The Joys of My Life

Ten

The next morning, Helewise’s master mason finally lost patience and announced that if they could not agree a site for the new chapel, he was going home. Helewise, ragged after a virtually sleepless night worrying about Josse, very nearly lost her temper.

‘You have been engaged by Queen Eleanor and you will do no such thing,’ she said, controlling herself. ‘I will tell you where to build when I have decided. For now, you will just have to — ’ what? Dear Lord, what could this man and his team do while she made up her mind? — ‘get on with your preparations,’ she finished feebly. ‘There is stone to cart, wood to select and purchase. Do that,’ she ordered.

The flash of steel seemed to do the trick for Martin the mason, standing open-mouthed in amazement, put his cap back on his head, turned on his heel and said, ‘Right you are, my lady.’

And that, for the time being, appeared to be that.

Nevertheless, Helewise knew she must make a decision. For one thing, that was no way to treat a man with the standing of a master mason. She took a slow walk around her beloved abbey, trying to see it with new eyes and asking herself yet again which building could be sacrificed to make room for the new chapel. As before, she came up with the same answer: none of them. She walked on through the main gates, nodding a greeting to the porteress, and on up the slope to the forest fringe until she stood upon the flat piece of grass where Martin wanted to site Queen Eleanor’s chapel.

Why not here? Helewise asked herself. Would it be so bad to have it outside the abbey walls? This is our land, after all. She had checked again, and the relevant document stated that the abbey owned the land right up to the first of the trees. She walked around the perimeter of the area, trying to visualize a small, simple chapel set there against the forest… and she saw that, in the oak tree that stood out from its fellows like the prow of a vast ship, there was something lodged in the branches.

A chill seemed to creep over her, for she knew without a doubt what it was.

She hurried back to the abbey and sent word to Josse. When he arrived, she said tersely, ‘Someone’s been in my room overnight. They’ve taken the statue and-’

He muttered an oath. ‘It’s been stolen?’

‘No, Sir Josse. It’s back in the oak tree.’

‘Who could have put it there?’

‘I have no idea. Only you, I and Meggie knew where it came from. Only we, indeed, know anything about it at all.’

‘Neither Meggie nor I put it back,’ he said.

‘No, Sir Josse, I did not imagine that you did,’ she replied, calm in the face of his agitation. ‘There is, of course, one other possibility.’

‘That it flew there all by itself?’ he suggested with a faint grin. ‘My lady, you are getting carried away. It is not like you to be so fanciful.’

‘I meant,’ she said patiently, ‘that one other person at least knows where the statue was: the person who put it in the tree in the first place.’

‘And you propose that this mystery man observed that Meggie and I brought her back here; then late last night, when we’d all gone to bed, he crept into your room, managed to find the figure in her hiding place and took her back to the tree?’

It did not, she had to admit, sound very likely, but then it was more credible than a solid wooden statue flying through the darkness of its own volition. ‘Well, it’s one explanation,’ she said lamely.

He smiled at her, a true, warm smile prompted by genuine amusement. Was it a sign that he was feeling more optimistic this morning? Had her lengthy, fervent prayer been answered? Oh, she hoped so! ‘And a reasonable one, my lady,’ he was saying. ‘Still, however she got back into her tree, I’d better go and fetch her.’

‘Yes, please do, Sir Josse. Meanwhile I will sit here and think of a more secure place of concealment.’

Josse hurried out to the edge of the forest, anxious to complete his mission before Meggie came to find him. He was not sure why but he knew he did not want to involve her in this small mystery. It was.. He could not explain it, but he was all too aware that there were undercurrents to this matter that he could not understand. He had left Meggie helping old Brother Firmin fill up the jugs of holy water that were prepared every morning for visiting pilgrims. Meggie had taken to the gentle old monk as if to a beloved grandfather and as for Brother Firmin, Josse had rarely seen him so happy.

He clambered up into the oak tree, got hold of the statue, which, he observed, had been put back in exactly the same place, and then hurriedly returned to the abbey. The abbess was waiting for him in the doorway of her room and, seeing her now in the bright sunlight, he realized how pale and strained she was looking. I don’t reckon she had much sleep last night, he thought. She works too hard, bless her.

‘Here’s the figure,’ he said, thrusting it at her. ‘Have you thought of another place for it?’

