The Paths of the Air

Nineteen

Josse awoke to the dim dawn light. He was still lying beside the hearth. Joanna must have got up during the night to put on more firewood, for there was still plenty of warmth from the glowing embers. He stretched carefully, closing his wounded left arm into a fist and opening it again, then raising the arm a few inches. There was pain — quite a lot of it — but its sharp edge was absent. He would, he decided, begin using the arm as soon as the cut began to heal.

He glanced across at John Damianos. He was still asleep and the long cut above his eye had been closed with a row of small stitches. On his shoulder a thick dressing was held in place by a bandage wrapped around his chest. Yesterday’s frightening pallor was gone.

Josse lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. The smell was unique: he would have known blindfold that he was in Joanna’s hut. It was a blend of all the plants she used for her remedies and not at all unpleasant; rather the reverse. He could not see Joanna on the sleeping platform but one of Meggie’s feet was sticking over the edge. He smiled. Perhaps she would come down to him when she woke. He was vaguely aware that she had stayed with him for much of the night, curled up against him like a kitten, but at some point Joanna must have The night. Something happened during the night. What was it? Think!

There had been a noise — a crashing noise, quite close — and he had tried to go and investigate, only his head had swum so badly he had thought he would be sick. Then Joanna had said calmly, ‘It is nothing. We are safe here. I will go and see.’ She had briefly gone outside then, returning, closed the door and said softly, ‘Go to sleep, Josse. There is nothing to worry about.’

Still fighting the nausea, he had been all too willing to obey. Now, with the morning approaching, it was a different matter.

Very cautiously he raised his head and, when that seemed to be all right, levered himself into a sitting position. So far, so good. He pushed back the soft blanket and got up into a crouch. There was a stab of protest from his wounded arm and for a moment he felt dizzy, but both sensations passed. Then he stood up.

He found that as long as he put a hand on something solid to steady himself, he could move quite well. He opened the door and stepped outside into cool air, a rapidly brightening sky and a day that promised a mild breeze from the west and perhaps rain. He looked around, smiling involuntarily at the scene before him. Joanna must work incredibly hard, he reflected, for even now she had obviously been busy in her little patch. The beds were clear of weeds and dead vegetation, the paths between them swept and the grass verges neatly clipped. The fruit trees and bushes had been pruned so that waving branches did not catch the winter winds and damage the plants as they were torn off. Everywhere spoke of her careful husbandry and he The horses had gone.

Joanna had told him last night that she had removed their tack and put them in a hazel-hurdle corral. It had not sounded very secure but he had been too far gone in pain and drug-induced confusion to care. At some time during the night — he remembered the crashing — they must have pushed their way through the hurdles. But Joanna had gone to check! Why on earth had she not reported that the horses were missing? Because she knew you would get up and try to catch them, answered his logic, and she knew you were nowhere near up to it.

She could have gone, he thought disloyally.

He went back inside the hut.

Joanna was awake, leaning on one elbow and watching out for him. ‘I did not go after them because I knew they were safe,’ she said softly; both John and Meggie were still asleep.

‘How can you be so sure?’ he whispered back. ‘There are all manner of strange beings in this forest, including the man who put those savage cuts on him.’ He nodded in the direction of John Damianos.

‘It was not he who was close by last night.’ Joanna spoke with such certainty that he believed her. ‘I know who it was, though, which is why I said we were safe. He was patrolling among the trees, guarding us. He was curious about the horses, for as you probably know my people do not have a great deal to do with them, although we greatly respect them because one of our Great Ones is revered in the form of a white horse.’

‘Aye, that’s as maybe, but are they safe?’ he demanded.

She smiled. ‘Perfectly safe. As I was saying, the being outside was curious about them and he probably called to them.’

‘I did not hear any call!’

‘No, dearest Josse, you wouldn’t have done, for it would have gone directly to their minds. They too were undoubtedly curious about him, which was why your old Horace pushed his way out of my admittedly inadequate pen and went to have a look, and the other horse followed.’

‘He’s called Cinnabar. He’s John’s horse.’ It was about the only thing Josse could think of to say.

‘Well, Horace and Cinnabar probably had a fine time with our guardian, then I expect they ambled off to look for food. Your Horace knows the Abbey well, doesn’t he?’

