Andrew suddenly cried out and gagged. I rushed to hold a bowl under her chin. Scarlet blood and black bile gushed from her mouth. She fell back, her head twisted round against her body. I didn’t need Healing Martha to tell me that it was finally over. Together, we knelt and prayed.
Healing Martha rose before me and began to straighten the body and prepare it for cleansing. I tried to help, but she gently pulled my hand away.
“Leave this. Your place is with the women. You must tell them of her passing; they’ll be waiting. And you’ll need to organise a place in the chapel to receive her. Send some of the women to help me lay her out. I’ll watch till they come.” She wiped Andrew’s stained lips with a twist of straw and dropped it into the blood-filled bowl. “Tell them to bring water for washing, and sweetening herbs. Pega has helped before with such a task; she’ll know what to bring.”
I knew I had to speak to the women and that I would have to choose my words carefully, so that they rejoiced in the anchorite’s translation. There must be no sorrow in the beguinage, no grieving. We would give thanks that Andrew’s soul, freed from the corruption of the flesh, had risen into the light of the Blessed Bridegroom. I would say that to them, firmly.
I took the bowl from Healing Martha’s hand. “We’d better get rid of this before the women come in. They do not need to see it.”
I tipped the contents on the fire. It hissed and crackled before it flared up again. I wiped the bowl clean with a handful of straw, then added the straw to the blaze. I would not permit the sin of grief from anyone. There could be no sorrow for anyone who had gone straight to the arms of our Lord. It was my duty to make them understand that.
“As soon as you’ve spoken to the women, Servant Martha, you must go to your bed and sleep.”
I shook my head impatiently. “I have neglected my duties for days; there is too much to do. I’ll rest tonight.”
“The world has gone on without you these many days; it can manage a few hours longer. Your eyes are red and you stagger like an old maid with palsy.” Healing Martha wagged her finger in a mocking imitation of a scolding crone. “To bed with you, my girl.”
I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I’d slept, but I was jerked awake by a babble of voices outside the window of my room. I heard footsteps running and more shouts and cries. Suddenly afraid, I sprang from my pallet and hurried to the door. All the women in the beguinage seemed to be milling around in the courtyard, chattering excitedly, hugging their cloaks tightly around themselves against the cold. I shielded my eyes against the bright afternoon light. I was still dazed from my abrupt wakening, but it was evident something was wrong.
Catching sight of me, little Catherine pushed her way through the crowd and almost fell headlong into me.
“Look, Servant Martha, a miracle, a miracle!”
She pointed to a silver plate that Tutor Martha held reverently in both hands. There was a slightly charred scrap of something lying in the centre of the plate. I couldn’t tell what it was. I peered closer. Then I felt an icy hand suddenly grip my stomach. The pattern on the little disc of bread was blackened, but it was unmistakably the same imprint as on the Host the Franciscan had brought.
“Where did you get this?” I demanded.
“When we raked out the fire in Andrew’s room, this was lying among the embers,” Catherine blurted out eagerly.
“It was the Host that Andrew consumed this day,” Tutor Martha said in awed tones, still gripping the plate as if she feared it might wriggle from her hands. “She vomited it as she gave up her spirit and the vomit was thrown onto the fire, but God preserved the blessed fragment for us. Though all the corruption was burned away, the flames could not consume His blessed body.”
“It is a miracle.” The words rippled softly as a breeze through the women.
My bowels had turned to water. I searched the crowd for the face of Healing Martha. She must have told Tutor Martha what had happened. No one else was in that room; no one else could possibly have known about the Host. I could not believe that Healing Martha had betrayed me. She knew the danger. She was the one who had warned me of it in that very room. I’d believed that of all people on this earth I could trust Healing Martha. I had wagered my life on her loyalty.
“Servant Martha.”
I turned my head in the direction of the voice and found Healing Martha standing at my elbow.
“What have you said to them?” I demanded. “How could you-”
Healing Martha gripped my arm and spoke in a low voice. “Everyone who knew of the anchorite knew that she was sustained only by the Host. And there’s not a woman in the beguinage who hasn’t heard whispers of the Franciscan’s visits. They’re not stupid, Servant Martha. Did you honestly think they would not reason the connection? I had no need to tell them why he came. They suspected from the beginning that the friar was bringing the Host to Andrew.”
Healing Martha fixed me with deep blue eyes as if she was determined to make me understand something. Then I realised that Tutor Martha had not mentioned me at all when she spoke of the miracle. She had told the story as if she thought I didn’t know that Andrew had vomited the Host. She had naturally assumed it was the friar, not me, who had administered the Last Rites to Andrew.
“The beguines have kept the secret of the Franciscan’s visits,” Healing Martha continued. “But if they suspected why he came, then others may also have done so and therein lies the danger.” She jerked her head back in the direction of the infirmary.
I drew a deep breath and tried to recover my wits. My hands were trembling and I clamped them firmly behind my back. I lifted my head, looking out over the crowd of beguines, now standing quite still, waiting for me to speak. I’d have to choose very carefully what I said next.
“It is indeed a miracle that such a morsel falling from the pure lips of Andrew has been preserved. This is a sign that we have sheltered a saint within these walls. God blesses Andrew and we must pray for strength to follow her example. This is her relic and we shall have a fitting reliquary made to house it. But I charge you most earnestly not to discuss this except in private among yourselves, until God has made plain to us His will in this matter. You must take every care that this tale does not spread abroad. It would bring grave danger to the Franciscan for it’s forbidden for a friar to administer the sacraments. Besides, there are many who will be jealous of such a relic and wish to take it from us.”
It was not the theft of the relic I feared, but I dared not alarm them with the real danger. I just hoped the threat of having the relic taken from them would be enough to silence them.
“Now, about your business, all of you. I dare say you all have duties to perform. Tutor Martha, take the fragment to the chapel and see it is locked away safely. And after, bring me the key.”
They hesitated for a moment, then slowly dispersed in whispering huddles of twos and threes, until Healing Martha and I were left alone. I could hardly bring myself to look at her. “You told them that Andrew received the Host. Are you sure you have not told them anything else?”
Healing Martha sighed. “After all these years, do you need to ask me that question? Do you really think I would betray you? I have only confirmed what they already knew and they do not know about you, though I suspect Gate Martha may have reasoned it out. She knows the friar did not enter our gates.”
“Gate Martha knows!” I said, aghast. “Do you honestly think she will keep it to herself?”
“She realises the danger. She may gossip about trifles, but not about this.” Healing Martha blew on her hands to warm them. “You have many virtues, old friend, but if you have a vice it is that you don’t credit others with the intelligence or convictions you have. You demand too much of yourself, but you expect too little from your sisters. You must learn to trust others; it is the only way to win their love and loyalty. Otherwise all you have is their duty. And that is a cold companion.”