Free Ashes of the Elements by Alys Clare

‘Sister Caliste?’
    She nodded. ‘And you, I think, are Sir Josse d’Acquin.’
    He returned her smile. No man still able to see could have done anything else. ‘Aye. I have come to speak to the Abbess, but I see she is busy.’
    Caliste looked over to where Abbess Helewise was smoothing the brow of the dying man. ‘She is. She gives him such comfort, sir. She is telling him what will be done for his wife and his little ones.’
    ‘I would have thought she’d be praying with him.’
    The great blue eyes turned to him. ‘That too. But I think that he will not concentrate on his prayers until his anxieties are assuaged.’
    Such perception, Josse thought. And the girl had a way with words that suggested some education. ‘I will wait outside,’ he said.
    ‘I will keep you company, if you wish,’ the girl offered politely. ‘The Abbess likes our visitors to feel welcome.’
    ‘Most kind,’ Josse said. ‘If you’re sure I’m not keeping you from your work?’
    Caliste smiled again, removing her dirty apron. ‘I have just finished one of my less agreeable duties. I was about to visit Sister Tiphaine, to request some herbs for Sister Euphemia’s medicines. If you would care to accompany me, sir?’
    Outside, he fell into step beside the girl. Observing her covertly, he noticed that she had adopted the upright glide of a nun, that her hands, temporarily unoccupied, were automatically tucked into the opposite sleeves. Yes, she looks like a nun all right, he thought. But …
    But?
    He couldn’t define exactly what there was about Caliste. But, as Helewise had discovered before him, in truth, there was something …
    ‘It is more usual to go to Sister Tiphaine’s workroom the other way, passing the front gate,’ Caliste said, breaking the silence, ‘but I like to go this way. For one thing, I can have a passing look at the tympanum, over the door of the church – she withdrew a hand and pointed up at the great carving, depicting the Last Judgement – and, for another, this way you go through the herb garden.’
    They walked on, past the door of the Lady Chapel, past the virgin sisters’ house, past the windowless, doorless walls of the sinister little building which, Josse knew, was the Abbey’s leper house. Sister Caliste, he noticed, crossed herself as they passed. He did the same.
    Then, around the corner, sheltered against the south wall of the Abbey, they came to the herb garden.
    The month was June, and many of the plants were in full leaf. Stopping, Josse took a deep breath, and the combined aromas of rosemary, sage, mint, lavender, and a dozen other plants whose names he did not know, filled his head. He breathed deeply again, and again, then, feeling dizzy, abruptly he stopped.
    Beside him, Caliste giggled. ‘It’s not really very wise to do that, Sir Josse,’ she said. ‘The herbs are powerful just now. You have to treat them with respect.’
    ‘I see what you mean,’ Josse said. Gingerly, he stepped forward; the dizziness seemed to have gone.
    ‘This way,’ Caliste said, stepping out along a narrow path bordered neatly with box hedging. ‘Sister Tiphaine’s workroom is just ahead.’
    He waited outside the little shed while Caliste went in to fetch whatever it was she had been sent for. She was not gone long, but, even so, her absence gave sufficient time for a warm exchange of words between her and the herbalist. And a soft outburst of laughter.
    ‘You used to work with Sister Tiphaine, I believe,’ he said as he and Caliste made their way back to the infirmary. ‘Do you regret being moved to nursing duties?’
    ‘I—’ Caliste hesitated, shooting a quick, assessing glance at him. ‘I will tell you the truth, Sir Knight,’ she said, obviously deciding in his favour. ‘I loved working with Sister Tiphaine, who was kind to me and generous with the sharing of her wide knowledge. When I was told of my new duties, I was sad. But I am a nun, and I must do what I am told.’
    Moved