The Paths of the Air (32 page)

The horses had gone.

Joanna had told him last night that she had removed their tack and put them in a hazel-hurdle corral. It had not sounded very secure but he had been too far gone in pain and drug-induced confusion to care. At some time during the night – he remembered the crashing – they must have pushed their way through the hurdles. But Joanna had gone to check! Why on earth had she not reported that the horses were missing? Because she knew you would get up and try to catch them, answered his logic, and she knew you were nowhere near up to it.

She
could have gone, he thought disloyally.

He went back inside the hut.

Joanna was awake, leaning on one elbow and watching out for him. ‘I did not go after them because I knew they were safe,' she said softly; both John and Meggie were still asleep.

‘How can you be so sure?' he whispered back. ‘There are all manner of strange beings in this forest, including the man who put those savage cuts on
him
.' He nodded in the direction of John Damianos.

‘It was not he who was close by last night.' Joanna spoke with such certainty that he believed her. ‘I know who it was, though, which is why I said we were safe. He was patrolling among the trees, guarding us. He was curious about the horses, for as you probably know my people do not have a great deal to do with them, although we greatly respect them because one of our Great Ones is revered in the form of a white horse.'

‘Aye, that's as maybe, but are they safe?' he demanded.

She smiled. ‘Perfectly safe. As I was saying, the being outside was curious about them and he probably called to them.'

‘I did not hear any call!'

‘No, dearest Josse, you wouldn't have done, for it would have gone directly to their minds. They too were undoubtedly curious about him, which was why your old Horace pushed his way out of my admittedly inadequate pen and went to have a look, and the other horse followed.'

‘He's called Cinnabar. He's John's horse.' It was about the only thing Josse could think of
to
say.

‘Well, Horace and Cinnabar probably had a fine time with our guardian, then I expect they ambled off to look for food. Your Horace knows the Abbey well, doesn't he?'

‘Aye.'

‘Then that'll be where he's gone, and Cinnabar with him. Don't worry, Josse –' she swung her legs over the edge of the sleeping platform and jumped down – ‘they'll be quite all right. When you leave, I'll help you carry the saddles and bridles to the edge of the forest.'

‘They're heavy,' he said dully. It was better to think about the practicalities. The alternative was to contemplate going away from her again so soon and that hurt, especially when he hadn't even seen his daughter yet this morning.

‘I will manage,' she said. She added, with an attempt at a smile, ‘And you each have one good side with which to bear a load.'

Their eyes met. To his joy he saw an answering regret in hers. He knew that she too was wishing this day was going to be just for the three of them.

‘Come back soon,' she whispered. ‘We will be waiting for you; I promise.'

She did not make promises lightly. With a grin that seemed to spread all by itself, he nodded.

‘Now,' she said, ‘I am going outside to wash and then I shall prepare medicine, food and drink, and have a look at my patients' wounds.'

Josse and John both drank more of Joanna's pain-killing brew, although Josse – who had been given her remedies before – detected that this morning the element that had sent them so deeply asleep last night was absent. Joanna inspected the cut above John's eye and then she lifted the dressing on his shoulder, sniffing at it.

‘Recently I have not had the chance to bathe as thoroughly as I would like,' John said, clearly embarrassed, ‘for which I apologize, my lady.'

She looked up at him and smiled. ‘My name is Joanna,' she said, ‘and I am not sniffing at you but at your wound. There is a particular smell when infection is present and, if I detected it on you, I should have to do something about it. But it isn't there. This wound, and the one over your eye, are both clean.'

‘Oh. Oh, I see.' John was looking at her with interest. ‘I have seen Arab doctors with their patients,' he said. ‘They too place this emphasis on keeping a wound clean and they even go so far as to wash their hands and instruments in a special solution before and after they examine a patient!'

Joanna was nodding. ‘Yes, I have heard that their skills are far ahead of those of the West. Have you noticed anything else?'

