The Tavern in the Morning

Death by the Blade
Chapter Fifteen

Leaving the Abbey church after Compline, Helewise was wracked with anxiety over Brother Saul.

He still had not returned from his mission to New Winnow-lands.

There was probably nothing to worry about, she kept trying to reassure herself. After all, Saul hadn’t set off until gone noon and, even making the best speed — not very fast, on that old cob — he would have been hard put to it to get to New Winnow-lands and back to Hawkenlye by nightfall. And that was assuming he’d been able instantly to locate Josse, to give him the message that Denys de Courtenay was looking for him. Even then, Josse surely wouldn’t have let Saul set out again straight away — he’d have taken him inside, let him warm himself by the fire, given him something heartening to drink, possibly prevailed upon him to stay for a bite to eat. To rest there for the night.

Oh, yes. It all sounded most plausible.

Why, then, could the Abbess not rid herself of the dreadful fear that something terrible had happened?

Helewise sat alone in her room while the rest of the community set about turning in for the night. When at last all was quiet, the Abbey gates barred and bolted and the lanterns extinguished, she made her way back inside the church. The soft glow of the sanctuary lamp seemed to welcome her, and, kneeling down before the altar, she sensed a strong hand reaching down to her.

She began on her formal prayers. But, interrupting her concentration, she kept seeing the face of Brother Saul. Most reliable, most likeable, most trusted of friends, she was very afraid that she had sent him into danger.

Unable to think of anything but him, her prayers turned into a simple repetition of the same phrase: ‘Oh, dear Lord, of thy mercy, please look after Brother Saul.’

* * *

Josse and Joanna had spent a delightful day. Or, at least, it had been delightful for Josse, although, judging by the preoccupied expression which he sometimes caught sight of on Joanna’s face, at times her problems and anxieties must have intruded on her happiness.

Only to be expected, he told himself, trying not to allow dismay to ruin the day. Naturally she’ll worry about Ninian, about the whole sorry mess she’s in, and it’s no reflection on the joy we’ve found together if, occasionally, her thoughts revert to her problems.

The bright sky of morning had clouded over as the hours went on, and, as the short February daylight came to a premature end, Josse watched Joanna, seated by the fire, staring into the flames. She had, he reflected, an air of expectancy. Any small sound made her start up, stare at the door. As if she were waiting for something …

To turn his mind from fretting about her, he thought back over everything they had done together since waking, in his bed, soon after first light. She had scorned his suggestion that she return to the small guest chamber which Ella had prepared for her: ‘I am not ashamed to have lain here with you,’ she said grandly, sitting up in bed and waving an arrogant arm, ‘and I don’t care a fig for what your servants mutter about me.’ She had given him a look through narrowed eyelids. ‘If you, however, wish to be secretive about what you and I have become to one another, then naturally I will do as you ask, and set about making the bed assigned to me look as if I have been sleeping chastely in it all night.’

‘I didn’t ask,’ he pointed out mildly. ‘It was only a suggestion.’

She leaned over him, pinning him down with a hand either side of his head, her face hovering inches above his. ‘I’ll go if you really want,’ she said softly. ‘I was only teasing. After all, you’ll be the one who goes on-’ Abruptly she stopped.

‘Goes on what?’

‘Nothing.’

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. ‘Stay,’ he said, nuzzling into her thick, soft hair. ‘I don’t care what Ella tells Will. I don’t care what they think. Stay.’

She had lowered the length of her body down on to his, and he could feel her breasts, her belly, the firm thigh muscles. ‘If they thought you hadn’t bedded me,’ she murmured right into his ear — her warm breath sent great shivers of excitement up and down his spine — ‘they might mutter about your manhood.’ As she said manhood, her hand slid down across his stomach and into his groin, making him throb so that he gasped aloud. She chuckled. ‘Ah, he’s saying good morning!’ A pause. ‘My, he’s eager!’ She put her mouth to his, kissing him at length. ‘Just let Ella ask me about your manhood,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll soon reassure her…’

* * *

They had gone out after breakfast. Will had saddled Horace and Joanna’s mare, and they had ridden around the New Winnow-lands estate. Not that it took very long: Josse’s manor was modest. Drawing rein on a low rise, he had pointed out the road leading to the house of his nearest neighbour.

‘He’s a decent fellow,’ he said, ‘we enjoy an occasional visit when I’m in residence here.’ He watched her. ‘Would you like to call on him?’

‘No,’ she said instantly. Then, as if fearing she’d offended him, ‘Josse, under any other circumstances I’d love to meet your friends. But just at the moment, I feel that the fewer people who know I’m here, the better.’

