The Enchanter's Forest

by Alys Clare

  ‘Josse,’ she interrupted gently, ‘would it not be a good idea to stop right there? Slightly earlier, actually, with your first remark.’

  He thought back. ‘That I’m in no doubt that the tomb in the Brocéliande is the more authentic?’

  ‘Exactly. The rest is a matter of belief and that, as we have just been suggesting, is up to the conscience of each individual.’

  He was nodding. ‘Aye. Aye, you’re right, Joanna.’ He hugged her close. ‘I can tell the Abbess Helewise just that, can’t I? That way I won’t be telling her a lie.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ she agreed. Returning his hug, she added, ‘And I know how important that is to you. Not lying to her, I mean.’

  He did not know how to answer. The issue of the Abbess was something that he sensed was somehow unresolved between himself and Joanna. Should he raise it now? If he did, what would he say? Yes I love her, but not like I love you? That would be the truth, but would Joanna want to hear him admit to loving another woman, whatever form that love took?

  He could not make up his mind.

  Then Joanna said very softly, ‘Josse, I know. And it’s all right.’

  Which seemed to him to be all the answer he needed.

  Behind them in the Brocéliande forest a man patiently awaited death.

  He had been there, slipping sometimes into unconsciousness, for a long time – dawn through to noon, then sunset and now night again – for he had been strong and fit, trained to endure hardship without complaint, and it would take many days for the life force to leak out of his fatally wounded body.

  As he lay there, past pain and instead affected with a growing numbness, he distracted his mind from his fast-approaching end by thinking back over his last mission.

  The one that had at long last brought him face to face with death and made him the loser.

  Those whom he obeyed had commanded him to locate a particular man and woman; why he must do so was not explained and he had not expected that it would be. The third member of the little group was a child. His mission had been to watch and follow the party, awaiting the right moment to strike, and he had carried it out without deviation for many weary days, for ever performing the delicate calculation of how close to trail them without being seen while balancing this with not losing them.

  He was good at tracking people, which was why he had been selected for the job.

  This mission had been special, for he was only to kill the man and the woman if certain conditions were met. It had been left to his judgement to make the decision but what doubts he might have had were allayed by the demeanour of the pair; when it came to it, little judgement had been called for because both the man and the woman had shown perfectly clearly – by the man’s words as they came down from the spring, by their expressions, by the slump of their shoulders, by the woman’s tears that she tried so hard to conceal from the man – just what they were thinking.

  Those telling details had signed their death warrants. They had to die, that was plain, and so he had waited until the conditions were right and then made his move.

  He went back in his mind to the fatal night.

  They had known he was approaching, although he had no idea how. He was as silent as the darkness. Well, it was no use worrying over it for it made no difference now. He ought to have been successful, even after the woman had leapt up and shrieked at him and the man had gone for his weapons, and the fact that he had managed to disable the man’s sword arm ought to have increased his advantage over them. But then that she-cat had leapt on his back with her knife in her hand and that had been the beginning of the end.

  She’d cut off the lower part of his left ear.

  Also, although he had not realised this until much later, her savage cut had in fact found the target that she must surely have been aiming for; the knife’s point had gone into his neck in front of and just below his ear and nicked a blood vessel. Not the major one whose severance meant almost instantaneous death as the brilliant red blood spurted out; no. In that sense he had been fortunate, for her knife had found the little tube that carried the lesser flow of purplish blood. He must have started bleeding simultaneously from his ear and his throat and, the major wound being the more painful, he had not at first noticed that he was also bleeding from the neck.

  Then he had turned and fled off down the gentle slope, plunging down into the forest in the hope of evading the man, who unfortunately seemed quite prepared to attack with his sword in his left hand as in his right: he must, mused the dying man, be an ex-soldier, although nobody had thought to tell him so.

  I could have escaped, he thought, and perhaps attacked again another day, had I managed to evade him and hide away while I patched myself up.

