The Enchanter's Forest

Chapter 5

The knowledge that Joanna was to escort him to Brittany initially caused Josse pleasure and pain in almost equal measure. The prospect of having her company — and that of his daughter as well? Oh, but surely she would bring Meggie with her, wouldn’t she? — for however long the journey might take was nothing other than wonderful. But then, what would happen when they got back to Hawkenlye? How would he, having become accustomed to living with her, be able to live without her again?

He went to his bed that night with the dread of that destiny filling his head. But in the morning his pragmatic nature had reasserted itself: he had to make the trip, and with Joanna; he had no choice, for the mission was fundamental to the future of Hawkenlye Abbey and he could not let the Abbess down. Therefore he would go with a happy heart, extract what joy he could from being with Joanna and Meggie and let the future take care of itself.

He washed and dressed — some kindly soul had addressed him or herself to the problem of his sweaty chemise and dusty tunic, for both had been laundered and were now fresh and smelling faintly of lavender, and his boots had been polished to a high shine — and presented himself before the Abbess. Without preamble he told her that departure would have to be delayed until later that day at the earliest, more likely early the following morning, since he first wished to visit the sheriff of Tonbridge.

‘I think I can guess why you wish to see Gervase de Gifford,’ the Abbess said.

‘Aye, no doubt you can,’ he replied. ‘I believe we should alert him to our suspicions regarding Florian and the tomb in the forest. If we are wrong — which I admit I doubt — then Gervase can dismiss the warning as if it had never been uttered. But if we’re right, then the sooner he knows about all this, the better.’

The Abbess was nodding. ‘Yes, Sir Josse, I agree that it is a wise precaution to speak to Gervase. I — er, I had not in truth envisioned that you would be leaving today; I am not sure that the Domina will as yet have-’

‘She won’t yet have given Joanna her orders?’ He felt his face twist in a grimace that seemed to turn all by itself into a grin. ‘Oh, my lady, I expect she’ll be doing that right now. And Joanna travels light: if I can be ready in not much more than an hour, then so can she.’

Not entirely pleased with the Abbess just then — although he had not dared to get to the bottom of exactly why that was — he gave her a polite bow, turned and left the room.

He found the house of Gervase de Gifford in a state of confusion. Two horses stood in the shade out in the courtyard and a young groom was walking one of them slowly to and fro; returning Josse’s greeting, he said, ‘She showed up lame yesterday and s’morning she’s just had a new shoe. I’ve to ensure she’s all right now ’cos some day soon she may have a long journey in front of her.’

Josse was on the point of asking where Gervase was going — and who, indeed, was going with him — but stopped. It was none of the groom’s business and Josse would do much better asking Gervase. ‘Your master is within?’

‘Aye,’ the lad confirmed. ‘Go on in, sir.’

Josse tethered Horace and ran up the steps to the door. He heard voices: an old man, a young woman and Gervase. Pausing, he identified the first two: Sabin de Retz and her elderly grandfather.

They were Bretons from the town of Nantes and they had fled to England in February of the previous year when their lives were in danger. Gervase had taken them under his protection and he and Sabin had promptly fallen in love. For the past fourteen months or so, Sabin had been trying to make up her mind whether to return to Nantes or remain in Tonbridge. She was an apothecary, taught by her grandfather; he had brought her up after the deaths of her parents. He was now all but blind and his unwillingness to face the long journey back to Nantes was one of the factors affecting Sabin’s decision. She had steadily built up a clientele in and around the town and her fame was spreading; there was a living for her and old Benoit in Tonbridge and it was hers for the taking.

But the pair of them had also had a fine and rewarding life back in Nantes, where they had been the confidential servants of an important figure. Josse, aware of the bare bones of Sabin’s dilemma, had sympathised with the young woman: hers was not an easy choice.

He went on into Gervase’s hall. The argument stopped and Gervase and Sabin hailed him; Benoit’s quavery tones demanded, ‘Who’s that?’

‘It’s Josse.’ Josse went up to him, bending down so that the old man, seated on a bench by the fireplace, could peer into his face.

‘Josse,’ Benoit said on a sigh. ‘Josse, they’re going off and leaving me all on my own! They’ll be away so long — why, I might very well be dead by the time they return! If they return,’ he added dismally.

