The Law of Angels (39 page)

It reminded Hildegard of the house of the Florentine merchant Ser Vitelli, where she stayed when she went to bring Constantine’s Cross back from Tuscany.

A number of well-tended horses were at present being led into the stables on the third side of the building. A wooden stage had been erected and the cobbles round it strewn with rushes. A servant was following behind the horses, shovelling up manure, and a second one followed, throwing down sheaves of fresh rushes as he went.

From a balcony draped with embroidered hangings Lady Melisen was looking down on this scene. She was wearing a garland in imitation of wild flowers. In fact it was a masterpiece of the goldsmith’s art. Even from a distance it could be seen that it was made of filigree silver and gold twining like vines with precious stones to simulate flowers. It twinkled as she leaned out of the shade into a shaft of sunlight. A pretty young girl attended her. She too was crowned but this time the flowers were real.

Hildegard had to look twice before she realised the girl was Petronilla. Suddenly catching sight of the nun she leaned excitedly over the edge and fluttered a scarf in greeting. “Come up, sister. We’ll have the best view of the players from here.”

Melisen beckoned.

Accompanied by Brother Thomas, Hildegard made her way up a flight of stone stairs off the yard and was ushered along a wooden corridor into the loggia by a servant. Roger was nowhere to be seen but Melisen and a handful of guests were already seated.

“The players are going to give us a special performance,” she told them when they appeared.

“I’m to be their queen!” Petronilla broke in delightedly.

“I’ve told you about that,” Melisen reproved her.

She waited until Petronilla got to her feet to make a deep curtsy of apology. “I beg the honour of being forgiven for being too forward and speaking out of turn, my lady.” She bent her head.

Melisen’s lips tilted in amusement before she straightened her expression as the girl rose. She told her she might go down now and assume her queenly duties. When she ran off Melisen turned to Hildegard. “I fear you may lose her,” she said. “The allure of becoming a nun has somewhat faded in recent days.”

“I doubt the prospect was alluring at any time,” agreed Hildegard. “It seemed to me she was choosing the lesser of two evils. But what about Maud? Is she being crowned as well?”

“She refuses to put off that ridiculous hood,” Melisen told her. “I’ve tried every ploy in the book. It’s as if she’s afraid of being seen to be pretty.”

Thomas, who had heard Maud’s confession and probably knew more about her than anyone else, said, “It’s a fear of God’s judgement. Give her time. If what she told me is true she may go on wearing it for some time yet.”

Melisen looked at him as if hoping to prise forth a secret, but his expression was enigmatic.

“We were hoping to ask Roger what he knows about any noble visitors to the city,” Hildegard began.

“He’ll be along soon. It’s no good asking me. I know hardly anyone in York.” Melisen came from Kent and since her wedding to Roger and the birth of her baby rarely left Castle Hutton.

“These players then? Tell us about those,” Hildegard invited, to pass the time.

Melisen went on to explain that the travelling players who were commissioned to take the leading roles in the pageant also had a play of their own which they liked to put on whenever they had the chance. “It’s some nonsense about the Green Knight, but they’re a droll lot and there are some good musicians among them so it should be worth watching. They’ll be along soon. We’re still waiting for some guests to arrive.”

Wondering if they were about to behold Gaunt’s son once more, Hildegard gave Thomas a look. The place, though grand in its way and decorated with great style, presumably at Melisen’s request, was hardly sumptuous enough for someone like Bolingbroke, the Earl of Derby. Presumably the horses that were being taken to the stables belonged to the guest, however, and it was obvious they wore no royal caparison.

Maud appeared. She gave a startled glance when she saw Brother Thomas, but smiled shyly when he gave her a friendly greeting then slipped onto the bench between him and Hildegard. She gripped the nun by the hand. Hildegard said, “I am glad to see you, Maud. I hope you’re happy here. Are you looking forward to the play?”

Maud nodded with her hood half obscuring her face as usual. She sat close as if glad to see Hildegard but remained as silent as ever, only getting up to offer a dish of sweetmeats when the servants started handing them out.

