The Enchanter's Forest (18 page)

     Witchcraft.

     Oh, dear God, and they were on the wrong side of the narrow seas for accusations of witchcraft. Here, if you did not obey the dictates of the church you were excommunicated and if you persisted in your heresy you were executed in one of the worst ways imaginable.

     They burned witches in France.

     It would only take one interested observer of that nasty little scene in the inn to pass on what he had overheard to the religious authorities and the might of the church would be on their trail.

     And then  . . .

     Biting at his lip in his anxiety, Josse felt a sudden slight flow of blood as the skin broke and he winced at the small pain.

     I must stop this worrying, he thought. Look at Joanna; is she concerned? No. We’re out of the city now, we’ll have shaken off anyone who might have tried to follow us and in any case, in all likelihood the man realised he was mistaken and has given up the pursuit. Joanna and I are out in the forest, going deeper into its sanctuary with every step. Nobody can touch us here; we’re quite safe and I might as well relax and begin to enjoy myself.

     When, a little later, Joanna turned in the saddle and said, ‘Meggie and I are ravenous. Let’s stop by that inviting lake up ahead and eat,’ he agreed with alacrity. And, as the three of them made a secluded and comfortable temporary camp in the shade of the sheltering trees, he gave himself up to the various profound pleasures of the moment.

It was not through any relaxation of Josse’s watchfulness that the unseen presence in the trees went unnoticed. Although he was a big man, the secret watcher was very, very careful to keep himself hidden; nobody saw him if he did not want them to and, even had Josse scoured every inch of the surrounding woodland, it would have made no difference. The man was dressed in garments of soft, muddy shades and he was accustomed to adapting his movements and his breathing to the rhythm of the natural world. In his hiding place he sat perfectly still and watched. Presently, as Josse and Joanna packed up the remains of their meal and prepared to depart – the watching man noted with approval that they were careful not to leave any sign of their presence – he leaned infinitesimally over to his right in order to see which way they set out.

     Satisfied that he knew enough to be sure he would be able to follow, he sat still once more and waited until it was time to set out after them.

Josse and Joanna rode on through the long afternoon. It was less than a fortnight past the summer solstice and there would have been light enough, even in the forest, to have gone on for some time yet. But Meggie was clearly tired and, as Joanna pointed out, they were in no desperate hurry and there was therefore no need to ride beyond the endurance of any of them. So, when her searching eyes found what she was looking for – a sort of apron of land set within the loop of the meandering stream that they had been following for some miles – she suggested to Josse that they stop and make camp for the night.

     He reined in his big horse and sat looking at her. She met his eyes briefly and then looked hastily down at the ground; straight away he knew the same thoughts ran in her mind as in his. He paused, took a steadying breath and then said, in what sounded remarkably close to his normal voice, ‘This looks a good place. Shelter from that stand of trees and water in the stream.’

     ‘Yes, and the stream loops round on three sides of us, with the thicket across the neck of the loop forming the fourth side,’ she added quickly, as if as eager as he to speak of ordinary things. ‘Anyone approaching will alert us either by splashing across the water or breaking through the brambles.’ Glancing in that direction, she said with a grin, ‘And I wouldn’t suggest
that
as the best way.’

     He echoed her smile. Dismounting, he said, ‘What shall I do? Cut some branches or something to make a shelter?’

   
‘No!’
She sounded horrified. Quickly she explained. ‘Sorry, Josse, but we never abuse the forest by taking living wood. I’ll see to the shelter and I’ll make a fire. Could you – er . . .’ Watching her frown, he realised with amusement that, since she would doubtless be used to seeing to every aspect of a night under the stars all by herself, he was quite redundant and any task she came up with for him to do would be to save his face rather than to help her out. ‘What about the horses?’ she suggested, her expression lightening. ‘They look as if they could do with a rub down.’

     ‘Then they shall have one.’ Pausing, he said, ‘Do you want Meggie’s help? Or may she come with me?’

     ‘I can manage without her. Meggie, would you like to help me or Josse?’

     With not an instant’s hesitation Meggie said, ‘Josse.’

Josse and Meggie finished their appointed task and, sitting down on the springy grass, Josse took his daughter on his lap and they watched Joanna putting the final touches to their night’s lodgings. He was full of admiration for the speed and efficiency with which she had worked; in no time she had put together a simple framework of dead wood – mainly old leafless branches – over which she had placed bunches of bracken tied on to the frame with lengths of twine. The finished shelter was in the shape of a shallow arc, its base secured to the feet of two young birch trees and its top curving out and covering a space large enough for three people to lie down. She had taken note of the direction of what wind there was and the shelter had been placed so as to protect them from it. She had found several granite chunks, each about the size of a fist, which she had set down in a circle in front of the shelter; within the circle a fire had been lit. On the fire a small cooking pot sat, propped up on three more stones. Water could be heard bubbling in it and there was an appetising smell carried on the steam that issued from it.

     She met his eyes. ‘That’s our supper,’ she said.

     ‘Mm. What is it?’

     ‘A sort of broth. It’s mostly barley grains with onions and herbs, and when it’s nearly done I’ll add some dried pork strips.’

     ‘I didn’t imagine you would eat meat,’ he remarked.

     She smiled. ‘I don’t unless I have to, but we’re on a long journey and it’s demanding a lot of energy. I won’t be much use if I’m faint from hunger and, away from my home, I have to make the most of what’s available.’