  But he hadn’t escaped.

  Instead that terrifying black shape had risen up out of the forest floor right in front of him, appearing out of nowhere and frightening him so badly that he had felt his bowels turn to liquid. He had tried to defend himself but his attempts were as futile as a child waving its fist at an armoured knight: the black shape had swung a huge, hairy arm – was it an arm? – and the tall man’s long knife had flown out of his hand.

  I must by then already have lost more blood than I knew, he now thought wearily. I was delirious, seeing visions; how else explain the figure out of legend, out of nightmare, that put an end to my life?

  The dark shape had towered above him as he cowered before it. Then, even as he began to form the words with which to beg for mercy – a mercy in which, in truth, he had little faith for he knew he did not deserve it – the man, or the animal, whatever it was, had extended a long arm at the end of which were sharp points that gleamed in the starlight.

  The tall man had felt the flesh of his throat and chest open like butter under the knife and, looking down with horrified eyes, had seen the deep gashes tearing into him from just above his collar bone right down to his belly.

  He had sunk, already fainting, to his knees.

  As he slumped on the spongy forest floor dizzy and nauseated, trying to hold his flesh together and dam the great rush of blood but with the darkness already spreading in front of his eyes, he had looked up to face his attacker one last time; a man ought, after all, to know and recognise his final enemy.

  But there was nothing there.

  He had slept, or slipped into unconsciousness; it was hard to tell the difference now. Awake and aware once more, he realised that he could not feel his feet.

  The insidious chill of death crept up his legs. He looked down at his hands, bloodstained from where he had clamped them to his destroyed chest.

  Not long now.

  What did I see? he wondered.

  Was I seeing visions? Was my killer in truth no other than the man with the sword, dressed up in that horrifying guise by my own fevered imagination? Perhaps, perhaps.

  But if so then why, the dying man wondered, did he have four parallel grooves in his flesh that looked for all the world like claw marks?

  He sighed.

  It was sad to die with an unsolved mystery on his mind.

  But it did not look as if he was going to have any choice.

  Chapter 16

  Helewise’s first action after the early offices was to send for Brother Saul and Brother Augustus and request that they return to Merlin’s Tomb in order to ask anyone prepared to talk to them one or two pertinent questions. Saul, whose expression did not look like that of a man readily able to distinguish a pertinent question from any other sort, began to frown but Augustus said straight away, ‘Like did anyone notice some man hanging around and trying to find out which day Florian was most likely to be carrying home the takings and what time he was going to leave?’

  Helewise beamed. ‘Precisely that, Gus.’

  Saul’s tense face relaxed; he was evidently relieved that he now understood what was being asked of him. He nodded sagely and was about to speak when Augustus got in before him.

  ‘We might also try to find out about t
he guards, my lady,’ he said excitedly. ‘They looked a tough bunch to me and, without wishing to blacken anyone’s good name without due cause, it’d be pretty obvious to anyone that they’d likely be the best source of information regarding Florian’s movements.’

  ‘Yes, Augustus, that’s right.’ She shot him a smile, then turned to Saul. ‘Brother Saul? Were you about to say something?’

  ‘Oh – aye, my lady, but only that it’d be a relief to bring the killer of that poor young man to justice.’

  ‘Saul, there must be no heroic attempt to solve this by yourselves.’ She looked from Saul to Augustus and back again. ‘Florian was murdered by a cold-hearted and dispassionate killer who robbed him and threw his body in the brambles. Remember that.’

  Saul and Augustus exchanged a glance. Then Saul said, ‘We will, my lady.’ And, as if they could no longer contain their eagerness for the unexpected outing, as one they bowed low, turned and hurried away.

  For some moments after their hasty departure, Helewise sat staring at the door and wishing that she was going with them. She could have done; nobody would have questioned her motive in leading the little expedition. But she knew there was no need for her to go. Augustus was an astute young man who kept his eyes and ears open and who, for all his youth, seemed to know when people were trying to deceive him. And Saul – well, Saul was as solid as the very earth and as dependable as sunrise.