‘Of course.’ He could have kicked himself for his dullness. But, riding out with her, watching her free, flowing movements, hearing her talk, hearing her laugh, just for a moment he’d forgotten.

* * *

Ella had prepared a fine midday meal, and, after that, Josse and Joanna had settled in front of the fire. He sat in his chair, and she curled up on the floor at his feet. He had wanted to ask her more about herself, but, forestalling him, she said, ‘Now, I’ve told you enough about me. Please, Josse, what about you? Acquin — where is that?’

So he had told her. Told her everything there was to tell about himself, really, since there was nothing he wanted to keep secret. Not from her.

And, as they sat cosy and warm inside, gradually the day wound to a close.

Josse had just sat down again after putting more logs on the fire when there came the sound of voices from the courtyard. Will’s voice and another, one that was shouting something … Something about a man, attacked, lying beside the track out there, frozen half to death, poor soul …

Josse leapt up. Taking Joanna by the shoulders for a hurried instant, he said, with all the command he could muster, ‘Stay here. Bolt the door behind me, don’t open it again till you hear me tell you to.’

‘But-’

He gave her a little shake. ‘Stay here!’

After a moment, she gave a meek nod.

He raced outside, jumping down the steps and running across the yard to the gates. Will, looking highly relieved to see him, said, ‘This here fellow tells me there’s a man injured, out in the road. I was on the point of going to have a look, only-’

‘Quite.’ Josse gave him a warning look; no need to elaborate in front of a stranger, to reveal that Josse had given Will orders not to open the gates to anybody, all the while Joanna was with them. ‘Thank you, Will, you did right.’

Will, with a nod, stepped back, and Josse went up to the gate. ‘Someone lying injured?’ he said to the man outside, a rough-looking fellow dressed in a sacking cloak, the end of which he had draped over his head, presumably in an attempt to shelter his face and ears from the keen wind.

The man edged closer and put one hand on the gate. ‘Aye, that he does! Been struck on the head, I reckon, there’s blood trickling down his face.’

Josse was torn. What should he do? Go out and tend to this poor soul, attacked on the road? Or do as his instinct strongly told him to, and ignore this as an elaborate bid to get him to open up and go out?

Once I am outside, he thought, Joanna will be alone within.

But supposing there really was an injured traveller out on the road! It was quite possible the man had merely taken a tumble from his horse, it might just be Josse’s heightened sense of danger that was making a threatening situation out of something perfectly innocent.

‘Any sign of a horse?’ he asked. ‘Could the man have had a fall?’

‘Oh.’ The peasant at the gate appeared to think about it. ‘Could have, I reckon. Could have crumped his head as he fell, aye.’

Josse made up his mind. He said to the peasant, ‘A moment.’ Then, turning, he beckoned to Will and, when he was close enough to speak to without the man at the gates overhearing, he said, ‘Come with me.’

He led the way up the steps, rapped on the door and said, ‘Joanna, open up.’ She did so instantly; she must have been standing right by the door.

Once inside, Josse strapped on his sword and stuck his dagger in his belt. As an afterthought, he collected a heavy bolt of wood from the stack by the fire; it was a clumsy weapon, but would serve as a club in an emergency.

Joanna was beside him. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘Tell me! Where are you going?’

He turned to her. ‘There’s a rough-looking fellow at the gate, who claims he’s found an injured man on the road. It’s possible he’s been thrown from his horse. He’s hurt his head, so I’m told. I’m going out to have a look.’

She was shaking her head. ‘You mustn’t,’ she said urgently. ‘It’s a trap, Josse. They — he — Denys is behind this, I’m sure.’

He stared into her eyes. It was strange, but, while he read in them a thrilled response to this sudden danger, he read no fear. No alarm.

‘What do you suggest?’ he asked softly.

‘I don’t — I’m not-’ She looked down, frowning. Then, meeting his eyes again, she said, ‘No. I do see, you have to investigate.’

‘Oh.’ He would almost rather she had pleaded with him a little longer.

She gave him a quick, hard hug. ‘Be careful,’ she said.

‘I shall.’ He pushed her away gently, staring down at her. ‘Hide yourself,’ he urged. ‘Get Will to help you, and get into some secret corner where nobody can find you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What for?’

He said, exasperated, ‘In case this is a trap and I’m overcome! If that happens, Joanna my sweet, then they’ll be in here, quick as you please, and looking for you.’

