The Enchanter's Forest (17 page)

     ‘Yes. He found out last year, when the sickness came.’ Turning to look at Sabin, she said, ‘How did
you
find out?’

     Now it was Sabin who laughed. ‘It’s obvious, for they are so alike. Not that I realised immediately – for a long time I was in awe of you and did not like to stare at either you or your child, enchanting though she is. I suspected one day on the
Goddess of the Dawn
when I heard Meggie laugh, because she sounded like a treble version of Josse. Then tonight, when she sat on his lap and he made that little stick man for her, they had their heads close together and they were both intent on the plaything. I saw that their eyes are the same shape and colour – that particular sort of brown with golden lights in it, like sunshine on peaty water. Then I knew for sure.’

     Joanna thought about that for some time. Then she said, ‘Does Gervase know?’

     ‘I have no idea. I have not asked him and I certainly haven’t told him of my observations.’

     ‘Thank you.’

     ‘For what? For not gossiping and spreading unsubstantiated rumours like a fat goodwife in the market?’

     Joanna grinned. ‘For precisely that.’

     There was silence between them for some time, broken by the sound of Meggie’s deep, steady breathing. Then Sabin said, ‘I’m going to marry Gervase.’

     ‘I know. He’s a fine man. He has a true heart.’

     ‘You know him?’ Sabin sounded surprised.

     ‘No, Sabin. I met him for the first time when we embarked upon this journey.’

     ‘Then how can you say with such certainty what sort of a man he is?’

     ‘I’m doing one of my magic tricks,’ Joanna said ironically.

     ‘
Are
you?’

     ‘No. Sorry, Sabin – I really shouldn’t make jokes about it. No, magic has nothing to do with it. I’ve been trained to study people and to look beneath the façade that they present to the outside world. They – the people who taught me – explained to me that—’

     ‘How do you do that?’ Sabin demanded eagerly. ‘Can you teach me? I’d love to be able to see right into people!’

     ‘I could teach you, yes, but it would take months.’ Ruefully Joanna thought back over the hours and hours of instruction that she had received. But then, thinking that her reply had sounded a little dismissive, she added, ‘You can make a start by watching how people look when they speak. For example, a man who either stares fixedly and intently into your eyes or keeps evading your glance is probably lying. You could also study what they say; someone who talks incessantly about themselves and never asks about you is likely to be self-centred and selfish. Watch how others are in their company. Someone with whom little children and animals are instantly at ease is usually trustworthy, for creatures and the young of our own species use all their senses and see with clear eyes.’

     Sabin was slowly shaking her head. ‘It’s logical, isn’t it, once it’s explained?’

     ‘Yes,’ Joanna agreed. Then, for she found herself liking the outspoken young woman beside her more and more, ‘We’ll meet again, Sabin. Be sure of that. Then, if you wish, I’ll teach you some more.’

     Sabin gave a satisfied sigh. ‘I’d
like
that.’ Then she yawned, turned on her side and said, ‘Goodnight, Joanna. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.’

     ‘Goodnight,’ Joanna returned. ‘Sleep well.’

     But presently Sabin whispered, ‘Did you really kill him?’

     ‘Thorald?’ Joanna felt herself stiffen at the very name. ‘He was a bully who beat my son and repeatedly raped me. But I did not exactly kill him.’

     ‘What does
that
mean?’

     Why not tell her? Joanna thought.

     So she did.

     ‘I put a stone in his horse’s shoe in the hope that the horse would stumble and throw him. Then I sat in a darkened room and, with my eyes closed, visualised over and over again the same scene, in which the horse pulled up very suddenly and Thorald flew straight over its head, landed hard and broke his neck.’

     ‘And was that what happened?’

     ‘It was exactly what happened.’

     There was a silence. Then Sabin said warmly, ‘Good for you.’

     Silence descended again. Sabin’s breathing deepened and she began to snore faintly. With a smile, Joanna reached across and gently turned her on her side.

     Joanna lay awake for a while longer, thinking about Sabin, about Gervase, about the bright sunshine that was going to bless their wedding day and the garland of ivy and wild flowers that Sabin would wear in her pale hair. Her thoughts turning to tomorrow, and to the prospect of setting out on the road to the forest with Josse beside her, eventually she too slept.

In the morning the party met up in the dining area. The inn served a hearty breakfast and, thinking of the long roads that lay ahead, all of them ate plenty. Then they went outside to where the horses were standing ready for them, and soon were setting off out of the shady inn yard and into the bright morning sunshine, heading through the busy streets towards the town gate that opened on to the south.

     The party stayed together for some miles, following the road that wound its way south-eastwards to Rennes. For the first part the road followed the river Rance, taking the same line along the river valley, and the going was level, steady and easy.

     Looking ahead, Josse could see the dark outline of a dense forest; it seemed to take up the entire horizon. Calling to Sabin, he said, ‘Does your road lead through the forest?’

     ‘I think that Gervase and I must veer off to the east,’ she replied. ‘I do not know the road, for this is the first time I have been so far north in Brittany, but I asked at the inn and they told me to turn left, on the road that bends away from the river.’ Standing up in the stirrups, she gazed ahead. ‘I believe that I can see the place where the road forks, and indeed it appears that our road leads through an area where the trees are thinner.’

     The party came to the junction and drew up. ‘Josse and I must follow the river a little further and then turn to the south,’ Joanna said.

