The Tavern in the Morning

Chapter Nine

Josse spent an uneasy night. His visit to the Abbess the previous evening had been brief; he had wanted to reassure her that he was safely back, but it had been too late for long discussions.

And, somehow — he was not quite sure why — he had been reluctant to talk to Abbess Helewise while his blood still sang from the after-effects of kissing Joanna de Courtenay.

When he finally got to sleep, it was to dream that the Abbess held Joanna’s knife in her strong hand and was using it to cut great branches of holly which she insisted were wolf’s bane. ‘It’s for my wedding garland,’ she kept saying …

It was quite a relief to wake up.

* * *

She sent for him in the morning. Now, with the residual unease from his dream to add to his disturbing memories of Joanna, he was even less comfortable in the Abbess’s presence.

‘What ails you, Sir Josse?’ she asked, noticing his fidgeting within moments of his entering her room.

‘I — er, nothing, Abbess.’ He managed a smile. ‘I’m just impatient to be doing something, I suppose.’

She nodded sagely. ‘I quite understand,’ she said. ‘Having offered Joanna de Courtenay your help, and feeling that she is so close to accepting it, you must itch to be with her again.’

Oh, how I do, Josse agreed silently. And not only in the way that you, dear lady, imagine. ‘Well, I do feel strongly that she is in danger all the while she is alone,’ he said.

The Abbess nodded again. ‘Off you go, then,’ she said, with an encouraging smile.

‘Where am I going?’

‘To find her, of course!’

But I undertook to give her time to think it over! Only then would she…’ He trailed off. Only then would she come to find him? But she had no idea where he was!

Half out of the door, he heard the Abbess say, ‘Good hunttng, Sir Josse.’

* * *

He retraced his footsteps to the place where the track up from Tonbridge entered the forest. Then, riding very slowly, he tried to recall how far into the woods he had been when Denys de Courtenay attacked him.

It was difficult to judge. Everything looked different in the daylight. And, besides, the last time he went that way he had been concentrating on trailing his quarry without being seen — something at which he had failed abysmally — and had taken scant notice of his surroundings.

But he must find the spot. Because he had reasoned that the child Ninian could only have moved a semi-conscious, well-built adult a very short way, which meant Ninian’s camp must be close to where Josse was assailed by de Courtenay.

And Ninian’s camp — if he ever managed to find it — was the one slim contact he had with Joanna. Ninian might be allowed to play there again, she herself might think to look for Josse there …

Riding on, realising with dismay how hopeless his search was, Josse’s spirits slowly sank.

What else could he do, though? Go back to Mag Hobson’s house? Would that be where Joanna would go looking for him?

Cursing himself for not having made a more reliable plan, Josse dismounted and, leading Horace, pushed on into the woods.

Presently he found himself walking along the top of a slight rise. Something about the place seemed familiar … Stopping, he stood still, listening, sensing the air.

And heard, from somewhere close at hand, the sound of running water.

Yes!

The boy had clearly had a source of fresh water near at hand; he had brought Josse onion broth which he had made himself. And later, Joanna had requested hot water with which to prepare Josse’s poultice.

Josse had been listening to the sound of the small bubbling stream, now he came to think of it, all the time he had lain in Ninian’s camp.

He looked down into the little vale that ran along below the track. Nothing to be seen there.

Pressing on, he rounded a bend and found that the track entered a sort of passage, formed by overhanging branches. It had been difficult to negotiate it in the darkness, he remembered, and …

… And it had been just after emerging from it, he recalled in a flash of memory, that he had dismounted to feel for hoof prints!

Moving forward eagerly now, he repeated what he had done before. I bent down about here, he thought, and again here. And over there, unless I’m much mistaken, is where I fell. With my cheek in that very puddle, now frozen over.

So far, so good.

He stood in the place where he had lain, staring all around him. There was a gentle slope in front of him, leading down into the valley where the stream ran. The track ran on fairly straight ahead, and, behind him, the ground rose quite steeply.

The only direction in which a seven-year-old boy could possibly have dragged a large adult was down into the valley.

Tethering Horace beside the track, Josse made his way cautiously down the slope.

He had to search for some time before he found Ninian’s camp, and then it was only some pieces of charred wood that gave the location away. Assuming them to be the remains of the boy’s last small fire, Josse began to search the immediate area, working outwards in concentric rings.

And, finally, he found what he was looking for.

