The Joys of My Life

by Alys Clare

  ‘Go and find the boy. Yes, Sir Josse, I know. You fear that . . . You believe de Loup will now hunt for him?’

  ‘I know it.’

  He turned to leave her but she called him back. ‘Oh, Sir Josse?’ She must have read the impatience in his expression for, with an apologetic smile, she said, ‘I won’t keep you long. Two things: first, I have given orders to my master mason that he may begin work on the chapel.’

  Despite his urgency, her momentous announcement stopped him dead. ‘Where is it to be?’

  It seemed to him that there was an instant of perfect stillness. Then, with a broad smile, she said, ‘On the forest fringe.’

  ‘That is the right place,’ he said.

  Her eyes were suddenly glistening with tears. ‘I know,’ she said softly.

  ‘The –’ he cleared his throat – ‘the other thing?’

  ‘Oh . . . Yes. I think young Ninian has been in my room again, for the statue is gone. No doubt you’ll find her returned to her tree. Would you bring her back, please? Until she has a secure and fitting place in the new chapel, I really think she is safer in my cupboard.’

  ‘I agree, my lady.’ He did not entirely understand Ninian’s insistence that the figure must be in the oak tree. If, indeed, it was the lad who kept putting her there. It was the only explanation although, Josse realized now, Ninian hadn’t actually admitted that he was responsible. ‘I’ll have a word with him,’ he said, deliberately turning his mind from that worrying thought. Then, as he hurried off, he looked back at her and said, ‘Good luck with your chapel.’

  He thought he heard her gentle protest – ‘It is not my chapel!’ – and, smiling, he headed out through the gates and off towards the forest.

  He had arranged to meet Ninian today, although the lad had not said when. As Josse hurried up the slope to the forest, he prayed silently that Ninian would be waiting for him. It was still early and the boy might not expect Josse to be there yet. He stopped to stand for a moment on the apron of flat ground projecting out from the trees where, soon now, a chapel would stand. Slowly he turned in a circle, envisaging the walls of the little building stretching and extending up into a roof that soared over his head. A plain altar, he thought, a beautiful cloth and a simple wooden cross. Aye, it ought to be simple, for although he had been a king, St Edmund was no cosseted weakling but a fighting man who had died leading his troops against the invading Danes. He would not have wanted luxury and pomp any more than King Richard. Well, both of them, saint and sinner, would have their wish.

  Sinner.

  Amid all his other concerns, Josse remembered his mission for Queen Eleanor. When he had found his answers, he would seek her out and tell her in person. Standing there on the site of the new chapel, silently he made a vow that he would not call this matter closed until he had summoned the courage to tell her to her face the truth about her son and the March night in the tower at World’s End.

  He crossed the space that would soon be the chapel’s nave and ducked down beneath the branches of the oak tree. Recalling his undertaking to the abbess, he looked up, fully expecting to see the statue back in her usual place.

  There was nothing there.

  He bit down the flare of panic. Ninian’s taken her to the house in the woods, he thought. Perhaps he sensed danger – he might even have seen de Loup lurking while he waited for the right moment to climb over the abbey wall and slip into the infirmary – and he’s hidden her somewhere more secure. Perhaps she’s safe with him at the house.

  Fighting the fear that scorched through him, Josse briefly put his hand on his sword hilt and then set off towards the forest house. He had not gone far when he saw Ninian coming towards him. The boy looked worried.

  ‘Josse, I did not expect to see you here yet,’ he greeted him. Relief was plain to see on the young face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Josse demanded, clutching the boy by the upper arms.

  ‘I saw a horseman on the track that runs close by the house,’ Ninian said in a rush. ‘I can’t swear to it but I believe it was Philippe de Loup. The horse was a beautiful long-maned grey, and he rides such a mount.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Very early – the sun wasn’t up. I was awake and I’d gone out to watch a stoat with her young. She’s worried because I’m living in the house and I’m too close to where she was bringing up her offspring. She moved her kits to a place under a hollow tree not far from the road that runs round the forest. I wanted to make sure they’re all right.’ Josse suppressed a smile; Ninian had inherited his mother’s love of wild creatures. ‘I heard a horse, hard-ridden, and crept close to the track to look.’ He was studying Josse’s face intently. ‘What’s wrong?’ His tone had changed and now he sounded deeply anxious.

