Ashes of the Elements

Chapter Seven

As he trod warily deeper and deeper into the forest, despite his best efforts Josse found his mind filling with every bad thing he had ever heard about its sinister reputation.

In the stillness beneath the thick tree canopy, he developed the odd sensation that he was within some great living thing, some dark creature of unimaginable mystery and strangeness. His careful footfalls on the forest floor could, if one did not keep tight rein on the imagination, be mistaken for a quiet, steady heartbeat. And the distant sound of the faint breeze stirring the treetops sounded very like patient, watchful breathing …

Deliberately Josse stopped, stood up very straight and, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, said aloud, ‘I am not afraid.’

It helped. A little.

He made himself take in the details of the woodland all around him.

Oak, birch and beech. Ivy and lichen-covered trees, some of them huge with age. Yes. The forest was ancient, had been old even when the Romans came. It had been the haunt of mysterious men and women who understood the trees, worked with Nature, worshipped Her, sacrificed to Her. Went out under the moon to gather the mistletoe with golden sickles and perform rituals in Her honour.

Some said they were still there, the secret people from the far past. Still living deep in those vast tracts of impenetrable woodland, still emerging, briefly, to do terrible violence and then withdraw once more into their leafy strongholds …

Determined not to let his renewed fear overcome him, Josse’s hand crept to his pack, sought for and clasped his talisman. The cross fitted into his palm, and, as his fingers closed around it, he detected a loop at its head, made of the same metal.

Stopping, he unfastened it from the pack. Pulling out from under his tunic the length of leather cord on which he wore the crucifix given to him at baptism, he untied the cord and slung the Abbess’s larger cross beside it.

Proceeding once more, holding the Abbess’s cross in his hand, suddenly he felt a good deal braver.

* * *

He could tell by the stars that he was going almost due west; there were regular clearings amid the trees, wide enough for him to see quite large areas of the sky and locate the Plough and the Pole Star. Having worked out which way was north, the rest was easy.

He would be in trouble if, when he was deep in the forest, the sky clouded over. If that happened, he’d be there till morning.

Not a pleasant thought.

After about a mile of fairly easy going, he came to a wide track. Relatively wide, at any rate; the paths he had followed until then had been mere deer or badger tracks. Or perhaps boar; he had noticed the marks of scrabbling feet on the banks either side of some of the better-defined paths that were typical of wild boar. Now, the track was wide enough for two to walk abreast.

He walked along it for possibly half a mile, whereupon it branched. Left or right? He hesitated, unsure. He became aware of an urging voice in his mind: go right!

Well, he had to do something.

He set off along the right-hand track.

And, soon afterwards, came across a length of plaited braid. Tripped over it, in fact.

He picked it up. Unless he was very much mistaken, it was part of a snare. Dropped by Hamm, or one of his poacher friends?

Thoughtfully Josse wound it up and tucked it into his pack.

A little further on, he saw ahead of him a patch of bright moonlight, startling in the dim forest. Approaching, he realised what had happened: a great oak had fallen, right across the path, and its falling had left a hole in the leaf canopy above.

Josse went into the patch of light. Not one tree but two lay on the ground. One seemed to have fallen from some natural cause; its roots, torn up out of the earth, soared above Josse’s head in a great semicircle, leaving a deep hole where they had been. There was water at the bottom of the hole.

The other tree, slightly smaller than its fellow, had been felled by the action of man. Not very expertly felled, at that; the furrowed trunk had been savagely hacked at in several places before the main cut had been made that had brought the tree crashing to the ground.

Why had it been felled?

Josse edged forwards, peering down into the hole beneath the bigger tree. There was a gap, a sort of earthy cave, opening off the side of the hole … Taking a firm handhold on one of the oak’s thick roots, and swinging the Abbess’s cross over his shoulder and out of the way, Josse climbed down.

What had looked like a cave was in fact the mouth of a tunnel. Not a very long one, but it must have led straight under the tree that someone had cut down.

With the tree lying on the ground, the next task had apparently been to dig out its roots. Someone had been doing that, too. Further along, the tunnel was open to the night sky.

Scrambling out again, standing up and brushing earth off his knees, Josse thought he had probably found Hamm Robinson’s treasure trove. And, also, the secret of the Forest People, which they had killed to keep.

He had been going to delve down into the tunnel, to see if Hamm had been disturbed before he had cleared everything out of it. But, suddenly, that didn’t seem like a very good idea. Apart from anything else, he would need to make a light. And a light, even a small one, could attract attention that he wouldn’t welcome.