‘Grandfather, of course we shall return!’ Exasperation was apparent in Sabin’s voice as she swept across to kneel at the old man’s feet and take hold of his hands. ‘And as for leaving you on your own, you know that isn’t true. Gervase’s servants have been given detailed orders on how you are to be looked after.’

‘It won’t be the same. Won’t be like having my own kin at my side,’ the old man moaned.

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Sabin said. ‘But I have to go — you know that as well as I do, Grandfather. We sent word to the Duchess explaining our absence, and I’m sure she has realised by now that we’re not going back. But, for the trust that she placed in us in the past and for the affection that grew between us, I cannot rest until I have seen her and explained myself to her face to face.’ Abruptly she dropped Benoit’s hands, throwing herself away from him. ‘Oh, try to understand!’

Gervase, eyeing Josse, gave a faint apologetic shrug. Then, turning to Benoit, he said firmly, ‘You understand very well, I think, Benoit.’ The old man had the grace to look ashamed. ‘It is only natural that you do not like the prospect of Sabin’s absence but, knowing what this trip means to her, you will surely give her your blessing.’ It sounded more like a command than a question and Josse hid an admiring smile; Gervase appeared to have the measure of the old man.

‘I don’t know about blessing,’ Benoit muttered, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes and peering up in Gervase’s general direction.

Gervase moved closer, adopting Sabin’s former position at the old man’s feet. ‘She has made up her mind at last in the matter of a decision that has been extremely hard,’ he said gently. ‘Your welfare has been a major factor in her consideration and she was willing to give up what she herself wanted if you did not wish it.’

‘I don’t want to go back to Nantes!’ Benoit wailed. ‘I’m too old for such a journey and it would be the finish of me!’

‘Which,’ Gervase said — and Josse could almost hear the gritting of teeth — ‘is precisely why you’re going to stay here. Sabin will be back with you again very soon, but first you must let her do what she has to do. She will not rest easy until she has spoken to the Duchess.’

Benoit gazed into Gervase’s eyes. ‘You’ll take good care of her?’ he whispered.

Gervase smiled. ‘You know that I will. I give you my word to protect her with my life.’

‘Hm.’ The old man turned his head to where he thought Sabin stood. ‘Sabin?’

‘Here, Grandfather.’ She hurried to his side.

Benoit gave a dramatic sigh and, placing a hand on each of the two heads before him, one brown, one fair, he said, ‘Go, then, and may the good Lord above keep you in his care. Do what you must, Granddaughter, and then return to me.’

There was a short silence, and then Sabin murmured, ‘Thank you, Grandfather.’

The old man dropped his hands back into his lap and Gervase and Sabin stood up. Then Benoit got to his feet with a groan — Josse noticed how both the two young people instantly went to help him — and said, ‘Now, all this has tired me. I shall retire to my bed and take a nap.’ He shrugged off the helping hands and shuffled off towards the doorway at the rear of the hall. Reaching it, he turned.

‘Oh, Sabin?’

‘Yes, Grandfather?’

‘You say you intend to fetch back from Nantes as many of the tools of our trade as you can carry. Well, while you’re at it, bring the smaller of my two herbals, will you? I would dearly like to look at it again before my sight fails entirely.’

And with that remark, punctuated by a couple more sighs, he went through the doorway and out of sight.

Josse heard a quiet sob; Gervase heard it too and went to Sabin, taking her in his arms and whispering words of comfort. After a few moments she wiped her eyes and, giving Josse a smile, said, ‘I apologise for my tears. Grandfather has the ability to make me feel so very sorry for him and, although I know full well he knows exactly what he’s doing, still it affects me.’

‘I understand,’ Josse said. ‘It’s hard to ignore the appeal of blood kin and to do so would take a sterner heart than yours, Sabin.’ He returned her smile with genuine affection; he had developed a high regard for her. Then: ‘So you’ve made up your mind?’

Now her smile was radiant. ‘Yes. I shall return to Nantes to see the Duchess and collect what Grandfather and I require of our possessions there. I have work enough and more here in Tonbridge to keep myself occupied and, there being still a great deal that Grandfather may teach me of our craft, he too will have a useful and fulfilling life.’ She shot a glance at Gervase and her face flushed pink. ‘There is one more thing to tell you. Gervase and I are to be married.’