  ‘Ninian, I have bad news. Sir Piers was found dead this morning.’

  Ninian’s face crumpled and Josse was sharply reminded that he was still little more than a boy. ‘But . . . Oh, Josse, I thought he was getting better.’ Then, in a cry of grief, ‘I thought I’d saved him!’

  ‘You did, lad! He did not die of his wounds. He was smothered.’

  ‘De Loup.’ Ninian’s voice was cold and biting.

  ‘Aye. So it seems.’

  ‘Who else would murder him?’ Ninian demanded, blue eyes alight, his grief spilling out as furious anger. ‘He was decent and good, and nobody but a wicked, evil-hearted devil like de Loup would wish to see him dead!’ He paused, panting, then said more quietly, ‘It’s because of what happened on Oléron, Josse. He wouldn’t join in and because what they were doing was so foul, he took the statue. He said they were not worthy of her.’

  ‘You mean the two of you had the figure with you all the way from the island?’

  Ninian smiled faintly. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I thought . . . Piers implied the knights had the statue then. He said they had considered putting her in a place of honour at Chartres, only the proposal was outvoted and de Loup was to commission a new carving instead.’

  ‘Did he? Well, don’t be offended, Josse – Sir Piers would not have told you a lie without very good reason.’ He paused briefly to think and said, ‘The figure is what’s important. Sir Piers would have been careful, I think, to remain vague about her. I do not entirely understand, but I was happy to obey Sir Piers because he was good and I liked him.’ Ninian lowered his head so that Josse could not see his face. ‘I’ve always done what he told me,’ he added quietly, ‘even when it meant telling lies.’

  Josse gave him a moment. Then he said gently, ‘Have you got her?’

  Ninian’s head shot up. ‘The statue?’ He had gone white. Filled with dread, Josse nodded, and in a horrified whisper Ninian breathed, ‘No.’

  No wonder de Loup was racing away as dawn came up, Josse thought. Not only had he just killed Piers, he had stolen the statue. He had achieved his business in England and now without a doubt he would be making for France.

  ‘Come on.’ He gave Ninian a shake. ‘Get your horse and your gear and meet me on the track by the forest house.’ Ninian met his glance and Josse saw his own excitement reflected in the bright blue eyes. ‘I’ll hurry back and fetch Horace and we’ll be on our way. We’re going after him.’

  As he sprinted back to Hawkenlye, Josse wondered if he had been right in saying he and Ninian together would go after de Loup. The boy’s young, he thought as he ran, and de Loup is dangerous. Just then in his mind’s eye he saw again those fierce blue eyes, so full of his determination to avenge the master he had served only briefly but come to like and admire; perhaps, even, to love. If any lad was in need of a father figure, then, God knew, it was Ninian.

  No, Josse concluded, panting as he trotted down the last slope to the abbey. I did right, for if I hadn’t suggested he and I go after our prey together, he’d have gone on his own and we’ll be safer hunting together.

  He collected his horse and his gear in record time, pressed as he was and desperate to get on to de Loup’s trail. He sought out
the abbess and stilled her protests with a raised hand. ‘I am sorry, my lady, but I have no choice.’ He knew there were many things she wished to say but, smiling his apology, he said, ‘I cannot take Meggie with me, for we shall ride hard and probably far and the mission is no place for a little child. Will you—?’

  She did not need to hear the rest. ‘Yes, of course. Meggie seems happy with us and we, for our part, love to have her here.’

  Josse struggled with the sudden pain that the thought of being parted from his daughter brought so swiftly in its wake. He tried to smile. ‘You all spoil her dreadfully.’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ the abbess agreed.

  He did not know what else to say. ‘Wish us luck,’ he muttered.

  And she, bless her, simply said, ‘I shall pray for you, Sir Josse. Both of you.’

  Then he was off.