‘Well,' he said after a pause, ‘I was told that they use maggots in an infected cut, although surely that can't be true?'

‘It probably is,' she replied. ‘You have observed maggots on dead meat?'

‘Ye-es,' he admitted. Josse, watching, hid a smile. He remembered very well his own reaction when he had first encountered Joanna's extraordinary ideas.

‘Well, a severe wound may contain flesh that is dying because of infection. The maggots clean out the wound by consuming the pus and the putrid flesh, leaving a clean space for new, healthy skin to grow.'

John looked quite sick. ‘I see,' he said faintly. Then, rallying, ‘I am even more relieved, then, that you smell no infection in my shoulder.'

Joanna laughed. ‘I do not use maggots. I would take it as an affront to my medical skill if any patient of mine needed them. Now I am going to look at you, Josse.'

Josse felt the familiar touch of her fingers and winced as she gently probed the wound. It too had been stitched. ‘No infection there either, my dear love,' she said in satisfaction.

She called me
my dear love
, he thought. John Damianos heard and now he is watching us with a rather peculiar look on his face. Why? Simple human curiosity? Maybe; only why should Josse have received the distinct impression that for some reason he disapproved?

It was puzzling.

I am not ashamed of my love for Joanna and Meggie, Josse thought, nor of theirs for me. Perhaps I shall have a quiet word with him . . .

But Meggie was awake and yelling that she was hungry. Joanna set about preparing food and, as Meggie came flying down the ladder and climbed delicately on to Josse's lap – Meggie understood about being very careful with wounded animals and people – he forgot about John Damianos and his frown in the pleasure of being with his child.

Soon after prime a very worried-looking Sister Martha came to Helewise to report that Sir Josse's Horace had turned up accompanied by another horse, neither wore saddle or bridle, there was no sign of Sir Josse and the smaller horse had blood on its mane. It was only after Sister Martha had delivered her message that she noticed there was someone else in the room. The young woman was standing to the right of the door and the nun had not seen her.

‘Thank you, Sister,' Helewise said calmly. ‘I am sure there is a simple explanation. You may go, and I will come across to the stables presently to decide if anything should be done.'

‘But, my lady, he might be—'

‘Thank you, Sister Martha,' Helewise said firmly. The nun bowed, backed out through the door and closed it.

‘I did not wish to discuss possibilities in the presence of Sister Martha,' Helewise said very quietly, ‘since it seems certain that this news is connected to your situation.' She watched the young woman steadily, a query in her eyes.

‘I agree,' the young woman said. ‘And I am very much afraid that it does not bode well.'

‘Come with me.' Helewise got to her feet. ‘The first thing is to see whether you recognize this other horse.'

They walked together along the cloister and to the stable block. Helewise eyed her companion, reflecting that yesterday's bath and change of clothing, together with a solid meal and a good night's sleep, had done much for her. During the day she had asked if she might go out and fetch her horse, which apparently she had hobbled and left nearby. Helewise had agreed, but only on the condition that she take a couple of lay brothers as escort. The horse – a beautiful bay mare – was now in the Hawkenlye stables.

She had revealed, as Helewise had again left her in her private room for the night, that her name was Paradisa. Helewise had never met anyone called Paradisa before but already she was coming round to thinking that it quite suited her . . .

Paradisa had tried to persuade Helewise yesterday to send out search parties to look for her Brother Ralf, and when Helewise had refused on the grounds that they had no idea where he was and she did not have enough people to scour the entire region, Paradisa had said she would take her horse and go and look by herself.

‘You cannot,' Helewise had told her very firmly. ‘If your Ralf is out there and in danger himself, how much worse would he feel if he knew you were riding recklessly alone? You have had the good sense to come to us. Please stay here, where we can keep you safe.'

The mention of Ralf's name had done the trick, as Helewise had hoped. Paradisa had grudgingly given in.

But this morning had come this unwelcome news about Josse's horse. As they approached the stables Paradisa broke into a run and Helewise lengthened her own stride and followed.

