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the same time pointing towards a cloistered courtyard adjacent to the great Abbey church. ‘You’ll find her in there. Get one of them to show you the way.’
    Them, he realised, meant a group of three nuns gliding from the cloister in the direction of the church. Nodding his thanks to the porteress, he dismounted, and, leading his horse, approached the nuns, one of whom took his horse’s reins in a tentative and evidently reluctant hand, while another undertook to show him to the Abbess’s room.
    Looking all about him while trying not to make it obvious, he followed.
    His guide whispered, ‘Who shall I say?’
    He told her.
    Moving ahead of him with a small gesture of apology, the nun entered the courtyard under an archway, crossed the cloister and opened a door. She murmured something to the sole occupant of the room, but her voice was too quiet for Josse to make out the words. She beckoned Josse inside, then, her task completed, sidled past him and closed the door.
    Abbess Helewise had looked up as the nun spoke. Now, as Josse stood before her, she sat perfectly still, studying him. Her face, framed in starched white beneath the black veil, was strong-featured, with well-marked eyebrows, large grey eyes, and a wide mouth which looked as if it smiled readily.
    But she was not smiling now.
    If he hadn’t known it was impossible, he’d almost have said she was waiting for him; there was no suprise in the calm face, no expression of enquiry in the eyes.
    ‘Josse d’Acquin,’ she said, presumably repeating what her nun had said. ‘And what, Josse d’Acquin, do you wish of us?’
    He presented his papers and allowed them to speak for him. If Abbess Helewise was as impressed by the royal seal as her porteress, she gave no indication, but, opening up the letter which it secured, read right through it.
    Then, folding it and smoothing it with a surprisingly square and strong-looking hand – somehow Josse had imagined nuns’ hands to be invariably pale and long, more suitable to prayer than to cracking walnuts – she looked up at him.
    And said, ‘I had imagined someone like you would arrive, sooner or later. You wish, I have no doubt, that I tell you what I know of Gunnora of Winnowlands?’
    ‘I do, madam.’ Was that the right form of address for an abbess? If it wasn’t, she didn’t seem to mind.
    Her face, tense with some inner strain, suddenly relaxed, and for an instant she almost smiled. ‘Please, my lord knight, sit. May I offer you refreshment?’ She reached for a small brass bell. ‘It is’ – now the smile was unmistakable – ‘a long way from the court of King Richard.’
    ‘I have not come direct from there.’ He returned the smile, pulling up the indicated chair and seating himself. ‘But, aye, refreshment would be welcome.’ Another of Josse’s soldierly habits was never to refuse food or drink when it was offered, on the grounds that you never knew when it was going to be offered again.
    Abbess Helewise rang her bell, and asked the nun who responded to bring ale and bread. When these had been served – the bread was warm and unexpectedly delicious, and there was a sliver of some strong cheese with it which Josse guessed was goat – the Abbess began to speak.
    ‘Gunnora had been with us a little under a year,’ she said, ‘and I cannot say that her admission to our community was entirely a success. She appeared to be devout, spoke with fervour, at our first meeting, of the certainty of her vocation. But—’ The dark eyebrows drew together. ‘But something was lacking. Something did not ring true.’ She glanced at Josse, and, again, there was the faint smile. ‘You will no doubt ask me to elaborate, and I fear I cannot. Except to say that, in general, Gunnora had the wrong character for convent life. She said the right things, but they did not come from the heart. As a consequence, she did not really fit in with us, and, knowing this, naturally, she was not happy.’ Instantly