The Tavern in the Morning

Chapter Eleven

‘That was quite a tale,’ Josse said, gently disentangling himself from Joanna.

She was busy wiping her eyes and her face with the end of her sleeve. ‘Yes.’ She managed a rainbow smile. ‘I’m sorry to have been such a child, crying like that. Only it’s really the first time I’ve spoken of it.’

‘Is it? You didn’t confide in Mag?’

The smile was more confident now. ‘There was no need. Mag knew.’

‘I hadn’t realised she had gone on being involved in your life. While you were married, I mean.’

‘She wasn’t.’

‘Then how did she know?’

The smile was positively mischievous now, as if Joanna were enjoying the teasing. ‘Had you known her, you wouldn’t need to ask. She just knew. She had a way of studying you, perhaps holding your hand, and she’d ask one or two apparently irrelevant questions, then she’d say, Ah, yes. I know what you need, my girl. And she did. Whether it was one of her infusions for some small ill when I was young, or whether it was the need for a safe, loving refuge when I was all but defeated by my own problems, she provided it. And she always made you feel whole again.’

There was a silence, as if they were both honouring Mag Hobson’s memory. Then Josse said, ‘I wish I had known her.’

Joanna looked at him. ‘You’d have liked her. She’d have liked you, too, what’s more, and that would have been quite an honour. She didn’t hold with men as a rule.’

‘She didn’t?’

‘No. Can you blame her? She wanted to be an independent woman, living honestly on the small amounts she made from her cures and her comforts. Not that she ever charged much, only what people could afford. If they couldn’t afford anything, she treated them for nothing. You saw how she lived, you can see she wasn’t wealthy!’

‘Aye, I can.’

‘But that wasn’t good enough for God’s Holy Church. Oh, no. All her life, Mag had to cope with meddlesome priests and clerics, poking their long noses in, demanding to know what she was up to, how she brought about her cures, what she thought she was doing making her potions, and all but accusing her of consorting with devils.’ Joanna was rapidly working herself up again. ‘Just because she was different, just because she saw God in terms other than those laid down by those blasted priests, they shunned her, cast her out, turned her into someone who had to hide herself away, so that people who genuinely needed her help had to sneak out to see her in the middle of the night!’ She paused for breath, turning blazing eyes on Josse. ‘Surely you can understand why she disliked male company!’

‘Not all men are priests,’ Josse said reasonably.

‘Oh, I know, but sheriffs and lordlings and puffed-up knights were almost as bad. It’s the way of the world, Josse. Men take against women who demonstrate that they can do well enough on their own. Without some husband telling them what they may or may not do. It hurts their pride, I suppose.’

Josse was thinking. ‘I believe you may be right,’ he said.

She grinned. ‘I know I am. Did you ever marry, Josse?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Perhaps because I reckoned I’d do well enough without some wife ordering my days for me.’

Her brows went down in a scowl as her mouth opened to make some retort, but then her face cleared and she began to laugh. ‘Sir knight, I believe you are making fun of me.’

‘A little,’ he admitted. ‘It’s good to hear you laugh.’

‘It’s good to want to,’ she murmured.

They stood facing one another, an arm’s length apart. He thought, I could embrace her now, kiss her sweet face and, in all likelihood, awake that passion in her again. Which would be joyous, for both of us, and would perhaps give her comfort of a sort she has never before received.

Or I could do as my conscience tells me I should and, for all that it is late, set out for Hawkenlye. The gates will be barred for the night, but I can beg a bed from the monks in the vale. I’ve done it often enough before.

Joanna, he saw, was trembling slightly. She wet her lips with her tongue, then began, ‘Josse, I-’

Making up his mind, he said swiftly, ‘I know, Joanna. It’s late and I ought to be gone.’ He made a brief bow. ‘I’m going back to Hawkenlye Abbey. If you approve, I intend to ask Abbess Helewise if she will help us by hiding you and Ninian. Just for a few days, while we decide what to do.’

