by Alys Clare
Perhaps his daughter’s good judgement was affecting him, but he found he was not as alarmed as he would have expected by this news that she had gone off with a probable murderer. But there was murder and there was execution; what had Sister Estella said? Something bad done for a good cause. Yes. If the man camping out in Meggie’s hut had in fact been the Brown Man, and he was responsible for the revenge killings and assaults, then he was surely on the side of good, not evil.
Or so Josse tried to convince himself.
The two women were waiting for his response, with evident impatience. ‘Aye,’ he said eventually. ‘It all appears to fit with what we already know, although I suppose we should try to keep open minds, for we may be quite wrong.’
‘We’re not,’ Little Helewise said decisively. ‘And, anyway, even if he wasn’t who we think he is, one thing’s for certain. She—’ Abruptly, she stopped, as if suddenly doubting she should go on.
‘What?’ Josse and Helewise said together.
Little Helewise shrugged, as if to say, very well, then. ‘Whoever he is, Meggie really liked him,’ she said. She looked at her grandmother, then at Josse. ‘I’ve never seen her like that before,’ she added softly. ‘It was as if – as if a candle had been lit within her, making her glow.’
‘Could it have been excitement at setting off to look for Ninian?’ Helewise suggested. ‘You said she appeared very certain of success, and she is very close to her brother.’
‘I don’t think it was that.’ Little Helewise shook her head. She smiled. ‘I think Meggie’s fallen for him.’
Josse was almost certain there was little point in going out to the hut to see if he could find any trace of Meggie and her mysterious companion, but that did not stop him trying. Accordingly, leaving Helewise and her granddaughter to tend to the afternoon’s visitors, he set off through the forest.
On this occasion, he had no problem in finding the hut, making his way straight to it. Looking around the clearing, he saw the signs that a horse had been tethered beside the stream, and, thinking he might find hoof prints leading away from the hut to indicate which way they had gone, his hopes rose. Only to be dashed again, when he discovered that the ground all around looked exactly the same: the Brown Man must have walked backwards away from the clearing, scuffing up the prints with a length of branch. It was a device Josse had used more than once himself. This man, he reflected, was no fool.
The worry he had been trying to suppress rose up again. What would happen if Lord Benedict’s men caught up with the Brown Man when he had Meggie with him? Would they assume she was his accomplice and arrest her too, throwing her into a neighbouring but no less dreadful prison? Against his will, the terrible pictures formed.
And then, quite clearly, he thought he heard a voice: do not let your anxiety blind you to what you have just observed.
The man is no fool, he repeated to himself. Then, very faintly, he smiled.
Putting out of his mind the identity of that wise and very familiar voice, he crossed the glade and opened the door of the hut, fastened with Meggie’s usual intricate knot. Inside, all was as neat and tidy as she usually left it. There were a few gaps on her shelves where she stored her herbs, and he guessed she had taken some essential remedies with her. This departure had been done thoughtfully and carefully.
He went up the ladder and studied the sleeping platform. Meggie had been born up there; he and Joanna had made love there several times.
‘Look after her,’ he said aloud to Joanna. ‘As, I hope, you’ve been looking after Ninian. She’s going to find him.’
It was probably only his imagination, or the wind softly blowing through the bare branches outside, but he could have sworn that same voice said, I know.
He fetched Alfred and rode on home. He needed to speak to his household and inform them where, and for what purpose, Meggie had gone. As he rode, he felt again the stab of fear concerning Lord Benedict’s men and was very tempted to hurry on and try to catch up with Meggie and her companion. But very soon he realized there was little point. He might strike lucky and make his way to the port from which they were indeed planning to embark, although it would be a miracle if he did. If he failed, how long was he planning to go on, riding from town to town, asking about a young woman and a man dressed in brown with chestnut-coloured skin? No; it was useless.
Reluctantly, he turned Alfred’s head for home.