  He and Ninian picked up the hoof prints of the fast-moving grey, which went for some distance along the track that bent round the forest. But then the path met other, busier roads. The combination of a sunny morning and a time of intense activity on the land meant that many people were about and they lost the grey’s trail in the hectic mix of cart tracks, horse, mule, ox and human footprints.

  ‘Which port did he sail into?’ Josse asked. They had drawn up at a place where the road divided, branching off due south or south-east.

  ‘Pevensey, I think,’ Ninian replied. ‘That’s where Sir Piers and I landed, and I believe he was hard on our trail.’

  ‘Then my guess is that he’ll go back.’ Josse spoke with a confidence he did not entirely feel. ‘He’s a stranger here and, although he’ll be aware there are many other ports, he’s in a hurry so he’ll probably do the easiest thing, which is return to the port he already knows.’

  Ninian grinned. ‘Good enough for me. Come on!’

  Side by side they kicked their horses to a canter and plunged off down the road that led south.

  They asked repeatedly after a well-dressed man on a white horse. One or two people said they had seen such a man and confirmed that he had been riding fast in the Pevensey direction. Eager now, Josse and Ninian urged their tired horses to a last effort. They pulled up on the quayside and, leaving Ninian to tend the horses, Josse hurried to speak to the captains of the variety of craft tied up there.

  Quite quickly he returned to Ninian. ‘He’s gone,’ he reported. ‘Sailed about two hours ago.’ Ninian muttered a curse. ‘But it’s not all bad,’ Josse added, ‘because we now know he’s landing at Dieppe, which I would say confirms that he’s making for—’

  ‘Chartres,’ Ninian supplied.

  ‘Aye. He’s murdered the man who was making the carving for the cathedral so he’s going to put the goddess figure there instead. Do you agree?’

  ‘He must not do so,’ Ninian said vehemently. ‘The Knights of Arcturus are bad men and any deed they do – especially de Loup – cannot help but be tainted. Besides,’ he added with utter confidence, ‘she belongs at Hawkenlye. She wants to be there by the oak tree.’

  It was not the moment, Josse thought, to go into why the boy was so sure; even less to ask him just how the figure had communicated her wish. Josse was not sure there was ever going to be a time to ask that.

  ‘. . . another ship sailing for Dieppe?’ Ninian was saying.

  ‘Hmm? Oh, aye – we can sail this afternoon. Small craft down there –’ he pointed – ‘will set us down in Dieppe late tonight.’ He saw Ninian’s very evident frustration at the delay and, with a brief touch on his arm, added, ‘The wind’s changing, lad. Hadn’t you noticed? It was blowing out of the south-west all morning but it’s gone round to the north. And since Dieppe is virtually due south, we’ll have it filling our sails all the way and we’ll make landfall not long after de Loup.’

  As Josse had predicted, the crossing was swift, the sea made choppy by the strengthening wind. Ninian checked frequently on the horses, slung in hammocks under their bellies that kept them level as the ship pitched. Josse was impressed with the boy; whoever had taught him the duties of a squire had done a good job. They made themselves comfortable in a sheltered place amidships, where the motion was less violent, and both of them dozed. Josse had procured food and drink before they sailed and they ate a generous supper before they landed. It would be a long night.

  They rode through the night, the north wind that had hastened their crossing at their backs hurrying them on. They stopped before dawn and found a sheltered place in a pine wood, where they slept for several hours. Ninian fed and watered the horses and then they set off again.

  They approached Chartres at twilight the following day. For the last few miles of the journey Josse’s senses seemed to have become almost painfully alert. He told himself that it was because they were closing in on Philippe de Loup and what was happening was simply a soldier’s reaction to the approaching fight, but he did not entirely convince himself. Chartres was where he had last seen Joanna. Other than in his dreams and his imagination, she had not returned to the Hawkenlye forest – it appeared that she might never do so – and that suggested that she was still here. He had no idea if she was alive or dead – silently, angrily, he cursed the Domina, who would not or could not explain – but the singing in his blood told him that, in whatever body or form she now inhabited, Joanna was close.