Josse held out both hands and Gervase took one, Sabin the other. ‘I am not in the least surprised but I confess myself quite delighted,’ he said warmly. ‘You will be an asset, dear Sabin, to both town and husband.’

She laughed, leaning forward to kiss him on both cheeks. He noticed, as he had done when first he met her, the faint and attractive smell that he guessed to be a melange of the herbs that she worked with. It was, he thought absently, the trademark of the apothecary. .

‘. . just finished briefing my men and Sabin and I are off to Brittany as soon as we can,’ Gervase was saying.

‘What?’ Despite having listened to the discussion of this trip that had just been batted to and fro, Josse had not made the connection. ‘But — I am bound for Brittany too! I am aiming to leave at first light tomorrow.’

Gervase and Sabin looked at each other, and then back at Josse. ‘Why?’ Gervase demanded. Quickly Josse told him about the problem of Merlin’s Tomb, adding that the reason for his present visit to Gervase had been to inform him that, in Josse’s opinion, the whole operation was almost certainly fraudulent. He explained that the decision had been made for him to be shown the real tomb of Merlin, over in Brittany, and that this was why he was being sent there. ‘So you go on a mission for Hawkenlye Abbey,’ Gervase mused, ‘where the monks and the nuns and the good Abbess must for sure be missing their usual pilgrims?’

‘In part, aye, but it is also to prevent a great many people paying out hard-earned money to a trickster,’ Josse returned promptly.

Gervase bowed his acknowledgement. ‘Of course.’ Then: ‘Do you agree to our riding together, Josse? I have given my word to Benoit that I will take good care of Sabin’ — he gave her a loving look — ‘but how much safer she will be with you also at her side.’

‘I agree right readily,’ Josse said, ‘I plan to leave tomorrow: can you be prepared to depart by then?’

Gervase looked at Sabin. Shooting a swift glance at the doorway through which her grandfather had gone and biting her lip, she said, ‘Yes. Of course.’ Then, taking a breath so deep that it raised her tense shoulders, ‘The sooner we leave, the sooner we shall return.’

‘I must inform you,’ Josse said, ‘that I will not be alone.’

‘Who is to accompany you, Josse?’ Sabin asked. ‘Somebody from the Abbey?’

‘No. If I’m to find the location of the true burial place of Merlin I’ll need help, for I am told it lies deep in a forest. A guide has been arranged for me.’ He met Gervase’s eyes and read in them understanding and pity. ‘Joanna is going to show me the way.’

Gervase nodded. ‘The obvious choice, of course. And how do you feel about that?’

Josse frowned, then suddenly smiled. He said, aware that it was something of an understatement, ‘Fine.’

Joanna stood just outside the gates of Hawkenlye Abbey, Meggie sitting on the ground beside her yawning hugely, and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. I will be better, she kept telling herself, as soon as I have seen him and we have acknowledged one another.

Oh, hurry up, Josse, she pleaded silently. Where are you? What are you doing, that keeps me waiting in this painful suspense? To take her mind off her anxiety, she thought back to the extraordinary happenings of the past twenty-four hours.

It had begun with a visit from the Domina to Joanna’s little hut deep in the forest late in the evening two days ago. Not that there had been anything in that to alert Joanna to what was to come, for the next day was Midsummer’s Eve and Joanna had an important role in the ceremony that would take place that night as the Sun moved from the constellation of Gemini into that of Cancer. It was a special night for her people, even more special than usual, for this year there was a clutch of powerful planets in the summer signs of Gemini, Cancer and Leo. In addition, the ascendant was in the fire sign of Aries and was not fire the very symbol of the Sun himself?

But the Domina had not come to issue any last-minute instructions concerning Joanna’s role in the forthcoming ceremony. Instead, the moment that Joanna straightened up from her low and respectful bow, the Domina said, ‘A fraudulent Tomb of Merlin has been set up on the Forest’s southern fringes. We wish to stop this sacrilege and therefore you will go to Armorica, to where the Fountain of Merlin issues out of the ground close to our healing place of Folle-Pensee. With you will go the knight Josse and there, with one of our Great Ones, you will lead him to this place so that he will be convinced it is the true burial site of the magician Merlin. On Josse’s return, his word will be sufficient for the false tomb to be exposed.’

