’re off back to Swyne, domina?’
‘As soon as I can find Sister Josiana,’ Hildegard replied. ‘Is she within?’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. No doubt she’s breaking her fast. Have you checked the guest dining hall?’
Taking the stairs two at a time Hildegard flung herself along the corridor until she came to the chamber Josiana had occupied but when she looked inside it was empty as they had said. This is too bad, she thought. A slow dread began to creep over her. It was too much like the events that had led to Lydia’s murder.
Flying back down the steps into the yard she called to Alaric. ‘Has she turned up?’
Looking worried he came over. ‘You mean she’s not there?’
‘I’ll have a look in the guest hall again.’
When she emerged shaking her head she said to him, ‘Let’s get over to this haven as quickly as we can.’
Following directions the reliable little stable lad had given them it took only a short while to canter down the lane to find themselves in an open grassy area that petered out on the foreshore. Surrounded by a thicket of hawthorns it was intimately screened from view by anyone passing.
The tide was in, sucking lazily at the shore as it seeped between clumps of grass. A bower, no more than a few wind-ravaged hawthorns, grew to one side of this trysting place and a small meadow studded with the dried heads of long-dead summer flowers lay on the other.
Hildegard dismounted. ‘I don’t know why I thought she might be here,’ she said as she took in the details of the place.
The river was no more than a dull band of yellow-grey water in slow and perpetual motion a few yards out. As a haven it left much to be desired and was made more desolate by the constant shrieks of herring gulls in outrage at the presence of humans.
Alaric drove his horse towards the band of trees then splashed back along the water’s edge to where Hildegard was standing.
He looked grim. ‘No sign.’
‘Is that good or not?’
‘Doubtless she’s stamping her feet back at the priory,’ he suggested. He was still frowning, she noticed.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I don’t know whether you can see it from where you are—’
‘What is it?’
‘Come and look here.’
Hildegard followed his glance. ‘Something in the water, you mean?’
‘Don’t you see it? I think you may have to look from above. It’s an imprint under a few inches of water. There, see it? Just visible where the mud hasn’t been stirred up yet. It looks like the imprint of a boot made by someone dragging or pushing a heavy object?’
She bent to get a better look. After a while, as the ripples played tricks with the light, she imagined she could make out a shape. It was very like the print of a boot. Square-toed, quite large. Lifting the hem of her robe she stepped into the shallows, eyes searching, taking care where she put her feet so as not to disturb anything. Bending down she was able to make out more clearly what was there. Several inches further on was another, more difficult to see, grains of sand tumbling into nothing as the tide crept over them. They were definitely prints and once you could see them they looked clear enough. They could belong to anyone.
Straightening she glanced up at Alaric sitting astride his horse. ‘What do you think?’
He slid down from the saddle and came to stand beside her. Water lapped at their feet, rising higher in tiny increments even as they stood. ‘Somebody pushing a boat into the river …?’ He glanced at her.
A cold hand gripped her throat. ‘Like a repetition of what happened to Lydia?’
‘Or a print from an earlier event, before the tide could reach so high? Look, there are footprints all along the strand where people have been strolling about.’
‘I should think this footprint was made on the ebb, for it to remain.’
He nodded. ‘We can go back along the shoreline to have a look further along, to see if there are any more—’
‘Let’s go.’
Haste sent them to their horses and soon they were riding at a trot above the waterline to make sure they missed nothing that might look out of the ordinary.
‘Would Josiana get into a boat – without telling anybody?’ Hildegard was speaking her thoughts aloud. It didn’t make sense knowing what she did of her.
They rode as far downriver as a group of fishermen’s huts, about a mile from where they started. Several people were about, an old fellow mending a net, some children playing with a puppy, two women sitting on a log chatting while they gutted fish into a bucket.
They had seen no one. No boats had been by this last hour or so, one of the women volunteered. Why would they? There might be one or two coming upriver now the tide was turning. There might even be the ferry from Wyke later on. Despite their help none of it told them whether Josiana had been this way.
‘Better get back to the priory, otherwise they’ll be sending out a search party for us as well,’ observed Hildegard. Thanking the fisherfolk they turned back.
As soon as they reached the gatehouse they saw the old porter sitting there on his bench and as they clattered in a familiar figure emerged from the lodge. It was Josiana. A look of relief came over her face when she saw Hildegard and she ran to her and took her horse by the bridle.
‘I feared you’d gone without me. It took longer than I expected but I had a whim to have a proper look round in daylight,’ she explained in a rush. ‘I hope you weren’t worried. I only intended to venture down the lane but somehow I found myself going all the way to the haven. They said you’d been looking for me. I feel so bad. I hope you weren’t worried?’
Hildegard pursed her lips. There was no point in showing anger. She was only relieved that the silly young woman was safe.
Behind her she heard a curse of exasperation pass Alaric’s lips but did not react to it. ‘What is that you have in your hand?’ Her tone was clipped and she pointed to a blue kerchief Josiana was holding.
She thrust it towards Hildegard. ‘I found it in the grass in that little meadow. I recognized it. It belonged to poor Lydia. I remember her wearing it on the way here. What it proves is that she was at the haven that night. Unless someone stole her scarf and dropped it there – which is unlikely,’ she added.
‘It doesn’t tell us who was with her.’ Her thoughts flew to the servant Lydia was said to have her eye on.
‘Did you see anything of interest, domina?’
When she used her formal title Hildegard knew it was Josiana’s way of making amends so she told her about the footprint, and how they had imagined it was left by someone she, Josiana, had met, and how worried she, Hildegard, had been, and no doubt Alaric too, because, though silent, his expression was still grim.
Rather than looking contrite at the confusion she had caused, Josiana seemed engaged by the mention of a print. ‘That’s interesting,’ she mused. ‘It wasn’t mine. It must have been left earlier. Maybe even a few days ago. You see, the tide is higher today. Yesterday it would not have reached the level it does today. It increases a little bit every day towards high water as the moon draws it up by some mysterious power before releasing it again until low water – I can tell you more about the moon if you wish?’
‘Yes, later perhaps, when other matters are not so urgent.’
‘The footprint will have been covered over by now, otherwise I would ask you to show it to me.’ As they mounted their horses and made for the gatehouse Josiana said something that made Hildegard pause. ‘What was that?’
‘I said, I also checked the stables to see if anyone had taken horses out that evening, bearing in mind what they told me about the little stable lad being woken up in the middle of the night. No one had leave to take out a horse but one was found outside its stall next morning. They put its escape down to the activity of hobgoblins,’ she added.
‘That was probably taken by Lydia to save her from walking,’ Alaric said to Hildegard.
‘Come,’ she replied, ‘we must return to Swyne and leave the canons here to search for the obvious culprit, whichever manor he has escaped to.’