Whatever she had expected him to say — and he had a pretty good idea what that might have been — it obviously wasn’t that. With a frown, she said, ‘An Abbey! You propose taking me to an Abbey, when you know very well what I think about God and his church?’

‘I — Hawkenlye is under the rule of a woman,’ he said gently. ‘A woman who wishes as fervently as your Mag did to live a life not ruled by a husband. Who-’

‘I thought nuns were meant to be married to Jesus,’ Joanna said scornfully, as if the very idea were risible.

‘Perhaps. I can’t speak for Abbess Helewise. But, in any case, it must be different from an earthly marriage.’ He frowned; he was feeling well out of his depth. ‘Mustn’t it?’

‘What’s so wonderful about Hawkenlye Abbey?’ Joanna demanded. ‘Why do you want us to hide there? Why is it better than here?’

‘A hundred nuns, fifteen monks and several very muscluar and sturdy lay-brothers, for a start. Brother Saul, now, he’s a good fellow. Devoted to the Abbess, too. He’d knock a man down if she told him to. A man, let’s say, intent on taking away a young relative who didn’t really want to be taken away…’

She was nodding, holding up a hand to stop him. ‘Yes, very well. I accept, but for Ninian’s sake, not for mine. I — well, never mind. When will you come back?’

He was backing towards the door. Her continued nearness was affecting him, undermining his self-control. Especially when she kept fixing those wide, dark eyes on him. ‘Tomorrow. As early as I can. By noon, anyway. God willing.’

‘Amen,’ she echoed automatically. ‘Very well.’ She followed him to the door, and he hurried to open it and get himself on the other side.

She must have noticed. ‘Don’t worry, sir knight, I’m not coming to hurl myself into your arms. I’m going to bolt and bar the door, as soon as you’re through it.’

With her taunting laughter ringing in his ears, he fetched Horace from the barn and, as stealthily as he could, made his way back to the Abbey.

* * *

Helewise had been expecting Josse for some time when, halfway through the next morning, finally he knocked on the door of her room. Brother Saul had informed her at Prime of Josse’s late-night return to the vale, and she had added thanks for that to her morning prayers.

She hoped fervently that the completion of this dreadful business might be in sight. It was deeply worrying, knowing that Denys de Courtenay was at large, that someone of his ruthless nature was out there, hunting for a young and defenceless woman. He had killed once, after all. Helewise found she was constantly half expecting to hear that he had done so again.

‘Sir Josse, welcome,’ she said, as Josse came in and sat down. ‘May I offer you some wine?’

‘Aye, that you may.’ She poured the steaming, spicy drink from the jug she had ordered from Sister Basilia — she had been fairly certain Josse would visit her sooner or later — and watched as he warmed his hands on the mug.

‘Ah, that’s good.’ He put the empty mug on to the floor.

‘Now, tell me what has been happening,’ she said, trying not to let her impatience show. ‘Did you find Joanna and her boy?’

‘I did. I waited at Ninian’s camp. Eventually he came and I persuaded him to take me to his mother. They are still in the old manor house where Mag Hobson installed them. Comfortable enough, but, Abbess, I fear for them, alone out there.’

‘Is it very well-hidden?’

‘Aye, that it is. Which is a blessing because it lessens the chances of Denys finding them. But, if ever he does, then it will rapidly become a curse.’

‘Nobody to call on for help,’ she said, nodding. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ She hesitated as a thought struck her. ‘Sir Josse, are we right in assuming Denys is still searching for her? It is now — let me see — three days since he was here. Would he not have returned to check on us again were he still in pursuit?’

‘You forget Mag Hobson,’ Josse said.

‘No, no, I do not.’ How could I? she thought. That poor woman, that terrible death. ‘But you said yourself she could have been lying there for several days. Denys de Courtenay might have given up the chase and be away on the other side of the land by now.’

‘No, Abbess, I don’t think so. I — Joanna told me something of her past last night. And I’ve been thinking, all the way back here last night and again this morning, and I believe I’ve worked out why he’s trying to find her.’

