The Enchanter's Forest (12 page)

     Josse held out both hands and Gervase took one, Sabin the other. ‘I am not in the least surprised but I confess myself quite delighted,’ he said warmly. ‘You will be an asset, dear Sabin, to both town and husband.’

     She laughed, leaning forward to kiss him on both cheeks. He noticed, as he had done when first he met her, the faint and attractive smell that he guessed to be a melange of the herbs that she worked with. It was, he thought absently, the trademark of the apothecary  . . .

     ‘. . . just finished briefing my men and Sabin and I are off to Brittany as soon as we can,’ Gervase was saying.

   
‘What?’
Despite having listened to the discussion of this trip that had just been batted to and fro, Josse had not made the connection. ‘But – I am bound for Brittany too! I am aiming to leave at first light tomorrow.’

     Gervase and Sabin looked at each other, and then back at Josse. ‘Why?’ Gervase demanded. Quickly Josse told him about the problem of Merlin’s Tomb, adding that the reason for his present visit to Gervase had been to inform him that, in Josse’s opinion, the whole operation was almost certainly fraudulent. He explained that the decision had been made for him to be shown the real tomb of Merlin, over in Brittany, and that this was why he was being sent there. ‘So you go on a mission for Hawkenlye Abbey,’ Gervase mused, ‘where the monks and the nuns and the good Abbess must for sure be missing their usual pilgrims?’

     ‘In part, aye, but it is also to prevent a great many people paying out hard-earned money to a trickster,’ Josse returned promptly.

     Gervase bowed his acknowledgement. ‘Of course.’ Then: ‘Do you agree to our riding together, Josse? I have given my word to Benoît that I will take good care of Sabin’ – he gave her a loving look – ‘but how much safer she will be with you also at her side.’

     ‘I agree right readily,’ Josse said, ‘I plan to leave tomorrow: can you be prepared to depart by then?’

     Gervase looked at Sabin. Shooting a swift glance at the doorway through which her grandfather had gone and biting her lip, she said, ‘Yes. Of course.’ Then, taking a breath so deep that it raised her tense shoulders, ‘The sooner we leave, the sooner we shall return.’

     ‘I must inform you,’ Josse said, ‘that I will not be alone.’

     ‘Who is to accompany you, Josse?’ Sabin asked. ‘Somebody from the Abbey?’

     ‘No. If I’m to find the location of the true burial place of Merlin I’ll need help, for I am told it lies deep in a forest. A guide has been arranged for me.’ He met Gervase’s eyes and read in them understanding and pity. ‘Joanna is going to show me the way.’

     Gervase nodded. ‘The obvious choice, of course. And how do you feel about that?’

     Josse frowned, then suddenly smiled. He said, aware that it was something of an understatement, ‘Fine.’

Joanna stood just outside the gates of Hawkenlye Abbey, Meggie sitting on the ground beside her yawning hugely, and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. I will be better, she kept telling herself, as soon as I have seen him and we have acknowledged one another.

     Oh, hurry up, Josse, she pleaded silently. Where are you? What are you doing, that keeps me waiting in this painful suspense? To take her mind off her anxiety, she thought back to the extraordinary happenings of the past twenty-four hours.

     It had begun with a visit from the Domina to Joanna’s little hut deep in the forest late in the evening two days ago. Not that there had been anything in that to alert Joanna to what was to come, for the next day was Midsummer’s Eve and Joanna had an important role in the ceremony that would take place that night as the Sun moved from the constellation of Gemini into that of Cancer. It was a special night for her people, even more special than usual, for this year there was a clutch of powerful planets in the summer signs of Gemini, Cancer and Leo. In addition, the ascendant was in the fire sign of Aries and was not fire the very symbol of the Sun himself?

     But the Domina had not come to issue any last-minute instructions concerning Joanna’s role in the forthcoming ceremony. Instead, the moment that Joanna straightened up from her low and respectful bow, the Domina said, ‘A fraudulent Tomb of Merlin has been set up on the Forest’s southern fringes. We wish to stop this sacrilege and therefore you will go to Armorica, to where the Fountain of Merlin issues out of the ground close to our healing place of Folle-Pensée. With you will go the knight Josse and there, with one of our Great Ones, you will lead him to this place so that he will be convinced it is the true burial site of the magician Merlin. On Josse’s return, his word will be sufficient for the false tomb to be exposed.’

     Shock coursed through Joanna and she felt the fast, alarmed thumping of her heart. ‘But I—’ I cannot, she wanted to cry. I must not be with Josse, for the sweet pain is more than we can bear and hence I have arranged matters so that we remain apart.

     One did not, however, say
I cannot
to the Domina. Joanna bowed her head.

     ‘Very good,’ the Domina murmured. ‘Tomorrow night we celebrate the Solstice. Before that you must prepare yourself and your child for departure early the following morning. You will make your way to Hawkenlye, where you will find the man Josse awaiting you.’

     ‘I may take Meggie?’ Joanna raised her eyes and stared at the Domina, hardly able to believe what she had just heard.

     The Domina smiled faintly. ‘Yes, Joanna. You go on a mission whose success is vital to your people’ – to us? Joanna wondered; she could appreciate how a spurious Merlin’s Tomb could badly affect the Abbey, which explained Josse’s involvement, but why did it matter so very much to the Forest Folk? – ‘but it is not likely that there will be danger and so there is no reason for your child to be robbed of her mother’s company and care.’

     ‘Thank you,’ Joanna said meekly. Her question must remain unanswered; one did not say
why
? to the Domina any more than
I cannot
.