‘Aye.’

‘Then that’ll be where he’s gone, and Cinnabar with him. Don’t worry, Josse — ’ she swung her legs over the edge of the sleeping platform and jumped down — ‘they’ll be quite all right. When you leave, I’ll help you carry the saddles and bridles to the edge of the forest.’

‘They’re heavy,’ he said dully. It was better to think about the practicalities. The alternative was to contemplate going away from her again so soon and that hurt, especially when he hadn’t even seen his daughter yet this morning.

‘I will manage,’ she said. She added, with an attempt at a smile, ‘And you each have one good side with which to bear a load.’

Their eyes met. To his joy he saw an answering regret in hers. He knew that she too was wishing this day was going to be just for the three of them.

‘Come back soon,’ she whispered. ‘We will be waiting for you; I promise.’

She did not make promises lightly. With a grin that seemed to spread all by itself, he nodded.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘I am going outside to wash and then I shall prepare medicine, food and drink, and have a look at my patients’ wounds.’

Josse and John both drank more of Joanna’s pain-killing brew, although Josse — who had been given her remedies before — detected that this morning the element that had sent them so deeply asleep last night was absent. Joanna inspected the cut above John’s eye and then she lifted the dressing on his shoulder, sniffing at it.

‘Recently I have not had the chance to bathe as thoroughly as I would like,’ John said, clearly embarrassed, ‘for which I apologize, my lady.’

She looked up at him and smiled. ‘My name is Joanna,’ she said, ‘and I am not sniffing at you but at your wound. There is a particular smell when infection is present and, if I detected it on you, I should have to do something about it. But it isn’t there. This wound, and the one over your eye, are both clean.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ John was looking at her with interest. ‘I have seen Arab doctors with their patients,’ he said. ‘They too place this emphasis on keeping a wound clean and they even go so far as to wash their hands and instruments in a special solution before and after they examine a patient!’

Joanna was nodding. ‘Yes, I have heard that their skills are far ahead of those of the West. Have you noticed anything else?’

‘Well,’ he said after a pause, ‘I was told that they use maggots in an infected cut, although surely that can’t be true?’

‘It probably is,’ she replied. ‘You have observed maggots on dead meat?’

‘Ye-es,’ he admitted. Josse, watching, hid a smile. He remembered very well his own reaction when he had first encountered Joanna’s extraordinary ideas.

‘Well, a severe wound may contain flesh that is dying because of infection. The maggots clean out the wound by consuming the pus and the putrid flesh, leaving a clean space for new, healthy skin to grow.’

John looked quite sick. ‘I see,’ he said faintly. Then, rallying, ‘I am even more relieved, then, that you smell no infection in my shoulder.’

Joanna laughed. ‘I do not use maggots. I would take it as an affront to my medical skill if any patient of mine needed them. Now I am going to look at you, Josse.’

Josse felt the familiar touch of her fingers and winced as she gently probed the wound. It too had been stitched. ‘No infection there either, my dear love,’ she said in satisfaction.

She called me my dear love, he thought. John Damianos heard and now he is watching us with a rather peculiar look on his face. Why? Simple human curiosity? Maybe; only why should Josse have received the distinct impression that for some reason he disapproved?

It was puzzling.

I am not ashamed of my love for Joanna and Meggie, Josse thought, nor of theirs for me. Perhaps I shall have a quiet word with him…

But Meggie was awake and yelling that she was hungry. Joanna set about preparing food and, as Meggie came flying down the ladder and climbed delicately on to Josse’s lap — Meggie understood about being very careful with wounded animals and people — he forgot about John Damianos and his frown in the pleasure of being with his child.

Soon after prime a very worried-looking Sister Martha came to Helewise to report that Sir Josse’s Horace had turned up accompanied by another horse, neither wore saddle or bridle, there was no sign of Sir Josse and the smaller horse had blood on its mane. It was only after Sister Martha had delivered her message that she noticed there was someone else in the room. The young woman was standing to the right of the door and the nun had not seen her.

‘Thank you, Sister,’ Helewise said calmly. ‘I am sure there is a simple explanation. You may go, and I will come across to the stables presently to decide if anything should be done.’

