Ashes of the Elements (29 page)

The merchant guffawed. ‘He only flees off out of England dressed as a woman!’ he said. ‘Him that hates the whole female sex! He’s a tiddly little fellow, and they say he made a fine woman, all done up in a green gown!’

Josse found himself joining in the laughter. He had met William Longchamp, briefly, and could imagine him dressed in woman’s clothes. Almost.

The merchant’s mirth was growing. Chuckling again, he said, ‘Just let me tell you what happened next, friend, then I’ll give you a chance to do a bit of the talking.’

‘I doubt if I could match you,’ Josse remarked, but the merchant didn’t seem to hear.

‘He gets to Dover, our Lady Longchamp, see, and starts looking round sharpish for a ship to take him across to France,’ the merchant said, interrupting himself with renewed laughter. ‘He’s standing there on the quay, looking this way and that, and up comes a sailor fresh from a long voyage, desperate for a woman to warm his bed, and the sailor puts his arm round Longchamp and says, good day, my pretty, fancy a bit of fun?’

‘Ha!’ Josse could picture it. ‘And did he? Fancy some fun?’

With a feigned frown, the merchant said, ‘I’m quite sure he didn’t. Not that sort of man, for all his unpleasant ways.’ Then, reaching once more for his flask, he gave Josse an encouraging look and said, ‘Now, sir, it’s your turn. Tell me what news you have of France.’

*   *   *

Josse’s homecoming to New Winnowlands was cause for celebration. Will and Ella, who had been expecting him for weeks, had taken a lot of trouble to make his welcome a thorough one, and, since Will had made sure that even the meanest household on the estate knew what a good master they had, Josse found himself hailed and cheerily greeted by everyone he met.

Sitting in his own hall, feet on a footstool in front of a huge blazing fire, a jug of Ella’s excellent mead to hand, Josse decided it was great to be home.

*   *   *

He went to pay a courtesy call on the community at Hawkenlye a fortnight before Christmas.

Sister Martha came out to take his horse, Brother Michael looked up from his sweeping to pass the time of day, Brother Saul, spotting Josse from some way off and actually running over to him, wrung his hand with pleasure.

It was, Josse thought happily as he went across the cloister to the Abbess’s room, as if he had never been away.

The Abbess, too, greeted him warmly. She asked him what he had been doing since the summer, and listened to his accounts of his family in Acquin and of his homecoming to New Winnowlands. He, in turn, asked after the Hawkenlye community, and she assured him that everything went well.

He said, after a small silence, ‘Is Esyllt still here?’

The Abbess smiled. ‘She is. I wondered when you would ask.’

‘May I see her?’

‘Of course. You know where to find her.’

*   *   *

As he approached the door of the retirement house, he heard Esyllt singing.

Ah, he thought. Then she is better.

He let himself in, quickly closing the door after him; there was a vicious easterly wind. He could see Sister Emanuel at the far end of the large room, bending over a patient who was inhaling the steam from some hot potion in a broad, shallow bowl. Esyllt was folding clean sheets.

She looked up and saw him.

A slow smile spread over her face as, putting down her laundry, she came to greet him.

‘I promised I’d come,’ he said softly.

‘You did,’ she agreed. ‘I knew you would, one day.’

Taking his hand, she led him right round the room, introducing him to her old people, stopping for a chat with those of her patients who were alert enough to want to talk to a stranger, passing by those who didn’t with a brief nod. One sweet-faced old nun, whose bright blue eyes gave the impression of missing absolutely nothing, took hold of Esyllt’s hand, squeezed it and said to Josse, as her loving glance bathed Esyllt, ‘She’s our delight, this lassie. She has a touch as gentle as a mother’s. Is it any wonder we love her?’

Esyllt, with a becoming blush, bent and dropped a kiss on the yellowing, deeply wrinkled flesh of the old woman’s cheek and muttered something that sounded like, ‘Pish!’

When Josse and Esyllt had completed the circuit, they went to stand just inside the door.

‘You decided to stay, then,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘A good decision, Esyllt,’ he murmured.

‘For now,’ she replied swiftly.

‘Only for now?’

She raised her face, and he looked into her bright eyes. For an instant, he felt he knew exactly what she was thinking: she was young, she had won and lost one love, but there was a world of lovers out there. Was it the only future for her, to stay shut away with her old dears, no matter how much she might care about them?

Aye, he thought sadly, aye.

But neither she nor he spoke of what must have been in both their minds. Instead, after a pause, she merely echoed his and her own words: ‘Only for now.’

*   *   *

He went back to sit with the Abbess, who had promised him a jug of mulled wine. As he knocked on the door and entered her room, he caught the aroma of spices.

‘That smells delicious,’ he said, sitting down.

‘It
is
delicious,’ the Abbess replied. She filled a pewter goblet, handed it to him, then, raising her own, said, ‘Welcome back.’

‘Thank you.’ He sipped at the wine. Wonderful! Then: ‘Young Esyllt will not, I fear, remain an old people’s nurse for ever.’

‘No, indeed,’ the Abbess agreed calmly. ‘She will marry, raise a large family, and then, God willing, remember her skills and return to the work she does so well.’

‘You think so?’

She smiled. ‘I pray so. Such a woman as she will always be needed.’