‘Which is?’ she prompted.

‘Abbess, remember how he said she was his niece, whereas in fact they are cousins?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you said it made a difference because they could marry as second cousins, given that they were granted the necessary dispensation, but never as uncle and niece?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Well, what if he’d been pretending to be her uncle to allay suspicion?’

‘Of what?’ Was she being particularly dense this morning, or was Josse being unusually long-winded? She frowned, concentrating hard.

‘That he’s actually planning to make her marry him!’

Helewise felt a distinct sense of anticlimax. ‘I believe, Sir Josse, that you are going to have to explain. Why should he want to do that?’

‘She’s both a widow and an orphan,’ he said, leaning forward eagerly. ‘Her father died some time ago, her mother more recently, she has no siblings and there are no other kin to speak of. Now she’s a widow, too, of a man who had estates in Brittany. Joanna spoke of family of his, but, even so, a widow surely is not likely to be ignored in a man’s Will? All in all, Joanna must be worth a tidy sum now.’ He sat back again, folding his arms across his broad chest. ‘What do you think?’

What she thought was that there was a very obvious hole in his reasoning. ‘Sir Josse,’ she said gently, ‘Denys de Courtenay employs strange wooing tactics if he thinks to win his lady’s favour by brutally killing one of her few friends.’

‘Ah, I’ve thought of that!’ Josse said. ‘As I said, Joanna’s told me quite a lot about herself, and, without breaking any confidences, I can tell you that I believe he may think to coerce her into marriage by threatening to reveal certain things in her past.’

‘Things?’ Helewise echoed faintly. Her imagination was racing.

‘Aye. Unfortunate things, it has to be admitted, but none of them her fault, Abbess!’

Ah, Josse, Helewise thought, but you would say that, being smitten as you are with the lady. ‘Indeed?’

‘No! She was young, an innocent, with nobody to chaperone her and-’ Clearly realising he’d already said too much, Josse very firmly shut his mouth.

Tactfully she changed the subject, moving them away from the fascinating but forbidden ground of Joanna’s lurid past. ‘I would do anything I could to prevent a woman being coerced into marriage,’ she said. ‘It is an estate which, chosen of one’s own free will, can be rewarding and very happy. But to be forced into union with a man one despised…’

‘She’s had to suffer that once already,’ Josse agreed. ‘It would be dreadful to contemplate it happening to her again.’

Especially dreadful for you, dear Josse, Helewise thought. ‘What do you propose?’ she asked. ‘How may I help?’

‘You guess that I need your help?’

‘I don’t think you’d be here otherwise.’ You would, she added silently, be with Joanna de Courtenay, fighting off cousins, uncles, dragons, sea monsters, hobgoblins and any other creatures that threatened her.

Josse leaned towards her, resting his forearms on her table. ‘Abbess, may I bring them here? Joanna and Ninian? There are a hundred hiding places, and there are people here who would defend her, if need be, and-’

‘I’m not sure we can rely on my nuns,’ Helewise said gently. ‘Some of them could be useful — Sister Martha, I imagine, might wield a pitchfork to good effect — but as for the others, I think not.’

He raised his eyes to the ceiling in despair. ‘Abbess, don’t be ridiculous. Oh. Sorry.’ He gave her a weak grin. ‘I meant that, with so many people around, Denys can hardly arrive, turn the place upside down till he finds Joanna, then fling her across his saddle and make off with her.’

‘Safety in numbers,’ she agreed. ‘Yes, I realise that. I am sorry, Sir Josse. I was teasing.’

‘Well, don’t,’ he grunted.

‘And,’ she went on, ‘if Denys de Courtenay should return with reinforcements, which I pray he does not-’

Josse’s head shot up in alarm. ‘Reinforcements!’

‘- then we can call on Brother Saul and his companions. They won’t let you down.’

‘Aye,’ Josse muttered. He was looking doubtful. ‘Abbess, you are worrying me. I admit I hadn’t envisaged an abduction by force, but, now that you have done so, I begin to see it is quite possible.’ His frown deepened. ‘Do we — do I — have the right to put your Abbey, and your nuns and monks, in jeopardy?’

