The Rose of the World

THIRTEEN

Helewise had been praying. She wished she could go through the forest to St Edmund’s Chapel, for it was a place very dear to her heart and she felt that God’s presence was very close there. Something to do with its simplicity, she often thought, and also with its air of slight detachment, situated as it was above and apart from the hectic bustle of the abbey. It ought to have been locked up, of course. That was what the interdict meant to the ordinary people. They had few comforts in their hard lives, and now, just because two great men of power had squabbled like a couple of small boys each determined to have their own way, even the solace of the church’s services had been taken away.

Somehow, the chapel seemed to have been overlooked. And, besides, there was no lock on its door.

She could not go there now. She had seen Josse’s face as he left to say goodbye to Ninian. He would have to support Meggie and Little Helewise all the way home, and he would need some support himself by the time he got back. So she went out into the woods, following one of her favourite tracks deep beneath the trees to a private place she had discovered. An ancient oak had fallen a year or so back, and the sudden absence of its huge crown had allowed the sun into a place of darkness. The glade always appeared full of light, even on a dim day, because of the contrast to the surrounding shadowy gloom.

She knelt on the mossy ground and prayed, for Ninian and for those left behind who would miss him so much. She stayed there on her knees for some time and, when eventually she got up and returned to the house, she felt as if she had a strong, silent ally to help her face the difficult times ahead.

As she walked back along the path, something occurred to her. She stopped in surprise — why on earth hadn’t they thought of it before? — and then carefully studied the idea. Was it right? Was it practicable? She thought it was.

Hurrying, eager now to speak to Josse, she picked up her pace and strode home.

They were back. She could hear someone sobbing: it was her granddaughter. Of all of them, this was perhaps hardest for Little Helewise, she reflected, for the child was young still, deeply in love and, until this dreadful business, had happily expected to marry the man she loved as soon as the church was permitted to perform the service. Now Ninian had gone, out of her loving arms for an indefinite time.

We must keep her occupied, Helewise thought. Misery was far worse if not distracted. Suddenly, she heard Meggie’s voice, quite close. ‘Come with me, young lady,’ she was saying firmly. ‘I have been absent from my work for far too long, and I must go over to the hut and prepare more cough syrup, for my supplies are all used up. I need another pair of hands, and yours will do admirably.’

Helewise smiled. Meggie, clearly, had had the same thought.

She stood in the doorway and watched the two young women walk across the yard and off on the path through the woods. Then she went to find Josse.

He was out in the stables. He had been grooming Alfred — Will had passed her in the yard, muttering under his breath about the master doing the man’s work — but now he was just standing there, a curry comb in one hand and strands of Alfred’s luxuriant tail in the other. Alfred stood half asleep, languidly munching on a mouthful of hay.

She went up to Josse and, as he heard her footsteps, he turned to see who it was. The misery in his face briefly lifted. Then he said, ‘He’s gone,’ and she thought he might break down.

‘It was the only thing to do,’ she said fervently. ‘We have no guarantee that he would receive any trial at all, never mind a fair one, for the king is capricious and surrounded by ruthless men elbowing each other out of the way as they strive for the king’s favour. Even if King John wished to act in accordance with the law, who can say that one of his close circle might not take matters into his own hands?’

‘Like the king’s father and Archbishop Becket,’ Josse murmured.

‘Exactly! This way, we are robbed of Ninian for a time, but not for ever.’

He looked down at his hands, twisting a strand of Alfred’s tail this way and that. ‘How can you be sure it’s not for ever?’ he asked.

She hesitated, mentally arranging her words. She had to convince him. Then she said, ‘Josse, you said earlier that Ninian couldn’t come back till the king either forgot or died. There is another alternative: find out the truth about how Hugh de Brionne died, and try to prove that, up by the chapel, Ninian acted in self-defence, having no idea that one of the men he was fighting was the king.’

Apart from the grinding of Alfred’s big teeth, there was silence in the stable. She thought she had failed. She fully expected him to give a scathing reply, such as: and just how am I to work this miracle?

He didn’t. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it. Then, his voice gruff with emotion, he said, ‘We have worked our way through such insurmountable obstacles before, you and I, have we not? Shall we do so once more?’

She smiled, blinking back her tears. ‘I was hoping you would say that.’ They stood for a moment, not speaking, and she imagined he was taking strength from her just as she was from him.

