Kivrin went back to the screens and looked out. She couldn’t see the passageway. The bishop’s envoy was standing over by Eliwys’s mare with one hand on the pommel of its saddle, listening to the monk, who was leaning close as he spoke. Kivrin glanced up the stairs at the shut door of the bower, wondering if the clerk was truly hungover or had had some sort of falling out with his superior. The monk’s gestures were obviously upset.
“Here it is,” Rosemund said, climbing down, clutching the cloak in one hand and the ladder in the other.
“I would have you take it to Lady Yvolde. It will take but a minute.”
It was the chance she’d been waiting for. “I will,” she said, took the heavy cloak from Rosemund and started out. As soon as she was outside, she would give the cloak to the nearest servant to deliver to Bloet’s sister and head straight for the passageway. Let her stay in the church a few more minutes, she prayed. Let me make it to the green. She stepped out of the door, into Lady Imeyne.
“Why are you not ready to leave?” Imeyne said, looking at the cloak in her arms. “Where is
Kivrin shot a glance at the bishop’s envoy. He had both hands on the pommel and was stepping onto Cob’s linked hands. The friar was already mounted.
“My cloak is in the church,” Kivrin said. “I will fetch it.”
“There is no time. They are departing.”
Kivrin looked desperately around the courtyard, but they were all out of reach: Eliwys standing with Gawyn by the stable, Agnes talking animatedly to one of Sir Bloet’s nieces, Rosemund nowhere to be seen, presumably still in the house, hiding.
“Lady Yvolde bade asked me to bring her her cloak,” Kivrin said.
“Maisry can take it to her,” Imeyne said. “Maisry!”
Let her still be hiding, Kivrin prayed.
“
She grabbed Kivrin by the wrist. “Come,” she said, and started toward the bishop’s envoy. “Holy Father, you have forgotten Lady Katherine, whom you promised to take with you to Godstow.”
“We do not go to Godstow,” he said and swung himself into the saddle with an effort. “We journey to Bernecestre.”
Gawyn had mounted Gringolet and was walking him toward the gate. He’s going with them, she thought. Perhaps on the way to Courcy I can persuade him to take me to the drop. Perhaps I can persuade him to tell me where it is, and I can get away from them and find it myself.
“Can she not ride with you to Berncestre then, and a monk escort her to Godstow? I would have her returned to her nunnery.”
“There is no time,” he said, picking up the reins.
Imeyne grabbed hold of his scarlet cope. “Why do you leave so suddenly? Has aught offended you?”
He glanced at the friar, who was holding the reins of Kivrin’s mare. “Nay.” He made a vague sign of the cross over Imeyne. “
“What of a new chaplain?” Imeyne insisted.
“I am leaving my clerk behind to serve you as chaplain,” he said.
He’s lying, Kivrin thought, and glanced up sharply at him. He exchanged another, secretive glance with the monk, and Kivrin wondered if their urgent business was simply getting away from this complaining old woman.
“Your clerk?” Lady Imeyne said, pleased, and let go of the cope.
The bishop’s envoy spurred his horse, and galloped across the courtyard, nearly running down Agnes, who scurried out of the way and then ran to Kivrin and buried her head in her skirt. The monk mounted Kivrin’s mare and rode after him.
“God go with you, Holy Father,” Lady Imeyne called after him, but he was already out the gate.
And then they were all gone, Gawyn riding out last at a flashy gallop to make Eliwys notice him, and they hadn’t taken her off to Godstow and out of reach of the drop. Kivrin was so relieved she didn’t even worry over Gawyn’s having gone with them. It was only a half-day’s ride to Courcy. He might even be back by nightfall.
Everyone seemed relieved, or perhaps it was only the letdown of Christmas afternoon and the fact that they had all been up since yesterday morning. No one made any movement to clear the tables, which were still covered with dirty trenchers and half– full serving bowls. Eliwys sank into the high seat, her arms dangling over the side, and looked at the table disinterestedly. After a few minutes she called for Maisry, but when she didn’t answer, Eliwys didn’t shout for her again. She leaned her head against the carved back and closed her eyes.
Rosemund went up to the loft to lie down, and Agnes sat down next to Kivrin by the hearth and put her head on her lap, playing absently with her bell.
Only Lady Imeyne refused to give in to the letdown and languor of the afternoon. “I would have my new chaplain say vespers,” she said, and went up to knock on the bower door.
