The Butcher of Avignon by Cassandra Clark Page B

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