Again, there was that odd lack of fear. Nodding her agreement, she let Will hurry her out of the hall. It was, Josse thought, almost as if she’d had all this worked out beforehand …

But then he was outside again and the man at the gate was waiting.

Josse opened the gate, slipped out and said, ‘Come along, then. Show me your injured man.’

‘Aye, aye,’ the man said eagerly, ‘he’s along here … just you follow me, sir … past this open stretch of track, then in under here, where the trees make a shadowy overhang. Maybe you’re right, now, sir, and his horse spooked at sommat in the darkness, throwing him off, like. There!’ Stopping, he pointed ahead.

Josse stared into the gloom beneath the trees. He could make out the edge of the track, and, beside it, a narrow grass verge which sloped down into a ditch. There were deeper patches of shadow behind the ditch, where the undergrowth encroached.

On the lip of the ditch was a long shape. A man’s body, dressed in dark clothing. And, at one end, the pale blur of a face.

Josse ran forward.

He did not see the trap until hands descended on him, grasping him by the upper arms, smothering movement, effectively preventing him from reaching for his sword or his dagger. The makeshift club was knocked out of his hand and fell to the ground with a thud.

There were two of them, the man who had come up to the gates and another, who must have been hiding in the shadows. As Josse wrestled with them, managing to throw one of them off him and, with a swift kick to the head, put him out of action, a third man leapt up out of the ditch to take the downed man’s place.

And, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness, Josse could see clearly what lay on the lip of the ditch.

Brother Saul.

His black habit was wound tightly round his legs, secured with a length of twine, and his hands were tied behind him. The man who had been crouching behind him — in his dark cloak, invisible in the darkness — had had a hand over Saul’s mouth, preventing him from shouting a warning. Now that there was no more need for silence, the man removed his hand, straightened up, jumped nimbly across the ditch and stood before Josse.

And Denys de Courtenay said, ‘Josse d’Acquin, we meet at last!’

Josse ignored him — even as the attack had begun, he had known who must be behind it — and called anxiously, ‘Brother Saul! Are you hurt?’

‘I’m all right,’ Saul called back. ‘Sir Josse, I’m so sorry — we thought to warn you, to tell you that de Courtenay was searching for you, but instead of helping, I led him straight to you!’

Denys de Courtenay laughed. ‘You did that all right, Saul!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Your Abbess Helewise thought she was being so clever, slipping away to give you your orders! But she’s not as clever as she thinks, because it didn’t occur to her that I’d have guessed she’d do exactly that, and have a man in hiding outside the Abbey to follow her messenger.’

Brother Saul gave a violent wriggle but the cords binding him held fast. ‘You are an evil man!’ he cried to de Courtenay.

‘Evil?’ De Courtenay seemed to think about it. ‘No. I don’t believe I’m evil. Scheming, perhaps, but what man is not?’

‘You-’ Saul began. But de Courtenay turned his back and, nodding to his men to bring Josse, walked off in the direction of the New Winnowlands gates.

‘You can’t leave him there!’ Josse protested. ‘It’s freezing out here and he’s injured!’ Was that true? Or was the injury an invention?

‘He’s warmly wrapped in that monk’s habit of his,’ de Courtenay said casually. ‘And the chill will do his head good. Swellings usually go down when you put something cold on them.’

‘You heartless bastard,’ Josse said.

‘Heartless, perhaps. Bastard, nay. My parents had been wed twenty years and more by the time my mother bore me.’

Josse barely heard. With a great heave, he shrugged off the lighter-built man holding his right arm, twisting the man’s wrist viciously, and, before the man had a chance to grasp him again, he lunged forward and grabbed de Courtenay by the shoulder. ‘What do you want of me?’ he demanded. ‘What is your purpose in trailing Brother Saul to my house? How dare you assault me in this manner!’ His anger rising to boiling point, he spun round, caught the man on his left-hand side a great blow beneath the chin with his right fist, and, with a singing, jubilant satisfaction, watched as he slumped to the ground.

‘Oh, dear,’ de Courtenay said. ‘Two down, and one disabled.’ He glanced at the third man, nursing a wrist bent at an unnatural angle and moaning softly. ‘Not that I am greatly surprised, they are hardly what one would call an efficient and disciplined fighting force. Still, needs must, eh?’

‘If you live in the gutter, you are forced to use what little the gutter can provide,’ Josse said sententiously.

‘How true, how true.’ De Courtenay was smiling again. ‘Now, Sir Josse, I do believe you asked me a question a moment ago. Two questions, in fact. You seem to have reduced me to an army of one, so why not invite me into your house and hear what I have to say?’

