‘It was foolishness,’ Philippe said sombrely, and beside him Godefroi nodded his agreement. But Radulf’s expression did not change; his lips remained unmoved.

‘It was more than that,’ I said. ‘What you did was reckless. But we’re here now, and that’s all that counts.’

Floorboards creaked and muffled footsteps sounded through from the room above — the chaplain moving about, I thought. My gaze fell once again upon the nun and, as my eyes met hers, she turned quickly, knocking over a stool behind her. It clattered to the floor.

‘Why is she still here?’ said Wace as the nun bent down to pick it up.

‘Why worry?’ Radulf asked. ‘She won’t have understood anything that we’ve said.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Wace said as he approached her. ‘The abbess spoke French well enough, remember. In these places they learn many tongues.’

The nun stood, regarding him with a look of defiance, though she was at least a head and a half shorter. Whether or not she understood exactly what was being said, I could not tell, though she clearly knew we were talking about her.

‘Perhaps we should speak somewhere else,’ Philippe suggested.

‘It might be best,’ I said. ‘Though we’ve not said anything that she probably didn’t know already.’ She already knew that we were here to deliver a message to Eadgyth. And if she had lived here any length of time it was likely she already knew of the lady’s connection to the usurper.

‘Why is she here, though?’ Eudo asked.

‘It’s just the custom,’ I said. ‘One member of the convent is appointed to stay with guests and watch over them. She’s here for our care and, supposedly, our safety.’

Wace raised the eyebrow above his one good eye. ‘Our safety?’ he asked, a smile spreading across his face. He turned back to the nun, who remained standing where she was, unblinking, watchful.

‘It’s what happened where I grew up, at least,’ I said with a shrug.

‘What do you mean?’ Radulf asked. ‘How do you know so much?’

‘I know’, I said, ‘because before I was a knight, I myself grew up in a monastery.’

He made a sound halfway between a snort and a laugh. ‘You were a monk?’

‘Only an oblate,’ I said sharply as I stared him down. ‘I was given to the Church when I was seven; I fled when I was thirteen. I never took the vows.’

Wace stepped back from the nun, though still he did not take his eyes off her.

‘Let her alone, Wace,’ Eudo said, yawning and grinning at the same time. ‘What’s she going to do? She’s just an old woman.’

Now that Wace had retreated, Burginda set about making a fire. Next to the hearth stood a soot-blackened pail filled with sticks and logs, which she began to arrange across the grate.

I imagined fresh meat roasting over that hearth, and my stomach rumbled. Compline must soon be coming to an end; I hoped it wouldn’t be long until food arrived. We’d bought fresh bread and sausage from the innkeeper when we left the alehouse that morning, but it was still in our saddlebags, and we had left them together with our animals at the stables.

‘Ask her when our packs are going to be brought to us,’ I said to Eudo.

He paused for a moment, probably to think of the right words, then crouched down beside the round frame of the nun, who had lit one of the smallest twigs from the lantern and was now trying to get the rest to take flame. She didn’t meet his eyes, instead kept concentrating on the hearth as he spoke to her and she mumbled something in return.

Eudo stood. ‘They’ll be bringing them after compline, she says.’

So my stomach would have to wait, although as it turned out, it wasn’t long before the abbess arrived. She came with four nuns, who as Burginda had promised brought our packs, together with bread and jugs of water — clearly all that could be offered at this hour. It was hardly much of a feast, but it was welcome nonetheless. Aelfwold joined us for that meal, though he said nothing throughout, save for giving a simple thanks to God before we ate, and he was joined in his silence by the abbess and her sisters, who did nothing but sit and watch us from across the long table. Of course they’d have eaten before the service; there would be nothing more for them until sext the next day. I did my best to avoid meeting the abbess’s gaze, but she kept her eyes trained on me, and I saw little warmth there.

At last they left, and Aelfwold retired upstairs. Only Burginda stayed with us, and for most of the evening she kept out of our way. She knelt by the fire, eyes closed in prayer, while we ate from our own provisions and diced upon the great oak table. I didn’t know the rules on guests gambling, though of course it would be forbidden between the sisters themselves, but the aged nun did nothing to stop us and so we played for several hours. After a while Eudo took out his flute and started to play a few short passages, trying to recall a piece long forgotten; he kept stumbling over the same few notes until we all called for him to try something different: something we could at least sing to.

Eventually the flames in the hearth began to dwindle, and I could feel the cold of the night seeping back into the hall. Before too long the others were starting to yawn; first Godefroi and then Radulf retired upstairs, where there were private rooms enough for all of us. Clearly the nuns were used to receiving guests, and large numbers of them as well.

Philippe followed soon afterwards, leaving only myself, Wace and Eudo. There was Burginda too, still sitting on her stool by the fire. Now, though, her chin was resting against her slowly rising and falling chest, and I could hear her steady, sighing breaths.

‘The usurper’s wife,’ Wace muttered. ‘Why would Malet want to send a message to her?’

‘I’ve been trying to work that out myself,’ I said, keeping my voice down so as not to disturb the sleeping nun. ‘At first I wondered if she might have been his lover, though Aelfwold denied it.’

Eudo looked at me in astonishment. ‘You asked him if they were lovers?’

‘It wasn’t the wisest thing I have ever said, I know.’

‘I’ll admit I’d been thinking it too,’ Wace said.

‘To actually say it, though,’ Eudo pointed out, ‘and to the vicomte’s own chaplain-’

‘But why else would he go to such trouble?’ Wace cut him off. ‘To send men all this way when Eoferwic lies under siege, and to risk his own chaplain as well?’

I nodded. ‘What message would be so important that he needs to send it now?’

‘There is another possibility, of course,’ said Wace, glancing at the nun and then at the stairway, as if one of the others might suddenly appear. ‘Though I hesitate to say it when there’s the smallest chance that someone could be listening.’

I met Wace’s eyes, steely grey, across the table. The same thought had crossed my mind, but I had dismissed it just as soon as it appeared, for I didn’t want to believe it. Could Malet be involved in some sort of conspiracy with Harold’s wife?

‘We can’t know that,’ I said to Wace. ‘There is no proof, only supposition.’

‘I know,’ he replied. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to say anything.’

‘What?’ asked Eudo.

I glanced at Wace, wondering which one of us should say it. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice to almost a whisper: ‘Malet might be a traitor.’

Eudo frowned. ‘A traitor?’ he said, too loudly for my liking.

I waved him quiet and leant closer. ‘There’s one more thing which might be important,’ I said, and stopped suddenly, unsure whether to go on. But they were watching me expectantly; they would know that I was hiding something if I didn’t say it, and I needed their trust above all else.

‘What is it?’ said Wace.

I tried to recall everything Aelfwold had told me on the ship. ‘In the years before the invasion it seems that Malet was a great friend of Harold Godwineson,’ I said. ‘He was granted land on these shores by the old king, Eadward, and used to spend much of his time in this country. That is, until the king died and Harold stole the crown, when he returned to Normandy to join Duke Guillaume.’

‘He knew the usurper?’ asked Wace.

‘And of course he’s half-English as well,’ Eudo murmured.

‘So now he sends word to Harold’s widow,’ Wace said. ‘What does it mean?’

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