Sister Tiphaine did not answer for a few moments. Then she said, ‘My lady, you say our situation, yet I believe that the interests of Hawkenlye and of the Forest in this matter are not similar.’
‘That’s as may be,’ said Helewise with some impatience, ‘but I would guess that both parties would like to see an end to this Merlin’s Tomb.’
‘Indeed,’ Sister Tiphaine muttered. Then: ‘I will guide you through the forest, my lady. I cannot say whether we shall meet the Domina, although I feel sure that she is close.’ She frowned. ‘As you surmise, the violation that has been perpetrated by Florian of Southfrith deeply disturbs and distresses those who guard the sanctity of the trees.’
‘Quite.’ Helewise was surprised that Sister Tiphaine, who kept herself to herself and did not indulge in Abbey gossip, should know the name of the man behind the Merlin’s Tomb trickery. If, indeed, trickery was what it was. . Oh, what she would give to be absolutely sure! ‘Well, let us be on our way, then,’ she concluded briskly, ‘and you must do your best.’
Sister Tiphaine bowed. ‘Very well, my lady.’
Tiphaine led the way along the forest path, turning her head now and then to ensure that the Abbess was still close behind her. Although she had said she was not sure of being able to locate the Domina, in truth she was pretty certain that she could, for that Great One of the people was bound to be in the area. As Tiphaine had hinted to her superior, the Forest Folk had reacted furiously to what Florian had done. There was the question of the felled trees and the great swathe of raw ground where he had ordered his workmen to hack away the undergrowth; there were also those two crude fences and the tacky, badly built huts that would blow apart in the first strong wind and that probably already let in the rain.
Worse, far worse, was the skeleton now lying exposed in an open grave for no better reason than that an unscrupulous man wanted to make money. A great deal of money. The forest people — and Tiphaine herself was sufficiently tied to them to feel the same strong emotion — were carrying the fact of those huge disinterred bones like a permanent hurt, a growing pain that nagged and bit and refused to let go.
The Forest and the Abbey both would like to see an end to it, the Abbess had said. Oh, thought Tiphaine now, she does not know how truly she spoke!
They came to a wide clearing a mile or so within the forest. Tiphaine stopped, looking around and sniffing the air.
‘Where are we?’ the Abbess asked, coming to stand beside her. ‘I do not know this place.’
Tiphaine glanced at her. The Abbess, she knew, was no stranger to the forest; living so close beneath its shadow, she had had occasion more than once to enter deep within its mysterious interior when the interests of Abbey and Great Forest coincided.
As indeed they did now.
‘It is a place of meeting, my lady,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘Usually a watch is kept on this glade so that word may be passed on when someone comes here.’
‘You mean we’re being observed?’ The Abbess glanced around and Tiphaine felt her apprehension.
‘Aye, but not with any malicious intent. They know you, my lady, and respect you.’
‘Oh!’
Tiphaine hid a smile; one of the things that she most admired about her superior was her absence of grandeur. It was true that she could be prideful in small matters, but her evident surprise at being told she was held in esteem by the Forest Folk was typical of her. Abbess of a great foundation such as Hawkenlye she might be, but she did not expect everyone to fall on their knees and grovel at her feet because of it.
‘Shall we wait, my lady, and see what may happen?’ Tiphaine suggested.
‘Yes.’
They moved across to where a fallen log made a convenient bench seat — which in fact was exactly why it had been placed there — and made themselves comfortable. Tiphaine, happy to be out in the forest and breathing in its good air, closed her eyes in bliss. Then, remembering just who it was that sat beside her, she opened them again and looked at the Abbess. With amusement she observed that her superior had also closed her eyes and was sitting with her face turned up to the sun, apparently taking the same keen pleasure in her surroundings as Tiphaine. Relaxing, Tiphaine shut her eyes again and let the forest take her over.
Presently there was a small sound.
Tiphaine’s eyes shot open to see the grey-clad figure of the Domina standing before her. Instinctively she rose to her feet and, forgetting for a moment that other superior who sat beside her, made a reverence to the woman who was one of the Great Ones of the forest people.
To her surprised pleasure, the Abbess did the same.
The Domina extended her hands, briefly touching those of Tiphaine and the Abbess. Then, looking at the Abbess, she said, ‘I knew that you would come and I know why.’
‘I thought you would,’ the Abbess replied. ‘This business affects us at Hawkenlye badly, diverting as it does those seeking help and comfort and taking them instead to a place whose prime purpose is to separate them from their money. But you of the forest are affected far more grievously, for I am told that this Florian of Southfrith has felled trees and cleared ground in pursuit of his dishonest scheme.’
The Domina’s eyes were fixed on the Abbess. ‘The man Josse has visited the place,’ she stated.
‘Indeed. He went there yesterday,’ answered the Abbess.
The Domina nodded. ‘It is known.’
And was, Tiphaine thought, probably the reason why the Domina had expected a visit from the Abbess.
‘I assume I am right in believing that you and your people wish to see an end to this Merlin’s Tomb?’ the Abbess said.
‘Yes.’ The single word was uttered with quiet force. Then: ‘It is sacrilege.’
There was a pause. Tiphaine wondered if the Abbess had been about to ask the Domina to elucidate but, if so, then clearly she thought better of it. Instead she said, ‘What can we do?’
The Domina sighed. ‘There are many things that could be done and that may indeed be done,’ she said after a moment, ‘although whether they should be is another matter.’
‘You mean-’ But the Abbess broke off. With a faint smile, she said, ‘Better, I think, that we do not speak of such things.’
The Domina nodded. ‘Perhaps the most sure path would be to prove to the people who now flock to gape and wonder that these bones are not what Florian of Southfrith claims them to be.’
‘Yes,’ the Abbess said eagerly. ‘If there is a way of proving that Florian has brought in the bones from elsewhere and it’s not Merlin at all in the tomb, then they’ll all realise they’ve been duped.’ A smile spread over her face. ‘Perhaps they’ll demand their money back.’
‘Such an action would be only fair,’ the Domina agreed, ‘although success would, I fear, be unlikely.’
‘Quite.’ The Abbess frowned. ‘It might, however, be a matter for the Tonbridge sheriff if it could be proved that Florian was taking money fraudulently.’
The Domina gazed at her. Whatever profound thought was running through her head, Tiphaine, watching the two powerful women with close attention, could not guess. ‘The bones are not those of Merlin,’ the Domina said. ‘Be quite sure of that, Abbess Helewise.’
‘You. .’ The Abbess hesitated, as if reluctant to ask for further assurance. Then, squaring her shoulders — she was slightly taller than the Domina, Tiphaine noticed — she said, ‘I am sorry if I appear to doubt you, but I must ask how you can be so certain. If we are to press ahead with our plans to discredit Florian’s scheme, I have to be absolutely sure that we are acting fairly and honestly. Otherwise — if, that is, there is a possibility that the skeleton is that of Merlin and that the bones are therefore capable of working miracles — then it would be wrong to close down a source of comfort and relief when our people so badly need all the help they can get.’