His eyelids fluttered open. ‘My lady abbess!’ He seemed surprised to see her. ‘Did you wish to speak to me?’ His expression clouded. ‘Oh, but I have to speak to Sir Josse,’ he whispered anxiously. ‘Is he here?’
And, aching for him — he seemed to have totally forgotten their intense, disturbing conversation — she repeated what she had said a few minutes ago. ‘He is not here, I’m afraid. I will ask him to come and see you when he returns,’ she added. ‘Sleep now, Sir Piers.’ Then she got up and tiptoed out of the recess.
Helewise’s footsteps led her automatically to the church but, as its shadow fell over her, unnaturally long in the light of the setting sun, she realized that it was not where she needed to be. She muttered a quick prayer to the loving spirit whom she knew kept it in his protection. Nothing, she thought fiercely, nothing could change her love for he who gave up his life to save the world, but another voice was calling to her and it was not to be found within the abbey’s walls.
She walked out through the gates and up the grassy slope until she reached the edge of the forest. Then, taking a deep breath, she went in under the trees. She glided slowly, as if in a dream, and, as she moved beneath the leafy branches, dapples of rosy sunset light patterned her black habit.
Sunshine, shadow. Light, dark.
The play of light was hypnotic and soon she felt that she had entered a trance-like state. Her mind, which was always so busy, overflowing with all that each day demanded of her, gradually grew calm. It was, she thought, stopping to give it her full attention, like a child’s bouncing ball, which, as the initial impetus dies, bounces lower and lower until it is still.
Alone out in the quiet of the forest, Helewise stood with her eyes closed and she thought she understood. That strange moment of epiphany when she had speculated about the black statue had penetrated deep within her. Now she knew what it meant and, as realization flowered, it was as if she had always known, as if all her life there had been two Helewises. There was the one who loved the Lord and had for most of her adult life served Him within Hawkenlye Abbey — for the past fifteen years as its abbess — but there was also the Helewise in whom ran an understanding and a full acceptance that other ways also led to the divine.
With the realization came so much more and, as the tumult of thoughts exploded, she understood that the effort of suppressing them had been enormous, and that she had been making it for some time.
She sank down on to the short grass beside the track, her mind leaping back. There had been the business of the heretics and that sweet-natured woman whom Helewise ought to have denounced; she vividly recalled the night when she had kneeled before the altar, to see after hours of anguish the tender face of Christ. Aurelia — yes, the woman’s name had been Aurelia. Helewise had let her go. Then there was the abiding presence of the forest people and, indeed, dear old Sister Tiphaine, at least still half pagan. There was Joanna, whom Josse loved…
She turned her mind from that. This, she told herself firmly, is not about Josse.
She was a nun — an abbess — and it was exactly what she wanted to be, for her love of and faith in the Lord was profound and sincere. But her role meant that she must serve another master, whose nature was no longer what she had believed it to be. She was bound by that great, powerful, impersonal and increasingly furtive body, the Church, and sometimes she barely recognized this master at all.
She drew up her knees, rested her folded arms on top of them and put her head down on her crossed wrists. She closed her eyes. She sat there for a long time.
Then slowly she came back to herself, got up, stretched her stiff limbs and set out in the twilight to find Martin and tell him he could start building the chapel in the morning.
Very early the next day, Josse left Meggie in the care of Sister Tiphaine and set off for Tonbridge. He might not be able to persuade Ninian to accept a more secure lodging but at least he could make the place where the lad was a little safer. Philippe de Loup was after him and Piers — or, as Ninian had said, after the statue; well, Josse would do all that he could to stop Philippe in his tracks. Ninian had wounded him, perhaps gravely. He had not come to Hawkenlye for aid, but it was possible he had gone to the canons at Tonbridge. Josse would go and see and, before he did so, visit Gervase de Gifford and alert him to the danger in their midst.
He rode into the sheriff’s courtyard while the family were still at breakfast. Gervase ushered him inside and offered him food and drink; both were very welcome, for Josse had ridden out from Hawkenlye with no more than a cup of water and a hard heel of bread inside him. As he wolfed down the food — it was delicious but he was in a hurry — he did his best to answer Sabin de Gifford’s cheerful remarks. She sat beside her two-year-old son, Simond, and the child quickly overcame his awe at having Josse at the breakfast table and threw a lump of soggy rusk, which scored a hit on Josse’s hand. For a few precious moments, Josse relaxed; Sabin and Gervase’s home was welcoming and always had been and, now that Sabin was over her grief for her old grandfather, who had died the previous Christmas, it was once more a happy place.
Josse finished his food and Gervase, drawing his chair closer, said, ‘Now, Josse, to what do we owe this very early visit?’
‘Aye, I’m sorry to disturb you at breakfast, but my errand could not wait.’ Briefly he told Gervase and Sabin about Philippe de Loup. Only when he had finished his tale did he add quietly, ‘The young squire is Joanna’s son.’
Sabin gasped. ‘The one who-’ She stopped. Then in a whisper, ‘Joanna told me about him when we all stayed in the inn at Dinan.’
Josse stared at her. ‘Did she tell you all about him?’
‘Yes.’ Sabin’s eyes were wide. ‘But I have told nobody, not even Gervase. I promised, you see,’ she said, turning to look at her husband.
‘There is some secret concerning this boy?’ Gervase demanded.
‘Aye,’ Josse admitted, ‘but it is Joanna’s secret, Gervase.’
The sheriff frowned but then shrugged and said, ‘Very well. So, Josse, Ninian prefers to hide out in the house in the woods and will not accept the shelter of Hawkenlye, and you wish me to help him by hunting down the man who tried to murder his master. Have I got it right?’
‘You make him sound like a petulant child,’ Josse protested. ‘He has very good reasons for staying out in the forest. One, he is of the forest people’s blood and they will guard him. Two, he has what he sees as a sacred mission to guard this statue that Piers has brought to England and keep it from de Loup’s hands. Three — ’ three was more difficult; it was something that had occurred to him in the small hours and he was not sure if he could speak of it in a level voice — ‘three is that Ninian fears some harm has come to his mother and he prefers to remain out there in her territory.’ He cleared his throat. ‘He is staying in the house, as I told you, but my guess is that he visits her hut regularly.’
There was silence. He could sense Sabin’s huge sympathy and even Gervase seemed affected. After a moment, the sheriff said gently, ‘And you, Josse? Do you too fear for Joanna’s safety?’
Abruptly Josse stood up, pushing his chair back so violently that it fell with a loud crash on to the stone floor. The little boy gave a cry of distress and hastily Sabin took him in her arms, soothing him. Josse barely noticed. I have to get out, he thought wildly. I cannot bear to think about my fears.
‘Josse?’ Gervase hurried along beside him as he strode out. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Josse spun round to face him and saw in the sheriff’s face nothing but kindness and concern. He brushed a hand over his face. ‘I do not know, Gervase. I never do with her!’ he added, his grief and anger spilling over. ‘But I am told that… I believe she may not come back.’