Finally, she stepped away. ‘If you’ve quite finished with that horse’s tail,’ she said, making her tone brisk, ‘then let us go into the hall and work out exactly what we are going to do.’

They sat opposite each other at the big table in the hall. At some time Tilly must have brought food and drink, but Helewise only noticed when she found herself absently reaching out for bread and cheese. She was concentrating deeply, and she knew Josse was too.

‘So, let us go through how we see the sequence of events,’ Josse finally said.

Helewise had stylus, ink and scraps of parchment; she had been making notes, but they were in random order, and now she prepared to make a fair copy. ‘Rosamund was taken by Olivier de Brionne,’ she said, writing as she spoke, ‘acting according to a plan devised by his brother, Hugh, that was designed to please the king by presenting him with a young woman.’ Josse made an explosive noise. ‘Don’t say it,’ she said. ‘I know. Olivier takes Rosamund with him on his horse, and they set out westwards, making for the hunting lodge on the Ashdown Forest, where Ninian and Meggie tracked them. According to Olivier, Hugh was meant to be there too, but for some reason he did not turn up. We now know that he died during the time that Olivier and Rosamund were travelling between this house and the hunting lodge.’

Josse was gazing into the distance. ‘Mm.’

When he did not continue, she prompted him. ‘Well?’

‘I was thinking. I believed Ninian could have been involved in Hugh’s death because we all knew how desperately he wanted to find Rosamund and bring her back, and he was not with any of us at the time Hugh disappeared. He had not even joined up with Meggie then.’ He fell silent.

‘And now? What do you believe now?’

He buried his face in his hands. ‘In truth, I do not know. Ninian gave me his word that he is no murderer, and I have no doubt that he spoke the truth. However, what I fear is that he was careful in his choice of words. We know that Hugh de Brionne was in a fight, for he had bruises on his face and knuckles, indicating that he fought back. Supposing Ninian caught him, found out somehow that he was involved in the abduction of Rosamund, and demanded that Hugh tell him where she was? It seems quite logical that a fight would break out, and possible that Hugh’s death was in fact an accident, caused by his falling over backwards.’

Slowly, she nodded. ‘If that’s how it happened, then Ninian would indeed have spoken true when he said he was no murderer,’ she muttered. ‘But Josse, would he not have told you if that was how it was?’

Josse removed his hands, and she saw his haggard face. ‘That’s the question I can’t answer,’ he admitted.

‘Did he have marks similar to Hugh’s on his knuckles?’ she asked. ‘I know he had no bruising to his face, or at least none that I saw.’

‘I saw none either,’ he agreed. ‘But Ninian is very useful in a scrap. Those years he spent as a squire in Sir Walter Asham’s household served him well, and I don’t reckon many men could easily land a punch on his face. I did not, however, think to look at his hands.’

It was too late now. She did not say so. Josse’s mood had lifted marginally since they had set to work on the challenge of finding out the truth, and she did not want to remind him of Ninian’s absence.

He was watching her. ‘What now?’

She was ready for the question. She completed the note she was making and then folded her hands and said, ‘I have two suggestions. We know that Hugh died while Rosamund was being taken by Olivier to the hunting lodge. I appreciate that it’s unlikely, but I think we should ask her if she noticed anyone else on the road or lurking around. If Ninian is not responsible for Hugh’s death, then someone else is.’

‘Aye, that’s sound,’ he said. ‘Your other suggestion?’

‘I am concerned that we only have Olivier de Brionne’s word for it that this scheme was his dead brother’s idea,’ she said. ‘It is easy, if not very honourable, to lay the blame for a plan that goes awry on someone who can no longer speak up in his own defence. Perhaps Olivier was the instigator and Hugh the second in command?’

‘Would that make a difference?’ Josse asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I just feel strongly that for Olivier to say, as you tell me he did, that Hugh was the instigator is too easy. I am suspicious,’ she concluded.

‘Your suspicions have in the past often led to the posing of the right questions,’ he said. ‘How should we proceed in this?’

‘Would you return to the abbey and speak to Olivier again?’ she asked.

He considered it. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘In addition, it would do no harm to let the king know, if and when anyone comes right out with it and says Ninian killed Hugh de Brionne, that we do not accept it.’

‘You would dare do that, when for all we know he may already have made up his mind?’ She was instantly very worried for him. ‘Oh, Josse, you would be walking on very delicate ground!’