Shock coursed through Joanna and she felt the fast, alarmed thumping of her heart. ‘But I-’ I cannot, she wanted to cry. I must not be with Josse, for the sweet pain is more than we can bear and hence I have arranged matters so that we remain apart.

One did not, however, say I cannot to the Domina. Joanna bowed her head.

‘Very good,’ the Domina murmured. ‘Tomorrow night we celebrate the Solstice. Before that you must prepare yourself and your child for departure early the following morning. You will make your way to Hawkenlye, where you will find the man Josse awaiting you.’

‘I may take Meggie?’ Joanna raised her eyes and stared at the Domina, hardly able to believe what she had just heard.

The Domina smiled faintly. ‘Yes, Joanna. You go on a mission whose success is vital to your people’ — to us? Joanna wondered; she could appreciate how a spurious Merlin’s Tomb could badly affect the Abbey, which explained Josse’s involvement, but why did it matter so very much to the Forest Folk? — ‘but it is not likely that there will be danger and so there is no reason for your child to be robbed of her mother’s company and care.’

‘Thank you,’ Joanna said meekly. Her question must remain unanswered; one did not say why? to the Domina any more than I cannot.

‘Besides,’ the Domina added, with a wry look, ‘it would be a brave woman or man who undertook to keep your little girl happy when you were not there.’

Uncertain whether this remark implied praise or criticism — she rather thought the latter — Joanna bowed again and with courteous ceremony escorted the Domina across the clearing to where the path led away into the forest.

Knowledge of what was to come — and a considerable amount of trepidation — meant that Joanna threw herself all the more fervently into the festival of Midsummer Eve. She needed help and giving all of herself to this night of honouring her gods was the best way that she knew to ask for it. It was not the practicalities that bothered her; the help that she would be begging for was in working out how on earth she was going to cope with being with Josse.

She was fairly certain that she could find her way to Folle-Pensee, for she had been there before and in the course of her long training she had been taught to learn a route thoroughly the first time she took it so that she would not forget if she had to go back. Once there, the Domina’s scant orders had implied that someone else — one of the Great Ones, no less — would be instrumental in providing whatever it took to persuade Josse that Merlin lay buried there. This Joanna found a great relief for, as far as she could recall, her people were ambiguous about whether or not this was true, despite the local Armorican people’s firm belief in both Merlin and his miraculous powers.

It was a relief because Joanna realised that she would not be able to tell Josse a lie, even if the Domina herself stood over her and gave her a direct order.

And that, she thought uncomfortably, might be more than a little awkward. .

She packed up her leather satchel, folding up a change of clothing for herself and Meggie, her small portable pack of herbal remedies, certain charms without which she never strayed far and a suede bag containing items for her own and Meggie’s personal care. She also squeezed in some strips of dark, dried meat — she only ate the flesh of animals if she was desperate, but a long journey might well throw up such a situation, even in high summer — and a handful of the small, sweet apples that Meggie loved. Then she put the satchel aside and turned her thoughts to the ceremony.

It had been spectacular. The enormous fire had been lit at sunset, its great light blazing forth as if to implore the Sun’s presence and draw down His light. Joanna had wondered whether any reference would be made to her forthcoming mission to Armorica — perhaps a prayer asking for its success and her safe return — but she ought to have known better, for the forest people were secretive even amongst themselves.

A highly respected bard had told one of the ancient myths, accompanied by a group of people dressed in black, their faces masked with green leaves, who enacted the dramatic events of which the bard sang. Their dark silhouettes against the firelight had inspired fear and awe. There had followed dancing and feasting, then, at a signal from the Domina, all of the people had followed her to a small hillock deep in the forest, where a winding path circled its way up to the summit. At the peak they stood and waited and there, eventually, the first light of the new-born Sun appeared.

Joanna had been awarded the honour of taking the first flame from the Domina’s torch and bearing it back to the clearing where the festivities had been held. She had worked very hard and was word perfect in the long chant that she sang all the way; the moment when she led the people back to the light of the dying fire, and suddenly they all joined in and sang with her, would stay with her for ever.

