The Enchanter's Forest (15 page)

     ‘Even if you don’t,’ Joanna observed, ‘you’ll arrive feeling better than if you’ve just rounded Armorica on a sailing vessel.’

     ‘Armorica?’ Sabin queried. ‘A Breton myself, I know the word, of course – it is the ancient name for Brittany – but I was not aware that anyone still called the land by that name.’

     Joanna could think of no reply; a short, trite answer would have served, only she did not want to fob Sabin off with the trivial; the full explanation would have taken far too long. ‘I – er, I must have heard someone use the term somewhere,’ she said vaguely. Sabin eyed her curiously for a moment then, with a faint shrug, turned away.

The
Goddess of the Dawn
tied up at the quayside in the port of Dinan just as darkness fell. The journey upriver had been slow and tedious, especially for the crew, who had manned the oars for the last stretch. Their labours had been aided by the incoming tide, which sent the water flooding in up the river, but the men nevertheless had been hard put to it to keep the ship steady in mid-stream. Watching the swift expertise with which the hands secured the vessel to the quay, Josse thought that to a man they were undoubtedly looking forward to going ashore for a hot meal and a well-earned drink or two.

     The captain sent four of his crew to bring the horses up from below and as Gervase and the two women set about stowing their bags and bedrolls behind the horses’ saddles, Josse went to say farewell to Harald.

     ‘When d’ye expect to return to England?’ Harald asked. ‘That is, if you’re intending to return?’

     ‘Aye, we’ll be going back,’ Josse confirmed. ‘As to when . . .’ He shrugged. ‘I cannot say. It depends on how long it takes us to see to our various missions.’

     Harald nodded sagely. ‘Men of affairs, then.’

     ‘Er – aye.’ It seemed easier to agree than to enter into extensive explanations which were, in any case, nobody else’s business.

     ‘We’ll not be calling in here on our return,’ Harald said, ‘but we’ll be bringing a consignment of wine up from Bordeaux to the monks on the Mont, so you might catch us there if you’ve a mind to. Won’t be for more than a fortnight at the very least, however, and longer than that if these westerlies keep up.’

     Josse was hoping to be safely back in Hawkenlye before that. ‘Thank you, captain. We’ll see how we go.’

     And, with a bow, he took his leave of both captain and ship and went down the gangplank to join the others.

They climbed the winding, cobbled street that led up from the port, leading the horses because of the steepness of the incline; in addition, the stones were slimy with the refuse of a day’s traffic and, despite the cobbles, more than once one or other of the horses slipped. The incline flattened out slightly as the road approached the town walls and, in single file now, the party went under the great arched gateway, its iron grille at present raised. Joanna, who had been here before, glanced up at the darkening sky: twilight was fast falling and within the hour it would be fully dark and the gates would be secured for the night.

     She had not anticipated coming back to Dinan when she had agreed to accompany Josse to Armorica. In a place close by the town she had endured the worst time of her life: pregnant by one of the most famous men in the western world, she had been married off to an elderly lord and sent to live with him in his ancient family manor. For six years he had made her life hell and then he had taken a fall out hunting and his death had released her. She had fled, taking her young son, a few personal possessions, the boy’s pony and her own mare and taking ship to England, to seek refuge with the only person in the world whom she trusted.

     And look, Joanna thought as she panted up the last steep incline of the Rue du Jerzual, what that flight has led to  . . .

     She became aware that Josse was speaking and hastily began to listen.

     ‘. . . find a place where they’ll provide a good meal and beds for the night?’ he suggested.

     He seemed to be asking her; presumably he too remembered that she used to live in the area.

     ‘I do not know Dinan well,’ she said, ‘only having visited on rare occasions. I am sure there is decent accommodation to be found, although I cannot say where.’

     Josse, she noticed, had flashed her a look of sympathy and understanding; she tried to recall exactly what she had told him of her life with Thorald de Lehon and, embarrassed, thought that she might have included a few details that she would have done better to have left out.

     ‘There’s an inn down the street to our left,’ Gervase said. ‘Shall we try there? Plenty of people seem to be going in, which is always a good sign!’ He spoke lightly, as if he too felt Joanna’s unease.

     She looked in the direction of the inn. It was indeed busy, and the sound of voices and laughter floated out into the street. She nodded. ‘Very well.’

     Gervase went in beneath the arched entrance to the inner yard and engaged a harassed-looking man in conversation, pointing back at the others standing in the street. After a few moments the man gave a shrug and nodded. Gervase beckoned, and Josse led the way into the yard. The man had whistled up a couple of lads, who took charge of the horses, and Gervase explained that he had secured a room for the women and Meggie and space in the communal dormitory for himself and Josse.

     ‘It’s not perfect, but it will serve, I think?’ He looked anxiously at Sabin.

     ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Can we eat here too?’

     Gervase smiled. ‘Oh, yes. That was the first thing I asked – I’m starving.’

Joanna looked around the small room that had been allocated to herself and Sabin. There was one bed, not very wide, and although the bedding looked reasonably fresh it had clearly been used. I’m going to hate this, she thought miserably; accustomed to nights in the fresh cleanliness of her little hut in the forest, where the invigorating air blew gently through the unshuttered window, to be forced to sleep in a confined space with the smell of other people in her nostrils was anathema to her. And she would have to share her bed not only with Meggie – which she was used to and which she loved – but also with Sabin. And as yet she had not decided whether she even
liked
Sabin  . . .

