The Devil's Cup by Alys Clare

Author:Alys Clare [Alys Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2017-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

TEN

At the Sanctuary on the edge of the Great Wealden Forest, Helewise stood in the open doorway staring out into the darkness of the surrounding trees. It was late; after midnight, she was sure, and there was barely a sound on the cold air. Tiphaine was out there somewhere. She had been in the Sanctuary constantly, tending the sick woman, taking turns with Helewise to sit by Hadil’s bedside to hold her down when the violent fits took hold of her and trying to soothe her. Apart from the extreme distress the poor woman was enduring, as were the two women who were caring for her, thrashing about like a trapped animal threatened to do further harm to the broken arm.

Tiphaine had finally come up with a concoction that seemed to work – either that or the patient had finally exhausted herself – and Hadil had been sleeping since dusk. Helewise, aware of Tiphaine’s growing restlessness, had suggested gently that she take herself off into the forest for a while. Tiphaine, of course, had refused: ‘I cannot leave you here alone with her, my lady. What if she should wake and throw another of those screaming fits?’

‘If she does, I shall administer more of whatever remedy you gave her earlier,’ Helewise said calmly.

‘But she’s strong, despite that arm. It’s been taking the two of us to control her.’

‘I believe that, with her fever slowly subsiding, there is little likelihood of further fits.’

‘But …’

With a smile, Helewise watched Tiphaine’s stern face contort as she tried to come up with further objections. She reached out and put a soothing hand on Tiphaine’s arm. ‘Go,’ she said firmly. ‘I shall be perfectly all right. You need …’ She had been about to say, You need to get out into the open air for a while, since too long cooped up within the four walls of a small room makes you as jumpy as a fox in a box.

It had always been so, in all the long years of the women’s acquaintance. In the Hawkenlye Abbey days, Helewise had known perfectly well when, and for how long, her herbalist slipped away into the Great Forest. The convenient excuse had been that she needed to gather leaves, flowers, roots and fungi for her herbal preparations, but Helewise had always been aware that was only a part of the reason for Tiphaine’s absences. Dutiful and as obedient as her nature allowed, Tiphaine had never returned empty-handed, but she had needed to restore herself with the quiet energy of the vast, living forest in the same way that others needed air and water.

Helewise had watched with private amusement as Tiphaine struggled with herself. Then, abruptly yielding to the greater force, she strode out through the door with a muttered, ‘Back soon’, and was gone.

That had been hours ago. Not that Helewise was worried. Tiphaine was at home in the forest as others were in a familiar, beloved and long-occupied cottage.

With reluctance, she turned her back on the night and went back inside the little room, drawing the door closed.

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