‘Yet it was you, not him, who rowed the boat?’ And you who saw the king’s face, he added silently.
‘Yes, well, I don’t reckon old de Loup knew anything about that little boat.’ His face creased in puzzlement. ‘It was odd, come to think of it, for all the others went back the same way they came out. It was a private arrangement, I believe, between those three knights and my brother.’
‘You don’t know for sure?’
‘No. See, my brother had cricked his neck that morning carrying a barrel of wine into de Loup’s fortress. There was no possibility of him rowing a boat anywhere, never mind in the middle of the night in a gale.’
‘So you acted as his substitute?’
‘Yes, that I did. Weren’t no need to tell anyone, so we didn’t. I rowed the boat; I had the fee.’
‘And de Loup never found out?’
‘No, don’t reckon he did. Like I just said, I’m not even certain he knew about it at all. As to who rowed it…’ He shrugged.
After a while Josse said, ‘I am sorry about your brother.’ There was no reply except for an aggrieved sniff. Josse reached into the leather pouch at his belt and his hand closed on some of the coins within. Removing them, he said, ‘You know, I believe, who sent me to you.’
‘I do.’
‘She commanded me to discover the truth.’
The man’s head shot up. ‘I’ve told you the truth!’
‘Aye, I believe you. This tale must not be told anywhere else.’ He spoke with all the gravity and authority he could muster. ‘Take these coins — ’ he held out a handful of gold and the guard instantly shot out his hands, palms up, to receive them — ‘in compensation for your brother’s death. What he did was both dangerous and wrong, but he has paid a terrible price, as have his wife, his children and you.’
‘That we have,’ the guard said heavily.
‘But with this money I am also buying your silence,’ Josse added softly. ‘You have not told your story to anybody else?’
‘No!’ The denial shot out of him. ‘Do you think I’m a fool? I dare not! Well, I told the queen of course. That secretary of hers admitted me to her presence, which is all but unheard of for a man like me, and we spoke alone. But I’ve not repeated my tale before this moment, I swear!’
‘Why?’ Josse asked suddenly.
The guard looked instantly suspicious. ‘Why what?’
‘Why tell anyone? Why bring this story to the queen’s attention?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ the guard said with a distinct sneer. ‘Queen Eleanor’s greatly loved here on the island. We may not see her very often but she’s our special lady.’ He sat up a little straighter. ‘I thought it right that she should know what her precious son got up to.’
‘I see.’ It was an answer, of sorts, although Josse could not help but think that the gold now in the guard’s hand was somehow more of a motive for having told what he knew than this alleged great love for the queen. ‘Very well. So it’s just the queen and you who know.’
‘And you,’ the guard pointed out.
Josse chose to ignore that. ‘So,’ he went on, ‘if ever I hear rumours of the late king’s presence here on the Ile d’Oleron on a certain stormy night in March, I shall know who is spreading them. Yes?’
‘Yes.’ It was a croak.
‘And I imagine you know full well what I shall do if that happens.’
‘Yes,’ the guard repeated. In the dim light his face looked pale and sweaty with fear.
Josse felt guilty; he was no Philippe de Loup, prepared to murder a man for spilling a secret, but this shivering, trembling man sitting before him did not know that. Which, for the sake of the late king’s reputation and Queen Eleanor’s peace of mind, was just as well.
Three
Josse and Brother Augustus were abroad very early the next morning. They made their quiet way to the stables, said to the grooms on duty that they were going to exercise their horses, and soon were riding down out of the castle. Josse had only the guard’s vague description, but he could see the sun rising over the mainland behind him and, aware that the place known as World’s End was on the north-west tip of Oleron, it was not difficult to find the right direction.
The May morning was bright but chilly, with a stiff breeze blowing out of the south-west bending the pine trees and setting the bright poppies in the grassy verges dancing. To begin with, there were a few huddled hamlets and solitary cottages dotted on either side of the rough track, but quite soon these dwindled, as did evidence that the islanders were using the land; within eight or ten miles of the settlement around the castle, cultivated fields were few and far between. The track grew steadily less distinct and it became clear that the dark guard had been quite right when he had said that nobody went up to World’s End unless they had to.
The track curved westwards and all at once Josse and Gus were riding right by the shore. To their left, the land fell away in a low cliff, beyond which stretched a pebbly beach in which there were broad areas of sand, shining now as the surface water caught the early morning light. The wind had increased; it was easy to see why there were so few trees up here at the top end of the island. Those that survived the constant blast had sparse foliage, spindly branches and bent trunks. They looked, Josse reflected, like skinny old people distorted by long toil and endless hardship.
Now where, he wondered, had that miserable thought come from?
Without warning the strong wind grew still and straight away, as if it had been waiting its moment, a soft white mist crept up out of the rough ground. Looking out to sea, Josse was disturbed to see that a wide bank of fog was coming in towards them. The sun was quickly blotted out and suddenly it was very cold. He glanced across at Gus and was surprised to see that the lad’s usually cheerful expression was quite absent; instead he was frowning, his normally smiling mouth drawn down into a scowl. Sensing Josse’s eyes on him, he shivered and said, ‘Not much of a place this, Sir Josse. Wish you’d left me to sleep in my warm bed.’
‘Aye, Gussie, I agree, and I’m sorry I had to bring you,’ Josse replied. ‘It’s just that, as you see, it’s a lonely spot and I wanted company.’
Instantly Gus’s scowl melted. He looked faintly amazed, seemed to shrug, as if ridding himself of an unpleasant thought, and said, ‘Well, Sir Josse, I reckon it’s me who should say sorry, for moaning at you like that.’ Slowly he shook his head. ‘Can’t think what came over me, but for a moment there it seemed as if all the light and joy in the world had been sucked away.’
Oh, dear Lord, Josse thought. He waited until he was sure he could speak normally and then said, ‘All right now?’
‘Yes,’ Gus said stoutly. ‘Let’s ride on!’
They rode for another couple of miles along the shore. Presently they saw a large, dark shape looming up out of the swirling mist. Drawing closer, they made out a squat structure, its stark walls unbroken by any embrasure or window; it was in fact more like a fort or a guard tower than a human habitation. Perhaps, Josse thought, that was what it was. It must surely be Philippe de Loup’s stronghold, and he was grateful now for the concealing fog. Were anyone up on those forbidding walls looking out, they would find it difficult to spot Josse and Gus.
They rode right up to the tower. It stood on a low rise, and all around it was a deep ditch filled with roughly hewn stone and stuck with poles whose ends had been sharpened into spikes. There did not appear to be any means of entry. Slowly Josse circled the walls and on the far side, facing inland, discovered a heavy, iron-bound oak door. It was fast shut and there seemed no way of getting across to it. Above the massive door, there was a series of three arrow slits; within, he realized, must be the room above the entrance of which the guard had spoken.
Gus had been going round the fortress in the opposite direction. Coming face to face with Josse, he said, ‘There’s the door, but how do they get to it?’
‘They probably sprout big black wings and fly,’ Josse said lightly.