Free Belladonna at Belstone by Michael Jecks Page B

the novices suggesting that the infirmarer has been drunk, I’ll flay the hide off you. Understand? Now piss off!”
    Shaken despite herself, Katerine scurried away; it was only when she arrived at the door to the cloister that she realised she hadn’t fetched herself the pie. Irritated, she decided to avoid the frater by taking the longer route to the kitchen, so she turned up the alley that followed the back wall of the frater to the yard and the kitchen door.
    The cook grinned as Katerine scoffed a small squab pie. It was common enough for the younger novices to feel the pangs of hunger between their meals, and Ela believed in filling them up. She watched indulgently while Katerine swallowed the last mouthful, licking her fingers and wiping them dry on her tunic. Thanking the kitcheness, she made her way back to the cloister. At the rear door to the frater she paused.
    Inside was Margherita, in full flow. Before her were three other nuns, all drinking from large pots of wine, while the treasurer exhorted them to consider the best interests of the nunnery, forgetting their own private ambitions. The woman was using all her powers of persuasion.
    “When the visitor comes back, he’ll not just be looking at the prioress,” she declared, “he’ll be watching all of us. He’s not going to be as polite and friendly as last time. Oh no. This time he’ll be asking about the death of a novice, investigating how we sisters could have allowed it to happen. It’s not as if he’s going to be able to hide this matter from his master, our bishop. We all know what’s going on. It’s Lady Elizabeth and her man…‘ Margherita caught sight of Katerine. ”You - girl! Stop listening to chapter business that doesn’t concern you!“
    Katerine obeyed sullenly, but as she walked to the cloister, she wondered what was happening. First there was Constance, who must have been dreadfully upset to have got so maudlin drunk; then Margherita in a high old state of anxiety.
    Both were bound to be perfect sources for conjecture among the novices after Compline, when all went to their beds, and she quite looked forward to holding the younger girls spellbound while she related the curious behaviour of Constance in the kitchen.
    Perhaps it was the impact of the visitor. His arrival, for the second time in so short a space, was certain to cause some concern amongst the nuns. Katerine was only young, but she wasn’t blind. The nuns flagrantly ignored their Rule. Many wouldn’t obey even the lightest part of their duties: they didn’t get up in the middle of the night to help conduct the Nocturnes and Matins as they should. And the drinking after Compline was excessive, just as if the nuns were members of a select lord’s party, and entitled to consume as much wine as any wished without a thought to the fact that they should all have gone to their beds after this last service of the day.
    Not that it bothered Katerine. For her, the more drunk and incapable the nuns were, the easier her own affairs became. She could learn much more when they were in their cups, and all information was potentially profitable. Such as Constance with her man - or Agnes with Luke. Katerine’s face took on a bitter aspect as she considered them. Agnes - once her friend, and Luke - once her lover.
    The tavern was a ramshackle, cruck-built house with a thin, moss-covered thatch, and when Bailiff Simon Puttock rode up to the door and gave it a once-over, the whistle died on his lips. Smoke floated from the louvre in the roof, but the limewash was a mess with green lichen and moss growing thickly, and his confidence in the builder was somewhat diminished by the rubble at the side of the place where a large portion had collapsed. Still, he reflected, it should last long enough for lunch. He nodded to his companion.
    “Hardly looks the sort of place Baldwin would pick. More like one of your grotty little alehouses, Hugh.”
    Hugh, his servant, ignored the jibe. He was