  He looked across at Ninian. The boy’s face was grey with exhaustion, although he had not uttered a word of complaint. His determination is strong, Josse thought; he has a precious object to rescue and a death to avenge. I would not, he added silently, wish to be in Philippe de Loup’s shoes.

  Did the lad know that his mother had been in Chartres? Josse thought back. Speaking of the forest hut, Ninian had said, she isn’t there any more. I’ve looked and looked and I can’t find her. He had also said he thought she was dead, but swiftly Josse turned his mind away from that. So the boy knew she wasn’t in the forest. It was, however, a long jump to assume he knew she had gone to Chartres. It was a difficult decision, and Josse wondered if he had any right to make it, but in the end he made up his mind. I shall not tell him, he told himself. The lad has enough to worry about in this pursuit of de Loup and what he carries. It would be unfair to burden him with the information that his mother may be close.

  Did she know? he wondered suddenly. She had been in the habit of watching her precious, lost son in her scrying ball, even though she had once told Josse ruefully that it gave her a sick, blinding headache that at first had left her fit for nothing for at least a day. So had she done that now? Had she sensed that Ninian was on his way to Chartres, and was she looking out for him? What a reunion it would be, for she had not seen him in the flesh for . . . Good Lord, it was seven years since she had asked Josse to help her find a place for her son and he had taken the boy to train as a page in Sir Walter Asham’s household.

  Without his volition, Josse’s mind wandered back to that time. He too was tired and it seemed that he entered a dreamlike, half-asleep state in which the present faded away, to be replaced by the vivid past. Joanna had conceived Meggie in that cold, hard February. Josse had not known it – he did not meet his child until she was well over a year old – but Joanna had taken up a place in his heart that, whether or not he would ever see her again, would be hers for ever.

  ‘Josse, we’re coming up to the city walls.’ Ninian’s voice broke into his reverie.

  With a disturbing mixture of regret and relief, Josse brought himself back to the present and turned his thoughts to finding somewhere out of the way where he and Ninian could stay.

  Fourteen

  In the morning, Josse set about enquiring after Philippe de Loup. Again, several men had heard the name and their faces registered varying levels of disapproval and disgust, but nobody had seen him recently.

  ‘He’s here for a secret purpose,’ Ninian said as he and Josse ate a hasty lunch, ‘so it’s not very likely he’ll be strolling around openly advertising his presence.’

  ‘You are quite convinced he’s
got the figure and intends to place her in the new cathedral?’ Josse asked through a mouthful of bread and dry spiced sausage.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ninian firmly.

  Josse chewed thoughtfully. Then he said, ’Well, he won’t do it in broad daylight. We’d better rest now, lad, so that we’ll be fresh for later.’

  Ninian watched him. ‘What are we going to do?’ The excitement in his face suggested that he already knew.

  Josse wiped his eating knife and stuck it back in its sheath. ‘We’re going to find a nice little hiding place behind one of those huge pillars and keep watch.’

  He heard Ninian’s quiet exclamation. Then the boy said softly, ‘Yes!’

  They had found a place to stay in a humble establishment in an area of lodgings huddled out by the town walls. Josse had selected it because it was unobtrusive; he did not want word of his presence reaching de Loup’s ears. To pass the remaining hours of daylight, they returned to their lodgings and Ninian, restless with pent-up energy, set about giving the horses and their gear a thorough refurbishment. Josse found a shady place in the small courtyard and, leaning back comfortably against a hay bale, watched Ninian work until his eyes became heavy and he went to sleep.

  They found a tavern and ate supper, then, both wearing dark cloaks, made their careful way to the cathedral. As he had done before, Josse ducked into the shadows and studied the movements of the night watchmen – three of them tonight – until he had recognized a pattern. Then he whispered in Ninian’s ear, ‘Next time the one with the cudgel passes, we slip out behind him and go in there.’ He pointed to the wide space between two buttresses. Ninian nodded. His tension was palpable.

  They waited for what seemed like a very long time, but the watchman did not reappear. Neither did either of his colleagues; with a shiver of alarm, Josse wondered why. Had they decided it was a quiet night and, seeing no necessity to maintain their patrolling, retired to huddle around their brazier? Or was it something else . . . ?