She had finally crawled on to the sleeping platform in her little hut more than two hours after sunrise, only to be woken by Lora — who had cared for Meggie while Joanna was doing her torch-bearing duty — far too short a time later.

Now, standing as straight and as still as she could outside the Abbey gates, Joanna felt the excitement and exertion of the night catch up with her. Meggie was leaning against her mother’s legs, slumped and almost asleep; it would not have taken much for Joanna to have lain down on the grass and joined her.

But suddenly she heard voices and the sound of horses’ hooves on stone; squaring her shoulders, she moved slightly until she could get a clear view of who was approaching.

Josse was walking along at the side of a fair-haired young woman who was laughing in response to a remark of Josse’s. She looked very happy, as if something very nice had just happened. Josse was leading his big horse — Horace, wasn’t it? — and the woman held the reins of a dainty grey mare whose wide eyes and delicately arched neck suggested good blood.

Pain scorching her, Joanna thought, ah, I see! Josse and his fine lady are to ride and I am to trudge along behind like the hired help! Oh, how could he!

Giving Meggie a nudge to rouse her, Joanna raised her chin and stepped forward to greet him.

Josse saw her standing in the gateway and felt as if some unseen hand had grasped hold of his heart.

She stood tall and proud, her dark hair neatly braided and the two plaits hanging down to her waist. She wore a robe of fine wool, dyed to a shade of green that seemed to mingle the colours of the forest and blend them into a shade that somehow carried something of them all. The gown was fastened at the shoulders with gold clasps. On her feet she wore beautifully sewn leather sandals, substantial enough for a long journey, and a satchel hung from her arm. Protruding from its flap was a short wooden rod into one end of which had been fixed a translucent brown crystal. At her feet was what appeared to be a soft woollen blanket, rolled up neatly and tied with a cord.

Meggie, looking heavy-eyed, stood beside her, her thumb in her mouth. She was tracing shapes in the dust with one foot and did not look up.

Joanna did. Her dark eyes were glaring up at Josse with such ferocity that he stopped dead.

‘Joanna,’ he said huskily; he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Joanna, it is good to see you. This is Sabin de Retz’ — he touched Sabin’s arm, noticing as he did so that she was rigid with tension and guessing that she too had noticed Joanna’s expression — ‘and she is to ride with us since she too has business in Brittany.’

Joanna said nothing.

‘We — er — we should start as soon as we can,’ he went on. He handed Horace’s reins to Sabin and advanced towards Joanna, feeling the burning power of her eyes fixed on him.

‘Ride on, Josse,’ Joanna hissed caustically. ‘I’ll follow along in your dust.’

He realised all of a sudden the impression that he must have made and simultaneously he understood the false conclusion to which she had leapt. He put a hand on each of her shoulders — touching her sent a shock of terror through him, as if her very flesh could somehow harm him — and said very quietly, for her alone, ‘Joanna, don’t. It is not as you seem to think. Sabin is to marry Gervase de Gifford, who is sheriff here and a good man. He will be with us very soon; he is in the stables fetching his own horse and also your mare Honey, who has been in the nuns’ care.’ He gave her a little shake and, his inexplicable fear of her vanishing as quickly as it had come, leaned closer and whispered, ‘D’you think I’d let you walk when I rode? Silly girl!’

Then, at last, she smiled.

Sabin saw the smile and let out the breath she had been holding. There had been something in the air, something that she did not recognise and that scared her, and it seemed to emanate from the fierce eyes of the dark woman in the beautiful green tunic.

Who was she? If she was the woman Josse had spoken of, and surely she must be, then Josse had referred to her as Joanna. Yesterday Gervase had appeared to recognise the name; Sabin had asked him later later but all he had said was that she was a woman of the forest people who was a friend to Josse and to Hawkenlye Abbey. She was a healer, he’d said, and Sabin had detected admiration in his voice. Wondering if this Joanna might also be good-looking, she had awaited the meeting with excitement.

Joanna was good-looking; she was, Sabin now thought, almost beautiful. She had not expected Joanna to have a child with her, a girl child of about two and a half years, if Sabin were any judge.

Now, still feeling the sweet relief that had flooded her the moment when Joanna smiled, she thought again about what Gervase had said. A woman of the forest; a healer. Add to that, Sabin thought wryly, someone with the power to alter an atmosphere by her very presence and it adds up to a woman of whom to be very, very wary.