     ‘I see. It’s like being on campaign – soldiers say that you’re never choosy again once you’ve really known hunger.’

     ‘Quite.’

     ‘How are our supplies?’ he asked. They had brought provisions before leaving Dinan, adding these to what remained of the purchases they had made at various ports along their sea route.

     ‘We’ve got plenty for now.’

     ‘How long—’ He stopped. He was enjoying himself far too much to want to know how long before they reached their destination.

     ‘Yes?’

     He looked up at her – she was approaching with a flask in her hand – and said softly, ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

     As if she knew full well what he was thinking – she probably did – she gave him a very sweet smile. Then she went back to her broth.

They ate their simple supper, finishing off with slices of a spicy apple tart brought from a Dinan baker. Meggie played in the shallows of the stream for a while, Josse holding tight to her hand, until it was time to settle her for the night. Warmly wrapped in her soft blanket, her stick doll cuddled in the crook of her elbow, she was heavy-eyed and almost asleep even before her parents had finished saying goodnight to her.

     Josse and Joanna went to sit on the top of the bank above the stream. Josse, at a loss as to what to do next – he knew full well what he wanted to do, but whether or not he should was another matter – drew up his legs and clasped his hands around his raised knees. His eyes fixed on some vague point in the middle distance, he felt rather than saw Joanna lean closer towards him.

     Then, her head suddenly on his shoulder, she put her arms around his neck, turned his face towards hers and kissed him.

     The surprise quickly ebbed and soon he was kissing her back, the frustration of days in her company when he couldn’t touch her combining with his deep love for her – the love that had been a part of him since first he met her – to give an edge of hunger to the embrace which he sensed she felt too. When, after a considerable time, they broke away, she looked into his eyes, grinned and remarked, ‘Oh, but I’ve been longing to do that!’

     There was so much that he wanted – needed – to ask her. What her life was really like out in the forest. What her people did, how they lived, what they believed. Whether she spent much time with them or was in the main alone. Whether she had made friends, female or male. Whether there was anyone—

     But she was unfastening her tunic. Slipping it over her head, laying it carefully on the ground. Removing the white undergown. Standing naked before him – he noticed, among half a dozen far more imperative impressions, that she wore a charm of some sort, a claw, perhaps, on a chain around her neck – and pulling him to his feet.

     ‘Josse, I’m hot and sweaty and I need a good wash. Shall we bathe together in the steam? There’s some deep water down there, on the outside of the bend, and a gently sloping pebbly beach where we can get in and out easily.’

     He could not take his eyes off her. Her body was not exactly as he remembered – well, she has borne another child since last I saw her naked, he reasoned; my child – and her breasts were heavier. But the life she led had put its mark on her, for she was lithe and strong and he could see the line of long, powerful muscles lying beneath her smooth skin. She watched him looking at her and did not move until at last he raised his eyes to meet hers. Then, opening her arms, she said, ‘Dear Josse, you are a little overdressed for bathing. May I not help you remove your garments?’

     Then he was laughing for the joy of it, accepting her help with the laces of his tunic, feeling the sudden surprise of the cool evening air on his bare skin as she stripped away his hose and lifted his undershirt over his head. Very soon he too was naked. Together they slid down the low bank, stepped into the stony shallows and immersed themselves in the peaty, green-smelling water of the forest stream.

     He did as she did, working up a lathery, milky liquid with the leaves of a pretty pink-flowered plant that grew on the stream banks – she said it was called soapwort – and using it to wash his hair and his body. It was a novel sensation and he felt his skin tingle.

     The sky was darkening. Lying on his back, floating in the cool water, Josse looked up and saw the first of the stars appear. Then she was beside him, the warmth of her against him making him realise that he was becoming chilled. As if she knew, she took hold of his hand and led him out of the water, where she fetched lengths of linen with which to dry themselves.

     He did not know what to do next. She had kissed him, aye, and then taken off her clothes and stood before him without a stitch on before helping him out of his garments too, but then that had been as a prelude to bathing and maybe it did not mean anything among the people who were now hers. Maybe they all undressed as a matter of course and it was not taken to mean that – er, to mean anything. If she would just give me a clue, he thought desperately, because if I make a move and it isn’t what she wants, then spending further time together will be—

     But what it would be went out of his head because she stepped forward into his arms, folded her own around him and, pressing against him so that he could feel every inch of her from her breasts to her firm, rounded belly and her strong thighs, she stretched up so that she could whisper softly in his ear and said, ‘Josse, we could make love if you wished.’

     Then there was no more speech between them, just the sounds, soft at first but quickly becoming urgent, of two people who care deeply for each other setting about demonstrating their love. She had spread blankets on the grass and gently he laid her down upon them, cradling her head on one arm while with his free hand he traced the outline of her features, only then letting his fingers follow the line of her neck downwards until he was touching her breasts. Her response was swift and, delight flooding through him, he felt her sure touch on his chest, his belly and down into his groin. It was as if she remembered exactly what gave him the most pleasure; fiercely aroused, hungry for her, he sensed that she was as ready for him as he for her and it was soon over.

     They lay wound in each other’s arms. Her head was on his chest – her hair was still damp – and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. He had envisaged getting up, dressing in their undergarments and creeping in beneath the shelter to settle for the night beside Meggie, but, when he made a move to rise, she shifted her weight so that she lay right on top of him and he could not move.