‘No, Sir Josse.’ She took the figure and quickly bundled it away in the book cupboard. ‘It will have to stay there for the time being, for there is another matter I have to attend to.’

‘What? May I help?’

She gave him a grateful smile. ‘Yes, in fact I believe you can. Two days ago, we found a badly wounded man at the gates and he’s been in the infirmary ever since. I know nothing about him — he’s delirious, and I’m afraid he’s been rambling, telling us some weird tale of ancient secrets. Anyway, Sister Caliste has just come to tell me that he’s awake and I’m going to see him to hear if he makes any more sense today.’

‘And you’d like me to come with you?’

‘Yes, Sir Josse. Two of us together will do better than one alone in shedding light on whatever trouble he is in, and perhaps we shall be able to help him out of it.’ Without further explanation and looking slightly sheepish — he smiled, guessing that her real reason was to keep his mind off his anxiety — she turned and set off determinedly for the infirmary.

The infirmarer was waiting for them and led them to the recess at the end of the ward. The abbess preceded him through the gap in the curtains and stood at the head of the bed, so that to begin with all that Josse saw of the patient was his torso and his long legs.

‘You are feeling better today?’ the abbess enquired.

‘Aye, my lady. I have slept for hours, I believe, and it has been a healing sleep, for-’

I know that voice! Josse stepped to one side so that he could see the man’s face, but he needed no verification. The man in the bed looked up, saw him and exclaimed, ‘Josse!’

Josse, looking from him to the abbess, said, ‘My lady, why did you not tell me his name?’

‘I do not know it!’ she protested.

Josse grinned. ‘He is Sir Piers of Essendon,’ he said, ‘and he has a manor up on the high forest ridges to the west of here. We have known each other,’ he added, ‘for years.’

The wounded man was struggling to sit up but Sister Caliste, watching him anxiously, eased him back on to his pillows. ‘He is still very weak,’ she explained.

‘Weak I may be, but I am no addled fool whose wandering wits cannot tell a true tale!’ Piers said crossly. Then, fixing Josse with a hard stare, ‘Josse, they think I’m delirious, for all that I have no fever and when I try to tell them what happened to me, they look at me pityingly as if I were an over-imaginative child!’ He all but spat out the last word, wincing in pain as the violent movement tugged at his wounds.

‘We thought you were dreaming,’ Sister Caliste said apologetically, ‘and if we urged you to rest and not tire yourself by trying to talk, it was because we truly believed it best for you.’

Piers’s face softened at her gentle voice and he looked up at her. ‘I know, lass,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, for I’m worried out of my wits and if I yell at you, it’s only from frustration.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Sister Caliste said serenely.

‘What’s worrying you?’ Josse asked. ‘We can help, perhaps?’

‘Josse, it’s an extraordinary tale and I’m not sure I’d believe it if another man related it to me,’ Piers exclaimed. ‘Nevertheless, I’ll try.’ He paused, breathing deeply. ‘A very long time ago, a group of thirteen knights came across something amazing out in Outremer. It did not originate there — it came from an even more distant, darker land. It represents… No, I cannot yet reveal that.’ A shadow crossed his face and again he winced in pain.

‘The knights were permitted to know what this precious object was and they swore to protect it,’ he went on. ‘They formed themselves into a secret brotherhood, which they named the Knights of Arcturus; as you may know, in the heavens Arcturus lies in the constellation of Bootes, which we observe to have thirteen stars, and it is the guardian of the two bears, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. The object that was found in Outremer represented something of vast importance and the Knights of Arcturus swore to protect it, for they understood that it was under grave threat and that with time this threat could only increase. They further comprehended — or perhaps they were made to comprehend — that if this important thing were to be lost to the world, it would be gravely, unimaginably to the world’s detriment.’

‘What was it?’ the abbess whispered. Her eyes, like those of Sister Caliste, Josse noticed, were wide with wonder.

‘I may not tell you. Yet,’ Piers added with an apologetic smile. ‘But listen to the rest of my tale. One of the original thirteen knights was my own forefather, back through many generations, and, as is our custom, his place among the Knights of Arcturus was taken at his death by a nominated member of his own family. Thus the secret is kept within the same clans and, in time, it was my uncle’s turn to join the thirteen. Now, I knew nothing of any of this until very recently when, knowing he did not have long to live, my uncle summoned me and told me of my strange inheritance. He warned me to prepare for the summons and told me that I must obey it. I had no choice.’ He sighed.

