by Max Gilbert
In the crystal, Julitta looked into her enemy's eyes.
In the water, Janiva looked back at her, tranced.
'Mistress Janiva! Mistress!' The forester's worried face filled her vision. Janiva was lying at the pool's edge, soaked and cold as ice. She coughed, gasped, and turned to vomit water into the grass.
'Tostig,' she said weakly. 'What happened?'
'You fell in. Lucky I came by! I pulled you out. Are you all right?'
'I fell?' She sat up, shivering hard.
Tostig threw his cloak around her. 'Well, sort of. You were kneeling on the edge. I called to you, and you just seemed to lean forward and fall straight in. Did you faint, Mistress?'
She remembered looking into stone-cold grey water, into stone-cold green eyes that numbed her mind and will. Wanting to resist, not able to resist. What had happened? Tostig took her hands and pulled her to her feet.
'Faint? I suppose I must have,' she said, her voice as unsteady as her legs. 'Tostig, please help me home.'
Julitta closed her fist round the crystal, gripping it so tightly in her fury that its edge cut her flesh and blood oozed through her clenched fingers. The wind dropped and the sail hung limply for a few moments as her concentration shifted, then filled again. 'I've not done with you, slut,' she said softly. 'I almost had you. I know you now. Threefold I curse you. All that you are, all that you have, all that you love you shall lose!' She let her blood collect in her cupped palm, and in blood on the crystal wrote the rune of destruction.
Chapter 40
Larktwist left them at Alnwick. They were riding past the castle when a beggar-child snatched at Larktwist's reins and mouthed something at him, the others didn't hear what. He nodded, gave the child a coin and turned to his companions. 'I must leave you here,' he said. 'I won't say it's been a pleasure exactly but it's certainly been interesting. No hard feelings, eh, Sir Miles? Sir Richard? Master Bane, here's the dice I promised you.' He handed Bane a small wood-shaving box. 'Perhaps we'll run into one another again, one of these days. God be with you all!' And he was gone, into the crowd at the castle gate, round a corner, out of sight. Miles said, 'I suppose he's gone to report on our business to whoever's paying for the information.'
'It's a living,' said Bane, tolerantly. The little box was in his pocket, and he patted it affectionately.
They parted with Miles at Durham, where they stayed for two nights as guests of Sir William Hoby before setting off again. 'Miles, brother,' said Straccan, 'you have my love and gratitude all life long, for your help and your company. We wouldn't have got through without you. You know where I live; come whenever you will. My home is yours. God's blessing go with you.'
Shawl was not on their road home, but that's where they went next. Straccan's horse lasted just long enough to reach the manor before it went lame. He led it, limping, into Sir Guy's stable to be left until called for. Sir Guy and Lady Alienor, who had never met him, greeted him cheerfully and offered their hospitality. Visitors, with their news and gossip, were a breath of life and their welcome was assured.
'Thank you, Sir Guy, My Lady, you are very good. We will be glad to sleep under your roof tonight, but first I have to see a friend.'
As he left with Gilla, Alienor nudged her husband. 'He's going to see Janiva,' she hissed.
'Is he? How on earth do you know that? Still, seems a nice enough fella.' Sir Guy tugged thoughtfully at his earlobe. 'Old Duffy St. Obin was a friend of his father.'
'He was?' Lady Alienor's eyes were bright with interest. 'Tell me about him, this Straccan.'
Sir Guy settled back comfortably. He prided himself on genealogy. Knights and barons knew all about one another's antecedents, good and bad. Most of them were related to some degree, by marriage or blood, and reckoning kinships was a popular pastime during winter evenings. 'Well, let me see. His father was William Straccan; he was killed on crusade--didn't have any property—his father Draco supported King Stephen and lost everything, of course, when FitzEmpress took over. Draco's name was FitzEstraccan; goes back to some Breton fella called Estraccan de Something who won lands serving Rufus. This Straccan's father dropped the Fitz bit and just called himself Straccan.'
'Yes, yes,' said Lady Alienor impatiently, 'but who is he? Has he any property?'
'Oh, he's rich enough. Went on crusade. Came back with money. Bought property from the abbey near ... where is it?' He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and screwed up his face with the effort of memory. 'Dieulacresse! That's it.'
'Is he married?'
'Was. She's dead. Odd chap. Does some sort of trade nowadays. Relics. Funny business really.'
'He'd be a good match for Janiva,' said Lady Alienor.
'Match? Janival But he's a knight!'
'All the better. He's already wealthy, he can choose to marry where he likes. I'll have to talk to her.'
'Alienor,' said her husband warningly, 'don't meddle!'
'Meddle? Sir Guy! How could you say such a thing? I never meddle!'
'Not much,' muttered her lord to his lady's retreating back.
'What did you say?' She looked back at him over her shoulder, chin high, very pink.
