Then he set off up the track into the forest.
* * *
The moon was waxing, and, only a day from the full, gave sufficient light for Josse to make his way without stumbling. Until, that was, he moved deep under the shadow of the trees. He stopped and waited for his eyes to adjust, fiddling idly with the strap on his pack.
His hand encountered something. An object — made of metal, to judge by its cool smoothness — fastened to the flap. Feeling all around it with his fingers — it was quite small — he thought it was a little cross.
The Abbess, he thought. She put it there, for protection.
God bless her kind heart!
His night vision had sharpened as much as it was likely to. With gratitude for such a friend giving a lift both to his spirits and to his steps, he headed on into the depths of the forest.
Chapter Seven
As he trod warily deeper and deeper into the forest, despite his best efforts Josse found his mind filling with every bad thing he had ever heard about its sinister reputation.
In the stillness beneath the thick tree canopy, he developed the odd sensation that he was within some great living thing, some dark creature of unimaginable mystery and strangeness. His careful footfalls on the forest floor could, if one did not keep tight rein on the imagination, be mistaken for a quiet, steady heartbeat. And the distant sound of the faint breeze stirring the treetops sounded very like patient, watchful breathing …
Deliberately Josse stopped, stood up very straight and, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, said aloud, ‘I am not afraid.’
It helped. A little.
He made himself take in the details of the woodland all around him.
Oak, birch and beech. Ivy and lichen-covered trees, some of them huge with age. Yes. The forest was ancient, had been old even when the Romans came. It had been the haunt of mysterious men and women who understood the trees, worked with Nature, worshipped Her, sacrificed to Her. Went out under the moon to gather the mistletoe with golden sickles and perform rituals in Her honour.
Some said they were still there, the secret people from the far past. Still living deep in those vast tracts of impenetrable woodland, still emerging, briefly, to do terrible violence and then withdraw once more into their leafy strongholds …
Determined not to let his renewed fear overcome him, Josse’s hand crept to his pack, sought for and clasped his talisman. The cross fitted into his palm, and, as his fingers closed around it, he detected a loop at its head, made of the same metal.
Stopping, he unfastened it from the pack. Pulling out from under his tunic the length of leather cord on which he wore the crucifix given to him at baptism, he untied the cord and slung the Abbess’s larger cross beside it.
Proceeding once more, holding the Abbess’s cross in his hand, suddenly he felt a good deal braver.
* * *
He could tell by the stars that he was going almost due west; there were regular clearings amid the trees, wide enough for him to see quite large areas of the sky and locate the Plough and the Pole Star. Having worked out which way was north, the rest was easy.
He would be in trouble if, when he was deep in the forest, the sky clouded over. If that happened, he’d be there till morning.
Not a pleasant thought.
After about a mile of fairly easy going, he came to a wide track. Relatively wide, at any rate; the paths he had followed until then had been mere deer or badger tracks. Or perhaps boar; he had noticed the marks of scrabbling feet on the banks either side of some of the better-defined paths that were typical of wild boar. Now, the track was wide enough for two to walk abreast.
He walked along it for possibly half a mile, whereupon it branched. Left or right? He hesitated, unsure. He became aware of an urging voice in his mind: go right!
Well, he had to do something.
He set off along the right-hand track.
And, soon afterwards, came across a length of plaited braid. Tripped over it, in fact.
He picked it up. Unless he was very much mistaken, it was part of a snare. Dropped by Hamm, or one of his poacher friends?
Thoughtfully Josse wound it up and tucked it into his pack.
A little further on, he saw ahead of him a patch of bright moonlight, startling in the dim forest. Approaching, he realised what had happened: a great oak had fallen, right across the path, and its falling had left a hole in the leaf canopy above.
Josse went into the patch of light. Not one tree but two lay on the ground. One seemed to have fallen from some natural cause; its roots, torn up out of the earth, soared above Josse’s head in a great semicircle, leaving a deep hole where they had been. There was water at the bottom of the hole.
The other tree, slightly smaller than its fellow, had been felled by the action of man. Not very expertly felled, at that; the furrowed trunk had been savagely hacked at in several places before the main cut had been made that had brought the tree crashing to the ground.
Why had it been felled?
Josse edged forwards, peering down into the hole beneath the bigger tree. There was a gap, a sort of earthy cave, opening off the side of the hole … Taking a firm handhold on one of the oak’s thick roots, and swinging the Abbess’s cross over his shoulder and out of the way, Josse climbed down.
What had looked like a cave was in fact the mouth of a tunnel. Not a very long one, but it must have led straight under the tree that someone had cut down.
With the tree lying on the ground, the next task had apparently been to dig out its roots. Someone had been doing that, too. Further along, the tunnel was open to the night sky.
Scrambling out again, standing up and brushing earth off his knees, Josse thought he had probably found Hamm Robinson’s treasure trove. And, also, the secret of the Forest People, which they had killed to keep.
He had been going to delve down into the tunnel, to see if Hamm had been disturbed before he had cleared everything out of it. But, suddenly, that didn’t seem like a very good idea. Apart from anything else, he would need to make a light. And a light, even a small one, could attract attention that he wouldn’t welcome.
Especially not when, for all that he was trying to master it, he kept having the distinct and highly disturbing feeling that eyes were upon him …
Looking round for his pack, he picked it up and hurried away from the clearing and the fallen trees. Then, trying not to break into a run, he set out on the track that led back to the outside world.
* * *
For what remained of the night, he slept in a corner of the monks’ shelter down in the vale. There was a family of pilgrims also putting up there, comprising a couple, an elderly man and a child with a withered limb, all of whom were taking the holy water and attending the monks’ services in the shrine, praying for a miracle.
Josse, knowing that they would be there, was careful not to disturb them.
Settling himself as quickly and as quietly as he could, he made himself put aside images of the deep, mysterious forest and whatever secrets it held. His breathing growing steady and even, very soon he was asleep.
* * *
Brother Saul brought him bread and water for his breakfast. The family of pilgrims had gone; with a smile, Brother Saul informed Josse that it was mid-morning.
Josse hurried to wash, dress and head up to the Abbey. He had news for the Abbess, and she might well be eager to hear how his venture had gone.
Going up towards the rear gate that led into the Abbey from the vale, he saw a figure hurrying along in front of him, coming round from the other side of the Abbey. A woman, young, not wearing the habit of a nun. Increasing his pace, he noticed with some surprise that she was not actually running. She was dancing.