He grinned. ‘I have done so before,’ he replied. ‘The king is far from being a mindless fool who cannot think for himself. He will know by now of my connection with Ninian, and I believe he will not be surprised that I am trying to clear the lad’s name.’

‘Be careful,’ she warned.

‘I will. And you; what have you planned for yourself?’

‘We all must do our best to take Little Helewise’s mind off her heartbreak, and as soon as she and Meggie return from the hut, I plan to take her over to New Winnowlands to see her cousin. While we’re there, I will find the opportunity to ask Rosamund to tell me all that she remembers of her time with Olivier.’

‘Good!’ Abruptly, he stood up, and she sensed the impatient need for action that flowed through him. ‘I’m off to the abbey. Make sure you are back here by tonight, won’t you? I don’t know why, but I have the feeling that we have no time to waste.’

She might have queried that, except that she felt it too.

Helewise and her granddaughter set off in the early afternoon. Helewise rode Daisy, and Little Helewise, subdued and with red-rimmed eyes, was mounted on her grey mare. Helewise did not try to make her talk. The loss was very raw, and everything about the girl seemed to be quietly saying: leave me alone.

The ride to New Winnowlands took them around the wide eastwards bulge of the great forest. The track was well used, and the going was firm, for of late the weather had been dry and quite cold. As they neared the small manor house that had once been Josse’s and was now the home of Helewise’s younger son and his family, both of them kicked on their horses and they reached the house at a smart canter.

The family came out to greet them. Rosamund, Helewise noticed, kept very close to her mother. Dominic came to help her down from her horse, and she said quietly, ‘Ninian has had to leave England.’ Briefly, she explained.

Dominic’s eyes widened. ‘You cannot believe he is guilty of murder?’

‘No, none of us thinks that. Josse and I are going to try to find out who really killed Hugh de Brionne, and thus clear Ninian’s name.’

Little Helewise had also dismounted and was embracing her young cousin. Dominic watched the two girls. ‘She is taking this hard,’ he observed, indicating Little Helewise. ‘She is pale and it’s obvious she’s been weeping.’

‘We are trying to keep her busy to distract her from her sorrow,’ Helewise replied. ‘Hence the visit here.’

Dominic nodded. ‘She is welcome to stay. She and Rosamund get along well, and New Winnowlands has fewer associations with Ninian.’

‘Thank you for the thought. We’ll suggest it to her. There is one other thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘I would like to speak to Rosamund concerning the time she spent in Olivier’s company. Is she, do you think, ready to talk about it?’

‘Why do you want to question her?’ Then, before she could respond, he provided the answer. ‘Of course. To prove Ninian’s innocence, you have to discover the identity of the murderer. And you are hoping Rosamund can help.’

‘Have I your permission to speak to her?’ Helewise tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. She did not want to put pressure on Dominic to give his consent, but, on the other hand, there were more people than just Rosamund to consider.

‘You have,’ Dominic said. ‘It would be better, I think, not to question her in front of Little Helewise; you said you’re trying to distract her from thinking about Ninian, and she would quickly realize the purpose of your questions. But go carefully with Rosamund, won’t you?’ His sombre face broke into a quick smile. ‘As if you wouldn’t,’ he muttered.

She embraced him. ‘Thank you.’ Then she hurried after the two girls.

Dominic must have explained to Paradisa that Helewise wished to speak to Rosamund, for she came in, took the elder girl’s hand and said, ‘The stable cat has just had kittens. One of them has a little black moustache — come and see!’

Helewise caught her daughter-in-law’s eye and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

Left alone with Rosamund, Helewise went to sit beside her and explained why she had come to see her. ‘If there is anything you can recall that might be relevant, please tell me,’ she said. ‘You can see how Little Helewise suffers, and it will not be safe for Ninian to return until we can prove he was not involved in Hugh de Brionne’s death.’

‘I don’t know this man,’ Rosamund said, frowning. ‘He is Olivier’s brother, you say?’

‘Yes.’ Helewise, appreciating that it was distressing Rosamund not to be able to help, decided to change her approach. ‘Tell me about Olivier,’ she invited.

Predictably, Rosamund’s expression lifted with relief at being able to supply an answer. ‘He looks like Ninian,’ she said. ‘When I saw him on the path close to the House in the Woods, I truly thought he was Ninian. After I’d realized my mistake, I wasn’t really afraid of him, because he was nice and he said we were going to a surprise party. He was kind to me and he looked after me, always asking if I was warm enough and making sure I was comfortable when we slept out in the open.’

