Page 51 of The Herald's Heart
Beyond the main abbey stood a number of smaller buildings. A path wound between the structures and out into a low-walled garden and orchard. He followed the nun to where Mother Clement knelt, digging among the herbs.
“Within this garden, all must labor in the Lord’s name.” She handed him a hoe. “Break up the soil around these plants that I may talk with you.”
Mother Clement wore a broad straw hat that shielded her face from the sun and his sight. ’Twas disconcerting to speak to a hat. He shrugged and set to work.
“How may I help you, my son?” The words floated up to him.
“I’ve been to see the anchoress.” He struck the earth with the hoe.
“Ah.”
Ah? What kind of comment was that? “’Tis the third time she’s seen me, and her fearful reaction troubles me.”
“Yes, I don’t doubt that it would.”
“Then she treats all her visitors with fear?”
The hat tilted, and a pair of solemn gray eyes studied him. “Nay, none but you.”
“Why?”
“Who can say why God keeps her from seeing you for who you are.”
Talon studied her in turn. He felt they had talked this way before, in this very garden. Just as he’d felt that strange but familiar comfort when he first approached the anchorage. Yet he could not place where or how he might have met either holy woman. The sensation disturbed him so greatly that he asked, “Have we met somewhere other than here and Hawking Sedge?”
“Indeed, last night we met at the keep.”
“No, before that.”
She smiled. “I’ve not ventured more than a league from this place since before you were born.”
Frustrated, he tried another tack. “Is the anchoress mad?”
“If she is, ’tis a blessed madness.”
Talon frowned and thrust his hoe into the earth. “You speak riddles. How may madness be blessed? Why can’t the anchoress see me for who I am?”
Mother Clement bent to her work once more. “God’s works are mysterious, my son. But think on this. The woman became an anchoress when she lost her child. We feared for her sanity then, and all agreed that the contemplative life would best heal her soul.”
“I am sorry for her loss.”
“’Twas years ago.”
Talon paused, uncertain how to best word his next request. “I must talk more with her. She can clear up some questions surrounding the earl’s death.”
“I don’t know if she’ll speak with you again today.”
“I hoped that you might accompany me.”
“Why?”
“I thought that your presence might calm her. Also, if she becomes agitated, you might be able to explain what I want and help her restore herself to order.”
Mother Clement turned stone-gray eyes on him once more.
Talon pulled his hoe through the dirt. Sweat trickled down his neck.
“Aye,” the abbess finally said. “I will come with you.”