Whoever had taught the lad about woodcraft had done a good job, Josse reflected; Ninian had located his secret hiding-place half under a ledge of sandstone, and concealed the opening behind a thorn bush. Josse recalled the thorn bush, once he had seen it again, from his awkward trips outside to relieve himself. But, had you not known there was a camp thereabouts, and consequently persevered with the search, you would never have found it.

As the euphoria of success quickly faded, he thought, so, what now? There was nobody here — had he really thought Ninian and Joanna would be sitting there beside a cheery campfire, huddled together in the boy’s smelly old sheepskin, just waiting for Josse to happen by? — and the camp gave no sign that anybody had been there recently.

I’ll wait, Josse thought. If she wants to find me, surely she’ll come here looking. Won’t she? I’ll give her until the light begins to fail. If she doesn’t come today, I’ll come back tomorrow. Or perhaps I’ll go to Mag Hobson’s house tomorrow.

Hating having to be in the position of awaiting someone else’s actions while he himself was powerless to act, he settled down to his vigil.

* * *

She didn’t come.

But, late in the day, Ninian did. Taking Josse completely by surprise, the boy suddenly burst out of the undergrowth that covered the sandstone ledge, jumping nimbly down and racing up to grasp hold of Josse’s hand.

‘You came back!’ he cried joyfully. ‘I’m so glad to see you! Shall we make a fire? Do you want to stay in my camp again?’

‘No, Ninian, but thank you for the offer.’ Josse bent down, taking both the boy’s hands in his. Trying to think of a way to ask what he desperately needed to ask without alarming the child, he said, with an attempt at a casual tone, ’Er — did your mother say it was all right to come to play out here today? I mean, it’s very cold and-’

‘Oh, she doesn’t know I’m out,’ the boy replied with innocent pride. ‘I waited till she’d gone out, you see, then I sneaked out after her.’ A frown creased his smooth, high forehead. ‘She says I’ve got to stay inside the house but I hate it, there’s nothing to do and when she’s gone out, there isn’t even her to talk to. Anyway,’ he glanced round him with a proprietorial air, ‘I had to come to check on my camp.’

Josse said carefully, ‘Do you know where your mother is, Ninian?’

‘Yes, she’s gone to Mag’s house. She said she has to fetch something. In fact,’ he was frowning again, ‘she said someone, but I’m sure she meant something because we don’t know anybody here except Mag, and Mag died.’

‘I know,’ Josse said gently.

The boy’s bright blue eyes were fixed on him. ‘I think she was very old and that’s why she died,’ he confided.

‘Yes, Ninian, she was quite old,’ Josse agreed.

‘Much older than my mother,’ Ninian said. ‘And you,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Only old people die. Don’t they?’

‘Usually people are more likely to die when they get old, certainly,’ Josse said. Poor child, he thought, what a life he’s had recently. No wonder he seeks reassurance.

‘My father died,’ the boy was saying. ‘He was much older than you. About as old as Mag, I’d say. He fell off his horse,’ he added.

Josse didn’t think the child sounded particularly upset at describing his father’s demise. ‘That must have been awful,’ he said.

‘No, it wasn’t awful at all.’ Ninian was poking around in the entrance to his camp, tidying a stray branch of the thorn bush. ‘He didn’t like me and my mother much and when he was dead it meant he didn’t beat us anymore. Mother said I didn’t need to pretend to be sad if I wasn’t really, so I’m not.’

‘No reason why you should,’ Josse said.

‘The priest said my father was in heaven,’ Ninian said in a whisper, as if afraid some representative of the church might be listening, ‘but Mother and I think he’s probably in hell. My mother says she hopes so, anyway.’

‘And what about you?’ Josse asked gently.

‘Well, I don’t really want him to be in hell,’ the child replied carefully, ‘although I think he’s undoubtedly in purgatory. I hope he’ll get to heaven in the end. In a few hundred years, perhaps, if he’s good and if lots of masses and that get said.’ He had finished with his branch, securing it to his satisfaction. ‘There! Shall we go inside?’

‘Ninian,’ Josse said, thinking hard how best to phrase what he wanted to say, ‘I think your mother might have gone to Mag’s house to find me.’

‘Really? Isn’t she silly? You’re here!’

‘Aye, but she didn’t know that.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you think it would be all right for you to take me to the house?’

‘Mag’s house?’

‘No, your house. The house where you’re staying, where your mother took me when it was too cold for me to stay out here in your camp.’

The boy chewed his lip. ‘I don’t know if I’m allowed,’ he said. ‘Mother made me promise not to tell anybody.’