'Nothing. Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all!'
She was smaller than he remembered, and more beautiful. To Straccan's surprise, when he lifted Gilla off her pony she went straight to Janiva as if they knew each other and knelt on one knee at her feet, kissing her hand as if she was an abbess. Janiva put her arm round the girl, and they stood together, smiling.
'Mistress Janiva,' said Straccan, pulling off his cap.
'Sir Richard, and Gilla, I am so glad, so very glad to see you well.'
Later, when Gilla began yawning, Janiva put her to bed and rejoined Straccan outside in the sweet warm summer evening. Subdued birdsong surrounded them, and there was a scent of roses and mint. They sat on a bench among the herbs, Janiva with her spindle, Straccan shredding a sprig of thyme.
'Sir Richard, may I ask ... do you mean to place Gilla in the convent again?'
'I've been wondering about it. I'm away so much, it seemed wise, and she was happy there. But now ...'
'I have a suggestion,' she said, hesitantly.
'Tell me.'
'Keep her with you when you can. Let her visit the convent, spend a few days there from time to time. It would look strange else. But when you must go away and will be away some time, send her here to me. No--' as he made to speak '--wait, let me finish. So much has happened to her, such strange things, she is changed from the child she was. To me, if she needs to, she can talk about it; but if she talks at the convent of things she has seen and done the good sisters won't know what to make of it, or of her. She won't fit in.'
'Misfits,' said Straccan, frowning.
'What?'
'Soulis said I had roamed about the country collecting misfits. Is that what my daughter is now?'
'No more than I am! But that is why I ask you to let her come to me where she can talk, and be understood and safe, and loved.'
'If she becomes a woman such as you are,' Straccan said, 'I will be well pleased.' He took the spindle from her and laid it on the bench between them, then took her hands in his. They were well shaped, fine but strong, not the pale delicate hands of a fine lady but capable, loving hands, skilled in many crafts. He kissed them.
'Janiva--'
There was the sound of a horse coming fast, and Bane burst over the fence and flung himself from the saddle. 'King's men,' he gasped. 'At the manor. Asking for you. Coming here.'
And as Straccan got to his feet, sending the spindle flying, there they were—half a dozen mounted archers in the king's livery, with their captain—neat, efficient, polite, implacable.
'Sir Richard Straccan?'
'Yes.'
'The lord king summons you to attend him at Nottingham, Sir. I am to escort you.'
'What for?'
'I'm not privy to the king's mind, Sir Richard. I just do as he tells me. And he told me to fetch yo
u.'
'Janiva ...' He turned to her. 'Gilla ...'
'It's all right,' she said quickly. 'I'll take care of her. She needs rest. Don't worry about her; she's safe now.'
Straccan turned back to the captain. 'What about my man Bane?'
'I've no orders concerning him, Sir. He may go or stay as you please.'
He unbuckled his purse. 'Hawkan, take this to Saint Mark's Priory. It's somewhere near Christchurch. Give it to the prior. Tell him all about it. Tell him how we met Brother Celestius, and that this gift is in gratitude for your life. Go now.' Before anything happens to stop you, his eyes added. Bane put the purse inside his shirt. 'When you've done that,' said Straccan, 'come back here and escort Mistress Janiva and my daughter home to Stirrup. I'll see you there, when the king's finished with me.'
He fastened his jerkin, feeling the crackle of the letters inside against his shirt. The sound of the grey's hooves receded fast as Bane left on his errand. Straccan's sword and harness hung by the door; he reached for them, then drew his hand back. 'You will want my sword?' he asked the captain.
'I have no orders concerning your weapons, Sir,' said the young man looking surprised. 'You are not my prisoner. I am to take you safely to the king.'
'Ah! Do you have a spare mount?'
'Er ... no, Sir.'
'Well, I have no horse.'
The captain rose to the challenge. 'Simon!' One of his company nudged his horse forward. 'Sir Richard will take your horse. Double up with Tom.'
'Then I am ready,' Straccan said. He went into the house, bent over the bed and saw his daughter's eyes were open. 'It's all right, sweetheart,' he said quickly. 'I have to take those letters to the king, that's all.'
'Can't someone else take them?'
'No, there are things I must tell him. I shan't be long. Mistress Janiva will look after you, and Bane will bring you both home when I get back.' He kissed her and stroked her hair. Then he took Janiva in his arms, held her close, smelled the perfume of rosemary that scented her hair and clothes. Spurs and harness jingled outside. Buckling his sword belt, he walked out and mounted the horse held ready for him.
When they were out of sight, Janiva turned back to the fragrant little room and saw that her cat had crept under the blanket and was purring happily, tucked against Gilla's shoulder.