Nearing the House in the Woods, it occurred to him to wonder how Meggie was all at once so sure she knew how to find Ninian, and what it had to do with whatever the Brown Man had said. Knowing Meggie, it was quite possible she had been trying some sort of spiritual link with Ninian, and that, through some mysterious mind-meeting process that Josse couldn’t even begin to imagine, she believed she had an idea of his present whereabouts. Oh, dear God, did that mean she too was about to hare off for the Languedoc and plunge right into a war? But no; he arrested the thought. Like the whole family, she had known full well where Ninian was ever since Gervase had told Josse, and had showed no inclination until now to go and look for him.
Logic suggested to Josse that somehow – and probably via the mysterious stranger – Meggie had learned something else; she had heard, or surmised, or intuited, that there was a way to get to Ninian and bring him back.
And, he realized in a flash, how much more urgently he was needed here, now it was known that his beloved Little Helewise was carrying Ninian’s child. Meggie, of course, knew; Josse could think of nothing more certain than that to persuade her that any risk was worth taking if it brought Ninian back.
He was almost home. Suddenly, he remembered the day that Gervase had visited, when, unknown to Josse, he had already received word from his mother far away in the south, concerning the precious Cathar manuscript. That message had reached Gervase, although Josse had no idea how. It had somehow been passed from person to person, whispered from mouth to mouth, all the long miles from the Mediterranean coast to the Kentish Weald.
If a message could travel from south to north, could word similarly be sent the other way?
Wondering why he had not already thought to ask, Josse kicked Alfred to a canter for the last half mile. Tomorrow, he resolved firmly, he would ride down to Tonbridge and put the question to the sheriff.
THIRTEEN
The sturdy horse called Auban had an extremely comfortable gait, something between an amble and a trot. To Meggie, sitting securely behind Jehan as they covered the miles down to the coast, it was as if she’d been perched there half her life.
She felt as if she was in a dream. So much had happened in such a short space of time, and her own actions still amazed her. Had anyone asked her if she’d be willing to give up everything she knew and leave the country of her birth in the company of a total stranger, she’d have given them short shrift. I cannot possibly leave my work and my responsibilities, she’d have said; or, my father loves me deeply, and he is already bearing the loss of one child. Or even, my mother is gone, and I need to stay close to the places she frequented in order to keep her spirit with me.
Yet when she had come across Jehan Leferronier sitting so calmly in her hut, and he had told her he was about to leave and where he was bound, she knew as if it had been planned out for her that she would go with him. She was still not ready to think about that; about why it was she did not even pause to question whether he was a threat to her or whether he would keep her safe.
She already knew.
The one thought hammering through her mind as she’d raced back to the cell beside St Edmund’s Chapel to stuff her few belongings into her bag and gather up her heavy cloak had been: oh, please, please, make him wait for me! Let him still be there when I get back!
He had, and he was. The reddish-chestnut horse stood ready, bridled and with a simple saddle on his broad back, attached to which were two worn leather saddlebags. Jehan, it appeared, travelled light. The man himself was busy with the knot that fastened the door. Not turning round – he had known
without looking the very moment she stepped into the glade – he’d said, ‘I believe I now can do it precisely as you do.’
Approaching, she had checked. He could.
They had set out straight away, and by the time dawn had begun to light the sky in the east, they were already out on the south side of the great forest and in the valleys and small, wooded ridges between the Weald and the South Downs. Now it was mid-morning, and, as the big horse trod carefully along a narrow little track that wound and twisted along the high ground behind a small village, Meggie wondered what was happening back at home.
It had been quite easy to persuade Little Helewise not to come with her, desperate as the girl was for news of Ninian. With the pregnant woman’s instinct to protect her child, she had readily accepted that the journey Meggie was about to undertake was too risky for her and her baby girl. That, Meggie reflected, was her one regret: she had let it slip that Little Helewise was carrying a girl.