Amazed, Josse repeated, ‘Invite you into my house? Why in God’s holy name should I want to do that?’

With a suddenness that was vaguely alarming, de Courtenay came up close, face full of some unknown emotion. The casual, light-hearted air was totally gone; he looked, Josse thought, like a man possessed. ‘Because I have a matter to put to you, one of the gravest import!’ he hissed. Waving round him at his fallen companions, he said, ‘Oh, I admit I have made a poor start — you must excuse the brutishness of my initial approach, but it was the best I could think of.’ He gave a faint laugh. ‘Fancy me thinking they’d be any use! I’d have done far better to present myself at your door and politely asked for a few moments of your time.’ He shot Josse a glance. ‘Except that you wouldn’t have listened. Would you?’

Josse said, ‘Probably not.’

‘Well.’ De Courtenay’s eyes still held that fire. ‘What do you say, Sir Josse? Will you hear me out?’

Joanna is hidden, Josse thought rapidly, and anyway, Will is there. That makes two of us, against de Courtenay; I’ll make quite certain his ruffians can’t follow him in. And I’ll be receiving him on my own home ground, which adds another advantage.

A further point occurred to him. Relaxing his grip on de Courtenay’s shoulder — with a wince, de Courtenay instantly began to massage it with the opposite hand — Josse said, ‘You may come into my house — alone — on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you release Brother Saul from his bonds and help me bear him inside, where we may attend to him.’

De Courtenay sighed. ‘I might have guessed. Very well.’

Josse watched as he returned to the figure in the shadows. Soon afterwards, he emerged again, supporting the stooped figure of Brother Saul. There was a murmur from one of the men on the ground; de Courtenay, answering, said, ‘Oh, do as you like. No, I’ve no further use for you. You can go to hell, for all I care.’

There was another murmur — something about being paid — and de Courtenay shouted, ‘You’ve had all you’re getting from me! And that’s being more than generous, considering how little use you’ve been!’

He was still shaking his head and muttering under his breath when he reached Josse. ‘What has become of the honest serving man?’ he asked as Josse put Brother Saul’s arm round his shoulders and helped de Courtenay bear him along to the gates.

Treating the question as rhetorical, Josse didn’t bother to answer.

* * *

They got Saul inside — he had a deep cut on the front of his head, and they wrung from him the confession that he was feeling a little sick — and carried him along to the kitchen. Ella volunteered to take care of him, and Josse laid him gently down on a hastily-prepared pile of mats.

‘I am sorry for your pain,’ he said gently, studying the pale face.

‘No, no, Sir Josse! It is I who am sorry, for my failure.’

‘It was no fault of yours, Saul. Now, rest. Let Ella see to your wound, then sleep.’

Even as Josse turned away, Saul was gratefully closing his eyes.

Josse returned to the hall. De Courtenay was standing just inside the door, as if, having got Josse to admit him, he did not want to presume any further on his host’s hospitality until invited. Let him stand by the door a while longer, Josse thought grimly. He’s right in the draught just there. That’ll cool his passion for him.

There was no sign of either Joanna or Will, Josse noticed with vast relief. He went up to the hearth, and, holding his hands to the lively flames, he said, his back to de Courtenay, ‘Well?’

He heard the cautious footsteps coming nearer. ’Er — may I too, warm myself?’ de Courtenay asked politely.

‘I don’t know about that.’ Josse turned to study him. ‘You were happy enough to leave poor Brother Saul outside in the frosty night.’

‘Oh, Sir Josse, don’t be petty!’ Incredibly, de Courtenay sounded as if he were suppressing laughter. Was this all such a game to him, then? Josse wondered. But what of that brief, intense moment outside? What of that man, the one who, despite the easy charm and the humorous manner, seemed to have some fixed and determined purpose which, against all expectations, drove him on regardless of the obstacles put in his way?

I hate to admit it, Josse thought, but I’m intrigued.

He pulled his chair up close to the fire, gestured to the piled rugs and furs on the opposite side of the hearth and, trying to ignore images of Joanna sitting there not very long ago, he said, ‘Sit down.’ De Courtenay settled himself, with a considerable grace.

Josse studied him. De Courtenay, noticing the scrutiny, smiled. ‘Do I pass muster?’

Josse ignored that. After a moment, he said, ‘You seem to have gone to some trouble to get to me. The least I can do, I suppose, is to hear what you have to say.’

The smile extended. De Courtenay said, ‘Ah, a wise decision, if I may say so,’

‘Go on, then. Tell me what you want of me.’

And, with a brief closing of his eyes as if summoning concentration, de Courtenay began to speak.