Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,31

chambers and entered each time without ceremony? Foville had had no warning to expect him yet he seemed to know all about the packet which had been entrusted to Judith.

To Judith! Yet this man had not known that it was a woman who was carrying out this mission. He could not be one of the King’s men. Those who were supposed to know of the journey knew the identity of the messenger. The man was surely one of Simon’s men.

Someone here in the Priory must be in contact with a follower of de Montfort. Foville determined to find out who could be so treacherous. Not one of the monks, surely, but there were so many others who worked here every day and left each evening to go to their homes in the town.

"You are mistaken sir," he said to the stranger. "I am not waiting for any man to bring me either packet or message. Why you should imagine that I should be prepared to allow such things to happen in this holy place I cannot think. I advise you to leave."

The stranger was obviously taken aback. He sat staring at the Prior for some moments, the earlier fierceness replaced by the shadow of thought which turned his eyes from ice-blue to grey. Finally, he stood and picked up the cloak from the desk. Putting it over his shoulders, he turned to the door without another word.

"You will find it quicker to go down the steps and through the church," said Foville, in his most courteous tones.

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Belaset’s Daughter

The stranger turned back to face him, his face stony.

"You have won this time, Prior Foville," he said. "But be careful...I do not work alone."

Foville smiled.

"And may God bless you, my son," he said calmly, raising his hand in benediction.

The other man snorted, turned on his heel, and left. The door closed behind him almost without sound, despite the speed of the exit and the obvious anger of the stranger.

William Foville sat where he was, his elbows on the desk, his fingers laced together, his thumbs pressed against his lips, as he pondered. He must find out who was betraying them. He must discover the identity of his visitor and where he was staying. Had he come from the Castle? Could there be someone who was a trusted supporter of the King among John de Warenne’s guests, yet was secretly working for de Montfort and his allies? He knew that there were many strangers in the Castle at present. De Warenne’s usual Christmas hospitality always lasted well into February. Some stayed until the start of the new year in March almost three months from the festivities at Christmas.

Foville rose and went from his study into the small bedroom behind. It was simply furnished, as befitted a monk’s sleeping place, with a bed, a stool and a chest. There was a simple prie-dieu in one corner and a large wooden cross hung above the bed. On the chest lay his own cloak, its only indication of the standing of its owner in the silver clasp which fastened it at the throat. He put it on, making sure that the hood of his habit was outside, so that he could pull it over his head for protection from the cold, and to disguise his identity. Returning to the study, he took a staff from its place in the corner, near the door.

It was sturdy and made of oak, roughly shaped, with a place on the shaft worn smooth where he had held it over the years.

He opened the door cautiously, but there was no sign of movement outside.

Nonetheless, he waited awhile, allowing his eyes to adjust from the shadows inside to the clear light of the February day. The sky was the same pale blue as the stranger’s eyes, he thought, with a shudder of distaste. The cold was damp and penetrating, with the promise of more foul weather to come, although there were presently no clouds to be seen. The wind made the branches of the trees rattle slightly as it pushed through them. He huddled the cloak closer around him and walked down the stairs, along the cloister and into the church, just as he had advised the stranger to do, but crossed from one side to the other, rather than making for the main doors.

It was mid-morning and there was no-one to see him walk quickly up the side aisle and out of the little door almost hidden in the corner,