The Enchanter's Forest (11 page)

     ‘The rest,’ she said slowly, ‘is that Florian is making twenty shillings a day or more out of pilgrims visiting a shrine that is nothing but pretence. If, that is,’ she added, ‘these bones are not those of Merlin.’

     ‘Aye,’ he said heavily. ‘Aye, that’s the crux of the matter.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘My lady, every instinct tells me that they are not and yet . . .’ He shrugged. Then he said, ‘But I cannot deny there is a force to the place or the bones, or perhaps both, although whether it’s what Florian claims it to be or something else entirely, well, I just don’t know.’

     ‘Ah.’ What had the Domina said?
There is a force in that place that has been desecrated with which it is folly to meddle
. Oh, dear God, and now here was Josse talking about some frightful force whose origin he did not even try to guess!

     But he was waiting and she must collect herself and speak.

     ‘Sir Josse,’ she began tentatively, ‘I have spoken to the Domina.’

     ‘My lady, forgive me!’ he cried. ‘I have been so busy expounding on my own actions this day that I have omitted to ask you about yours! Please, tell me what happened in the forest!’

     She looked up into his trusting, anxious face and her guilt waxed hot. But there was nothing for it but to report what had been decided. ‘After some discussion,’ she said baldly, ‘we reasoned that the surest way to disprove Florian’s claim is to provide proof that Merlin lies buried elsewhere. The Domina’s people have some idea that he has a shrine or a tomb or some such thing beside a fountain deep in a forest far away, and we—’

     ‘I’ll go there,’ he said instantly. ‘Tell me where it is and I’ll find it and bring back word of it.’

     ‘That was what we had in mind,’ she acknowledged. ‘We thought that proof of the location of the true Merlin’s Tomb, plus the revelation of just how much money Florian is making out of the false one, would convince the people that they are being tricked.’

     ‘Aye, you’re right!’ Josse exclaimed. ‘I’ll set out as soon as I can, my lady. I’ll make a start with preparing my gear – I can get everything ready very quickly once I’ve decided what I’m going to need – and I’ll make sure Horace has a generous feed. The pair of us will get a good night’s sleep, and then—’

     ‘Sir Josse, there is something else,’ she said gently. She could not bear to hear him make his plans so enthusiastically when he did not know the whole picture. ‘The place of which I speak is far away,’ she hurried on, ‘in fact, in Brittany, which the forest people know as Armorica.’

     His face had gone stony. ‘Armorica,’ he repeated dully. She knew then that he had guessed what was coming.

     ‘You will need a guide who is familiar with the terrain and who will be able to intercede between you and the guardians of the tomb.’

     ‘The guardians are of the Domina’s people,’ he murmured.

     ‘Yes, indeed.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The Domina has proposed such a person and it’s Joanna.’

     And Josse, his expression a touching mixture of distress and joy, said, ‘I guessed as much.’

Chapter 5

The knowledge that Joanna was to escort him to Brittany initially caused Josse pleasure and pain in almost equal measure. The prospect of having her company – and that of his daughter as well? Oh, but surely she would bring Meggie with her, wouldn’t she? – for however long the journey might take was nothing other than wonderful. But then, what would happen when they got back to Hawkenlye? How would he, having become accustomed to living with her, be able to live without her again?

     He went to his bed that night with the dread of that destiny filling his head. But in the morning his pragmatic nature had reasserted itself: he
had
to make the trip, and with Joanna; he had no choice, for the mission was fundamental to the future of Hawkenlye Abbey and he could not let the Abbess down. Therefore he would go with a happy heart, extract what joy he could from being with Joanna and Meggie and let the future take care of itself.

     He washed and dressed – some kindly soul had addressed him or herself to the problem of his sweaty chemise and dusty tunic, for both had been laundered and were now fresh and smelling faintly of lavender, and his boots had been polished to a high shine – and presented himself before the Abbess. Without preamble he told her that departure would have to be delayed until later that day at the earliest, more likely early the following morning, since he first wished to visit the sheriff of Tonbridge.

     ‘I think I can guess why you wish to see Gervase de Gifford,’ the Abbess said.

     ‘Aye, no doubt you can,’ he replied. ‘I believe we should alert him to our suspicions regarding Florian and the tomb in the forest. If we are wrong – which I admit I doubt – then Gervase can dismiss the warning as if it had never been uttered. But if we’re right, then the sooner he knows about all this, the better.’

     The Abbess was nodding. ‘Yes, Sir Josse, I agree that it is a wise precaution to speak to Gervase. I – er, I had not in truth envisioned that you would be leaving today; I am not sure that the Domina will as yet have—’

     ‘She won’t yet have given Joanna her orders?’ He felt his face twist in a grimace that seemed to turn all by itself into a grin. ‘Oh, my lady, I expect she’ll be doing that right now. And Joanna travels light: if I can be ready in not much more than an hour, then so can she.’

     Not entirely pleased with the Abbess just then – although he had not dared to get to the bottom of exactly why that was – he gave her a polite bow, turned and left the room.

He found the house of Gervase de Gifford in a state of confusion. Two horses stood in the shade out in the courtyard and a young groom was walking one of them slowly to and fro; returning Josse’s greeting, he said, ‘She showed up lame yesterday and s’morning she’s just had a new shoe. I’ve to ensure she’s all right now ’cos some day soon she may have a long journey in front of her.’

     Josse was on the point of asking where Gervase was going – and who, indeed, was going with him – but stopped. It was none of the groom’s business and Josse would do much better asking Gervase. ‘Your master is within?’

     ‘Aye,’ the lad confirmed. ‘Go on in, sir.’

     Josse tethered Horace and ran up the steps to the door. He heard voices: an old man, a young woman and Gervase. Pausing, he identified the first two: Sabin de Retz and her elderly grandfather.