Her frown was back. Helewise wondered what she was remembering. She was about to prompt her when she spoke again. ‘He — I don’t know how to explain, but quite often he seemed to be talking to someone, and at first I thought there must be another person with us, somehow keeping just out of sight, but then, of course, lots of the time we were out in the open and there was nowhere for anyone to hide, and in the end I thought he must be talking to himself.’ She looked at Helewise. ‘That was quite frightening,’ she admitted.

‘I’m sure it was,’ Helewise said. Dear Lord, the poor child must have been terrified. ‘Could you make out what he was saying?’

‘Not really. He muttered quite quietly, although often he seemed to be arguing about something. It was almost as if whoever was talking to him was giving him orders, and he didn’t want to obey them.’

Helewise stored that away. She was beginning to develop a picture of Olivier de Brionne, and she did not much like what she saw. ‘You slept out in the open,’ she said.

‘Yes. He took me for a ride on his horse — he’s a lovely horse, black with a star on his brow and he goes like the wind — but we got lost. He — Olivier — was very good at making a camp, and we had a fire and some food, and I wasn’t really scared. I thought we’d just go home in the morning. Or, at least, that’s what I told myself.’

The child had courage, Helewise thought. Many girls of her age would have been out of their wits with fear, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably. And what would this Olivier de Brionne, who heard voices and believed it was appropriate to present an eleven-year-old child to a king, have done if Rosamund hadn’t been so calm and level-headed? She did not want to think about it. ‘But next day he didn’t bring you back,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

‘He had packed up our blankets and stamped out the fire and we were about to set off,’ Rosamund said. ‘We’d camped in the middle of a stand of trees, up on a slight rise above a bend in the river. There were lots of bracken and bramble bushes, and you could hide in there among the trees. We heard a horse in the distance and quite soon I saw a rider approaching, although he was too far away for me to see his face. He had a dark cloak with a hood. He was riding really hard, spurring on his horse. When he saw us, he starting yelling something and waving his arm.’

‘What did you do?’ Helewise asked gently. ‘Did you think he’d come to rescue you?’

Rosamund looked ashamed. ‘No. It was silly, but I felt really frightened of him, I don’t know why. Perhaps it was just that he was shouting so much, and I was worried because, although his horse was clearly very tired and doing its best, he was spurring it really hard. It had foam all round its mouth and blood on its sides,’ she added in a whisper.

‘Could this horseman have been Ninian?’ Helewise hardly dared ask the question.

Rosamund stared at her in amazement. ‘Ninian? No, no, of course not! Ninian loves all animals and he would never treat a horse like that!’

Helewise began to feel a warm glow of relief. But the story wasn’t told yet. ‘You said you weren’t afraid of Olivier,’ Helewise said. ‘It sounds to me as if your instinctive fear of this horseman was because you had no idea what he wanted, and he could have been more dangerous than Olivier.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Rosamund said. ‘He — Olivier — quickly told me to hide under the trees where we’d left Star. I ran and nestled down in the bracken. It was all dry and prickly, but I felt safe in there. I heard the horseman come galloping up the slope, and he must have drawn his horse up really harshly, because it gave a sort of yelp of pain, and I heard Olivier’s voice and another man’s. They were arguing. Then there was a thump, and then some sounds as if somebody was doing something strenuous, and some talking, then Olivier yelled something, and there was lots more angry shouting as the other man rode away.’

Helewise felt the harsh disappointment run right through her. As Rosamund told her tale, she had really started to believe that she had been given proof of Ninian’s innocence. Just for a moment, she had wondered if the unidentified horseman could have been Hugh de Brionne, hurrying to check on how his brother was progressing with the scheme to take the gift of Rosamund to the king. She had imagined the two brothers arguing, falling out, fighting. In her mind’s eye she had seen Olivier land the blow that knocked Hugh backwards, so that he fell and struck his head.

For one precious moment she had believed she knew what had happened. But she was wrong. The horseman could not possibly have been Hugh, for Hugh died there on the rise above the river and, as Rosamund had just so clearly stated, the horseman had ridden away, still arguing with Olivier as he did so.

If he was indeed Hugh, then it was perfectly possible that, soon after leaving his brother, he had encountered Ninian, desperate to find Rosamund and none too fussy how he went about getting information from anyone he thought might be able to help.

Proof of Ninian’s innocence was as elusive as ever.

Helewise could have wept.