‘They would not stand by and see a young woman taken against her will,’ Helewise said stoutly. ‘Nor, indeed, would I.’

‘Thank you, Abbess. But all the same…’

‘May I make a suggestion?’ she ventured, when he didn’t go on.

‘Aye, I’d be grateful.’

His honest, concerned eyes met hers, and she berated herself for having thought his urge to protect Joanna was prompted purely by self-interest. He would, she now decided, be working as hard on the young woman’s behalf were she elderly and plain. It was a matter of gallantry.

‘Although he did not admit it when he spoke to me,’ she began, ‘Denys de Courtenay knows Joanna to be accompanied by a child, a young boy. Ninian. Is that correct?’

‘Oh, aye. He knows about her child all right.’

‘Then he will be looking for not a woman alone, but a woman with a boy. Yes?’

‘Aye.’

‘Well then, why not split them up?’

‘Joanna would never have it!’

‘Hear me out! What I suggest is this. Return now to the secret manor house, fetch Ninian here to us — oh, don’t worry, we would make absolutely certain that he was safe — and then go back to Joanna and-’

‘I can’t leave her alone there!’

‘No, no, I’m not proposing that you should. But, Sir Josse, you have a house. Some distance from here and very comfortable, I dare say?’

‘Aye, but-’

‘And is it in the least possible, do you think, that Denys de Courtenay would find her there, when he is not even aware of her connection with you?’

‘Less possible than that he’ll somehow discover the location of the old people’s manor house,’ Josse agreed. There was a long silence; she sensed he was thinking it through, planning, perhaps, how he would put the idea to her. To Joanna.

The only slight drawback, Helewise thought, was that this arrangement meant she herself would not meet Joanna de Courtenay. Which, she had to admit, was something she quite wanted to do.

Josse stood up suddenly. ‘It’s a sound plan,’ he said decisively. ‘I’ll go and see if she agrees.’ With a grin and a sketchy bow, he was gone.

Helewise sat as her table for some time more, thinking very hard. Thinking how best, in an Abbey full of nuns, to conceal a seven-year-old boy …

* * *

By the time he returned a few hours later, she was ready. Warned by Sister Ursel of their approach, she went outside into the frosty afternoon to greet Josse and his young companion.

‘Abbess Helewise, this is Ninian de Lehon,’ Josse said, slipping down from his horse and gesturing for the boy to do the same. ‘Ninian, this is Abbess Helewise.’

He came up to her, made a reasonably elegant bow and said, ‘I am honored to meet you.’ Straightening, he looked up at her with frank curiosity.

Looking back, she studied him. Quite tall for his age, and sturdily built — he could have passed for more than his seven years. Longish dark hair, an open, friendly face. And those brilliant blue eyes. Yes. He would do.

‘And I am delighted to meet you, too,’ she replied.

‘Don’t stare, Ninian,’ Josse muttered.

‘Sorry.’ Ninian glanced at Josse, then his eyes returned to Helewise. ‘It’s just that I don’t know any nuns. Lots of monks — there were any number of them, where I used to live. They always looked very serious, and they prayed most of the time. And they were terribly strict. I didn’t really like them very much.’ A shadow crossed the young face.

In a moment of intuition, Helewise thought: you say you didn’t like them. Were, perhaps, afraid of them. So that, when Josse told you he was bringing you here to our Abbey, maybe you thought we would be like your monks. ‘We’re not all that serious here,’ she said gently. ‘We pray quite a lot of the time — it’s what monks and nuns do — but we don’t insist that people go about with long faces when they aren’t praying.’

‘Don’t you?’ The boy didn’t look convinced.

‘No. I’ll tell you what, Ninian.’ She bent down to his level. ‘Because I’m always quite busy, I thought, when Sir Josse said he was bringing you here, that it would be nice if I asked one of the younger sisters who isn’t quite so busy if she’d look after you. What do you think?’