My one regret? she thought now. What about making my father suffer agonies of anxiety and pain because I’ve ridden off without saying goodbye?
She wasn’t going to turn back; she couldn’t. She could only appeal to the kindly spirits, imploring them to soothe Josse’s sore heart and tell him she would be all right.
As the sun reached the zenith, Jehan turned his head and said over his shoulder, ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Yes,’ she said instantly. She was surprised he hadn’t heard her empty stomach grumbling. Perhaps he had.
‘We are sufficiently distant from any house or road to make a small camp,’ he said, looking around, ‘provided we keep well hidden.’ He pointed to a steep bank to the right of the path, behind which was a patch of woodland, the mixed deciduous and evergreen trees growing close together. He slipped off Auban’s back. ‘Wait while I look?’
It was a question, not an order, and she nodded her agreement. Auban shifted his large, feathered feet as Jehan dismounted, and, moving forward into the saddle, Meggie took up the reins and spoke some quiet words. The horse flicked his ears, and she sensed his interest. She patted his neck, urging him forward a few paces and then back again. He responded readily, and she felt she was making a friend.
Jehan’s head and shoulders appeared above the bank. ‘It is a good place,’ he pronounced. ‘Will you bring Auban? The bank is lower along there—’ he indicated – ‘and I think you will be able to enter the woods.’
He was testing her, she thought. Seeing if she was ready to ride the big horse and guide him in what was quite a difficult manoeuvre. ‘Yes,’ she said.
Auban moved easily beneath her, negotiating the gap in the bank and then picking his way back to where Jehan waited. The dark man smiled. ‘I thought you might get off and lead him,’ he said. ‘But you rode.’
Slipping down now, she put her face close to Auban’s and breathed gently against his nose. ‘I like him,’ she said.
‘He, I think, likes you too. Now—’ he was already reaching for one of the saddlebags – ‘food for Auban, and food for us.’
She was collecting hearth stones, kindling and firewood. ‘And I will prepare a hot infusion to refresh us.’
Sometime later, with welcome food in their bellies, they sat finishing Meggie’s brew. She had included some herbs to stimulate, for there were still many hours of daylight and they would no doubt ride on as long as they could. She wondered which port they were making for.
He was watching her, his dark eyes thoughtful. Meeting them, she said, ‘We’ll have to break out of cover at some point, won’t we?’
He frowned slightly. ‘Cover?’
‘I’ve noticed that so far you’ve been very careful to keep to the most remote places and the little-used tracks.’ He began to speak, but she stopped him. ‘Not that I’m complaining – with Lord Benedict and his men after you, it makes very good sense not to leave a trail, nor to allow us to be seen by people in hamlets and villages who might remember and report having noticed us when asked.’
‘Very good sense,’ he echoed. ‘Oui.’
‘But, although I don’t know the land around here very well,’ she went on, ‘I do know that there are open stretches where it’ll be hard to hide. The great forest ends to the north of us, and, from what I’ve seen, it looks as if the patches of woodland are starting to thin out.’
He did not answer for a while. She guessed he was thinking about what she had said. ‘When I came to England,’ he said eventually, ‘the ship on which I sailed arrived at a port to the south-west of here, on the eastern side of the great inlet that cuts into the south coast.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘It was a small ship, and the winter winds blew hard, so we were very glad to reach dry land. The port was big and bustling, with many ships sailing in and out, and many people to see who passed through.’
‘Yes, but I don’t think we need worry about Lord Benedict’s men finding us so far away,’ she began, ‘because they won’t know—’
‘We should look for a much smaller place from which to set sail,’ he went on, as if he hadn’t heard. ‘I propose that we carry on along this ridge – which bends southwards as it goes west – and, when we emerge into open country, make for the coast with all speed.’
It made sense, she supposed. Having been so careful up to now, it probably was better to seek an out-of-the-way place to look for a ship. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘It is wise, after all, not to assume that danger is behind us.’