Especially not when, for all that he was trying to master it, he kept having the distinct and highly disturbing feeling that eyes were upon him …

Looking round for his pack, he picked it up and hurried away from the clearing and the fallen trees. Then, trying not to break into a run, he set out on the track that led back to the outside world.

* * *

For what remained of the night, he slept in a corner of the monks’ shelter down in the vale. There was a family of pilgrims also putting up there, comprising a couple, an elderly man and a child with a withered limb, all of whom were taking the holy water and attending the monks’ services in the shrine, praying for a miracle.

Josse, knowing that they would be there, was careful not to disturb them.

Settling himself as quickly and as quietly as he could, he made himself put aside images of the deep, mysterious forest and whatever secrets it held. His breathing growing steady and even, very soon he was asleep.

* * *

Brother Saul brought him bread and water for his breakfast. The family of pilgrims had gone; with a smile, Brother Saul informed Josse that it was mid-morning.

Josse hurried to wash, dress and head up to the Abbey. He had news for the Abbess, and she might well be eager to hear how his venture had gone.

Going up towards the rear gate that led into the Abbey from the vale, he saw a figure hurrying along in front of him, coming round from the other side of the Abbey. A woman, young, not wearing the habit of a nun. Increasing his pace, he noticed with some surprise that she was not actually running. She was dancing.

And, as he heard when he was within earshot, she was also singing.

‘… and the sweet birds do sing,’ came her voice, light, happy, holding the notes purely.

She became aware of someone behind her. Surprising Josse again, she said, without turning, ‘You should be gone! And don’t you go trying to make me jump, now, you-’

At that instant she looked over her shoulder, saw Josse, and instantly ceased what she was saying. ‘Good morning, sir.’ She lowered her eyes, and, in a flash, her tone had altered. From being lush, warmly affectionate, now it was merely courteous.

‘Good morning,’ Josse replied. And just who, he wondered, did she think I was? ‘You’re bound for the Abbey?’

She gave him a mischievous smile ‘Now, where else would I be going? Why, we’re almost at the gate!’

He smiled back. It was hard not to. ‘You must be Esyllt,’ he guessed.

‘Indeed. And you, I imagine, are Sir Josse d’Acquin.’

‘Aye.’ He was just working out how he could phrase a question that might elicit from her where she had been when she preempted him.

‘Staying with the monks in the vale, are you, sir? I hear tell they offer a tasty breakfast.’

‘Well, I-’ No. She was teasing! ‘Indeed,’ he said instead. ‘Juicy beef fresh-carved and dripping gravy, the softest of bread, the finest of French wine.’

She threw back her head and laughed. ‘Now why didn’t I think to join you?’ she said. ‘Me, I made do with the weak porridge we give the old folks. No teeth, you see.’ She bared her own, which were strong, white and even.

‘It appears to be doing you good,’ he observed.

She laughed again. ‘Ah, it’s full of nourishment, really.’ She looked serious suddenly, as if she could only joke for so long about her charges. ‘We do look after them, you know, sir. It’s not just a matter of putting them in a corner and waiting till they die.’

‘I didn’t for one moment think it was,’ he said gently. ‘And I am reliably informed, Esyllt, that you are highly regarded in your work.’

‘Are you?’ She looked delighted. ‘Thank you, sir. I’m right glad to hear it.’

They were through the gate now, and she turned off to the right, towards the aged monks’ and nuns’ home. He went with her.

‘Are you coming to see my old dearies?’ she asked.

‘I — no, Esyllt, not at the moment. I have to see the Abbess.’

She actually looked disappointed, as if it had mattered to her that he go with her, that she had procured a visitor to brighten up her old dears’ morning. ‘Oh.’

‘I will come,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

She smiled again. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she murmured.

And, heading off for the door of her old people’s home, left him standing on the path.

Wondering why, when her words had been so innocent, he was feeling as if a very lovely and seductive woman had just made him a not very well-veiled proposition.

* * *

Abbess Helewise had been expecting Josse for some time when he finally knocked on her door. Impatient to know what, if anything, he had discovered, she had managed to resist the temptation to send for him. For one thing, it was hardly the thing, to send for a man of Josse d’Acquin’s standing. For another, if he had been up for much of the night, then he had earned his rest.

‘Come in,’ she said in reply to his tapping.

She watched him move into the room. He looked much as usual, which was a relief. ‘Good morning, Sir Josse,’ she said.