‘But, my lady, he might be-’

‘Thank you, Sister Martha,’ Helewise said firmly. The nun bowed, backed out through the door and closed it.

‘I did not wish to discuss possibilities in the presence of Sister Martha,’ Helewise said very quietly, ‘since it seems certain that this news is connected to your situation.’ She watched the young woman steadily, a query in her eyes.

‘I agree,’ the young woman said. ‘And I am very much afraid that it does not bode well.’

‘Come with me.’ Helewise got to her feet. ‘The first thing is to see whether you recognize this other horse.’

They walked together along the cloister and to the stable block. Helewise eyed her companion, reflecting that yesterday’s bath and change of clothing, together with a solid meal and a good night’s sleep, had done much for her. During the day she had asked if she might go out and fetch her horse, which apparently she had hobbled and left nearby. Helewise had agreed, but only on the condition that she take a couple of lay brothers as escort. The horse — a beautiful bay mare — was now in the Hawkenlye stables.

She had revealed, as Helewise had again left her in her private room for the night, that her name was Paradisa. Helewise had never met anyone called Paradisa before but already she was coming round to thinking that it quite suited her…

Paradisa had tried to persuade Helewise yesterday to send out search parties to look for her Brother Ralf, and when Helewise had refused on the grounds that they had no idea where he was and she did not have enough people to scour the entire region, Paradisa had said she would take her horse and go and look by herself.

‘You cannot,’ Helewise had told her very firmly. ‘If your Ralf is out there and in danger himself, how much worse would he feel if he knew you were riding recklessly alone? You have had the good sense to come to us. Please stay here, where we can keep you safe.’

The mention of Ralf’s name had done the trick, as Helewise had hoped. Paradisa had grudgingly given in.

But this morning had come this unwelcome news about Josse’s horse. As they approached the stables Paradisa broke into a run and Helewise lengthened her own stride and followed.

There was no need to ask if the horse belonged to Brother Ralf, for already the animal was nose to nose with Paradisa’s bay and it was perfectly clear that they were old friends. Paradisa, with an arm around both necks, said softly, ‘This is Cinnabar, my lady. He and my Seraphina are brother and sister, or at least so we think, because-’ She had been about to say something concerning her lover; Helewise was sure of it, for the young woman’s expression was tender, as if she contemplated some sweet memory. But suddenly her face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. She said urgently, ‘Cinnabar has blood on his neck, my lady. Brother Ralf must be hurt.’

And if he was hurt in some fight when Josse was with him, Helewise thought, as seems likely since their horses arrived together, then without a doubt Josse would have fought alongside him.

Was Josse too hurt?

Was he — oh, surely not! — was he dead?

No, no, he can’t be!

But Horace has abandoned his master. Would he do that were Josse still alive? Josse would not let his horse go if there was anything he could do to prevent it. Very afraid, she met Paradisa’s eyes and read exactly the same dread in them.

I am her senior by many years, she told herself, and I have a position of the highest authority here. I must put aside my anxiety and act appropriately. She took a breath and said, ‘Now is the time to send out search parties, for it may be possible to discover from these horses’ tracks which direction they came from. I shall send a group of my people out on foot and tell them to be very careful not to obliterate any signs. I will ask-’

‘I’m going,’ Paradisa stated flatly. ‘I will not stay here while others search for him — I just can’t.’

‘Neither can I,’ Helewise agreed. ‘I was going to say that I will summon Brother Saul and Brother Augustus, tell them to bring four other lay brothers and that you and I shall go with them.’

For the first time since Sister Martha had brought the news, Paradisa smiled.

They set out not long afterwards.

Brother Augustus, who was the best tracker, found the prints quite easily, for quite soon they veered away from the muddy and much-used road and went off at an angle through the short grass.

The tracks led towards the Great Forest.

Silently Helewise and Paradisa followed Gussie and Brother Saul. Helewise was aware of the four other lay brothers behind them. Each one carried a cudgel. She hoped that such a precaution was unnecessary, but she was well aware that Josse had been very wary of those who stalked the runaway monk. If any of them were lurking nearby, it was better to be safe than sorry.

They moved slowly up the long slope that led to the forest.