     Sabin had removed her gown and under-shift and was washing vigorously, bending over the basin and splashing water over face, neck, breasts and armpits. Drying herself on a small piece of linen from her bag, she grinned at Joanna. ‘That’s better. There’s plenty more water in the ewer if you want to wash too.’

     ‘Thank you. I’ll see to Meggie, then use up what’s left.’

     ‘Don’t be long,’ Sabin said. ‘The men are keen to eat.’

     ‘Very well.’

     Quite soon Joanna was finished and she and Sabin set off along the passage towards the eating area, where Josse and Gervase could be seen downing large mugs of something no doubt cool and refreshing and probably also alcoholic. Sabin began to make some comment but just at that moment she caught her toe on an uneven flagstone and tripped, lurching against the wall and throwing out a hand to save herself. There was a ripping sound; looking down at her upper body, Joanna saw a large tear in the bodice of Sabin’s gown. An area of creamy white flesh was visible, together with one rosy nipple.

     Despite herself, Joanna giggled. ‘I don’t think you can go in to dinner like that.’

     Sabin muttered something in her own tongue, then smiled ruefully as she tried to pull the torn edges together. ‘No, I can’t,’ she agreed. ‘I can mend this, but it’ll take quite a while to do a good job.’

     ‘Have you another tunic?’

     ‘Yes. You go on – I’ll go back to our room and change.’

     Joanna walked on into the dining area. She swiftly explained what had happened and said that Sabin would join them as soon as she could; Gervase, nodding, indicated a long table at the far end of the room and suggested they sat down and ordered some food.

     Gervase sat with his back to the room, and Josse and Joanna sat against the wall, Meggie between them. The child was tired and hungry and consequently on the edge of being fractious; Josse took her on his lap and entertained her with the peek-a-boo game, contorting his face into the alternate happy and sad expressions with each passage of his hand. Meggie found this quite fascinating, wrinkling up her own little face as she tried to copy him. Joanna was in the midst of laughing at the picture that the two of them made together when suddenly she felt as if she was being stabbed; the sharp pain between her eyes was exactly as if someone were attacking her with the point of a dagger.

     Recognising the sensation, she bent forward briefly, pretending to straighten Meggie’s tunic, and unobtrusively drew forward the small veil that she had put on when they came ashore, careful to make sure that it concealed her face. Then slowly she raised her head and let her eyes wander around the crowded room.

     She saw him almost immediately. The force of his expression horrified her; no wonder it had caused her pain, for malice poured out of him, honed to a fine point that was aimed straight at her.

     She thought quite calmly, I have to get away.

     She leaned close to Josse and murmured, ‘I’ll go and see if I can help Sabin,’ then, getting up with unhurried grace, she left the room. Once out of sight of anyone within it, she ran as fast as she could along the passage to the bed chamber.

     Bursting into the room, she found a flustered Sabin struggling with the laces at one side of a pretty grey-blue gown; the braid had got itself into a knot that she could not untie. Sabin looked up as Joanna flung the door closed and, panting, leaned against it.

     ‘What’s the matter?’ Sabin’s eyes were round with amazement. ‘You look terrible – what has happened?’ Her face paled suddenly and she seemed to sway. ‘Oh, God, it’s not Gervase? He’s not hurt?’

     Registering with a part of her mind how deep was Sabin’s love for Gervase, if even the thought of his having come to harm affected her so badly, Joanna hastened to say, ‘No, Gervase is perfectly all right – they all are.’

     ‘What is it, then?’ Sabin looked only partially reassured.

     Joanna took a breath, trying to steady herself. Then she said, ‘I used to live near here. I was married to a man – Thorald – whom I hated and when he died I took my son and we ran away. His younger brother thought I had killed him and was after my blood, only he never found me.’

     ‘Oh, how terrible! He was cruel to you, this Thorald?’

     ‘Yes.’ She was not going to elaborate. ‘And Césaire – he’s the brother, the one who thought I’d killed Thorald – is right at this moment eating his supper in the tavern.’

     Sabin rushed to her side. ‘Has he seen you?’

     Joanna’s terror broke out of her control and flooded through her; dropping her face into her hands, she whispered, ‘Yes.’ She removed her hands and stared at Sabin. ‘He won’t let me go again. He’ll have me arrested and they’ll probably hang me.’

     Sabin put her arms around Joanna. ‘No they won’t,’ she said bracingly. She gave her a little shake. Then, after a moment’s swift thought, she said, ‘Listen. I’ve got an idea.’

Chapter 7

Josse watched Joanna return to the dining room. She edged her way through the jostling crowds of people, the folds of her veil falling gracefully and concealing her face. She reached the table and took her place beside Josse. Leaning towards her, peering around her veil to look into her face, he was about to tell her what there was to eat when suddenly he stopped, his mouth opening in surprise as an involuntary exclamation rose to his lips. She shook her head, a minute gesture that only he could see; puzzled, eyeing her warily, he subsided. Gervase, busy trying to get a singularly dim-looking lad to understand what he was trying to order for the party to eat and drink, had greeted Joanna’s arrival with no more than a vague nod.

     Josse clutched Meggie closer and tried to keep her attention on the little stick man that he had made from a piece of the straw that was strewn on the floor. Obliging child that she was, she studied the little figure to the exclusion of everything else; praying that whatever crisis was currently being enacted would not last too long, Josse risked a quick glance around the room.

     A man was pushing his way towards their table. Of medium height and running to fat, he had long, lank dark hair surrounding a bald crown and his thin face was set in an expression that was an unpleasant mixture of disgust, hatred and triumph.