‘I understand about that,’ Josse said, hating himself. ‘But it’s not as if I haven’t been there before, is it?’ He hoped Ninian didn’t know about the blindfold. ‘It’s not as if the house’s whereabouts are a secret from me.’

‘Then why do you need me to take you?’ the boy asked intelligently.

‘Er — well, we’ve met up with each other now,’ Josse improvised. ‘Why don’t we go back together?’

‘She’ll be cross,’ Ninian said resignedly. ‘I’ll be sent to bed early, with bread and water for my supper.’

‘I’ll say it was all my fault, that I persuaded you,’ Josse offered. ‘I wouldn’t ask, Ninian, only it’s important I speak to your mother. As I say, I’m almost certain she’s gone to Mag’s house to look for me.’

Ninian stared at him for a long moment. What was it about those blue eyes? Josse wondered absently, about the boy’s-

‘Very well.’ Ninian had made up his mind. ‘My mother likes you, she said so. And I like you too,’ he added.

‘I like both of you,’ Josse said. ‘Wait while I fetch Horace, then we’ll be off.’

‘Can I ride him?’ Ninian called out as Josse brought Horace down the sloping side of the little vale.

‘Aye. Hold on tight, though.’

The last thing he wanted, he reflected as, with Ninian directing him, he led Horace off through the forest, was to arrive back at the secret house not only having persuaded Ninian to break his word to his mother, but with the child damaged from a fall from a large horse into the bargain.

* * *

Joanna was already back at the manor house when Josse and Ninian got there.

Having tended to Horace together, Josse and the child went on into the house, to find her pacing to and fro in front of the fire.

Ninian had predicted she would be cross. In fact, she was furious. Josse, who knew full well that her anger was born of anxiety — he didn’t like to imagine what she must have felt on arriving home to find the child gone — let her rave for a while, then, with a protective arm around the boy, said mildly, ‘He’s safe, Joanna. Isn’t that all that matters?’

Instantly she rounded on him. ‘And just what do you think you’re doing here?’ she demanded. ‘Nobody comes here without being blindfolded! Not even you!’

Even in her fury, there was a brief glint of something else in her eyes as she stared at him. Something that suggested she remembered their last farewell as clearly as he did. He tried to ignore the blood beginning to pound through his body; now wasn’t the moment.

If there was ever going to be a moment.

‘I thought you were going to let me help you!’ he protested.

‘Whatever made you think that?’ she shouted. ‘Perhaps I might have been, before this! But now that I’ve seen how you wormed your way in, how you’ve played on my son’s youth to make him tell you where the house is, how you’ve — you’ve-’

He waited, but she didn’t seem to be able to think of anything else. ‘You’re not to be trusted!’ she finished.

Ninian wriggled out from beneath Josse’s arm, still round his shoulders, and rushed to his mother. ‘You mustn’t say that!’ he yelled at her, as furious as she was; he seemed, Josse reflected, to have inherited Joanna’s temper. Thumping at her stomach with both fists, Ninian cried, ‘I don’t want to be just with you anymore, I want him!’

‘Ninian, we-’ Joanna began.

But Josse interrupted her. Stepping forward, he grasped Ninian firmly by the upper arms and said quietly, ‘Ninian, a man never hits a woman.’

Ninian rounded on him, trying to break the grip of Josse’s strong hands and, when that failed, attempting a sly kick in the crotch. But Josse, who had several nephews, was used to small boys. Easily evading the child’s foot, he said, ‘And an honest fighter doesn’t do that, either.’

The small face was scarlet with rage, making the eyes even more blue in comparison. With a voice full of authority, Ninian said, ‘Let go of me.’

After a moment, Josse did so. With unexpected dignity, Ninian straightened his tunic. Then, turning first to his mother and then to Josse, he said, ‘I apologise.’

Josse bowed and said, ‘Accepted.’ Joanna, less easily mollified, merely sniffed.

‘I expect you’re going to send me to bed,’ Ninian remarked.

A smile twitched at the corners of Joanna’s mouth but she managed to suppress it. ‘Indeed I am,’ she said. ‘I wish to speak privately to Sir Josse.’

Ninian sighed. ‘Very well.’

Joanna took her son’s hand. ‘Come with me to the kitchen and we’ll put a tray of supper together for you,’ she said. ‘You can eat it in bed.’

Ninian turned to Josse. ‘I wish you good night,’ he said politely.

‘Good night, Ninian.’

The child paused. Glancing to see if his mother could hear — she had gone on ahead along the passage that, presumably, led to the kitchen — he said, ‘I’m still glad I brought you, even if she’s not.’ And he gave Josse a beaming smile.