‘Good morning, Abbess.’ He smiled, pulled up the stool and sat down. Without preamble, he said, ‘There is something in the forest. A pit, where a great oak has fallen, and signs that someone — maybe more than one person — has been excavating there.’

‘Ah! And you think that Hamm Robinson discovered it, whatever was hidden there?’

He shrugged. ‘I can’t say, not for certain. Although poachers had been active nearby, and we know Hamm and his friends were poachers. But, Abbess, it seems something of a coincidence otherwise, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Indeed I would.’ She frowned as a sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Sir Josse, did you see — I mean, was there any sign of the Forest People? What I’m trying to say is-’

‘Was I scared?’ he finished for her, with a grin. ‘Abbess dear, I was terrified. At one point, I had quite convinced myself I was being watched, and I ran out of that strange grove as if all the demons in hell were at my heels.’ His smile widened. ‘Of course, it was all in my imagination.’

‘Of course,’ she echoed faintly.

He was reaching inside his tunic. ‘I forgot — thank you for my talisman.’ He pulled at a length of leather cord fastened around his neck, threading it through his fingers until he found what he was looking for. ‘It was a thoughtful gift, Abbess. As you see, I took it from my pack and put it round my neck — it helped, to have it close by.’

She gazed at the small object he was holding out to her. ‘But I didn’t give you that!’

‘What? But it’s a cross, and I thought that…’ He was holding it about a foot in front of his face, focusing on it. ‘It’s not a cross,’ he said tonelessly. ‘It looks more like a sword.’

She leaned forward to have a better look. ‘May I?’

He lifted the thong over his head and handed it to her. As well as the sword, there was a small gold crucifix on it. She held the sword in her right hand, staring at it. It was about the length of her palm, made of metal, exquisitely worked with a decoration of vivaciously swirling patterns all over the blade. Where the blade met the narrow hilt, there was a tiny head, bearing an expression of distinct ferocity.

‘What is it?’ For some reason, he spoke in a whisper.

‘It is, I think, an amulet. It’s not a real knife — too small. And the blade is dull. I imagine it is a protection against evil, to be worn when one is going into danger.’

‘I’ve never seen anything like it before,’ he said.

‘It resembles the workmanship of old,’ Helewise murmured. ‘My father possessed an ancient brooch which he found in a stream-bed, and it was decorated with the same swirls and circles as this.’ She was absently tracing the biggest swirl as she spoke; it was odd, but, as she reached its heart, she seemed to feel a slight tremor go through her. There and gone in an instant, but it had felt … Stop it, she ordered herself. This is no time for fancies!

‘If you didn’t give it to me,’ Josse said slowly, ‘then who did?’

She had been wondering that, too. ‘Someone who knew you were going into the forest. Someone, moreover, who wanted you to be protected.’

She met his eyes. It was at the same time a thrilling concept and a faintly alarming one.

‘Abbess, I shall have to go back,’ he said. ‘What I discovered last night is only the beginning. I have to see if there is anything still buried, and, although I fear to say so, I must seek out the Forest People.’

‘No!’ The denial was instinctive. ‘Sir Josse, they have already killed to keep their secret! If they find you digging under some fallen tree, they might-’ But what they might do was unthinkable.

‘I don’t believe they would harm me,’ he said gently. ‘For one thing, it will be me seeking them, not the other way round. And, for another-’

‘You intend to go back into the forest, stand in that clearing and shout, here I am, forest folk! Come and find me!’ she said incredulously. ‘Come and kill me!’ Absurdly, she felt a sob rise in her throat. Swiftly she controlled it.

He was looking at her in faint surprise. ‘Abbess!’ he said softly. But whatever he had been about to say, he must have changed his mind. Shaking his head, he muttered something.

‘What was that?’ she asked, with some asperity.

‘Nothing.’ His eyes met hers. ‘Abbess Helewise, please believe me, if I felt there was peril in this venture, I would not be contemplating it.

‘Oh, wouldn’t you!’

He pretended not to hear that. ‘I am quite sure that, if I make an open approach and appeal to these people’s sense of honour, they’ll respond. Perhaps it’ll be a question of my assuring them that we’ll do our best to stop people like Hamm Robinson meddling in their affairs, perhaps then they’ll-’

But whatever nonsensical thing he had been going to go on to say, Helewise didn’t hear it. At that moment, after a perfunctory knock at the door, Sister Euphemia burst in.

‘Abbess, Sir Josse,’ she panted, red in the face, ‘forgive my interruption, but it’s Sister Caliste. She’s disappeared!’