     They were Bretons from the town of Nantes and they had fled to England in February of the previous year when their lives were in danger. Gervase had taken them under his protection and he and Sabin had promptly fallen in love. For the past fourteen months or so, Sabin had been trying to make up her mind whether to return to Nantes or remain in Tonbridge. She was an apothecary, taught by her grandfather; he had brought her up after the deaths of her parents. He was now all but blind and his unwillingness to face the long journey back to Nantes was one of the factors affecting Sabin’s decision. She had steadily built up a clientele in and around the town and her fame was spreading; there was a living for her and old Benoît in Tonbridge and it was hers for the taking.

     But the pair of them had also had a fine and rewarding life back in Nantes, where they had been the confidential servants of an important figure. Josse, aware of the bare bones of Sabin’s dilemma, had sympathised with the young woman: hers was not an easy choice.

     He went on into Gervase’s hall. The argument stopped and Gervase and Sabin hailed him; Benoît’s quavery tones demanded, ‘Who’s that?’

     ‘It’s Josse.’ Josse went up to him, bending down so that the old man, seated on a bench by the fireplace, could peer into his face.

     ‘Josse,’ Benoît said on a sigh. ‘Josse, they’re going off and leaving me all on my own! They’ll be away so long – why, I might very well be dead by the time they return!
If
they return,’ he added dismally.

     ‘Grandfather,
of course
we shall return!’ Exasperation was apparent in Sabin’s voice as she swept across to kneel at the old man’s feet and take hold of his hands. ‘And as for leaving you on your own, you know that isn’t true. Gervase’s servants have been given detailed orders on how you are to be looked after.’

     ‘It won’t be the same. Won’t be like having my own kin at my side,’ the old man moaned.

     ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Sabin said. ‘But I have to go – you know that as well as I do, Grandfather. We sent word to the Duchess explaining our absence, and I’m sure she has realised by now that we’re not going back. But, for the trust that she placed in us in the past and for the affection that grew between us, I cannot rest until I have seen her and explained myself to her face to face.’ Abruptly she dropped Benoît’s hands, throwing herself away from him. ‘Oh,
try
to understand!’

     Gervase, eyeing Josse, gave a faint apologetic shrug. Then, turning to Benoît, he said firmly, ‘You understand very well, I think, Benoît.’ The old man had the grace to look ashamed. ‘It is only natural that you do not like the prospect of Sabin’s absence but, knowing what this trip means to her, you will surely give her your blessing.’ It sounded more like a command than a question and Josse hid an admiring smile; Gervase appeared to have the measure of the old man.

     ‘I don’t know about blessing,’ Benoît muttered, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes and peering up in Gervase’s general direction.

     Gervase moved closer, adopting Sabin’s former position at the old man’s feet. ‘She has made up her mind at last in the matter of a decision that has been extremely hard,’ he said gently. ‘Your welfare has been a major factor in her consideration and she was willing to give up what she herself wanted if you did not wish it.’

     ‘I don’t want to go back to Nantes!’ Benoît wailed. ‘I’m too old for such a journey and it would be the finish of me!’

     ‘Which,’ Gervase said – and Josse could almost hear the gritting of teeth – ‘is precisely why you’re going to stay here. Sabin will be back with you again very soon, but first you
must
let her do what she has to do. She will not rest easy until she has spoken to the Duchess.’

     Benoît gazed into Gervase’s eyes. ‘You’ll take good care of her?’ he whispered.

     Gervase smiled. ‘You know that I will. I give you my word to protect her with my life.’

     ‘Hm.’ The old man turned his head to where he thought Sabin stood. ‘Sabin?’

     ‘Here, Grandfather.’ She hurried to his side.

     Benoît gave a dramatic sigh and, placing a hand on each of the two heads before him, one brown, one fair, he said, ‘Go, then, and may the good Lord above keep you in his care. Do what you must, Granddaughter, and then return to me.’

     There was a short silence, and then Sabin murmured, ‘Thank you, Grandfather.’

     The old man dropped his hands back into his lap and Gervase and Sabin stood up. Then Benoît got to his feet with a groan – Josse noticed how both the two young people instantly went to help him – and said, ‘Now, all this has tired me. I shall retire to my bed and take a nap.’ He shrugged off the helping hands and shuffled off towards the doorway at the rear of the hall. Reaching it, he turned.

     ‘Oh, Sabin?’

     ‘Yes, Grandfather?’

     ‘You say you intend to fetch back from Nantes as many of the tools of our trade as you can carry. Well, while you’re at it, bring the smaller of my two herbals, will you? I would dearly like to look at it again before my sight fails entirely.’

     And with that remark, punctuated by a couple more sighs, he went through the doorway and out of sight.

     Josse heard a quiet sob; Gervase heard it too and went to Sabin, taking her in his arms and whispering words of comfort. After a few moments she wiped her eyes and, giving Josse a smile, said, ‘I apologise for my tears. Grandfather has the ability to make me feel so very sorry for him and, although I know full well he knows exactly what he’s doing, still it affects me.’

     ‘I understand,’ Josse said. ‘It’s hard to ignore the appeal of blood kin and to do so would take a sterner heart than yours, Sabin.’ He returned her smile with genuine affection; he had developed a high regard for her. Then: ‘So you’ve made up your mind?’

     Now her smile was radiant. ‘Yes. I shall return to Nantes to see the Duchess and collect what Grandfather and I require of our possessions there. I have work enough and more here in Tonbridge to keep myself occupied and, there being still a great deal that Grandfather may teach me of our craft, he too will have a useful and fulfilling life.’ She shot a glance at Gervase and her face flushed pink. ‘There is one more thing to tell you. Gervase and I are to be married.’