  With a small sigh that even someone standing right in front of her would probably have missed, Helewise drew her accounts book towards her, reached for her stylus and got down to work.

  The two lay brothers returned in the early afternoon.

  ‘What did you discover?’ she demanded as soon as they had come in and closed the door behind them.

  It was Saul who spoke first.

  ‘The place is all shut up, my lady. There was a handful of people hanging around in the clearing just inside the forest, where all those trees were cut down. We stopped short and tethered the horses, then edged our way nearer so that we could hear what was going on but not be seen. There was a cross-looking man in a dirty leather jerkin—’

  ‘It was that fellow Jack, my lady, who came to relieve the gate guard when we visited,’ Augustus put in.

  She nodded. ‘Go on.’

  ‘The man in the jerkin was telling the people they couldn’t visit the tomb’ – Saul picked up the narrative – ‘and that they should go back where they came from.’

  ‘I see.’ She could visualise the scene. She hoped that none of the pilgrims would suffer too badly from having made that abortive journey. She also hoped – and she knew it was unworthy – that all the people who were being frustrated in their desire to see Merlin’s Tomb would sooner or later find their way here to Hawkenlye.

  ‘The gate in that there outer fence – that’s the post and rail one, my lady – the gate was closed and chained. Er – me and Gussie, we reckoned it wouldn’t be too hard to climb over it, so we did. In fact it was quite easy, what with two of us, one helping the other.’ He was watching her hopefully, as if keen to know they had done right.

  ‘Well done, Saul,’ she said. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Not far beyond the first fence we came to a second,’ Saul continued. ‘This one was much more of a barrier, my lady, because the spaces between the rails had been filled in with hurdles and it was that thick, we—’ Saul broke off as Augustus leaned across to whisper in his ear. With an apologetic smile, Saul said, ‘But then you know, my lady, since you’ve seen it for yourself.’

  ‘Only from a distance, Brother Saul. Please, go on.’

  ‘The gate in the second fence was also chained and to begin with me and Gussie didn’t see as how we were going to get through. Then Gussie spotted a tree quite close to the fence, just about the only one around there that hadn’t been felled, and he reckoned he could climb it and crawl out along one of the higher branches so he could see over the fence, if you follow me, my lady.’

  ‘I do, Saul. And you managed this?’ She turned to Augustus.

  ‘Aye, my lady, though I’ve bruised my— Aye. Saul gave me a leg-up and I got hold of one of the lower branches, then I shinned up till I could reach the higher ones. I crept out as far as I dared, only then I began to hear the branch creaking a bit and Saul said to come down.’

  ‘Saul was quite right,’ she said gravely. ‘If you had fallen inside the enclosure, Gus, how could Saul have come to your aid?’

  ‘Exactly what I said myself!’ Saul cried.

  ‘What did you see?’ She stared at Augustus.

  ‘I saw the tomb,’ he said simply. ‘It was a long, wide depression and, inside it, huge great bones.’

  ‘The grave was still open?’ She was surprised; would not whoever had locked up the site have at least made some attempt to cover the bones? It seemed almost . . . shocking.

  ‘Wide open, my lady,’ Augustus said.

  She could not control her curiosity. ‘What did you feel, Gus?’ she asked. Remembering what Josse had said, she added, ‘Did the bones affect you in any way?’

  Augustus pondered the question for several moments. Then he said slowly, ‘I felt I was trespassing, and that’s the honest truth. I felt I was staring at something that I had no right to see and I even felt that something was watching me and telling me to get away from there and leave the dead in peace.’

  ‘Did you?’ It might, she thought, have been no more than a lad who lived with monks having picked up their respect for the dead. On the other hand . . .

  ‘Aye. I tell you, my lady, I couldn’t get down out of that tree fast enough. Then me and Saul ran back to the track and to the place where we had left our mounts.’

