The Tavern in the Morning by Alys Clare

animals, the ability to sew beautiful embroidery, a tender and patient hand with the sick.
    Was that all right? she asked the Lord timidly.
    She found herself suddenly feeling much happier. As if she had been … lifted. Taking this as a sign of the Almighty’s approval, she got up and went in search of Sister Emanuel.
    *   *   *
    When the company of Hawkenlye Abbey was leaving the Abbey church after Nones, there was a sudden commotion at the gate. Helewise hurried across to join Brother Saul, Sister Martha and Sister Ursel: Sister Martha was holding the reins of a large, heavy horse, soothing him and gently stroking his nose; Brother Saul and Sister Ursel were bending over the figure who had just slid off the horse’s back.
    ‘It’s SirJosse!’ Sister Ursel said, which Helewise had just seen for herself. ‘He reached out to push at the gate, fell off his horse, and had landed on the ground before I could rush out to aid him!’
    ‘He’s barely conscious,’ Saul said. He was sitting on the hard earth, with Josse’s head cradled in his lap. ‘He’s been hurt – there’s a bandage round his head.’
    ‘Sister Martha, would you please take Sir Josse’s horse into the stables and see to him?’
    ‘Of course, Abbess.’ Sister Martha led Horace away.
    ‘Brother Saul, can we, do you think, help Sir Josse between us to the infirmary, or should I summon help?’
    ‘I can walk!’ Josse said from the ground.
    ‘Come, then, Sir Josse,’ Saul said, helping him up, ‘the Abbess here and I will support you.’
    Helewise went round to Josse’s other side, and they half dragged him the short distance across to the infirmary, where Sister Euphemia, assessing her latest patient with a practised eye, put a hand to his forehead, nodded and said, ‘No fever. Put him in the little cubicle at the end, please. No need to make him lie with my fever patients.’
    Helewise and Saul did as they were ordered. Then Sister Euphemia shooed them out. ‘My nuns and I can manage now, thank you,’ she said firmly.
    And Helewise, longing to ask Josse a dozen questions, had to nod meekly and leave.
    *   *   *
    Sister Euphemia came to report to her soon afterwards.
    ‘A bad blow on the head,’ she said, ‘which, according to Sir Josse, happened three nights ago. He’s confused, though, and he may not really know for sure. Says he was following someone through the woods, and was struck from behind. That he was, indeed. He was cared for, so he says, by some woman.’ Euphemia gave a sniff. ‘Put a poultice on his head, she did.’ Another sniff, as if Euphemia had trouble with the concept of anyone but herself having sufficient wits and knowledge to apply a poultice properly.
    ‘And did her nursing have any effect?’ Helewise made sure to keep her tone neutral.
    ‘Aye,’ Euphemia admitted grudgingly. ‘He’s on the mend. Leastways, his wounds are. But I reckon he’s still suffering from concussion. He’s complaining of dizziness – which was how come he fell off his horse, and that wasn’t the first time, either, when he came a cropper outside our gates. He says he’s been on the road since first light, only he fell off earlier, and must have lain senseless for some time before he came to again.’
    ‘Oh, dear,’ Helewise said, frowning in anxiety. ‘This sounds serious.’
    ‘Don’t you fret now, Abbess dear,’ Euphemia reassured her. ‘He’s a tough one, is Sir Josse. It’ll take more than a bash on the head and a couple of tumbles off his horse to keep that one down!’
    ‘I pray you are right.’ Helewise hesitated. ‘May I visit him, Sister? I must admit, I’m longing to talk to him. Or would it be better to let him rest?’
    ‘I think he’d rest better if he talked to you first,’ Euphemia said. ‘He’s fretting, see.’ She gave Helewise a speculative look. ‘Seems there’s something he wants to tell you.’
    *   *   *
    Josse looked, Helewise thought, stepping into the