God, help me. What do I do?
Those words rolled over and over in her mind as she continued to remove the dried laundry, separating it intobatches that would be collected by the servants who had brought them to the abbey in the first place. Servants from the fine families who thought their clothes were being washed in holy water.
They were being washed in lies.
God, help me!
As Andressa began to remove the fine undergarments of Lady Hinkley’s that she would soon deliver to the woman in her townhome in London, her gaze fell on the postern gate. That reminded her of Maxton and the very reason she’d ended up before the Mother Abbess in the first place.
A knight…
Then, it began to occur to her. She’d told Maxton of the Mother Abbess, of her Staff of Truth, and of The Chaos. She’d told a man she didn’t even know about things that could kill her, but she’d trusted him right away. Perhaps it was only because he’d bought her a meal, but she knew it was more than that. There was something about the enormous knight that told her he was trustworthy. She didn’t know what it was beyond a feeling or an instinct, but she knew there was something in him that was honorable. He’d already tried to help her escape St. Blitha once, but she’d refused. Perhaps, he would know what to do in this terrible situation. Perhaps, he could even warn the king off of coming to St. Blitha for the feast day. In any case, she had to try.
She had to find him.
If you ever need me, my lady, leave word at The King’s Gout Tavern.
Gathering Lady Hinkley’s fine things, she left via the postern gate, quickly heading out to the road that led into the city of London.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Farringdon House
“Has he awokenyet?” William asked.
Maxton shook his head at The Marshal. “Nay, my lord,” he replied. “We plied him with much alcohol after he was already drunk, so it may take time to sleep this off.”
William sighed heavily. He was standing on the top floor of Farringdon House with Maxton, Kress, Achilles, and Alexander. The four men had just brought in an unconscious man who stank to the heavens of alcohol and body odor, tossing him into a bed to sleep off his binge before telling William who, exactly, the man was and why he was there.
It had been the catch of a lifetime.
William, who happened to be at Farringdon House because his meeting with the king and the marcher lords had dispersed early, stood in the doorway of the chamber that held the snoring drunkard, hoping that they’d found the key to the papal assassins in that smelly, slobbering Scotsman.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to wait until he decides to awaken,” William said. “There is nothing more we can do.”
“Nay, my lord,” Maxton agreed. “We will send a guard up to keep an eye on him.”
Alexander, who was still by the door, shook his head. “Nay, Max,” he said. “I will remain here. He is my quarry, after all. Moreover, I feel as if he is an old friend now. I must stay and greet him when he awakens.”
Maxton agreed with the wave of a hand and the men moved away from the chamber door to go their separate ways. Before they could get too far, however, William stopped them.
“Max,” he said. “I saw Sean at Westminster Palace earlier. It seems that John is, indeed, hunting tomorrow in the woods of Windsor, so you and your men may wish to shadow the hunting party for John’s sake. But he mentioned something else, too, because you asked to be apprised of his movements– John is going to St. Blitha in two days to take part in the feast day. St. Blitha is the patroness of hunters, as you know, and he intends to offer prayers so she will bless his hunting bloodlust. It might be wise to appear at St. Blitha as well.”
St. Blitha. There was that name again, that abbey that kept popping up. It wasn’t as if St. Blitha was the only abbey in or around London; there were several. But on this day, St. Blitha was the only one he’d heard of. First with Andressa, then with the drunkard Douglas, and now the king. Rather fortuitous, he thought. He would happily shadow the man to St. Blitha– he was only sorry it was two days away.
“Aye, my lord,” he said. “In fact, I was already at St. Blitha today. It is a very long story, but I shall do my best to make it concise– this morning, as I was returning to Farringdon House after my night of food and drink, I came across a young woman stealing bread. As it turned out, she was a pledge from St. Blitha.”
“Sothat’swhat happened,” Kress said. “You mentioned St. Blitha this morning, but you did not say why. What in the world was a pledge from St. Blitha doing stealing bread?”
Maxton held up a hand, asking for patience as he continued. “Feeling pity for the woman, I fed her,” he said. “But what she told me… God help me, St. Blitha’s is a place of sin and sorrow. She said that the Mother Abbess sells the food meant for the nuns and pledges of St. Blitha to fill her own table with fine food, leaving her charges to starve. That is why she was stealing bread. The pledge further told me that the Mother Abbess murders women who displease her.”
That drew a reaction from all four of the men; eyebrows lifted in surprise. “A Mother Abbess who murders?” William repeated, shocked. “Are you certain? I have never heard such madness.”
“Nor I,” Maxton assured him. “The pledge, whose name is Andressa du Bose, told me that the Mother Abbess carries a staff with her that she calls the Staff of Truth, but the bottom half of the staff is really a sharp blade sheathed in wood to make it look like it’s part of the staff. She sends those who displease her into the dungeons of St. Blitha, a place she calls The Chaos. No one returns from The Chaos alive because the Mother Abbess evidently murders them with the blade from her Staff of Truth.”
More shocking information. “My God,” William breathed. “A horrific tale, if true.”
Maxton shook his head. “I did not sense the pledge was lying. If you’d only seen the woman, my lord, you would believe her, too. It was a terrible story she told.”