‘I think she might be, just a little bit,’ Josse said softly back. ‘It’s just that sometimes people have a funny way of showing that they’re pleased.’

Ninian laughed happily. ‘Especially ladies,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow!’

Especially ladies, Josse thought as the boy’s footsteps receded up the passage. Now how, he wondered, did the child know that?

* * *

It was some time before Joanna returned to the hall. Josse had made up the fire and the brilliant flames took the sombre darkness from all but the far corners of the room. Sitting on a leather-seated chair in front of the hearth, it was a luxury to feel warm.

‘Sorry I was so long,’ Joanna said, coming to sit on the floor by the fire; there was a loose pile of fur rugs and a few thin cushions to take the chill off the flagstones. ‘I was talking to Ninian. I had to make him see that he really must not tell people where this house is.’

‘Am I “people”?’

She glanced up at him. ‘How is a child of seven to know the difference?’

‘But-’ Josse began. And then stopped. She had, he realised, just played right into his hands.

‘Joanna,’ he said instead, ‘supposing it had been Denys de Courtenay who found Ninian’s camp today instead of me. What do you think would have happened?’

‘Ninian would never have brought him here!’

‘Does he know who Denys is? Have they met?’ She shook her head. ‘And have you told the boy about Denys?’

‘No! He — what Denys wants is — No.’

‘And does Denys know of Ninian’s existence?’

She gave him a very strange look. ‘Oh, yes. Indeed he does.’

‘Then, Joanna,’ Josse went on relentlessly, ‘just think about it. Denys knows you to be somewhere in this vicinity. He knows about Mag, he has tried and failed to make her tell him where this house is. In his hunt he comes across Ninian’s camp — it would be difficult, I grant you, the boy has hidden it well. But Denys might have seen the boy on his way to or from the vale. Somebody else might have seen Ninian, and sold the information to Denys for the price of a couple of drinks.’

She was looking pale. ‘I’ve been so careful!’ she whispered.

‘Of course you have! But, no matter how careful you are, you can’t cover every possibility.’

‘I can! I have done!’

‘Joanna, Denys tortured Mag!’ Josse said urgently, keeping his voice down — with difficulty — so that Ninian would not overhear. ‘Supposing she had given way and told him what he wanted to know?’

‘She wouldn’t!’ Joanna said scornfully. ‘She would have given her life for us, she knows what is involved and…’

‘She would have given her life,’ Josse repeated softly. ‘She did give it, Joanna.’ He got off his chair and went to kneel in front of her. Again, her nearness prompted his body to a response but he made himself ignore it. ‘And just think what might have happened if Denys had found Ninian out in the forest today. Might he not have used similar tactics to make your son tell him what he wanted to know?’

She gave a sort of gasp and her pale face went even whiter. She whispered, ‘No! Oh, don’t!’

‘I don’t say this to wound you,’ he said softly. ‘But you have to realise what Denys is capable of, what he might do in order to find you. And — What is it?’

For, amazingly, she had begun to smile. A very faint smile, but, without doubt, her expression had lightened, And a little colour was returning to her cheeks.

‘I have let your passion persuade me,’ she observed, sitting back on her heels and edging away from him slightly. The brief sparkle in her dark eyes suggested she knew very well what she was saying and had employed the words deliberately. ‘Which was foolish of me, sir knight.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I have persuaded you? Of what?’

She twisted her legs from beneath her and, pulling out a fold of the soft fur rug and covering herself with it, folded her arms on top of her raised knees.

‘Oh, I don’t blame you,’ she said, ‘I see full well that you are telling me what you think could well happen. And, were it any other man and any other child, I would agree. I, too, would think that Denys would use Ninian as he used Mag, to get to this house.’ She gave a great shudder. ‘To get to me.’ The dark eyes met Josse’s again. ‘And Denys, I assure you, would not hesitate to beat a child in order to get what he wanted.’

‘I need no assurance of that,’ Josse said quietly.

‘No, I’m sure you don’t.’ She was still watching him. He met her eyes, not looking away.

‘You speak in riddles,’ he said. ‘Just when I think I have grasped the whole story, you say something that surprises me, and I am forced to realise that I haven’t yet begun to comprehend.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Won’t you confide in me?’ he asked. ‘Lady, you need help, even you must admit that. And here I am offering you mine. Will you not put your trust in me?’

There was a long pause. Then she said, ‘Yes. I will.’