aunt jumping up to press a cup of wine into her hand. The Abbess hesitated, looking uncertainly at Bartholomew, but then seemed to make up her mind.
‘Since you are here, I wonder if I might impose on your good offices, Doctor. Julianna has been complaining of chest pains these last two days. It is doubtless the unhealthy vapours from the Fens, but I would appreciate your advice on the matter. She can provide you with the details necessary to calculate her stars.’
Julianna smiled at him, coughing forgotten, and Bartholomew found himself unaccountably flustered. ‘I cannot,’ he said, thinking fast. ‘I would need a set of astrological charts to calculate a horoscope, and mine were rendered useless when I fell in the river.’
‘Do not worry about that,’ said Julianna with a wide grin. ‘I have a set here that belongs to the Countess.’ She waved a scroll at him.
‘But I do not usually conduct astrological consultations,’ he objected. The more he practised medicine, the more he became convinced that the efficacy of his cures had nothing to do with the alignment of the celestial bodies. Because his personal beliefs did not exempt him from teaching his students how to do them, he performed the occasional horoscope just so he did not forget, but these were very few and far between, and he always resented the time he spent on them.
‘Rubbish!’ said Julianna, not to be deterred. ‘You are a physician, and all physicians read their patients’ stars. You saying you do not prepare horoscopes is like a merchant saying he does not like the feel of money!’
‘Well, I prefer doing other things,’ he said shortly. ‘I seldom calculate horoscopes.’
‘I would be grateful if you would make an exception,’ said the Abbess, laying a hand on her niece’s shoulder in motherly concern. ‘Julianna is very young to be suffering from chest pains, and I do not want to send her to Ely to see the infirmarian while there are outlaws at large on the causeway.’
‘Very well, then,’ he said reluctantly, realising it would be churlish to decline a request from the Abbess, given that they had availed themselves of her hospitality. He turned to Julianna, trying to become professional to hide his irritation. ‘Perhaps you can tell me when these pains started?’
‘Oh no!’ said Julianna with distaste. ‘Not here! There is a small chamber on the floor above that is far more private for you to ask your intimate questions.’ She looked pointedly at Michael.
‘I will not ask any intimate questions,’ said Bartholomew nervously. ‘I only have to know the letters in your name – each letter of the alphabet has a specific astrological number and I need to add them together – and a few pertinent dates–’
‘I want more than that!’ said Julianna indignantly. ‘I want a complete astrological prediction that will tell me whether I should be forced to remain among the dangerous miasmas of these marshes, or whether I should be allowed to move to somewhere more conducive to my health.’
So, thought Bartholomew, Julianna regarded him as her escape route from Denny to somewhere more lively. He could not blame her: the Fens were not his idea of paradise, either.
‘You will see that your consultation will enable me to make the correct decision regarding my niece’s future,’ said the Abbess, a worried frown marring her face. ‘I would truly appreciate any advice you could offer.’
‘Upstairs, then,’ said Julianna, standing and stretching out a hand to Bartholomew.
The physician swallowed hard. ‘It would be better if there were another nun present,’ he said quickly. A dozen would be preferable, he thought to himself. He saw a brief flash of anger in Julianna’s eyes, and his discomfort intensified.
‘I will chaperone Doctor Bartholomew and Julianna,’ said Dame Pelagia, heaving her ancient body from her fireside chair.
‘Let me think,’ said the Abbess, as Michael slipped quickly into the chair Dame Pelagia had vacated, thus placing himself considerably closer to her. She stood and moved away, clasping her hands. Bartholomew could see her dilemma. Should she risk the reputation of her wanton niece with the physician, or should she risk her own at the hands of Brother Michael, whose interests were clearly not monastic? To send for another nun to chaperone them might be construed as offensive and the Abbess was far too well mannered to insult her guests.
‘Doctor Bartholomew is a professional man,’ pouted Julianna, ‘and he is only going to ask me about my stars. Why would we need a chaperone?’
