‘I was summoned in my turn, my lady,’ he went on, grasping her hand in a painful grip, ‘but it was odd, for the call came not from my old uncle, to whom I was close, but from another of the thirteen. My uncle did send me a message, but it was not the summons I expected when I learned he was dying. I could not understand it — I do not understand it even now — for my uncle sent me a note that was encrypted in a code only he and I knew, and he told me to stay away. Now what, dear lady, am I to make of that?’
Perhaps nothing, Helewise thought compassionately, for you are sick and probably have no idea what you are saying. In the morning, all this will seem like a bad dream and we shall find out what really happened to you. ‘Try not to distress yourself,’ she said soothingly. ‘Drink the medicine that Sister Caliste has prepared, for it will help you to sleep and ease your pain. Tomorrow we shall speak again and I-’
‘Tomorrow may be too late!’ the man cried, his voice breaking. ‘I cannot… I cannot…’
The strong herbs were having their effect at last. As the infirmarer, Sister Caliste and Helewise watched, his eyelids drooped, the desperate tension in his face relaxed, and he seemed to slump down in his bed.
Sister Euphemia said softly, ‘That’s more like it. He’s stopped fighting now and he’ll sleep till morning, which will give his body time to start healing itself.’ She smoothed the crisp linen sheet over the man’s chest, now rising and falling with the long, steady breaths of deep sleep. ‘We’ll look after him, my lady,’ she added, ‘and I’ll send word when he’s ready to talk to you.’
‘Thank you, Sister Euphemia. Well done — ’ she addressed Sister Caliste — ‘you have provided the rest that he so badly needed.’
Then she turned her back on the infirmary’s worrying but intriguing new patient and went back to her room to return to the vexing question of the new chapel.
Nine
I n te mid-morning something else happened to push the problem of the chapel from her attention: Josse arrived and before him on the big horse sat his daughter.
Helewise, who had been on her way to the infirmary to see if the new patient was awake, saw them ride in and hurried over.
‘May I leave Horace here?’ Josse said after the most perfunctory of greetings.
‘Of course, but-’
Josse had slipped down from the saddle and was lowering Meggie to the ground. ‘Meggie, take Horace over there to the stables,’ he said to her, pointing. ‘He knows the way and he won’t be naughty.’
Meggie, Helewise observed, did not need that assurance. She seemed to have no fear of the big horse but, on the contrary, treated him with such easy familiarity that he might have been a pet puppy, though her head, with its brown curls, barely reached Horace’s broad chest.
Josse was whispering urgently and Helewise turned to listen. ‘She turned up all by herself at New Winnowlands yesterday afternoon,’ he said, ‘and I need to find out who brought her and where her mother is.’
‘Joanna is not in the forest?’
He hesitated. Then, ‘No. I last saw her in Chartres.’
In Chartres! Oh, why had he not mentioned it? Watching his face, in which the profound anxiety was all too readable, she realized that now was not the time to ask. ‘You’re going to speak to the Domina?’
‘I need to speak to one of them, but the Domina may be in Chartres too — they’re up to something there, something to do with the new cathedral. I can’t fathom it.’ He sounded both distressed and angry.
‘The important thing is that Meggie is safe with you,’ she said, and instantly saw from the sudden lightening of his expression that it was exactly the right thing.
‘Aye, so she is,’ he murmured. Then, with a quick smile, he held out his hand to Meggie, trotting back from the stables, and the two of them set off for the forest.
Watching them, Helewise realized that she hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the wounded man in the infirmary. She would make sure to do so when they came back.
Josse and Meggie walked slowly down the forest tracks until they reached the clearing between the ancient, majestic oaks where Josse had encountered the forest people before. In the middle, standing quite still in a pool of sunlight as if she was waiting for him, was the Domina.
Meggie gave a cry of delight and ran up to her and the old woman’s severe expression relaxed into a smile. She bent down, hugged Meggie and whispered something. Meggie nodded vigorously and said, ‘Yes, yes, I am, thank you, lady.’
‘I asked her,’ the Domina said, straightening up as Josse approached, ‘if she is well and happy, and you heard the answer.’ She stared down at the child. ‘Indeed, I did not need to ask,’ she murmured, ‘for it is plain to see.’
Angry at what he read as a suggestion that his child might not be properly cared for by her own father, Josse said coldly, ‘She is my daughter and I love her. I would not leave her unattended in a courtyard and trust that no harm would come to her.’
‘We knew she was safe,’ the Domina replied mildly. ‘The abbess’s daughter-in-law was within; her own child was playing with Meggie.’
‘Why is she here?’ Josse demanded, in no way mollified by the Domina’s reasonable answer. ‘Why did Joanna send her home to me? I was in Chartres — I saw Joanna — ’ or at least, he thought, I believe I did — ‘and she could have handed Meggie over to me then!’
The Domina regarded him steadily for some moments, Meggie, bored by the grown-up talk, had wandered away and was struggling to get up on to the branch of a birch tree. When the Domina finally spoke, it was not in answer to Josse’s question. ‘The spirit that has nurtured the world since its creation is retreating, Josse,’ she said. ‘Have you not perceived this? Men think with their heads and not their hearts, and they value material things to the exclusion of almost everything else. They build higher and more magnificently and say it is to the glory of God, but is it not rather to the glory of those who pay? Their great constructions shout out, “We have wealth,” not, “We believe,” and such a sentiment is not prompted by true faith.’
‘I…’ Josse was unsure how to reply. ‘Joanna said they — you — have to protect something at Chartres that is threatened. Is that what you mean?’
‘Yes. The spot where the cathedral stands in the Shining City was sacred to us long before the new religion spread from the East. We are and have always been willing to share it, for we understand that the priests are also profoundly moved by its power. They, however, seek to exclude us, and now it is only by acting furtively that we have any hope of adding our own contribution to this precious place. We will not be ignored, Josse; we also have something to offer.’
Rarely for the Domina, her emotion was showing on her face; Josse saw a definite flush spread over the pale cheeks. He gave her a chance to recover, then said, ‘Joanna implied something of the sort. She.. I know she is powerful now, and I thought she meant that she and others of your people would…’ He did not know how to express it. ‘Well, that you’d leave something of your power there in the cathedral. There’s that maze thing — I wondered maybe if that would be a sort of focus for you.’
The Domina nodded. ‘Yes, it is an ancient symbol and the priests do not truly understand it. They are laying down the labyrinth because we have put it into their minds to do so, and they will accept our gift of the sacred plaque that is to be placed at the heart of the maze. They believe — ’ there was a trace of scorn in her voice — ‘that the labyrinth is simply a symbol of the journey to their holy city. It is that, it’s true, but the labyrinth exists also on other levels that are far more profound. But,’ she added conclusively, ‘there is no need for any except us to know it.’