     ‘Then this is where our paths part,’ Gervase said. Reaching out, he took Josse’s outstretched hand, then leaned close to Joanna and gave her a kiss. ‘Look after this little girl,’ he added, patting Meggie’s cheek, ‘and each other!’

     ‘We will,’ Josse replied, kissing Sabin in his turn. Joanna and Sabin embraced. Then Josse and Joanna watched as Gervase and Sabin rode away. The pair turned once or twice to wave, then rounded a bend in the road and were out of sight.

     Josse took a deep breath. Then he said, ‘Well, Joanna, now it’s just you, me and Meggie.’

     She turned and gave him a smile. He was both surprised and delighted by its intensity; whatever happens over the next few days, he thought as they urged their horses on down the riverside path, I am going to make absolutely sure that I enjoy it.

Chapter 8

The Brocéliande felt subtly different from the Great Wealden Forest. Riding in the patchy sunshine, watching Joanna in front of him carefully picking her way, Josse tried to work out what the difference was.

     There was much more water here, for a start. Back in England, the Great Forest spread itself high up on the ridges, on uplands where the land was well drained and where it was rare to come upon even so much as a thin trickling stream, never mind any standing water such as a lake or a pond. Here in Brittany the forest was lower-lying and it was filled with small meandering rivulets; the air was alive with the hypnotic sound of running water. There were many places where springs came bubbling up out of the rocks and at some of these sites anonymous visitors had left small offerings, presumably as gifts to whatever spirit they believed resided in the spring. Riding gently along, his eyes half-closed and his mind and body filled with joy, Josse could well believe there were spirits all around, moreover ones whose present mission was purely to make him happy through every one of his senses.

     In addition to being noisy with the sound of water and alive with numinous spirits, there was something else that made this place so different from the sombre woodlands of the Weald. The Breton forest seemed . . . Josse screwed up his face as he tried to put a name to the impression he was receiving. It feels
younger
, he thought, smiling at himself for his whimsy. You can wander in the Great Wealden Forest and think yourself back in some age before time began and where man had yet to plant his footsteps. The Old Forest is unchanging and ever watchful and it does not like intruders. Whereas this place feels green and young and so full of life that it makes a man want to sing aloud from sheer happiness.

     His eyes on Joanna’s bottom as she rode ahead of him, he wondered if his sudden desire to sing might have more to do with her than any benevolence he might or might not be receiving from the trees around him.

     He was still trying to get used to the headiness of being alone with her. Well, alone except for Meggie, but her presence was an enchantment in itself. This morning she was riding with her mother on the golden mare – he could have spent all morning simply watching his child’s lithe and graceful little body and the way the sun caught glints of gold in her dark hair – but, during much of the long journey from Hawkenlye, Josse had been in the close company of his daughter for hours at a stretch and their fascination for each other had not faded; quite the opposite, in fact. Well, it was not to be wondered at since they were making up for the first sixteen months of Meggie’s life during which neither had been aware of the other’s existence.

     Josse listened to Meggie’s fluting voice as she asked her mother yet another question; the ‘Why?’ game was a current favourite and could, as Josse well knew, go on for hours if the child was not distracted. Aye, he thought, his daughter was a delight and he already loved her profoundly. Regarding Joanna, he was aware that neither the situation nor his own emotions were quite so straightforward. Travelling from England in the company of Gervase and Sabin, the other couple’s presence had been a barrier to any intimacy between him and Joanna and it had seemed quite natural to treat one another politely but with the reserve of near-strangers. Joanna, indeed, had spent quite a lot of time sitting in the prow of the ship staring out at the sea, and Josse, after initially feeling slightly hurt that she should so detach herself from the rest of the company – oh, all right, from him – had finally understood that, given what he knew of her usual habits of solitude, she was probably finding the constant presence of other people quite difficult to cope with.

     Then there had been last night in Dinan and that business in the inn. Josse had not liked the look of the man who had come blustering up to their table and he had felt the threatening presence of danger lurking somewhere just beneath the surface; in him, as it always did, this instinct had set his fighting response in readiness and in the aftermath, once the confrontation had been avoided, he was for quite some time left feeling jittery and jumpy. But Joanna had dismissed his anxiety, saying only that she had known the man when she lived in the area and that he had reason to hold a grudge against her. Josse was not reassured; the man had said something about his brother having gone unavenged and what was more there could be no question of mistaken identity because he had called Joanna – or the woman he had believed to be Joanna – by name.

     Besides, Josse knew very well what had happened to Joanna when she had lived in the Dinan area. When they had first met, she had told him how, wed to a bully of a man many years older than herself, she had fervently wished to be rid of him and even gone so far as to insert a stone in his horse’s shoe in the hope of bringing about a fall. Josse had no idea what sort of power the brother of Joanna’s dead husband might wield locally but, even given that it was extensive, then surely he would be on very shaky ground if he went ahead with trying to brand Joanna a murderer on such slim evidence and for a crime committed so long ago?

     Josse thought about that. Then the aspect that worried him more slid into his mind and he remembered how the furious man had said there was witchcraft involved.

     Witchcraft.

     Now it might not be feasible to prove that Joanna killed her late husband. But if anyone came at her with accusations of witchcraft, that was a different matter. She wouldn’t deny it for one thing or, if she did, she’d do so in terms that to an outsider would be equally damning.