kind, using her tinctures and ointments to heal them, as well as the many villagers who came to her for help.
‘Bianca?’ Alinor called out quietly, pausing in front of one of the wide shallow arches. ‘It’s me.’ Her whisper echoed eerily around the limestone walls, stone the colour of pale honey. A cobweb tickled her cheek; she brushed it away. There was a rustle, the sound of breathing, and then a voice.
‘Alinor?’
She peeked inside the chamber, thrusting the light inside. The girl, Bianca, sat huddled in a blanket on the flagstone floor, blinking rapidly with the unexpected surge of light. The silver embroidery on the hemline of her gown winked and glistened, the rich silk fabric rippling out around her.
Thrusting the burning torch into an iron bracket on the wall, Alinor knelt down beside the maid. ‘I’m so sorry I left you alone for so long,’ she said. ‘I had to go to the market today, for the nuns...but here, I brought you some food.’ Delving into her baggy leather satchel, she extracted the packages she had bought, placing them on the uneven stone floor. ‘I hope it’s enough.’
Bianca placed her hand on Alinor’s shoulder. The hanging pearls decorating the silver circlet on her tawny hair bobbed with the slight movement. ‘It’s more than enough...you’ve...oh, what happened to your face?’ Her blue eyes flared open in horror at the mottled bruising on Alinor’s cheek, the dried blood. ‘Did she work out what happened, your stepmother? What you did?’
‘No, no, I haven’t seen her,’ Alinor reassured her.
‘Then what happened to you?’
‘It’s nothing,’ Alinor mumbled, drawing her stiff linen veil forward, a self-conscious gesture, embarrassed by the girl’s concern. She had managed to rewrap her wimple on the way to the market, so the bloodstained cloth was hidden. But nothing could conceal the damage on her cheek. A pair of sparkling midnight eyes, a teasing smile, flashed across her vision and she bit down on her bottom lip, hard. Do not think of it, do not think of him, she ordered herself sternly.
‘Looks like it was a bit more than nothing,’ Bianca said, frowning critically at Alinor’s face. ‘You’ve risked your neck for me already; please don’t take any more chances.’ She shifted her position on the blanket, her blue-silk overdress sliding over her knees. Hundreds of tiny seed pearls had been stitched into the curved neckline, matching the intricacy of the maid’s circlet and fine silk veil.
‘It wasn’t anything like that,’ Alinor said, untying the packages with brisk efficiency. ‘Ralph, you know, the lad from the village who went with me, and I, well, we ran into a bit of trouble on the way to market.’
‘Trouble?’
‘We crossed paths with Prince Edward and his entourage. And our cart had broken, so they couldn’t cross the bridge. Ralph went to fetch help and left me there.’ Her breathing quickened and she shook her head. ‘I was stupid, thinking I could brave it out against them. I should have run, hidden somewhere.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ Bianca asked softly.
‘I thought they would destroy all the grain, all the nuns’ profits. But, thankfully, I held them off until the Prince arrived.’ She closed her eyes briefly, remembering. The thick arms folded about her slim waist, thumbs splaying against her spine, pulling her close. The mail-coat links pressed through her clothes, digging into her soft flesh. The way his muscular legs bumped against her toes, flailing uselessly above the ground. Blue, blue eyes, sparking fire. A shivery breath gripped her lungs, surging, alive. ‘And then one of the knights grabbed me and carried me off the bridge, out of the way.’ She grimaced, balling her fists defiantly in her lap. ‘I put up a good fight though. I bit him.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘I bit his ear.’
‘Oh, Alinor!’ Bianca said, clapping her hands to her mouth. ‘So I suppose he walloped you for that?’
‘No, it was the Prince. I just kept on screaming.’ A delicate colour brushed her cheeks as she recalled her outrageous display. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘What was I supposed to do? Go quietly?’
Bianca laughed, dipping her head. ‘Alinor, I have only known you a short while, but something tells me you would never go quietly. What you have done for me...your bravery; I’m sure I wouldn’t have the courage to do the same. You were lucky, though. The Prince has a fearsome reputation; he could have killed you.’
It’s not him I’m worried about. She shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the strings on the packages. She couldn’t seem to undo them, her hands clumsy, muddled. ‘Then thank God he didn’t.’ Alinor smiled wanly, her fingers tangling in the knotted strings. Sweet Jesu, the thought of that man was affecting her even though he was nowhere near! What was the matter with her? She wasn’t ever likely to see him again.
‘Here, let me do it,’ Bianca offered. ‘I’m starving and you’re taking too long.’ She opened up the squares of muslin to reveal fresh rounds of bread, lumps of crumbling cheese, an apple. ‘Oh, you’ve brought me a feast!’ She bit into one of the bread rolls. ‘This bread tastes like Heaven! Thank you Alinor, thank you for everything.’
Alinor smiled at her enthusiasm, the girl’s good humour despite her desperate situation. Bianca had arrived at Alinor’s home with an escort of French knights, sent by Queen Eleanor, King Henry’s wife, in order to marry Alinor’s stepbrother Eustace. A marriage arranged by the Queen, with the Savoy family of Attalens in France, a marriage that could not be unarranged. Her stepmother disapproved of the match, violently disapproved, but how could she openly contest a queen’s edict? She wanted Eustace to marry Alinor, as Alinor was the sole inheritor of her father’s vast wealth, his many castles and estates. On her father’s death she would be a wealthy woman in her own right. And her stepmother would do anything for Eustace to have all that and, so it seemed, she would stop at nothing, nothing, to achieve that end.
‘Have you been able to find anyone to take me to the coast yet?’ Bianca widened her large blue eyes in question as she nibbled delicately at the cheese. ‘It was a shame your stepmother sent my escort away so quickly, otherwise they could have taken me back. And my poor maidservant as well, having to travel back with them!’
‘Wilhema wanted them all out of the way as quickly as possible. She didn’t want them to find out what she was planning for you,’ Alinor said. ‘But don’t worry, I have someone in mind to take you back to France, someone I can trust.’ Ralph, she thought to herself, or someone in his family. They would help. ‘Remember, you are supposed to be dead. Wilhelma truly believes that I did what she asked of me, that I poisoned you. If she, or one of her friends, should see you...’
‘It won’t happen; I can disguise myself.’ Bianca turned her mouth down ruefully. ‘I need to wear your lay sister’s clothes and possibly cut my hair, darken down the colour?’
‘Yes, all of those things. You cannot risk being recognised. But you must stay here for the moment; I promise, I won’t take long to ask my friend to take you home.’
‘I’m surprised you’re not offering to do it yourself,’ Bianca teased. ‘After all, you seem to demonstrate exceptional skill when it comes to dealing with potential attackers.’
Alinor laughed, touched her check self-consciously. ‘Don’t worry, he will be a proper escort.’
‘Just make sure he’s good looking,’ Bianca said. ‘That’s all I ask.’
Such a request seemed so idiotic in the face of the huge risks both girls were taking that they both dissolved into laughter, heads bobbing together in the flickering half-light.
* * *
Hiking up her skirts, Alinor scrambled on to the stone window ledge, angled deep into the infirmary wall. Standing, she reached for the ornate iron latch on the leaded window, pushing the casement open. Fresh air flooded the chamber, cutting through the fuggy, foetid air. The nuns’ hospital, a double-height building set apart from the Priory, held about twenty pallet beds, simply constructed and lifted a few inches from the flagstone floor by a block