     ‘Besides,’ the Domina added, with a wry look, ‘it would be a brave woman or man who undertook to keep your little girl happy when you were not there.’

     Uncertain whether this remark implied praise or criticism – she rather thought the latter – Joanna bowed again and with courteous ceremony escorted the Domina across the clearing to where the path led away into the forest.

     Knowledge of what was to come – and a considerable amount of trepidation – meant that Joanna threw herself all the more fervently into the festival of Midsummer Eve. She needed help and giving all of herself to this night of honouring her gods was the best way that she knew to ask for it. It was not the practicalities that bothered her; the help that she would be begging for was in working out how on earth she was going to cope with being with Josse.

     She was fairly certain that she could find her way to Folle-Pensée, for she had been there before and in the course of her long training she had been taught to learn a route thoroughly the first time she took it so that she would not forget if she had to go back. Once there, the Domina’s scant orders had implied that someone else – one of the Great Ones, no less – would be instrumental in providing whatever it took to persuade Josse that Merlin lay buried there. This Joanna found a great relief for, as far as she could recall, her people were ambiguous about whether or not this was true, despite the local Armorican people’s firm belief in both Merlin and his miraculous powers.

     It was a relief because Joanna realised that she would not be able to tell Josse a lie, even if the Domina herself stood over her and gave her a direct order.

     And that, she thought uncomfortably, might be more than a little awkward  . . .

     She packed up her leather satchel, folding up a change of clothing for herself and Meggie, her small portable pack of herbal remedies, certain charms without which she never strayed far and a suede bag containing items for her own and Meggie’s personal care. She also squeezed in some strips of dark, dried meat – she only ate the flesh of animals if she was desperate, but a long journey might well throw up such a situation, even in high summer – and a handful of the small, sweet apples that Meggie loved. Then she put the satchel aside and turned her thoughts to the ceremony.

It had been spectacular. The enormous fire had been lit at sunset, its great light blazing forth as if to implore the Sun’s presence and draw down His light. Joanna had wondered whether any reference would be made to her forthcoming mission to Armorica – perhaps a prayer asking for its success and her safe return – but she ought to have known better, for the forest people were secretive even amongst themselves.

     A highly respected bard had told one of the ancient myths, accompanied by a group of people dressed in black, their faces masked with green leaves, who enacted the dramatic events of which the bard sang. Their dark silhouettes against the firelight had inspired fear and awe. There had followed dancing and feasting, then, at a signal from the Domina, all of the people had followed her to a small hillock deep in the forest, where a winding path circled its way up to the summit. At the peak they stood and waited and there, eventually, the first light of the new-born Sun appeared.

     Joanna had been awarded the honour of taking the first flame from the Domina’s torch and bearing it back to the clearing where the festivities had been held. She had worked very hard and was word perfect in the long chant that she sang all the way; the moment when she led the people back to the light of the dying fire, and suddenly they all joined in and sang with her, would stay with her for ever.

     She had finally crawled on to the sleeping platform in her little hut more than two hours after sunrise, only to be woken by Lora – who had cared for Meggie while Joanna was doing her torch-bearing duty – far too short a time later.

     Now, standing as straight and as still as she could outside the Abbey gates, Joanna felt the excitement and exertion of the night catch up with her. Meggie was leaning against her mother’s legs, slumped and almost asleep; it would not have taken much for Joanna to have lain down on the grass and joined her.

     But suddenly she heard voices and the sound of horses’ hooves on stone; squaring her shoulders, she moved slightly until she could get a clear view of who was approaching.

     Josse was walking along at the side of a fair-haired young woman who was laughing in response to a remark of Josse’s. She looked very happy, as if something very nice had just happened. Josse was leading his big horse – Horace, wasn’t it? – and the woman held the reins of a dainty grey mare whose wide eyes and delicately arched neck suggested good blood.

     Pain scorching her, Joanna thought, ah, I see! Josse and his fine lady are to ride and I am to trudge along behind like the hired help! Oh, how
could
he!

     Giving Meggie a nudge to rouse her, Joanna raised her chin and stepped forward to greet him.

Josse saw her standing in the gateway and felt as if some unseen hand had grasped hold of his heart.

     She stood tall and proud, her dark hair neatly braided and the two plaits hanging down to her waist. She wore a robe of fine wool, dyed to a shade of green that seemed to mingle the colours of the forest and blend them into a shade that somehow carried something of them all. The gown was fastened at the shoulders with gold clasps. On her feet she wore beautifully sewn leather sandals, substantial enough for a long journey, and a satchel hung from her arm. Protruding from its flap was a short wooden rod into one end of which had been fixed a translucent brown crystal. At her feet was what appeared to be a soft woollen blanket, rolled up neatly and tied with a cord.

     Meggie, looking heavy-eyed, stood beside her, her thumb in her mouth. She was tracing shapes in the dust with one foot and did not look up.

     Joanna did. Her dark eyes were glaring up at Josse with such ferocity that he stopped dead.

     ‘Joanna,’ he said huskily; he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Joanna, it is good to see you. This is Sabin de Retz’ – he touched Sabin’s arm, noticing as he did so that she was rigid with tension and guessing that she too had noticed Joanna’s expression – ‘and she is to ride with us since she too has business in Brittany.’

     Joanna said nothing.

     ‘We – er – we should start as soon as we can,’ he went on. He handed Horace’s reins to Sabin and advanced towards Joanna, feeling the burning power of her eyes fixed on him.

     ‘Ride on, Josse,’ Joanna hissed caustically. ‘I’ll follow along in your dust.’