He looked at her gravely. ‘Danger is all around,’ he said. ‘We must be watchful.’
They packed up, and Meggie cut turves to cover the mark of their little fire, tossing the stones back into the undergrowth. Jehan led Auban down on to the track, and soon Meggie was once more mounted behind him.
They rode on for some miles, with an ever-thinning line of woodland on their right and open downland to the left. Something was niggling at Meggie; something he had said. She worried at it, and presently it came to her. ‘Jehan?’
‘Oui?’
‘You said you crossed to England in the winter?’
‘Oui.’
‘Not – not this winter, just passed?’ He couldn’t have meant that, could he?
A shiver went through her.
He had done those dark deeds out of revenge, because all his victims had been cruel, violent bullies who had preyed on the weak. If he had only been in England a matter of weeks – at most, a couple of months, she reasoned, if he’d arrived as early as December – then how had he known? How had he identified so quickly the men he had killed and punished?
From Jehan, there came no answer. After a moment, he reached an arm behind him and his warm hand clasped her knee. ‘Meggie,’ he said, ‘I am not the man you believe me to be.’
Whatever he had been about to tell her – and she barely dared think what it could be – he did not utter the words. Because just then there was a sound from within the line of trees that ran along perhaps a hundred paces away to their right; it sounded like a large animal, suddenly moving where it had been still. There was a muttered curse, and then a cry, and four horsemen burst out of the trees.
Jehan yelled, ‘Hold on!’ and then they were flying, Auban’s big feet pounding on the turf, racing over the ground with a speed she could never have imagined. She risked a quick look behind.
The horsemen were on the track behind them.
They seemed to be gaining on them.
In a small house standing alone on the lip of a valley beneath the great forest, Tiphaine was hard at work. In the house were two women. Neither of them, for very different reasons, was capable of doing much for herself. The older woman was lost in a world of her own; a world which, to judge by her perpetual tears and frequent outbursts of bewildered grief, was not a happy one. The younger woman had lost a lot of blood and was barely strong enough to sit up.
On arrival, Tiphaine had briefly surveyed the interior of the house, frowned, then rolled up her sleeves and set to work. She had lit a fire, built it up to a good, cheering blaze, and pu
t pot after pot of water on to boil. Most of the room needed to be cleaned, but, before that, what was most urgently required was a heartening infusion. Tiphaine mixed valerian, chamomile and linden flowers, and, as the sweet smell of the dried linden blossoms permeated the room, she sensed a very slight lifting of the prevailing mood. When both mother and daughter had finished their drinks, Tiphaine made a further medicine for Melania, now including herbs to slow the blood flow.
Soon there was no sound from either woman except for steady, soft breathing; both slept. Tiphaine nodded in silent satisfaction. She had made the sedative deliberately powerful, knowing that what her patients needed more than anything else was sleep.
Presently, she realized that she was going to run out of fuel for the fire. The trauma that had hit this household in January had thrown the inhabitants far out of the usual pattern of their lives, and such tasks as collecting firewood and swabbing the floor had been largely ignored. Casting a quick eye on her patients – both were still fast asleep – Tiphaine went outside and strode off into the forest.
When she returned a little later, she was carrying enough fuel to last until dusk. Nevertheless, she was smiling, for her mission had not been solely to collect wood. The other, more important part of it had been accomplished, and Tiphaine was satisfied. All she could do now was wait.
Tiphaine had found some vegetables, some grain and a hard rind of bacon, and, with the addition of some fragrant culinary herbs, she had made a big pot of stew. There was much more than was necessary for the appetites of three women, two of them invalids. Tiphaine, however, fully expected that more than the three of them would eat that evening.
Melania was first to wake. Tiphaine examined her, gave her the good news that she was now barely bleeding and reassured her that, with enough to eat and drink, plenty of rest and the relief of knowing she could now put her dreadful experience behind her, she should soon recover her health.