There was no need to ask if the horse belonged to Brother Ralf, for already the animal was nose to nose with Paradisa's bay and it was perfectly clear that they were old friends. Paradisa, with an arm around both necks, said softly, ‘This is Cinnabar, my lady. He and my Seraphina are brother and sister, or at least so we think, because—' She had been about to say something concerning her lover; Helewise was sure of it, for the young woman's expression was tender, as if she contemplated some sweet memory. But suddenly her face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. She said urgently, ‘Cinnabar has blood on his neck, my lady. Brother Ralf must be hurt.'

And if he was hurt in some fight when Josse was with him, Helewise thought, as seems likely since their horses arrived together, then without a doubt Josse would have fought alongside him.

Was Josse too hurt?

Was he – oh, surely not! – was he
dead
?

No, no, he can't be!

But Horace has abandoned his master. Would he do that were Josse still alive? Josse would not let his horse go if there was anything he could do to prevent it. Very afraid, she met Paradisa's eyes and read exactly the same dread in them.

I am her senior by many years, she told herself, and I have a position of the highest authority here. I must put aside my anxiety and act appropriately. She took a breath and said, ‘Now is the time to send out search parties, for it may be possible to discover from these horses' tracks which direction they came from. I shall send a group of my people out on foot and tell them to be very careful not to obliterate any signs. I will ask—'

‘I'm going,' Paradisa stated flatly. ‘I will not stay here while others search for him – I just can't.'

‘Neither can I,' Helewise agreed. ‘I was going to say that I will summon Brother Saul and Brother Augustus, tell them to bring four other lay brothers and that you and I shall go with them.'

For the first time since Sister Martha had brought the news, Paradisa smiled.

They set out not long afterwards.

Brother Augustus, who was the best tracker, found the prints quite easily, for quite soon they veered away from the muddy and much-used road and went off at an angle through the short grass.

The tracks led towards the Great Forest.

Silently Helewise and Paradisa followed Gussie and Brother Saul. Helewise was aware of the four other lay brothers behind them. Each one carried a cudgel. She hoped that such a precaution was unnecessary, but she was well aware that Josse had been very wary of those who stalked the runaway monk. If any of them were lurking nearby, it was better to be safe than sorry.

They moved slowly up the long slope that led to the forest.

The small party set out from Joanna's hut mid-morning. She had administered another light dose of painkiller and the two men said they were more than capable of carrying their own saddles.

‘Very well,' Joanna had said, ‘but all the same Meggie and I will come with you to the forest fringes.'

Josse did not want that. The remaining Frankish mercenary was out there somewhere. Even if he had not come near the hut last night, it did not mean he would not attack today. Joanna seemed to have picked up his fear for her safety and she had summoned a friend to care for Meggie.

Josse was relieved. ‘I cannot persuade you to remain here too?' he said.

She smiled. ‘I know the forest even better than you do, Josse. I'll take you to the outside world along paths nobody else knows. It'll be all right.'

There was no changing her mind. He kissed Meggie, told her he would see her soon, nodded a greeting to Joanna's friend Lora and then they set off.

He regretted the weight of Horace's saddle and bridle before they had gone a mile, and from the set expression on John Damianos's face, guessed he felt the same. Joanna was leading the way. Josse recognized that it was a very roundabout route to the Abbey, which must lie over to the north-east. Still, if she kept them safe, then an extra few miles was well worth it, even carrying a saddle.

Presently they came to an area of woodland that he thought he knew and with huge relief he realized they were not much more than half a mile from the open ground where the forest gave way just above the Abbey. He called out softly, ‘Joanna? May we rest?'

She turned round, looking quickly at him and then at John. ‘Of course. I am sorry; I have been pushing the pace and I should have had more consideration for your hurts.' She handed a water bottle to Josse, who drank deeply and passed it to John. ‘We are almost at the edge of the forest,' she said encouragingly, ‘and already back on the better-known paths, so we should make haste.'