Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,6

the kitchen, passing the steps leading into the cellar below. He crossed the garden, bare now in the depths of winter, and went softly to the door of the dovecote. He made the same twittering sound as Judith had done, as he opened it. The birds inside cooed comfortably back at him, used to his presence among them. He looked up and down the rows of perches. There was the new arrival over to his right. He went to it, reached up, and encouraged it onto his hand. The bird came easily, and he untied the ribbon he could see on its leg. The scrap of parchment came off with it, and the dove was put back gently on its perch. Daniel tucked parchment and ribbon into his left sleeve, as he slipped his hands back deep into the warm folds of his rough woollen habit.

He left the building again, every sense alert for watchers, but there were none. No-one had seen him, as far as he knew: now he must get the message to Prior Foville as quickly as possible. Covering his head and face with his hood, he set off through the maze of buildings, taking the quickest route he could to the Prior’s quarters. The infirmary was nearly empty, he knew, except for a few elderly monks, spending their last days in as much warmth and comfort as possible in this bitter weather. He walked through it confidently, looking neither to right nor left, just one of the monks going about his duties, then made his way through the warming-house and turned left along the cloisters. They too seemed almost deserted. He was almost there, and only had to climb the stairs to Prior William’s door.

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Belaset’s Daughter

Breathing heavily, he mounted the stone stairs and knocked on the door. There was a moment’s pause, then the Prior himself opened it. Brother Daniel bowed his head in obeisance, and half drew his hand out of his sleeve, to show the ribbon clutched in it. The Prior beckoned him in, and closed the door silently behind him.

"Well, Brother Daniel," said William Foville. "What brings you here in such haste?"

"A message, Father, from outside the walls," said Brother Daniel, still panting from the pace he had set himself. He took the small scrap of parchment, with the ribbon, from his sleeve, and handed it over. William glanced at it and nodded.

"The answer is yes," he said. He turned over the small scrap, and scratched "YF", for

"Yes, Foville", on it with a quill, which he took from his desk and dipped hastily into ink.

"Here," he gave it back to Daniel. "Send the message back as quickly as you can. You have done well to come to me unseen see that no-one notices you now, until the dove is safely on its way."

"I’m but one among many," said Daniel. "My hood hides my actions, as well as my face. And the boy, Colin, is the only person who saw me leave the kitchen. He can’t tell anyone of my doings."

"Be careful, nonetheless, Brother Daniel," said William Foville. "Speech is not the only way of passing on secrets."

"Have no fear, Father," said Daniel. "The boy is grateful to me he follows me about like a puppy-dog. He knows I saved his life, taking him from his house after seeing his father kill his mother in his drunken state. Colin wouldn’t betray me, as it was me who brought him into the Priory after that terrible event. Besides, I take care he hears nothing that he could pass on to anyone else, by whatever means. "

The Prior grunted, and crossed the room to open the door once more. Daniel slipped out, looking cautiously around before retracing he steps. Again, the cold seemed to keep everyone from his route. He made it back into the infirmary building without seeing anybody.

In the infirmary kitchen, Colin still kneaded busily, though he lifted his head as the monk entered. Daniel crossed the room, with a smile in the boy’s direction as he passed him. He hurried out to the dovecote again. Looking into the cages where the birds from other places were kept, he found Judith’s own bird, greyer than the one which had brought the message, and tied the scrap of parchment and its ribbon to the bird’s leg. His fingers fumbled, stiff with the cold, and he blew on them to make them more flexible. At last, the job was done to his satisfaction. He took

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