The arrival of more visitors to the loggia was drowned out by the racket of the players processing into the yard escorted by a group of musicians.

Maud leaned over the edge of the balustrade to watch. Her small face held an unexpected look of wonder as the actors burst from behind a curtain onto the wooden platform erected directly below them.

A tabor struck up a loud jig and, gaudily dressed in cap and bells, two actors began a long, declamatory and mostly ribald account of what was to follow.

Wine was brought in to the guests and an aquamanile appeared for the washing of the noble hands. An exotic eastern scent wafted from a brass burner nearby. Hildegard settled back to enjoy the show with the feeling that at last here was a moment’s respite from the terrible events of the previous days.

Maud was engrossed in the performance. It was probably the first time she had ever seen a play. When the acrobats came in she clapped her hands like any child. The fire-eater brought a gasp of astonishment as flames plumed from his mouth into the air.

She turned excitedly to Hildegard, for a second all signs of woe leaving her face, then, as Hildegard smiled back she saw the child’s face blanch. Her eyes dilated in what looked like horror.

Hildegard’s lips parted, about to ask her what on earth was the matter, but before she could frame the words Maud sprang to her feet, pulled her hood over her face and fled from the loggia by a side door.

Hildegard rose to her feet.

Lord Roger had appeared and was inviting three guests onto the balcony. Hildegard gasped. Thomas noticed something amiss because by the time she got outside he was right behind her.

“It’s Maud!” she told him. “Those visitors have sent her out of her wits with fear!”

By now the girl was at the top of the steps to the yard. “Maud! Stop!” she shouted. But the frightened child took to her heels.

With Thomas following, Hildegard descended two at a time but by the time they reached the bottom Maud was haring across the yard towards the street. “Stop!” she shouted again. But the girl ran on.

Chapter Twenty-nine

It was easier for a girl driven by desperation to squeeze her way through the crowd than for two adults who had been taken by surprise to do so. They could see the brown hood weaving all the way down to the bottom of Micklegate, but when they crossed the bridge into the town centre and the street split three ways they lost her. They were both out of breath.

“She seemed to turn into Conyngsgate,” said Thomas peering over the heads of the crowd.

“What’s down there?”

“Victualling stalls?”

“What’s the only place she’s likely to know in the whole of York?”

“The minster?”

“Exactly. She must be trying to make for that.”

“You go straight there. I’ll go round the other way just in case she’s gone by another route.”

They split up.

Hildegard tore along through the crowd, eyes peeled in case Maud had stopped elsewhere, but she arrived in minster yard without seeing her.

There was a massive crowd round the open door, craning their necks at a notice fixed to it. No doubt they were hoping to get inside to view the Host, she thought. Early tomorrow it would be taken in procession round the town under a gold-stitched canopy with the archbishop in attendance. She started to push her way through, ignoring the shouts that followed in her wake.

Inside it was just as crowded. A choir sang somewhere and the shuffling of soft leather-soled footwear set up an echoing susurration that sounded like an invisible army on the move. Remembering where she had taken the girls when they had visited before, she hastened into the north transept.

There was no sign of a girl in a brown cloak. In the present weather such a heavy garment would have stood out.

At a loss to know what to do next she made another circuit, still hoping that she had simply missed her behind one of the massive stone pillars, but again she drew a blank. The silvery expanse of Gilbert’s favourite window, the grisaille of the Five Sisters, let in a lustrous north light but it revealed no runaway.

Their guess as to her destination must have been wrong then.

Hurrying towards the queue outside the sanctuary Hildegard happened to notice some sightseers pointing up towards one of the galleries that ran around the minster walls under the great window. To her astonishment a small figure had appeared high up, moving like a sleepwalker between the stone buttresses. On this narrow ledge round the circumference of the church was a familiar figure.

It was Maud.

Hildegard watched in horror as the child stared down with a fixed expression into the nave. She seemed to be mesmerised by the distance to the ground.

Without a moment’s hesitation Hildegard ran into the nearby tower entrance and raced up the spiral stairs until she came out onto the ledge herself. She glanced down once and then averted her gaze. It was a long way to the ground.

