Free The Way Between the Worlds by Alys Clare Page B

myself turn aside and return to the alder grove. I sat down on the grass, eyes fixed on the abbey before me. Herleva had died in there, her body left behind the stables. Was there any point in going to inspect the place? The body had long been removed, and no doubt the blood and the vomit had been cleaned away, so the answer to that was no.
    Nevertheless, I just didn’t seem able to tear myself away.
    I heard voices from the direction of the quay. Turning to look, I saw a big, lithe, broad-shouldered man dressed in black, accompanied by a short, round little man in the coarse wool habit of a monk. The tall man was quite young; perhaps only twelve or fifteen years older than I was. He walked with an athletic stride, his shoulders flung back and his back straight. There was a sense of power about him that did not come solely from his physical presence.
    He was almost at the abbey gates now. I drew further back into the shadows and stared at him. His face was tanned, as if he spent much time out of doors, and rather lean, the jaw square. The mouth was wide and mobile, the light eyes set deep beneath thick, fair brows. His hair – also fair, with coppery highlights – was worn long and looked very clean, and his robe was newly laundered.
    I realized what a very handsome man he was.
    He was talking to his fat companion. Straining my ears, I tried to make out the words.
    ‘. . . should arrange to bury her as soon as we can, Brother Paul, for the weather grows warm.’
    ‘They will miss her, sweet child that she was,’ panted the monk, who was having to hurry to keep pace with the tall man’s long strides.
    ‘They will indeed.’
    ‘Shall you – er, I don’t like to make suggestions, but shall you mention after the service her kind nature and how everyone really liked her, her being so gossipy and friendly and all?’
    ‘Oh, I think so,’ the tall man said with a sad smile. ‘Frivolous characteristics, perhaps, in one who believed she had heard God’s call to enter his service as a nun, but then the poor child did not really have any gifts that the Lord would truly value.’
    I supposed that he was right, strictly speaking, but it seemed unkind, especially considering how poor Herleva had met her death. Perhaps there was little use for her light-hearted sort of cheerfulness within the walls of a convent, although on my visits to Elfritha I had always been surprised at how much laughter the nuns seemed to share. Herleva probably would never have been a senior nun, perhaps not even a very good one, but the world was a sorry place for most of its inhabitants and it seemed to me that this tall, black-clad man was being unnecessarily harsh in his judgement of the dead girl. He must—
    Then I knew who he was.
    I would have realized sooner, I’m sure, had I not been preoccupied with my thoughts about Herleva. For one thing he was dressed in black and accompanied by a monk; for another, the monk had referred to what he was going to say about Herleva.
    I crept to the very edge of my hiding place, intent on getting a better look at him. He had his back turned, for he was speaking to the hatchet-faced nun who had opened the door to Hrype and me the previous day. Now she was bowing to her visitor, straightening up to stand back and usher him inside with a wave of her arm.
    The monk scurried in first, the tall man following.
    Just as he was about to move out of sight behind the abbey’s high walls, he turned.
    I knew he could not have seen me, for instantly I drew right back, crouching low to the ground so that I was entirely hidden behind the lush spring undergrowth. He did not see me , I repeated silently. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t help myself: I summoned my fledgling power and sent out a feeler in the tall man’s direction.
    In return I got such a violent shock that it threw me flat on my back. Terrified that he had heard the thump as I fell, I got to my knees and parted the leaves to peer down