The small party set out from Joanna’s hut mid-morning. She had administered another light dose of painkiller and the two men said they were more than capable of carrying their own saddles.

‘Very well,’ Joanna had said, ‘but all the same Meggie and I will come with you to the forest fringes.’

Josse did not want that. The remaining Frankish mercenary was out there somewhere. Even if he had not come near the hut last night, it did not mean he would not attack today. Joanna seemed to have picked up his fear for her safety and she had summoned a friend to care for Meggie.

Josse was relieved. ‘I cannot persuade you to remain here too?’ he said.

She smiled. ‘I know the forest even better than you do, Josse. I’ll take you to the outside world along paths nobody else knows. It’ll be all right.’

There was no changing her mind. He kissed Meggie, told her he would see her soon, nodded a greeting to Joanna’s friend Lora and then they set off.

He regretted the weight of Horace’s saddle and bridle before they had gone a mile, and from the set expression on John Damianos’s face, guessed he felt the same. Joanna was leading the way. Josse recognized that it was a very roundabout route to the Abbey, which must lie over to the north-east. Still, if she kept them safe, then an extra few miles was well worth it, even carrying a saddle.

Presently they came to an area of woodland that he thought he knew and with huge relief he realized they were not much more than half a mile from the open ground where the forest gave way just above the Abbey. He called out softly, ‘Joanna? May we rest?’

She turned round, looking quickly at him and then at John. ‘Of course. I am sorry; I have been pushing the pace and I should have had more consideration for your hurts.’ She handed a water bottle to Josse, who drank deeply and passed it to John. ‘We are almost at the edge of the forest,’ she said encouragingly, ‘and already back on the better-known paths, so we should make haste.’

John gave a grimace as he hefted up his saddle again. Josse caught his eye. ‘Not far. Good news, eh?’

John nodded. Then they fell into step behind Joanna and set off once more.

Helewise and Paradisa had caught up with the lay brothers on the edge of the trees. Augustus was bending down and examining the long grass, Saul beside him. The other brothers were staring ahead into the shadowy forest, cudgels in their hands.

Helewise heard voices.

One was Josse’s; she recognized his deep tones and relief flooded through her. Oh, thank you, thank you! If he was talking, he wasn’t dying.

Thank God!

The other voice was female and belonged to Joanna. Helewise narrowed her eyes and tried to make them out. There appeared to be someone else with them. It was a man, and he wore an enveloping, hooded dark robe. Was it John Damianos? Or was it the runaway monk? With his hood drawn up, she could not see his face and did not know if he was a Westerner or a Saracen.

The trio passed out from the narrow path between the trees and into a clearing. They were close enough now to have seen the search party, had any of them thought to look. Josse and the other man seemed to be carrying saddles and bridles… Of course, she thought; their horses had already had their tack removed when they ran off.

Paradisa was staring intently at the second man. Then, before Helewise could stop her, she had leapt over the low bank that marked the edge of the forest and was running along the track towards the clearing.

The man had seen her. Flinging down the saddle, he raced to meet her. They met in the middle of the clearing and were instantly wound in each other’s arms. A beam of sunshine penetrated the low cloud and shone down into the glade as if its sole purpose was to illuminate them.

That, said Helewise to herself, just has to be Brother Ralf.

Smiling, affected by their evident joy, she walked on into the glade. Josse and Joanna were entering it from the opposite side. In that happy moment danger seemed irrelevant. Helewise had forgotten all about it and so, it seemed, had everyone else.

But danger was still there.

The Frankish mercenary known simply as William was watching. He had an arrow to the bow and the young man in the hooded robe was in his sights. He knew who he was. He knew he had robbed the great Leo Rubenid Anavarza of his bride. William had a mission; he had lost his colleague and his friend but he could not return to his master all those long miles away unless he had the woman with him. He stared at Leo Rubenid’s bride. In order to take her he would have to kill the man.

Slowly he lowered the bow. Even had he killed the young man — and he did not doubt that he could — there was little point, for the big knight who had slain poor Tancred was just behind him. There were also two more women in the clearing, one of them a nun, and six monks armed with stout sticks.

The odds were too great.

Stealthily, he crept away.