‘You said before — ’ the abbess spoke tentatively into the small silence — ‘that your uncle sent a note commanding you to stay away.’

‘Aye, my lady, indeed I did, and I could not fathom it because I had received a contradictory message from another of the thirteen. I did not know what to do — why should I be called by one of the knights, yet told in no uncertain terms by my own kinsman to stay away? Fool that I was, I told myself that my uncle was old and perhaps his wits had unravelled. Then I made my preparations and set off for France, where the knights had convened.’

‘You were curious, I don’t doubt, to discover what lay at the heart of this mystery,’ Josse suggested. ‘And, besides, your uncle had impressed upon you its importance.’

‘It is generous to ascribe such a noble motive,’ Piers said with a small smile, ‘but I fear simple curiosity is nearer the mark. So I announced my plans to my household and gave orders for my best horse and my new tunic to be prepared. I told my young squire that he was going to attend me on an exciting journey and set him to readying my gear. But then the poor lad fell down the courtyard steps and broke his ankle and, since I couldn’t present myself to the knights without a suitably trained attendant, I borrowed a lad from my neighbour. He was a good boy, bright, presentable and well mannered. He knew his stuff, and the two of us got on fine. We had an easy journey and reached the rendezvous on time, and a godforsaken spot it was too.’ His eyes clouded. ‘Dear Lord, but if only I’d obeyed my instincts and turned back,’ he muttered. ‘Well, I didn’t, and now I’m dealing with the terrible consequences.’

‘What did you discover?’ the abbess asked, in what Josse thought was commendably close to her usual tone.

‘Whatever pure motive may once have prompted the Knights of Arcturus,’ Piers said solemnly, ‘it and they have changed out of all recognition. But then they are now extremely powerful and wealthy, and that is very often a dangerous combination. They believe themselves to be above the law, for among their number are men from the very highest levels of authority. I mean that,’ he added forcefully. ‘You would not believe… But I must tell you what happened.’ He closed his eyes briefly as if steeling himself for some ordeal. ‘My lad and I went in all innocence to that dreadful place and, far too late, I found out why my uncle had tried to warn me off. I believe they killed the poor old man,’ he added. ‘I know he was ill, perhaps already dying, but I am almost certain that they found out what he had done and hastened his end.’ He looked sad. ‘It was cruel, for he was a good man, perhaps the last true Knight of Arcturus that there will ever be.’

‘Yet they did not kill you too?’ Josse said. It was surprising, since if the knights had found out that Piers was no more corruptible than his uncle, why had they allowed him to live?

Piers gave a hollow laugh. ‘Oh, they tried,’ he said bitterly, ‘and I’ve been on the run from them ever since. Don’t let them find me,’ he said desperately, his eyes going rapidly from Josse to the abbess and back. ‘You must not, for they… they are an abomination.’ The last word was barely a whisper.

‘We will guard you to the best of our ability,’ the abbess said. ‘You will never be left alone here in the infirmary, where nuns are on duty day and night. The gates are locked at sunset,’ she added.

‘Do they know you’ve come to England?’ Josse asked. He thought he already knew the answer.

‘One, the worst of them, yes, he knows.’ Piers gave a shudder. ‘As for the others, I cannot say for sure. They have spies everywhere, though, so I expect word has been sent to summon them.’

‘And they know where your home is?’

‘They do.’ Piers exchanged a glance with him. ‘Which is why I have no intention of going there.’ He twisted in his bed and gave a cry of pain; Josse saw a line of bloody patches suddenly bloom out along the bandage round his throat.

Sister Caliste sprang forward. ‘Keep still!’ she ordered, already picking at the edge of the pad that the bandage held in place. ‘The stitches are pulling — you must rest, Sir Piers.’ Glancing up at the abbess, she said, ‘Please, my lady, he does himself harm when he becomes agitated.’

‘We will return later,’ the abbess said and, with a glance at Josse, led the way out of the recess. ‘Someone tried to cut his throat,’ she said very quietly as they walked back to her room. ‘He has not told us anything of the attack, but he was badly beaten, so perhaps he has no memory of it.’

‘Aye, that’s likely,’ Josse agreed. ‘My lady, I am concerned about this lad that he took with him to the rendezvous. He has not spoken of the boy’s fate.’