‘Hm.’ He paused, drank again, then said, ‘And Sister Caliste? What about her?’

‘Ah, Sister Caliste! Yes. For all that she is one of the youngest nuns ever to embark on her first final vows here with us, it was right, I think, to have admitted her as one of the fully professed. She is so happy, Sir Josse!’

‘I am glad,’ he said simply. One thought led to another, and he asked, ‘Did anything further happen, following that business in the summer? Seth Miller was released, I presume?’

‘Indeed.’ She frowned briefly. ‘No great cause for celebration, but I do hear tell that his near-miss with the hangman has had the effect of making him mend his ways.’ She sighed. ‘One can only pray that the improvement will be permanent, but I have my doubts.’

‘Have faith, Abbess,’ he said, in mock admonishment.

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘I do, Sir Josse. But I also have experience.’

‘Ah, yes.’ He inclined his head. Then, returning to his original question, said, ‘No further arrests were made, I take it, in connection with the two deaths?’

‘Three deaths,’ she corrected him.

‘Aye, three.’ He had temporarily forgotten about Tobias, and about poor Petronilla in her new widowhood.

‘No, no more arrests. Sheriff Pelham was content to conclude that the Forest People murdered Hamm Robinson, and Esyllt told him that Tobias killed Ewen Asher. Since the former are probably hundreds of miles away by now and the latter is even further from the Sheriff’s reach, there is, I suppose, little else he can do.’

‘Just as well,’ Josse murmured. A sudden image entered his mind, of a handsome young man, falcon on his wrist, riding out of the forest on a sunny summer’s morning. Tobias, he reflected, had given not the slightest sign that he was anything other than he claimed to be, a carefree fellow enjoying a morning’s hawking.

Whereas, but a few hours before, he had made love to his woman and stuck a dagger into the poor wretch who happened to disturb him.

A thought struck him. ‘Of course!’ he muttered.

‘Sir Josse?’

‘I was just thinking about Tobias, that morning I met him after we had discovered Ewen Asher’s body.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Aye. I’d always wondered what he was doing there, and I concluded that he was putting up a smoke screen. That, by being right there, so close to the murder scene, he was trying to persuade us that he’d had absolutely nothing to do with it.’

‘Quite a good idea,’ commented the Abbess. ‘Considering that it worked.’

‘Aye.’ He ignored her mild irony. ‘But, Abbess, that wasn’t the reason!’

‘No?’

‘No! Remember how Esyllt was dressed? Or, rather, not dressed? Mother-naked, from the waist down.’

‘I remember.’

He read in her slightly cool tone a faint reproof: must we speak of such things?

But he had his reasons. ‘Abbess, did you not wonder what had become of Esyllt’s undergarments? He—’

‘Tobias went back to fetch them!’ she finished for him, her voice excited, all coolness vanished. ‘Yes. Of course. How very incriminating, to find a woman’s clothing so close to poor Ewen’s body! And, once the connections had been made – the clothes belonged to Esyllt, and Tobias was her lover – then the trail would have led straight to him.’

‘Aye, aye,’ Josse said thoughtfully. Glancing at the Abbess, he said tentatively, ‘I can’t help thinking, Abbess, that maybe it’s for the best that events turned out as they did.’

She returned his gaze for a long moment. Then she said, ‘Neither can I.’

‘Hm. But I sometimes ache to tell someone what we saw, out there in the glade. Purely, I suppose, because I know I can’t.’

‘Do you, indeed?’ She looked amused. ‘I don’t.’ She paused. ‘But then,’ she went on softly, ‘I’ve already told someone.’

‘You have?’ Oh, dear God, he thought, has she really? Must the space between my shoulder blades itch for ever more in anticipation of a well-thrown flint-headed spear finding its mark?

‘Don’t look so worried, Sir Josse,’ she said, smiling. ‘I told a friend, an ever-present and steadfast friend, who loves me as he loves us all, and will not betray my confidence.’

‘Ah. Oh, I see.’ Yes. Of course. She had told the Lord, and He, no doubt, already knew.

She was watching him. ‘You should try it,’ she suggested.

He met her eyes. ‘Perhaps I will.’

*   *   *

He did not stay late at Hawkenlye. Darkness would fall early, and he was eager to be by his own fireside.

The Abbess came out to see him on his way.

Putting a detaining hand on Horace’s rein, she said, ‘I never thanked you, Josse, for what you did. In the summer.’

‘I did little,’ he replied. ‘The solution to the killings was hardly my work.’

‘Perhaps not,’ she said. Unusually for her, she appeared slightly awkward. ‘What I was thanking you for, actually, was saving my life.’

She did remember.

Trying to ignore the warm glow of happiness that was rapidly spreading through him, he said, ‘You wouldn’t have died, Helewise. Not one as strong as you.’

She shrugged. ‘Who can say?’

Then she let go of the rein and turned to go.

He called after her, ‘You know where I am, should you need me.’

But her only answer was a wave of her hand.

ALSO BY
ALYS CLARE

Fortune Like the Moon

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ASHES OF THE ELEMENTS
. Copyright © 2000 by Alys Clare. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

ISBN 0-312-26124-1

First published in Great Britain by Hodder and Stoughton, a division of Hodder Headline

First U.S. Edition: April 2001

eISBN 9781466845718

First eBook edition: April 2013