Josse was thinking very hard. About an elderly man who had died in early August in Hawkenlye Vale. Who had had a bad cough, and been attended by a youth. A foreigner.
Abruptly he said to Yves, ‘When was this? When did the old man arrive at Acquin?’
Yves shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘You’ll not like to hear this.’
‘Go on.’ Josse’s tone was relentless.
‘It was back in July. Round about the middle of the month, maybe later. Oh, I’m that sorry, Josse, I know full well I should have come to tell you sooner — after all, we had no idea what he wanted with you and, for all I know, he could have meant you harm. But, you see, we were just beginning on the harvest and then, early in August, we had a week of storms — terrible, they were, rain like you never saw — and it put us back. Then there was a deal of pumping-out to do — the Aa overflowed her banks here and there and some of our lower pastures were flooded, too, and we had to-’
‘It’s all right, Yves.’ Josse got up and went to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘I understand. There are great demands made on the farmer, I am aware of that well enough, even if I don’t fully know what they all are.’
‘Please don’t think that I am complaining,’ Yves said earnestly. ‘I love the life, love Acquin like my own life’s blood. I’m only glad that-’ He broke off abruptly, looking confused and slightly embarrassed.
‘Glad that your elder brother decided he was a military man and not a farmer?’ Josse supplied, with a laugh. ‘Yves, my dear brother, if you are glad, so am I, to have someone not only capable and willing but eager to take on Acquin and all its dependants and responsibilities.’ He hesitated. He was reluctant to embarrass his brother further, but some things needed saying, and he did not get the chance very often.
‘You do a fine job with our family estates,’ he said quietly, after a pause to collect his thoughts. ‘I do not come home near as often as I should, but, whenever I do, it is to find everything running smoothly and efficiently, a happy, healthy family in residence and, in our lands all around, what appears to me to be a contented and prosperous population of peasants.’
Yves, red in the face, muttered something about having a deal of help from Patrice, Honore and Acelin, but Josse knew full well that the younger brothers were followers, Yves the leader.
After himself, that was.
And, as he had just said, he did not go home nearly as often as he should.
Changing the subject — which, he thought, would come as a relief to them both — Josse said, ‘Did the old man say anything else? How he had come to know our father, for instance?’
Yves shook his head. ‘No. We pressed him, well, as far as politeness allowed, but he would say nothing of his mission. He kept repeating, “I must keep faith with my friend. It is too late for him, so I must find his eldest son and present myself to him instead.” He didn’t seem like a threat really, Josse, in truth he didn’t. If we’d felt that he was dangerous, we should not have told him where to find you.’
‘I know that well enough, Yves. Do not punish yourself.’ Josse walked across the room and back, thinking. Then: ‘In any case, even if he did intend harm, it is too late.’
‘Too late?’
‘Aye. If your old man is the man I am thinking of, then he’s dead. He came here. His cough must have got worse, for he wanted to take the healing Holy Waters administered by the Hawkenlye monks down in the Vale. Only he left it too late. During the night before he was due to take the cure, he died.’
Yves crossed himself. ‘God rest his soul,’ he said quietly.
‘Amen.’
‘He seemed a decent enough type,’ Yves mused. ‘And you have to admire an old man who takes a long journey to keep faith, whatever that meant, with a friend from the past.’ He sighed.
Josse said cautiously, ‘A long journey?’
‘Yes. He’d come up from Lombardy. Or was it Liguria? Somewhere foreign, anyway.’
Foreign. There was that word again.
‘I don’t suppose,’ Josse said, his heart thumping, ‘that your old man supplied a name?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Yves said easily. ‘Didn’t I say? Well, he didn’t actually supply it — he was rather cagey, if I remember rightly. But I overheard that lad of his one day — he was in a right bother, looked nervous and edgy, as if he’d done something bad and was waiting to feel the weight of his master’s wrath. Anyway, he was muttering something about keeping out of the old man’s way — at least, that’s what I thought — and he referred to him by name.’
‘And?’ Josse fought to retain his patience.
‘He was called Galbertius Sidonius. Strange name, isn’t it? See, I said he was foreign!’
They had, Josse thought, deprived the Abbess of her room for long enough. Still stunned by Yves’s revelation, Josse led his brother across to the infirmary, where they found the Abbess in conversation with the infirmarer, to whom Josse presented his brother.
‘We have much to talk about, my brother and I,’ Josse muttered to the Abbess. He told her about Yves’s old man and, more crucially, his identity, and the Abbess’s eyes widened.
‘I see what you mean,’ she murmured back. ‘Will you not make use of my room to untangle this maze, if you can?’
‘Thank you but no, my lady. We will find a quiet corner in the accommodation down in the Vale where we can talk all night, if we need to, without feeling that we disturb you.’
‘And where, with luck, you yourselves will not be disturbed,’ she added shrewdly. ‘You have told your brother of your royal visitor?’ She was whispering so softly now that he could hardly make out the words. ‘And of your interview with John Dee?’
‘No, not yet. But I shall.’ He added grimly, ‘I have the strong sense that it will require every scrap of knowledge, and more intelligence than I fear Yves and I possess, to solve this mystery.’
She shook her head. ‘Sir Josse, do not predict defeat before you have even begun!’ she admonished him. ‘I have faith in you, and I shall pray that God guides you towards illumination.’ Briefly she pressed a hand on his arm, and he was grateful for her touch. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, Sister Euphemia awaits.’
‘Of course. Please.’ He bowed and, catching Yves’s eye, led him out of the infirmary.
Down in the Vale, he told Brother Saul what he required and Saul, after a moment’s reflection, provided it. Soon Josse and Yves were settled in a draught-free corner, screened from curious eyes by a few sheep-hurdles, with adequate bedrolls to lie on and a small fire to cheer them. Since dusk was beginning to fall, it also provided them with some welcome light.
When Saul’s quiet footsteps had faded, Josse told Yves of Prince John’s visit to New Winnowlands, of the dead man found in the bracken, of his trip to see John Dee and everything else that he could think of that might have the remotest relevance.
When he had finished, Yves was silent for so long that Josse was beginning to think he had gone to sleep. But then he said, with a deep sigh, ‘Josse, this is all very well.’
‘What is?’
‘This wealth of detail with which you have just assailed me.’ Josse heard the smile in his brother’s voice.
‘But?’ Josse was quite sure there would be a ‘but’.
‘But it’s not the place to start,’ Yves said firmly. ‘This mystery begins, if we think about it logically and in sequence, with Galbertius Sidonius deciding he must come to see Father. I would guess, in retrospect, that Galbertius knew he was dying, and wanted to make his peace — what was his expression? Keep faith, yes — with Father before it was too late.’
‘He and Father must have been friends, then, long ago,’ Josse said. ‘Do you recall the name, Yves?’
‘No.’
‘Neither do I. Not a very good or close friend, then, else surely he would have visited Acquin, got to know Father’s wife and family.’