‘The garden with - ?’

‘You know the one. Why didn’t you speak to me in the Tinel earlier? I thought I was dreaming.’

‘I – ’ Unable to finish, she merely shrugged.

‘Just a glimpse, then you vanished. I also thought I saw you in the audience chamber soon after we arrived but put it down to an hallucination caused by exhaustion after the journey.’ When she was still unable to speak he said, ‘I heard you might be down here but I must say I’m amazed you arrived first. I can scarcely believe it. You made very good time.’

‘From England?’

‘Of course from England.’ He gave her a searching glance. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I didn’t know you were coming to Avignon.’ She was in a daze but pulled herself together. ‘If I’d known it was a race I’d have put on a little more speed.’ She couldn't help smiling.

He peered into her face again. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re very pale.’

‘I’m tired from the journey I expect – and from everything that’s happened since.’

‘We had hellish problems with Burgundy’s militia.’ He gave that sudden boyish smile she knew that showed whatever the problems a skirmish with the enemy presented he had relished every moment.

Now his gaze had lifted from her face and was fixed on something behind her. She saw him make a sign of greeting then turn abruptly, pacing away along the corridor with a measured tread unlike his usual brisk walk.

When she turned she found the cardinal whose little daughter had nearly lost her pet squirrel standing behind her. It was difficult to tell how long he had been there. Hubert’s attention had not shifted from her face until just before he turned away.

‘Domina, we meet again,’ the cardinal now said. He was affable and full of smiles.

‘And how is the squirrel today?’ she asked.

‘As beloved as yesterday.’

He stood contemplating her for a moment then bowed and passed on.

For some reason Hildegard felt a chill strike through her.

**

After helping the nuns to prepare Maurice’s body for burial Hildegard went to keep her assignation with Hubert.

They met in a corner of the walled garden underneath the battlements. Faintly the sounds of water striking the sides of a marble fountain intensified the silence that precedes vespers. Sunset, later here than in England, slanted a pale, frigid shaft onto the path but the wall close to where they were standing was already deep in mauve shadow.

Hubert greeted her warmly but then straightaway started to question her about Athanasius.

Surprised that he even knew of him she admitted, ‘He sees me as a pair of useful hands. Someone to run errands for him. Going into places he cannot enter. The prioress merely told me to inform the guest master if my arrival and it was he who assigned me to him. What can you tell me about him?’

It was a test. Hubert’s answer would reveal as much about himself and his allegiance as it would about Athanasius.

Hubert took both her hands in his. ‘I am glad to see you safe. When we didn’t catch up with you on the journey I feared the worst. Then after we arrived and I caught sight of you, a sight so fleeting - ’ His voice thickened. ‘I was relieved to find you safe and well. Hildegard -’ he tightened his grip, ‘you saw me once or twice in the crowd, I’m sure of it, but you looked straight through me.’

‘Where was that?’

‘Soon after we arrived. We entered the audience chamber shortly before Woodstock’s man.’

‘So it was you.’

‘You were standing near a pillar.’

‘And you were near the door.’

He smiled with something like satisfaction. ‘We recognised each other in all that sea of people.’

‘You know about Fitzjohn then? That he’s Woodstock’s vassal.’

‘That’s why we’re here.’

He looked at her in silence to allow her to come to the right conclusion. She felt cornered. Like a stag being forced into the killing zone. So far, he had failed to answer her question about Athanasius.

Scarcely able to frame the words, she forced herself to ask, ‘What have you to do with Woodstock’s faction?’

Hubert answered promptly but she noticed that he did not meet her eye when he said, ‘Some say he may not be such an enemy to King Richard as we are led to believe.’

‘I can’t believe you can say such a thing!’ Her heart began to thump.

‘They have a point,’ he continued, looking into her face. ‘What do we know about the intentions of other people, least of all a member of the King’s Council?’

‘Is this a philosophical question?’

His lips quivered in a smile. ‘Maybe we’ll have time to tease it out later?’

‘I notice you haven’t attempted to answer either of my questions.’

‘Which were?’

‘Are you being deliberately obtuse?’

His eyes flashed. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘As you say, we cannot know the intentions of others.’

‘You think I’m trying to fob you off?’ He still held her hands but his tone had sharpened to match her own.

This time she did not bother to answer.

He said, ‘To return to your question. I probably know less about Athanasius than you do. What else can I say?’

She avoided his glance. ‘I hate you when you’re like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘You know!’

‘I swear, I don’t!’

‘Evasive, Hubert. Answering a question with a question or in such a way that it does not quite constitute an outright lie.’

She wanted desperately to know why he was here and if it had anything to do with the Cistercian silver mines in Bohemia and whether he was complicit in the kidnapping of the miners. Above all she longed to know what his feelings were about Holy Clement. Instead all she could say was, ‘What are you hiding, Hubert?’

Abruptly he let her hands drop. His voice was tight and he spoke rapidly. ‘You know that’s a pointless question and it’s unworthy of you. If I were hiding anything I would hardly be likely to tell you. And if I were not then you’re unlikely to believe me, given that you’ve thought to ask such a question of me in the first place. Why this sudden distrust? I assume it’s sudden,’ his expression hardened, ‘or have you always mistrusted me?’

‘We live in dangerous times. I’m sure you’ll be the first to agree that a little healthy scepticism is no bad thing in a place like this?’

‘Now you’re doing what you’ve accused me of, answering a question with a question.’

‘This place is seething with secrets, Hubert. Everyone jostling for preferment, working only for their own advantage -’

‘This is how the world turns.’

‘It’s nothing to do with our true purpose! It’s pure politics. The motives of most of those who come here are based on blatant self-interest. Greed tops the list, followed by pride, love of luxury, lust, exploitation of the poor - Is there ever an open and honest intention from sun rise to sun set in this entire place?’

‘And at night?’ His eyes, darkening, looked deep into her own.

‘Don’t talk to me about the night. Even more swinish, no doubt, given the activities of the day. These men bring their concubines here. To the heart of the papal palace! What does Clement do about it? Nothing. And then, of course, there’s the murder which is being hushed up. Why was that boy inside the treasury? Who persuaded him to break in? Who killed him in cold blood?’

Hubert looked bewildered.

‘You heard the pope make his announcement?’ she questiond.

He slowly nodded his head. ‘Obviously I heard what Clement said and later the story seemed to be about a thief and how he’d resisted arrest by the guards. It happened just before we arrived and was one of the first things we heard. A thief. After gold. Motivated by the greed you were just talking about.’

‘So that’s it? End of story? But who sent him there, Hubert? Why is nobody asking that question? Athanasius showed a little interest, on the level of a provoking conundrum as he called it. But now he’s losing interest. The boy was from York, Hubert. You might even know his family. The cardinal whose acolyte he was is only interested in retrieving a dagger the boy was holding. And nobody else seems to give a jot. I went to help lay out the body in the mortuary before meeting you here - ’