Then they began to search the ground around the Manor, looking under the winter-bare trees and along the track that led off into the forest. Finally, as Fitzurse stood staring down a faint path probably made by wild boar, de Gifford had had enough.
‘Do you propose that we dig up the forest?’ he asked grimly. ‘Or may we now admit that, even given that Walter Bell did come here, which I propose is unlikely since none of the servants saw him, then he left no trace of his visit?’
Fitzurse turned and glared at him. ‘He came here,’ he insisted in a strangely forceful tone. ‘I know he did. And he has not been seen since.’
‘We have only your word for that,’ de Gifford said.
‘Do you accuse me of lying?’ Fitzurse demanded. ‘Is that it?’ He turned his angry eyes to Josse. ‘And you, sir knight, is that what you think too, you who are such a close friend of the lady Abbess?’ He nodded as if to say, yes, I know all about you. Then, with an abrupt movement, he said, ‘Oh, have it your own way then. I’ll carry on the hunt alone!’
‘It will do you little good if you do find evidence,’ de Gifford pointed out, ‘since, without a witness, there is nothing to say that you did not bring it here yourself. Furthermore, use of the forest that stretches out before us is permitted to all at this time of year and so it would be virtually impossible to link anything that you did happen to find with Leofgar Warin and his household.’
Fitzurse stared at him as if he would have liked to punch him. Then, lips tight, he hissed, ‘I have not done with this matter yet, sheriff. Just wait. Just you wait.’ And, leaving behind him a feeling of disturbing unease, he strode off under the trees.
After a moment, de Gifford said, ‘Josse, I am unhappy over this. There is something …’ He screwed up his face as if trying to extract what he felt from the chilly air of the forest fringe. Then, shrugging, he added, ‘But it will not reveal itself, I fear, to two cold men who wish they were somewhere else. Come, let us fetch our horses and return to the Abbey. The lady Abbess will be relieved that nothing has been found.’
Aye, she will, Josse silently agreed. Remembering how she had looked when de Gifford had revealed who it was that Fitzurse sought, he added to himself, she’ll be relieved, even though she may very well also be surprised.
It was late when they finally reached the Abbey. All was quiet and still within the high walls but, as he and de Gifford rode off in the direction of the stables, Josse was aware of Sister Ursel diligently pushing home all three of the stout bars that secured the gates as if she too felt the vague sense of menace that seemed to hang in the air. The two men saw to their horses and then Josse led the way out of the smaller gate that opened on to the track leading down to the Vale. Once more the porteress secured it behind them, bidding them both a soft goodnight.
The monks, lay brothers and the few visiting pilgrims who were staying overnight in the Vale’s sparse accommodation appeared to have settled down to sleep. Moving quietly to his own habitual corner, Josse found a bedroll and blankets for de Gifford and the two of them made themselves as comfortable as they could. There was a fire still burning in the central hearth and its warmth was very welcome.
Leaning close to Josse, clearly anxious not to disturb the sleeping people nearby, de Gifford whispered, ‘Fitzurse will go on with his search, I am thinking, despite the fact that I implied that anything he managed to turn up would not necessarily count against Leofgar.’
‘You think that he will find something?’ Josse whispered back.
De Gifford sighed. ‘I hope not, although I confess that I fear the worst.’
Aye, Josse thought, and that was why you were at such pains to discount any incriminating discovery that Fitzurse might make even before he has made it.
Listening to the rustling of the straw palliasse as de Gifford turned over and lay down, Josse reflected that, like the Abbess, the sheriff too seemed almost to be expecting trouble …
It was not a comfortable thought on which to try to get to sleep.
Chapter 11
Josse reported to the Abbess early the next day. She was clearly very relieved when he told her that nothing had turned up at the Old Manor to prove that Walter Bell had visited Leofgar there. Josse did not think it either kind or necessary to add that there had been no sign of a body either, although he was quite sure she had been dreading that there might have been.
‘What will Gervase de Gifford do now?’ she asked. Her appearance of serenity, Josse decided, was costing her considerable effort. Her face was pale and he noticed that her strong hands were clenched so tightly that the knuckles showed white. As if aware of his sympathetic eyes on them, she tucked her hands away in the opposite sleeves of her habit.
‘He has returned to Tonbridge,’ Josse replied. ‘He intends to carry on the search for Walter Bell as he suggests that finding the wretched man would be the best way of answering Fitzurse’s accusations.’
‘But even if Walter Bell should be found alive,’ she said slowly, ‘his brother Teb has been murdered.’
‘By an unknown hand,’ Josse countered swiftly. ‘De Gifford has no suggestions to make on the matter, my lady; at present he has no idea what the motive can have been and therefore he hesitates to speculate who might have killed the man.’
‘That is wise,’ she murmured. ‘I wish that I-’ But whatever she wished was to remain known to herself alone, for she folded her lips on the rest of the remark. Then after a moment she said, ‘And you, Sir Josse? What will you do?’
He had been thinking about this and had made up his mind; it was partly in order to tell her what he had decided to do that he had come to see her. ‘I shall go out into the forest,’ he announced. ‘Aye, I know that Saul and the brothers carried out a thorough search, but I want to see for myself.’ He smiled grimly. ‘They are capable and I do not doubt their diligence, my lady. But the forest has secrets, as you and I well know, and it may be that I can find my way into hidden places that other eyes, no matter how well intentioned, would not see.’
She watched him. Then she said softly, ‘Be careful.’
‘I am always careful.’ He tried to smile at her but he did not think he made much of a job of it.
He bowed to her and turned to go. He thought he heard her say ‘Thank you, my friend’, but he could not be sure.
He decided to walk up to the forest. Horace was a big horse and not renowned for moving silently and, besides, the trees grew low above the lesser paths and tracks and Josse would pass along beneath the bare winter branches more easily on his own two feet than high up astride his horse. He went to collect his sword and dagger and then strode quickly out through the Abbey gates and crossed the track, hurrying across the grass and increasing his pace as he drew nearer to the fringe of trees that circled the main forest. As always, he began to feel the unique atmosphere of the Great Forest reach out to embrace him and he hoped — prayed — that its touch was not hostile.
You could never be sure …
He followed the main track through the trees for some time. Memories sprang up to haunt him. Over there, down that smaller path, was the old charcoal burners’ camp, long disused by the charcoal burners but a refuge for others in times of crisis. Up along that path the ways branched and one led to a clearing where a woman had hanged herself. And dead ahead, deep in the forest’s heart, was the mysterious place that he and the Abbess had stumbled across and where they had witnessed something that he was still inclined to believe had really been nothing more than a disturbing vision.