The Shattered Rose Page 0,105

bastard daughter. Though not weak about it. He doted on her just as she doted on him. They would both fight and die in the other's cause.

That was the problem.

But since she'd caused the disaster, it was for her to sort it out and to suffer any pains, even if Galeran were furious afterward.

She grimaced, acknowledging that she was failing in her resolutions of being a proper woman, able to wait patiently for the men to sort it out. It wasn't her nature, though, and so she could do only as she saw right and pray God to guide her.

What was right at the moment was to accept her punishment, galling though it was, and then use it as a weapon against the bishop. But that meant she must attend the hearing the following day to show her back, to show the king how Flambard had overridden his orders.

The mother superior would never permit it.

Galeran wouldn't cooperate, either. In fact, if she let him know about the beatings, he'd put a stop to them. But Raoul might be more practical if she could get a message to him. The only way of doing that was through Aline.

She couldn't imagine how, but it was the only chance.

She had no embroidery tools with her, unfortunately, so, leaving Donata to kick and chortle by herself, she searched the room for anything that would make a mark. She found nothing, but the floor was simple beaten earth, and so she made mud with a little drinking water and laboriously printed a message on the blanket.

Jehanne could read, but did very little writing, and with the inadequate materials the message looked more like a mess than words. She could only hope Aline would decipher it. Hearing footsteps, she hastily wrapped Donata again, and handed her over to Sister Martha.

Then she went to her prie-dieu to pray, and to wait for Mother Superior Eadalyth's strong right arm. In simple honesty, she offered her pains up to God and His mother, seeking forgiveness for her sin, but, more important, protection for Galeran and Raymond. She cared not at all for Raymond of Lowick, except as someone she had known most of her life, but she knew that she had entangled him in this mess.

In order to strike against God.

She shuddered at the thought.

Oh, yes, she deserved every stroke Bishop Flambard had ordained for her.

She could almost bless him, if not for a certain crossbow attack, which she was sure was Flambard's work. Raymond would never stoop so low.

Sometime later she heard the lock turn and the door open. A faint rustling told her the mother superior was rolling up her wide outer sleeve.

"May the Lord forgive his wretched sinner," intoned Mother Eadalyth, and the rod cut.

"Amen," Jehanne responded as steadily as she could.

Dear Mary, help her, but the strokes hurt more on her already-sore back.

She gripped the wood of the prie-dieu and strangled all noise other than a gasp at each stroke. She counted them silently.

Another four.

She could endure another four.

Another three.

Two.

Last one.

It almost broke her and made her weep, the relief that it was over.

For this time.

In another three hours, however, or another six, she would cry out. All people had limits. Her pride shuddered at the thought of wailing under the blows, but pride was a silly tiling.

As the lock turned behind the departing mother superior, Jehanne lowered her head and prayed, offering her pain for the safety of all, and victory in the end.

* * * * * Aline had watched the sun's reflection move a quarter way around the room before Donata returned, sleeping peacefully. Aline took her, glad now that Winifred was snoring. She put Donata in the box that served as a cradle and gently unwrapped her blanket, substituting a fresh one.

At first it just looked as if someone with dirty hands had handled the blanket, but then she saw that the dirt was writing. She shook her head. She had learned to make letters in the convent, but Jehanne had always used scribes, and it showed.

Still, allowing for awkward shapes and strange spelling, the message seemed to be I must go to hearing. Raoul.

Aline let out a breath and rubbed the blanket together so that it looked merely dirty. So, Jehanne wanted to go to the hearing. Since she'd specified Raoul, she clearly didn't think Galeran would help her.

Aline sat on the edge of her narrow bed and thought.

She was sure that judicial hearings before the king were not usually