She was about to risk a friendly greeting, perhaps address a remark to the sleepy little brown-haired girl, but then she heard the sound of horse and human footsteps and, turning, saw with unexpectedly vast relief that Gervase was approaching, leading his own familiar bay and a smaller, gold-coloured mare who was dancing on her toes with excitement. He met Sabin’s eyes, gave her a smile and a wink that heartened her still further, and then walked on towards the woman in green. Sabin watched him.

He put Honey’s reins into Joanna’s hand. ‘Your mare, my lady,’ he said with a bow.

Joanna took the mare’s reins, gave Gervase a word of thanks and, lifting the child, set her astride in front of the saddle. Both Josse and Gervase stepped forward to help Joanna mount but she swung herself up behind the child without their aid. Sabin suppressed a smile as the two men stood there, their hands still outstretched and their mouths open.

She felt Joanna’s eyes on her.

Nerving herself, she met the frank stare. With a swift glance at the two men, she looked back at Joanna and raised an eyebrow as if to say, sweet, aren’t they? And, unless she was very much mistaken, on Joanna’s stern face as she glared down there appeared a very faint grin.

Sabin had the distinct feeling that Joanna’s senses worked rather more efficiently than other people’s and that the woman of the forest had observed all that there was to observe in the little scene that had just been enacted. Whether or not that was true, for some reason Sabin felt that the woman’s initial animosity had subsided.

Which, considering the long journey in each others’ company on which they were about to embark, was probably just as well.

Helewise heard a soft tap at her door.

‘Come in.’

‘They are ready to leave, my lady Abbess,’ Sister Ursel said. ‘I am sorry to disturb you, but you did say that you wished to see them off and bless their journey.’

‘Indeed I did, Sister Ursel. Thank you.’ Rising, Helewise indicated to the nun that she should go on ahead back to the gate. After taking a couple of steadying breaths, Helewise followed her.

With an appearance of calm serenity that she was far from feeling, she walked up to the quartet at the gates. Josse had yet to mount; she went up to him and said softly, ‘Thank you, Sir Josse, for what you are about to do. Good luck in your endeavours and let us all hope and pray that you meet with success.’ Then, suddenly afraid for him: ‘May God bless you for your willingness always to be a friend of the Abbey, and may he keep you in his care and bring you safely home.’

Josse closed his eyes for a moment and muttered, ‘Amen.’

‘God’s speed, Gervase,’ she said, moving on to the sheriff, who removed his hat and gave her a bow. ‘And to you, Sabin’ — she turned to the fair young woman on the grey — ‘and I congratulate the pair of you on the happy announcement that you are to be wed.’

‘Thank you, my lady,’ Sabin said meekly.

Lastly Helewise turned to Joanna, sitting silent and still on the golden mare. The child sat before her, watching Helewise with heavy-lidded eyes. ‘This little one will be asleep before you’ve gone half a mile,’ Helewise said softly, smiling up at Joanna.

Joanna smiled back, deep, dark eyes seeming to reach right into Helewise’s mind as if seeking briefly to touch on memories that both she and Helewise knew were hidden within. ‘Yes, my lady,’ she replied. ‘Meggie was awake for much of the night.’

‘She’ll soon catch up on her lost sleep,’ Helewise said, grateful to Joanna for speaking of normal things. ‘They are so very adaptable at that age, aren’t they?’ she added.

‘Yes. They tell me the trouble really starts when they’re a little older and start to question everything with why?’

Helewise laughed. ‘How true,’ she said. ‘I recall it only too well!’

She reached out and touched the child’s springy brown curls. ‘Go safely, little Meggie,’ she said softly. Then, eyes on Joanna’s, she whispered, ‘May I give you a blessing too?’

There was a split-second’s hesitation, then Joanna’s face relaxed and she said, ‘Yes, my lady. I should welcome it.’

Helewise leaned close to Joanna and Meggie and quietly uttered a brief but urgent prayer for their safety. She thought she heard Joanna murmur ‘Amen’, but she could have been mistaken.

Then she stepped back, waved a hand to Josse, now mounted, and watched as the four adults and one child rode out of the gates and off on the road that led to the coast.