Even if Josse had been prepared to risk his freedom, going back to Chartres would have involved Ninian. Josse could have tried to make the lad go on alone, but he knew Ninian would not have left him. The boy had a loyal heart.
Ninian. Josse took another mouthful of cider and thought back to the eager boy he had met seven years ago. They had liked each other straight away, he and Ninian; even before Josse fell in love with the lad’s mother, he had taken to Ninian for his own sake. When Josse did what Joanna asked and found a place for the boy, in his fellow knight Sir Walter Asham’s household, he had swallowed the pain of leaving the lad with no expectation of ever seeing him again. Unlike Joanna, Josse had no scrying glass. But then — it was funny how life worked out — their paths had crossed once more. Now Ninian seemed to have attached himself firmly to Josse’s side, as if, with Piers dead, he had turned into Josse’s squire.
What should I do with him? Josse wondered, the question instantly answered with a slightly mocking echo. Do with him? He will not be done to; he will decide for himself.
Ninian had said he did not wish to return to Sir Walter. Had he not been happy there? Josse did not know. What else would the boy do? Once he had returned the black goddess to Hawkenlye, then what?
Josse had not yet found the right moment to tell Ninian about Meggie. He glanced across at the sleeping boy. I will do so this night, he vowed. Before we set foot on English soil, I will tell him. Joanna would be happy, he thought, to think of her son and her daughter meeting at last.
Joanna… There was something that had been nagging at him ever since the night in the cathedral. Now, at last, he let himself think about it. She had been saying goodbye; until now, even approaching that aching moment had threatened to undermine him totally. Even now, tears filled his eyes as he pictured her. He had asked if she wanted to go and she had said it was the only way, whatever that meant. She had told him she loved him and her children, and that she could only bear to leave them because she knew Josse would care for them. She must have known Ninian was there, he thought — of course she did! — for then she had said something about Meggie being able to see her and speak to her and added that she hoped this was the gift she left to any of her blood. Ninian too, she seemed to be saying, would be able to commune with her in whatever form she now took.
He saw but could scarcely take in the obvious conclusion: Joanna wanted Josse to take care of Ninian as well as Meggie. Why else, he asked himself, with a sudden lift of the heart, why else say, it is only because I know you will look after them so well that I can leave them? She said ‘them’, not ‘her’; she meant both her children.
I must not force this on to Ninian, Josse thought. For my part, I am overjoyed at the prospect of becoming Ninian’s guardian, but I must make quite sure he feels the same.
He drank some more cider. The fierce, sharp pain of thinking about Joanna and picturing her pale, tired face was already lessening, softened by the images of a life with Joanna’s children. My children, he thought drowsily, living in my household; Meggie because she is of my blood and Ninian because all of us wish it so.
The empty mug fell from his hand as he slipped into sleep.
Josse woke up to be faced by dazzling orange as the sun went down in the west and the shining sea reflected the brilliant sky. He stretched and yawned, watching Ninian as the boy packed their gear with neat, economic movements. His face was set, and his eyelids were pink and puffy, as if he had been crying.
‘Ninian?’ Josse asked tentatively.
The boy looked up swiftly, then bent once more to his task. ‘I’m all right.’
But you’re not, lad, Josse thought, any more than I am. Still, if a stern facade was the boy’s way of keeping his emotions under control, it was not Josse’s place to attempt to get beneath it.
Ninian ran out of jobs to do and, after a brief hesitation, came to sit beside Josse. ‘How long till we go?’ he asked.
‘Our boat sails two hours after sunset,’ Josse replied. ‘We’ve a while yet.’
Silence fell. Josse, very aware of Ninian beside him, sensed strongly that there was something the boy wanted to say. He’ll need to speak of his mother, Josse thought, praying for the strength to respond without breaking down.
When Ninian finally rounded up his courage and broke the silence, it was not at all what Josse had expected. ‘Josse,’ he began, ‘I feel really bad because I lied to you.’
‘Eh?’
‘I think Sir Piers did too, but I’m sure he didn’t want to any more than I did. It was to protect someone else, you see, and no matter how much we liked you there just wasn’t any choice. I hope you’re not disappointed in me.’ He hung his head.
Josse thought carefully before speaking. ‘It’s perhaps a little like attacking in self-defence, isn’t it?’ he said eventually. ‘You and I had to hurt the knights down in the crypt because they were trying to kill us. Sometimes you have to do something that’s usually regarded as bad because the alternative is even worse.’
‘Yes, that’s it, sort of,’ Ninian said eagerly.
There was a pause, heavy with the weight of things unsaid. Josse waited.
‘I think I can tell you now, Josse,’ Ninian said in a low voice. ‘You see, we were protecting someone’s good name. He — this person — was doing a good thing, but everyone would have thought he was involved in a very bad one.’
Josse began to understand. ‘You’re talking about what happened on the Ile d’Oleron.’
‘Yes. De Loup told you that the king was against the Knights of Arcturus and everything they were and did, and I could see that it came as a complete surprise to you and you’d had no idea until that moment. Well, Josse, I could have told you ages ago, only Sir Piers and I vowed that we would not mention King Richard’s name at all. We knew what the gossips would say — it’s funny but people always want to believe the worst possible interpretation of events, don’t they? — and we decided it was safer to pretend that our saviour was an unknown knight. We were convinced that de Loup and his knights would keep quiet about King Richard’s involvement that night — it would not reflect well on them that one man fought off all of them to rescue me and Sir Piers — and we swore to do the same.’ He sighed. ‘But now the king is dead, Sir Piers is dead, the knights have lost their treasure and, with their leader and driving force also dead, are probably in disarray.’ He raised his clear blue eyes to Josse. ‘You know, anyway, so now I can confess that I told you a lie and hope you forgive me.’
‘Of course I do,’ Josse said warmly. ‘You had no choice, Ninian, and what you did was right and honourable. If the king had not had the moment of carelessness that allowed the guard who rowed the three of you out to the ship to see his face, the secret would never have emerged.’ He paused, thinking hard. ‘But it is better this way,’ he concluded. ‘Now, if by some devious means the tale of what went on in that tower should ever be whispered again, Queen Eleanor will know the truth.’
He had imagined that, having confessed and with his fault off his conscience, Ninian would have relaxed, but instead he seemed even more tense. Again, Josse waited.
‘Josse?’
‘I’m listening, lad.’
‘Josse, you know about Thorald of Lehon?’
‘Aye, I do.’ He was wary at the mention of that name. Thorald of Lehon was, in the eyes of the world, Ninian’s father. The truth was a closely guarded secret which Ninian might not know…
‘He’s dead,’ Ninian went on quickly. ‘He wasn’t my father, even though he was married to my mother.’
‘Aye.’ For a wonderful moment, Josse wondered if Ninian was bringing up the subject of his fatherless state because he envisaged Josse in that role.