‘It wasn’t difficult,’ Paradisa said. ‘She knows me, of course, from when she’s visited here before, and she seemed quite happy as soon as I said you’d be coming home before long.’
‘I’m grateful,’ he said. ‘You have a loving heart and a child like Meggie can recognize it instantly.’ He saw by the puzzled expressions on Paradisa’s and Dominic’s faces that they did not understand, so hurriedly he changed the subject. ‘But why is she here?’ he said. And, he added silently, where is Joanna?
He barely slept that night. He knew he must ask Meggie to tell him much more about this mysterious trip and why she had ended up all alone at New Winnowlands, but so far all he knew was that she had been in Chartres. Well, that made sense, for had he not met Joanna there less than three weeks ago? He had wondered afterwards if that strange meeting in the haunted and deserted cathedral had been a dream but, now that Meggie claimed to have been there too, he must conclude that it had really taken place. So for some reason Joanna had not chosen to leave Meggie with him this time but taken the child with her… Of course! She couldn’t leave Meggie here with me, he thought, jubilant at having resolved at least a small part of the puzzle, because I’d already left for France.
But why bring Meggie now? Perhaps it was because Joanna had remained in Chartres. She had mentioned her people’s desire to banish the dark shadow cast by Paul de Fleury’s murder, and there was also the business that had taken her there in the first place. Maybe that task, whatever it was, had still to be completed and, knowing somehow that Josse was going back to New Winnowlands, Joanna had sent Meggie to him in the care of some trusted friend.
Why in heaven’s name didn’t she tell me? he thought crossly. She could have explained it to me that night I met her. I could have collected Meggie there and then, and she could have travelled home with me. Dear God, but Joanna was an unfathomable, difficult woman. His irritation spilled over into anger and, sitting up in bed, savagely he punched his pillows. Anger did no good; he tried to calm his mind and think about what he ought to do next.
Well, he decided after some time, he still had a job to do for the queen and he could hardly take a small child to London while he attempted to pick up the trail of de Loup and his companions. He could leave Meggie at New Winnowlands while he was away, for she already knew Dominic and Paradisa and seemed happy in their company; she loved playing with little Ralf and was obviously entranced by the baby. Josse would explain to her that he had to go away for a few days but he would promise faithfully to be back soon. If she accepted that serenely, he would leave her here. If not, well, he’d just have to take her with him. It was, he realized, an appealing prospect.
He dragged his mind away from visions of himself and Meggie riding down a sunny lane and returned to the present matter. Before setting off for London he would pay a visit to Hawkenlye and go into the forest. He would seek out Joanna’s people and demand answers to a few questions, such as why is Joanna still in Chartres, what is she doing there and how long is she going to be there? Another pertinent question might be who brought Meggie home? He might ask that too.
With the immediate future decided, Josse turned on to his side and settled down to sleep.
The master mason and his team arrived at Hawkenlye and within hours Helewise found herself in the middle of a dispute. Since she had been informed of Queen Eleanor’s plan to build the new chapel, Helewise had envisaged it within the abbey walls; the mason, however, said firmly that there was no room even for the modest building he had in mind, not unless existing structures were radically altered or demolished. ‘Impossible,’ said Helewise. ‘There is nothing wrong with any building here and it would be sinfully wasteful to damage or even alter them in any way.’ Besides, she reminded herself, had not Queen Eleanor expressed her reluctance to alter any of the existing abbey structures? The mason — whose name was Martin — proposed to site the new chapel on an apron of land projecting from the forest opposite the main gates. It was abbey land — Helewise had verified that — but for some reason she had not explored she found it quite inconceivable for the chapel to be constructed there, so close to the forest that it would be in the shadow of the trees.
It was stalemate and neither Helewise nor Martin saw any way to break it. Meanwhile the team of stonemasons sat idle in the camp they had erected down in the vale and, as everyone knew, the devil had a habit of finding mischief for men with time on their hands.
In due course mischief arrived. Two days after the arrival of the masons, a badly wounded man wrapped in a bloodstained cloak was found at the abbey gates by the porteress when she went to open up after the first office of the day. The cloak was wet with dew and the man’s hands so icy to the touch that at first Sister Ursel thought he was dead. Sister Martha, hurrying over from the stables on hearing the porteress’s cry, bent down, put her cheek to the man’s lips and said, ‘He’s breathing. Come, Ursel, we must take him to the infirmary before he bleeds to death.’
Sister Euphemia, busy organizing the early morning round of patient care, told the two nuns to put the man in the curtained-off recess at the end of the long ward. Summoning Sister Caliste, she stripped him, washed off the blood and inspected his wounds. He had been savagely attacked; there were blows to the forehead and left cheek, cuts and bruises to the shoulders and chest, and a deep slashing wound across the throat. Although this had bled copiously, Sister Euphemia discovered that no major vessel had been damaged; she watched as Sister Caliste neatly stitched the wound and then she prepared a dressing soaked in comfrey and diluted lavender oil and covered it up.
The man remained unconscious for most of the day. As the sun set, his eyelids fluttered open and he gave a hoarse cry. While Sister Caliste tried to calm his extreme agitation, Sister Euphemia hurried to find the abbess.
‘I am Abbess Helewise and you are safe in Hawkenlye Abbey,’ Helewise said, bending over the man a few moments later. He was, she noticed in a quick assessment, in his middle years, lean-faced and wiry, with greying light brown hair and hazel eyes set in a face whose lines indicated that he was more inclined to happiness than misery.
He stared up at her. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘You were found outside the gates this morning. You were wounded but the infirmarer and her nurse have tended you and they believe you will live.’ She smiled.
‘My throat hurts,’ he said. Raising a hand, his fingers encountered the soft dressing. His face crumpled and he whispered, ‘I thought I was going to die!’
Sister Caliste gave him a few sips of a greenish-coloured drink and after a moment or two his eyes closed.
‘I will leave him to sleep,’ Helewise whispered, ‘and not bother him with questions until-’
The man’s hand shot out and he grasped her sleeve. ‘No!’ he croaked. ‘I must tell you, my lady abbess, for there is such danger and I am so afraid!’ He struggled as if trying to get up, but as soon as his head was off the flat pillow his face paled and he moaned, ‘Oh, but I’m so dizzy!’
Sister Euphemia gently but firmly pushed him down again. ‘You have lost a lot of blood,’ she said. ‘Lie flat and still, and let us heal you.’
He gave her an ironic smile. ‘It seems I have little choice,’ he said. ‘But there are things I must tell you, my lady — ’ he turned his eyes to Helewise — ‘terrible things, and the evil is right here…’ His eyes closed.
Helewise looked enquiringly at the infirmarer. ‘He’s rambling,’ Sister Euphemia whispered, ‘probably doesn’t know what he’s saying. I dare say there’s a bit of fever in his blood and he’ll-’
The man’s eyes were open once more. ‘It is a secret, my lady,’ he whispered, ‘a black, dark secret that was discovered by the Thirteen Knights long ago and far away. They knew its vast importance and they swore an oath to protect it. Thirteen, you see — the magic number that is the sum of moons in the year. There must always be thirteen and each one nominates his successor, so that as one dies the next takes his place and the company of the Knights of Arcturus is always complete.’ He stopped, for the effort of speaking had made him gasp for breath. Sister Caliste offered more of the drink but he pushed her hand away; perhaps, Helewise thought, he realizes that it is a sedative and will take no more until his tale is told, although the great effort hardly seemed worth it when he was talking such incomprehensible nonsense.