It seemed as if she had barely fallen asleep when a commotion outside woke her up. The bell for Matins must have been tolling for some time because its deep booming ceased almost as soon as she opened her eyes. But it wasn’t that – it was a hubbub out in the garth.
Remembering the turmoil caused by Leonin when he arrived in the dead of night at Swyne she was about to turn over and let the monks deal with it when curiosity got the better of her. More than one man was involved. A chorus of shouts made it sound like a small army thumping their fists on the gates.
Dragging herself from the bed she took a few paces to the window and peered through the shutters. By angling her head she could look down into the garth immediately below.
A lantern above the porch shed a circle of light. A group of conversi armed with clubs tramped past. Flood water still covered the garth to the height of their boots. They began to run in the direction of the gates.
Alarmed, she rammed her feet into her own boots, grabbed a cloak to pull over her robe, checked for her knife, and opened the door. The whole house was asleep. With not a sound darkness closed over her.
Pressing one hand along the wall as a guide she made her way step by step down the unfamiliar stairs, with both arms outstretched, and felt her way towards the shape of the door outlined by a sliver of light from outside. The bolts took an age to find and prise open and all the while the turmoil outside increased.
Shrouded under waterproofs, she let herself into the garth. Once more rain was beginning to patter down. Despite this the garth was busy. It was not only the conversi roused from their prayers, monks carrying flares were swarming from the west door of the church. In the fractured light Gregory and Egbert appeared among them. The familiar shape under Gregory’s cloak showed he was carrying a sword. She waded through the increasing flood waters towards them.
Gregory caught hold of her. ‘Come no further, Hildegard. There’s trouble at the gatehouse. Somebody sounded the alarm just as Matins started!’ He splashed up to his knees through the flood water after Egbert.
The shouting increased. Fists hammered against the great wooden doors to demand entry. Peremptory questions were being demanded by the sub-prior of the rowdies he recognized on the other side. Men’s voices, surely shouting in terror? She heard the porter calling for calm. Managing to make out a few words she heard the men on the other side continue their shouting to be let in.
A voice was bellowing above the others, ‘Save us, brothers! Let us inside! Mercy on us! For the love of God!’
Unable to return to bed until she knew what was going on she approached as close as seemed wise and was drawn into a group of bystanders like herself, trying to find out what was happening without getting in anyone’s way.
They heard someone shout, ‘We’re going to open it! Get your swords at the ready!’
And Gregory countering the command, ‘I cannot draw my sword against unarmed men, least of all those roofless fellows on the foregate. Let only one or two of them in and listen to what they have to say!’
The flares flickered garishly over the faces of the monks as they argued what to do but eventually the gate was grudgingly opened just enough to allow several shrouded figures to enter. A row of conversi with clubs at the ready stood behind the unarmed monks and more shouting followed.
A monk waded over to the group Hildegard had joined. ‘Did you hear what they’re saying? They’ve seen a headless woman!’
‘Sot-wits!’ The group roared with laughter. ‘Is that what this is all about?’
Hildegard’s thoughts immediately flew to Bella. She didn’t laugh. Did it mean they had found her body?
She asked, ‘May we know where they say they’ve seen such a thing?’
‘Where? That’s just it.’ Another monk, knee-deep in flood water, gave a derisory guffaw. ‘The lack-wits are saying she was floating above the trees! They’ve all had too much drink. That’s my opinion.’
‘Let’s hope that’s all it is.’
It couldn’t be Bella. It wasn’t a body, floating in the water.
‘Worry not, domina,’ someone standing next to her said. ‘This isn’t the first time they’ve succumbed to mass hallucinations.’ He said to the others, ‘I’m getting wet out here. This rain is beginning to bucket down. Let the other fellows sort it out. They won’t stand for any nonsense. Mark my words,’ he added as he waded off, ‘tomorrow morning Abbot de Courcy will clear this useless rabble of drunken beggars off our land and restore order. Let’s go! Back to Matins!’
He splashed off into the darkness followed by the rest of them to where the church doors stood open allowing the radiance of candle-glow to spill out into the night.
While they were talking the gates were being forced wider by the urgency of the beggars outside.
Hildegard happened to glance towards the guest house and drew in a sharp breath. A man was running in a crouched fashion alongside the wall. She glanced to the now departing monks but nobody else had noticed and when she glanced back there was no sign of any running man.
At the same moment a group of conversi marched up to the spokesman for the beggars, pushing him and his companions back then putting their shoulders to the gates until they were able to force them shut. The beam was dropped back into place. Cheers from those within were countered by jeers from those outside.
As everyone began to return to the church to complete their interrupted service, Gregory came up. ‘All over, Hildi. If they’re seeing ghosts it means they’ll have sore heads in the morning, the superstitious sot-wits! We’re going in to Matins. Are you coming?’
‘Hubert said I needn’t. I—’
‘He did, did he?’ Gregory gave a jerk of his head and waded off before she could add anything.
Undecided, she stood for a moment as everyone began to disperse. Had she really glimpsed someone running alongside the wall?
There was nothing to see now, no gleam to show where he was, and the nearest large building was away across the garth. Without coming out into the open it was the only place he could have gone.
Reached through a small yard and beyond a stretch of open space was the hospitium. Her heart leaped into her mouth. Was that where he was heading? To where Matthew was lying helplessly in bed?
The more she thought about it the more unlikely it seemed. What she had glimpsed as having the shape of a man must have been a trick of the light. Or maybe it was one of the conversi in the usual dark clothing they wore, definitely not a monk in white, but a lay-brother, yes, hurrying back to where he lived to fetch something, a weapon, maybe, not realizing that the ruckus would soon be over? That would be it. She was as bad as the beggars, imagining things that were not there.
But still the suspicion nagged.
It was his crouching manner, suggesting stealth, and the fact that he was alone, intent on where he was going, that made her wonder about him – if he was not merely a phantasm of the imagination.
It was too late to call Gregory and Egbert back. They had followed everyone else into Matins.
If she wanted to she could run across the garth, the water was not too deep. She could have a quick look in the ward to ensure that Matthew was safe, and return to her bed in less time than it took to sing Salve, Regina.
Resolutely she waded off across the garth as fast as the water would allow.