‘Younger?’ Ninian repeated. ‘Lots younger?’

‘Oh, years and years,’ Helewise assured him. ‘In fact she’s one of our youngest nuns, and she’s only been a proper one for a few months.’ She glanced up at Josse, who, she thought, had probably guessed which nun she referred to. ‘Her name’s Sister Caliste — shall we go and find her?’

‘All right.’

Standing up, Helewise wondered if the boy would take her hand. Tentatively, she reached out. And, instantly, felt his small fingers wriggle into her palm.

‘Sister Caliste usually works with Sister Euphemia, who is our infirmarer,’ Helewise said as they walked off, ‘which means the person who looks after the sick people who come here. Only today she — Sister Caliste — is busy doing the mending. She’s in a snug little room down here — ’ she led the way along the path round the infirmary and approaching a small door in its end wall, opened it — ‘with all sorts of things that she’s got to sew. She’ll be very glad of your company, Ninian.’

Reaching past the boy, Helewise pushed the door further open. Inside, Sister Caliste jumped up, spilling a load of sheeting on to the floor, and, making a graceful obeisance, said, ‘Abbess Helewise! Good afternoon!’

‘Sister Caliste — oh, sit down, child! You’re standing on your mending — this is Ninian, whom I told you about. May he sit with you while you work?’

Sister Caliste’s response, Helewise thought, was perfect. ‘Oh, Ninian, how glad I am to see you!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve just sewn a hem that’s at least ten leagues long and I’ve now got to begin on another, and I’m so bored I could scream!’

What a fine actress, Helewise thought. She happened to know — because Caliste had confessed it to her — that there was little the girl liked more than an occasional afternoon by herself in the tiny sewing room, thinking her own thoughts, peacefully stitching away.

‘Come on, sit here — ’ Caliste was clearing a space on the floor — ‘and tell me what’s happening in the wide world out there. Has there been a lot of snow yet this winter? Have you been sledging? Have the birds all flown off yet?’

‘I saw a hare today,’ the boy said, making himself comfortable, apparently instantly at home in Caliste’s company. ‘He was still brown, though, and I thought they went white in winter, so-’

Helewise withdrew and quietly closed the door.

Returning to Josse, she found him chatting with Sister Martha, who had come out to take his horse and Ninian’s pony.

‘No need, thank you, Sister Martha,’ Josse was saying, ‘since I must be off again straight away. And I’ll take Minstrel here with me. Just in case.’

Just in case, Helewise added silently, Denys comes looking …

‘Thank you, Sister,’ she said, and Sister Martha, assuming herself dismissed, returned with a bow to her stables.

‘Is the lad all right?’ Josse asked.

‘Yes. He’s fine. A nice boy.’

‘Aye, that he is.’ Josse gave her an admiring look. ‘A stroke of genius, Abbess dear, to put him in Caliste’s care. She does well?’

Helewise, remembering the affection which Josse had clearly felt for the young nun during her time of troubles the previous summer, nodded. ‘Oh, yes. As I believe I’ve said to you before, she makes a fine nun. Happy, cheerful, loving, and, according to Sister Euphemia, a born nurse. Gentle, you know. And with an air of trusting confidence that the Lord will do his best for her patients, which she communicates readily to them.’

‘You had your doubts over permitting her to take her final vows,’ he reminded her, ‘she being so young.’

‘I did. But neither she, nor I, nor indeed any of the community here, have had any cause to regret her admission.’

‘Aye, well, she’ll do a worthy job just now, if she can take that lad’s mind off worrying about his mother.’ Josse put his foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. ‘And, speaking of Joanna, I must be on my way.’

‘Of course.’

‘Farewell, Abbess, and thank you. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it will be soon, I promise.’

‘Goodbye,’ she said, raising a hand in blessing. ‘God go with you.’

His ‘Amen’ reached her faintly as, kicking Horace into a smart trot, he hurried out through the Abbey gates and off down the track.