Chapter 41
He had been killing time in Nottingham Castle for three days before he saw the king. It was a relief to find that he was, in no sense, a prisoner; he could come and go about the town as he pleased. And Straccan told himself he should not really be surprised that the king had come to Nottingham on his way to the Scottish border, stopping also at York and Durham to gather men and supplies for his expedition. If spies were set to watch men as politically insignificant as himself, of course they would be watching the great ones. King William's designs on the north lands would be no news to King John.
On the morning of the fourth day the king sent for him. They had not met before, though he'd seen the king at a distance a few times. Now he remembered everything he had ever heard about John: murderous, perverse and deceitful, suspicious, ungodly, touchy—and the other side of the Angevin coin—generous, genial, brave, indulgent, dangerously intelligent.
'Sir Richard! How good of you to come!' The king put a friendly arm round Straccan's shoulders and walked up and down in the castle garden with him. 'This isn't anything like it was in my mother's day,' said John, jerking a disparaging thumb at the shrivelled roses. 'Greenfly! See?' He pinched one off a bud and squashed it. 'The gardener tries everything, but nothing works. Do you know anything about roses. Sir Richard?'
'No, My Lord. I've not had much to do with gardens.'
'Nor me, nor me. I knew she was a witch, of course.'
The abrupt change of subject made Straccan blink. 'The Lady Julitta, My Lord?'
'Julitta, yes, who else? Haven't run into any other witches recently, have you? Christ, I hope not! Pity she got away. Not that I blame you. You have letters for me.'
'Yes, Sire.' Straccan proffered the packet, and the king leafed through them.
'De Vesci,' he murmured. 'Well, well, what a surprise! And that little sod Mowbray, after all I've done for him. Percy, too, another ingrate. Grellay, he owes me a thousand marks, FitzWalter, de Lacy—all of em northerners. Must be the climate.' He handed the letters to the clerk who followed him about, writing desk hung round his neck, pen and inkhorn always ready. 'This the lot?' 'No, My Lord. We divided them, these for Your Grace, the others for the King of Scots.'
'I'm on my way north, as it happens, for a few words with my brother of Scotland,' John said ominously. 'Didn't meet him yourself, did you? No? I don't suppose he calls me his brother of England,' he added morosely, kicking at a faint-hearted clump of pinks. 'I wouldn't like to think what he calls me. He'll have to be brought to heel again; it's getting to be a habit. What were you doing in Pontigny, by the way?'
It seemed an age ago. 'It's rather a long story, Lord King,' said Straccan.
'Good,' said John, bending and pulling up a wilted something.
'Look at that! Shocking!' He threw it disgustedly down among the sorry-looking roses. 'Carry on, Sir Richard. I like a good story.' Straccan told him about the icon, and how it led him to Julitta. About Soulis's order for the finger of Saint Thomas. 'That's why I went to see the archbishop,' he said. 'I didn't expect to get anywhere, but I had to try.'
'He's no archbishop of mine,' growled the king.
Whoops, thought Straccan, and said, 'No, My Lord. Your pardon.'
'A figure of speech, I know, I know,' said John. 'Let's go back inside.' On the doorstep he half-turned and shouted, apparently to nobody, 'Get these things watered; they're probably dying of thirst. I know I am,' he added to Straccan. 'Come in, come in, I'm expecting someone, and I do want to be in when he arrives. How did you get Langton to let you have the relic?' He held out a hand, and a servant placed a cup of wine in it.
'It turned out that he felt himself under some obligation to me. I had done a service to his nephew, years ago, in the Holy Land.'
'Ah,' said John. 'How fortunate! You seem to be a lucky man, Sir Richard. Luck's a strange thing, so unaccountable. Your horse was killed, I'm told.'
Straccan was surprised. If the king's uncanny knowledge of such minutiae was due to Larktwist's report and Larktwist only one of many wandering spies, then John's espionage system must be the envy of Europe. 'Yes, Lord King,' he said. 'By the man-eaters.'
'Well, well,' said the king thoughtfully. 'Pity to lose a good horse. Had him long?'
'Eleven years, My Lord.'
The door opened, admitting a sergeant and two men-at-arms roughly pushing another man before them. 'Ah,' said the king, beaming. 'Sir Gilbert. Feeling better, now, are you?' The man reddened, gazed at the floor like a naughty child and said nothing.
'Gilbert was very sick when first I sent for him,' John told the smirking company in general. 'But it seems my second summons found him recovered. A minor miracle, perhaps? It's been a good year so far for miracles. Why, only this summer a band of white monks from Altraham took their skull of Saint Joseph on the road to raise money, and by God's Grace the rest of the saint's body grew back! They ended up with the whole thing, bar a few toes. Isn't that a marvel? I wonder what happened to the toes.' He looked slyly at Straccan. Oh Christ, thought Straccan, those silly sods, no idea where to stop! And pox take that Larktwist and his big accurate mouth! But he met the royal gaze innocently, and the king smiled.