The Abbess eyed her niece suspiciously and came to a decision. She apparently trusted her own abilities to fend off manly attentions over those of Julianna, whose brazen gazes led Bartholomew to wonder whether the skill of repelling male attentions was ever a part of her education.
‘Dame Pelagia will go with Julianna,’ said the Abbess, ‘while Brother Michael will defend my virtue.’
She smiled lightly, as if she had made a joke, but her meaning was clear enough. Some of the glitter faded from Michael’s eyes, but he nodded politely.
Filled with trepidation, both for the Abbess and for himself, Bartholomew followed Julianna up a narrow flight of stairs to an attic above the solar. The room was as elegantly furnished as the rest of the building, and Bartholomew was impressed to see glass in the windows that was so fine and clear he could see right through them and out to the fields and Fens beyond. Dame Pelagia finally heaved herself up the stairs and stood wheezing in the doorway. Bartholomew helped her to a chair.
‘You seem more in need of a cure for chest pains than Julianna does,’ he said pointedly, as the old lady collapsed into the chair with evident relief. Julianna grinned at him, totally unabashed, and perched herself on a table where she sat swinging her legs.
Bartholomew started to ask her about her birth date and various other significant events in her life, to keep matters purely medical, and to prevent her from embarking on some tangential discussion of her own choosing. Dame Pelagia began to nod and doze in her chair, watched attentively by both Bartholomew and Julianna for entirely different reasons. Dame Pelagia’s head drooped and Bartholomew leapt noisily to his feet to pace the room. The old lady snapped awake, eyed him suspiciously and tried to pay attention to what was being said.
Several times he tried to bring the interview to an end, but Julianna knew as well as he did that ascertaining information to predict what would best favour a person’s future health with any degree of accuracy took time. She also seemed aware that he did not want to offend the Abbess by providing her niece with a less than accurate consultation. Wearily, he sat at a table, unrolled the charts and began to make his calculations.
Dame Pelagia’s head sank down onto her chest a second time and Bartholomew rapped the ink-well on the side of the table vigorously, pretending that its contents needed to be shaken. Pelagia looked up sleepily and resettled herself in the chair. But Bartholomew’s ploys could not keep the old lady from her midday doze indefinitely and it was not long before she was soundly asleep, her gentle snores whispering about the room.
‘Now,’ said Bartholomew as he sharpened a pen noisily, hoping to waken her yet again. ‘What phase was the moon in when you first experienced these pains?’
He pretended to drop the ink-well, sending it clattering to the floor, but Dame Pelagia did not even stir.
‘Now she is asleep, you will not waken her with your contrived racket,’ said Julianna, confident in her superior knowledge of the old lady’s habits. ‘We do not have long now you have successfully wasted so much time in keeping her awake. The bell for sext will ring at any moment and then our time alone together will be at an end.’ She advanced on him meaningfully.
Bartholomew leapt to his feet and backed away, raising his hands to fend her off. ‘Sister Julianna! You are a nun – remember your vows!’
‘I am not a nun!’ said Julianna in disdain, her voice low. ‘And I have taken no vows. I am merely here in the care of my aunt until a suitable marriage can be arranged.’
Bartholomew glanced uneasily towards the door, assessing his chances of reaching it before Julianna blocked his way. He wondered whether being accused of seducing a nun was better or worse than being charged with ravishing the daughter of a nobleman. Julianna moved towards him and he edged away.
‘Keep still,’ Julianna whispered in sudden frustration. ‘I am risking my life by speaking to you, while all you do is back away from me like some old priest!’
‘Risking your life?’ This was worse than he had thought. Her family must be powerful indeed!
‘Yes. And I cannot say what I must too loudly, so come closer, near the window and away from the door.’ She waited impatiently and then raised her voice in exasperation. ‘I do not bite for heaven’s sake!’ She grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the window. ‘We must not be overheard.’
He was about to reply when the slightest of creaks from outside the door indicated that someone was there, listening.