‘I noticed that too,’ she said. ‘I pray that he is safe.’

Josse had been thinking very hard ever since he had heard Piers’s story. What if it was to the Ile d’Oleron that Piers of Essendon had gone for this rendezvous? What if the Knights of Arcturus had decided that his young squire would make a suitable victim for their abhorrent practices? Supposing Piers had fiercely objected both the terrible deed they were about to do and their choice of victim and somehow had managed to get his squire safely away. Then, when the rest of the knights discovered that they had fled, two of them — perhaps including Philippe de Loup himself — had, together with the late king, set out after them, the three of them rowed out by the dark Oleron guard to the waiting boat. They must have been desperate to catch Piers; once they realized that he was not going to join them, the decision must surely have been made to kill him. He knew far too much about them to be allowed to live. He knew too — he must do — that King Richard was either of their number or at the least an eager witness to their foul practices.

But had Piers been telling the truth when he claimed to have had no knowledge of the knights’ foul reputation, or was the truth rather that he had known, had gone eagerly to the island with a victim to offer up and then something had gone wrong? Perhaps now, to cover his tracks, he was only pretending to be horrified…

Josse dragged his mind back from that unpleasant thought. What he had been trying to decide, all the time Piers was speaking, was if he should now tell the abbess the full story of the horror that had happened on Oleron. It was all very well for the queen to swear him to secrecy; now that this ghastly business had surfaced in England — right here in Hawkenlye Abbey — he was convinced that secrecy was no longer of prime importance.

Interrupting the abbess, who was still speculating anxiously about the fate of Piers’s young squire, he said, ‘My lady, there are more things I must tell you.’

Then, once they were safely behind the closed door of her room, at last he revealed to her the full account of what Queen Eleanor had commanded him to do and what he had discovered since.

When he finished, her face was ashen.

Josse could not settle. It had been a relief to unburden himself to the abbess, but since finishing his long discussion with her — which, comforting though it was, had not really offered any answers — he had been distracted from anything he had tried to do. Not wanting to distress Meggie, who picked up his moods with uncanny accuracy, he left her helping Sister Tiphaine pick herbs and took himself off for a walk.

He found that he had gone straight into the forest. Not thinking, letting whatever force that was acting on him guide his steps, he went slowly on and, as he had thought he would, in time he came to the clearing where Joanna lived in her little hut.

The open space around it was neat and tidy, just as presumably she had left it, although he noticed that the herb beds badly needed weeding and many of the shrubs were showing riotous growth. He went over to the door of the hut, unfastened the complicated knot in the rope that kept it closed and went inside. He was instantly hit with her presence, for the little room was redolent with the scent of sweet herbs and hay.

It was warm; the sun outside was hot. Feeling drowsy, he climbed up on to the sleeping platform and closed his eyes. It was as if she were beside him. He could smell the delicate floral scent that seemed to cloud around her; he could feel her cool, firm flesh. ‘Joanna,’ he whispered, ‘where are you?’

There was no answer.

He must have slipped into a light sleep for suddenly she was there with him, lying behind him and cuddled up against his back; she felt so solid that he knew she was real. But I’m dreaming, he thought, confused. Then he stopped trying to work it out and simply relaxed against her. ‘Joanna,’ he said again, and he thought he heard her say, ‘I love you, Josse. I always will.’

He awoke to darkness and he was shivering with cold. Hurrying out of the hut — without her, it was not a place he wanted to be — he realized that in fact the sun had not yet quite set. He carefully closed the door and retied the rope. Then, still under the influence of his vivid dream, he made his stumbling, bemused way back to the abbey.

He was not sure when he first knew he was being followed; in his present condition, he realized that his senses were very far from their usual sharp state and it proved quite difficult to make himself attentive. He moved on, trying to be quiet, and the unseen shadow came after him.

It was a huge relief at last to see the open space beyond the last of the trees. He emerged from the forest on to the patch of ground beneath Meggie’s oak tree and automatically looked up at the place where the figure had been. It was back there once more.

From the darkness behind him he thought he heard someone take a soft breath. There was the faint crack of a snapped twig and a whistling sound that could have been a sword stealthily drawn from its scabbard.

It was too much. Josse broke out of whatever spell held him there and ran as fast as he could for the abbey gates.