Fearing that if she made any sudden movement the girl would jump she began to edge between the long drop and the wall on the other side. Close up to the windows the light streamed in with an overpowering glare. Feeling dizzy she stopped for a moment to regain her balance.

Maud was sitting down now with her legs dangling over the edge. People below had noticed her and a crowd was gathering. Everybody was gazing up in horrified suspense. Hildegard inched closer. When she was a couple of feet away she called softly, “Maud, I’ve come to join you.”

Maud’s head turned in surprise. Her hood fell back revealing an abundant tangle of red curls. Her expression was one of dazed horror. Hildegard shuffled closer.

“You gave Brother Thomas a shock. He’d hardly had chance to greet you before you ran away.”

“Has he been telling you things?” Maud demanded with a catch in her throat.

“Not about you, if that’s what you mean. He keeps his word and I’m sure he told you he would tell nobody what you confessed to him. Is that right?”

Maud said it was. She gave a quick glance at the floor far below. The individual tiles were indistinguishable from this height, but the lozenge-shaped pattern was clearer. Maud was staring at it again as if entranced.

Hildegard edged a little closer. “I was wondering what it was that made you run off when you were enjoying the jongleurs so much.”

Maud was silent.

“Was it one of the guests who arrived as the play was starting?”

Maud said nothing.

“I think it’s probably me they’re looking for—or at least I have something in my possession they want.”

“No!” After that one cry Maud gripped the edge of the parapet and gazed fixedly at the floor many feet below.

Hildegard edged closer. She was still not close enough to catch hold of her if she made a sudden move and if Maud struggled they would both go pitching over the edge to their deaths. She said as reassuringly as she could, “You seemed frightened of them. Did you think you knew them?”

Maud put up a hand in a mechanical fashion to her face. “Do you believe in ghosts, sister?” She turned her head to look into Hildegard’s face.

She shook her head. “Not at all. They’re something we invent to explain what we don’t understand.”

“I thought I’d seen a ghost. But he was real, wasn’t he?”

“Dear Maud, who is it who’s given you such a fright?”

“Who do you think?” Maud’s face was white.

Roger’s guest had been no other than the knight who had been sauntering round Danby’s yard. He was clearly after the cross. He could have nothing to do with Maud.

Her thoughts in confusion, Hildegard edged closer. “Tell me,” she coaxed.

“Nobody will believe me,” Maud mumbled. “He’s a great lord. You could see that for yourself. They’ll believe him not me. They’ll call me a liar. They’ll say I’m a witch. They’ll hang me.” Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the parapet with more force.

“I’m not going to call you a liar. Nor is Brother Thomas. And nobody is going to hang you.”

Maud put both hands over her face and for a moment Hildegard thought she was going to allow herself to slip over the edge. Instead she muttered, “I thought he was dead!”

“Was he the same man who killed your little brother?” she asked softly.

Maud gave a moan and then Hildegard moved fast, stretching out with both hands to grab the back of her gown, dragging her so that they fell back against the wall and Hildegard did not dare release her grip but hung on as tightly as she could saying, “Maud, you’re safe. Whatever you’ve done you’re safe with me and Brother Thomas. I promise.”

Maud gave a stifled sob and buried her face in Hildegard’s sleeve. “You can’t stop the fires of hell. Nobody can. Not the pope. Not the archangels. Nobody. And I don’t know now whether I’m bad because he’s alive or if I’m still to be punished for what I thought I’d done. He killed my brother and then he came back to take me with him.…” Her words became inaudible and she began to sob without control.

“It’s all right now, it’s over,” Hildegard murmured, stroking the springing red curls. “You’re safe. It’s over. He can do nothing more to you.”

“But you don’t know what I did, sister. I took his knife from his belt when he was asleep,” Maud whimpered, “and I stabbed him in the neck and he gave a great shout with the pain of the wound and it was night and I couldn’t see and I just ran out of the barn and I still had his knife and I hid and then I found a cart and hid in that and I slept under hedges and I kept on walking and then I was walking along the lane when Petronilla came up to me and asked me about the egg.… I thought I’d killed him!”