Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,32
where the north transept stretched out its arm. The door creaked slightly as he swung it open, but he ignored it. Stepping outside, he walked swiftly round the transept and found the track which led down to the Winterbourne and up the other side to the town. There were stepping stones across the stream at this point, and he crossed carefully, using the staff to get a firm purchase on the bed of the stream. He had to push it through a thin layer of ice, but it broke easily enough.
The stream was little more than a thin trickle at this time of the year, without the current BOSON BOOKS
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which would send it rushing between its banks in the Spring, but wet feet would be worse now, in the freezing water, than in April. Foville was glad when he reached the other side. He strode swiftly up the steep hill to the town’s Jewish quarter.
At the top, he swung to his right and strode in between the houses. Passing quickly along the street, he stopped at the door of the largest house. A rap, a pause, a double rap: then he waited impatiently, fidgeting with the staff he held. After what seemed like minutes, but was not more than a few seconds, the door was opened by a servant. He bent forward and whispered urgently to her. She hesitated, then dropped a swift bob and let him in.
He turned as he stepped inside and glanced swiftly up and down the street, then gestured to the servant to close the door quickly.
"Fetch your mistress!" he said, tersely. "I shall wait here."
The servant turned and went away without answering. Foville looked about him while he waited. He had never been inside a Jewish house before. Across the room, he saw a strange little metal container, set in a doorway at an angle, with the lower end pointing out and the upper pointing in to the room beyond it. He walked over and bent closer to study it.
Behind him, Belaset said, "What does a monk want with me and my house?"
He turned and raised the hood, so that she could see his face.
"I am Prior Foville," he said.
A look of fear crossed her beautiful face and her hand flew to her mouth.
"Judith?" she said, her voice trembling with anxiety.
He held up his hand to reassure her.
"It may be nothing, nothing!" he said. "I have had a visitor who was not welcome, asking for the packet which he knows will be delivered. But he thinks the carrier is a man, so he has not seen Judith."
"It cannot be a mere nothing, Prior Foville," retorted Belaset. "Would ’nothing’ bring you rushing to my house in person?"
He looked at her, standing very upright, her hand at her throat, trying to conceal her fear for her daughter. He could not prevaricate in the face of such fear.
"Listen to me," he said, trying to sound earnest and soothing at the same time. "I am indeed concerned for the safety of your daughter. I came to find out myself if you have had any word concerning her. I must also try to discover where my unwelcome visitor came from. He may be a false member of the party at the Castle, or he may have come here especially. Whatever his origins yes, I believe him to be one of de Montfort’s followers."
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"And where do you think he gained his knowledge of a packet which is to be brought to you?" said Belaset.
"Alas," said Foville. "I fear greatly that there is a traitor within my own walls. Perhaps someone who works within the Priory and leaves each evening."
"Then you had better ask some questions of these people," said Belaset. "The sooner the traitor is found out, the safer we shall all be."
"There are over three hundred souls who have every right to be in the Priory each day,"
said Foville, coldly. "As well as casual visitors, who come and ask for a night’s lodging, and whom we cannot turn away, according to our Rule."
"I see," said Belaset. "Your doors are open to any stranger who cares to knock on them, then?"
Foville nodded.
"Then how can you be sure that you will discover the person who has betrayed your secret?" she said. "He may have passed through Lewes long since. Your visitor just now could have come from London, or even from de Montfort’s own city of Leicester and is probably well on his way back there by now."