  ‘Then,’ Saul interrupted, picking up the tale, ‘we rode right up to the fellow in the jerkin, pretending we’d just arrived, and asked him if we could see the tomb. He’d seen Gussie afore, of course, that time he went with you and Sister Caliste, my lady, only we kept our hoods up and he barely gave us a glance, so I don’t reckon there’s much chance he recognised Gus.’

  ‘That was clever,’ she said admiringly. They had done well! ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said Merlin’s Tomb was closed and we should go away. Gus said but we’ve come all the way from the other side of the forest – which was true even if it implied we’d travelled much further than we really had – but the man in the jerkin just snarled a bit and said he couldn’t help that and the tomb was still closed.’

  ‘Did he not guess by your habits that you came from Hawkenlye?’

  ‘He didn’t seem to, my lady,’ Augustus said. ‘Truth to tell, he seemed preoccupied and even a bit scared-like and I reckon we could have worn crowns and carried sceptres and he still wouldn’t have noticed.’

  Smiling at the exaggeration, she said, ‘What could he have been scared of?’

  ‘Of being found out, if he had something to do with his master’s death,’ Saul said shrewdly.

  ‘Hmm.’ She considered that, recalling her own suspicions regarding the guards. Was it really so simple and merely a question of a ruffian guard becoming greedy and attacking and robbing his master? But if so, then the last place the man in the leather jerkin would be now was at the entrance to the tomb site; if he had killed Florian, in addition to the bags of silver coins he would also have a fast horse. He would be several counties away by now if he had any wits at all.

  No. Common sense said that it was not he who had killed Florian. He might, however, have some idea who did.

  And of course he had not been the only guard at Merlin’s Tomb.

  ‘Did you ask him any more questions?’ She looked at Saul, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Gussie did.’ Saul grinned. ‘Said he’d heard that the man who ran Merlin’s Tomb had been robbed and murdered and was it true and did the guard know who was behind it?’

  ‘Ah, the direct approach,’ Helewise murmured. ‘Brave of you, Gus. What was the answer?’

  Augustus smiled ruefully. ‘Told me to mind my own busi
ness, only he used an extra word that I won’t repeat, my lady.’

  ‘He knew it was true all right,’ Saul put in. ‘When he’d finished telling us to bugg— um, that is, to go away, he said we’d find out soon enough whether it was true and in his view it was just as well because he’d never felt happy about the tomb, he’d had more than enough of the place, he didn’t even want to talk about it and he was leaving the district as soon as he’d seen off the last of the visitors.’

  ‘So Merlin’s Tomb is truly to close,’ she said thoughtfully. Somewhere deep inside her, there was a profound relief. They will return to us, she thought, those people in need, and once again old Brother Firmin will dole out holy water and gentle kindness, and the monks and nuns will all do whatever they are best at to heal hurts of minds, bodies and souls.

  She gave herself a shake: relief was all very well but it didn’t solve the problem of who had killed Florian.

  ‘Did you see any of the other guards?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps the one we spoke to, Gus, when we visited?’

  Gus shook his head. ‘No, my lady. Seems the man in the jerkin was left to do the job by himself.’

  Was left . . . Something that had been nagging at her now came to the front of her mind. ‘Who left him?’ she wondered aloud.

  ‘My lady?’ Saul looked puzzled.

  ‘Gussie just said he was left to do the job. Left by whom?’

  Saul’s frown deepened. ‘Well, left on his own by the other guards who’d legged it, my lady.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Brother Saul, I’m not explaining myself clearly. I meant with Florian dead, who is issuing the orders?’

  Gus was nodding his understanding. ‘Someone must have told the guards to secure the place and chain up the two gates, and ordered one of them to stay to turn away visitors,’ he said eagerly. ‘Oh, Saul, why didn’t we think of that? We could have asked him!’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Gus,’ Helewise said. ‘Even if you did he’d only have told you to go away again.’