He walked quickly, for he had a long way to go. His business with the foundation on the top of the hill was done. Not only had he watched for long enough to work out which people were influential and important, who did what and how the place operated; in addition, he had spoken to some of the visitors and listened carefully to the gossip of the inhabitants, which had probably told him more than everything else put together.
Yes. He had found out what he needed to know. But he had been there for three days and it was very dangerous to stay in one place. Death stalked him; it might be a quick execution, or a long drawn-out agony while they tried to get him to tell him what they knew he had stored away in his head, or it could be a bloody mess of severed flesh designed for maximum effect. It all depended who found him first.
Night fell. Soon Hawkenlye Abbey was left far behind.
Part One
One
Josse was bored. The November day was cold but bright and there were a dozen reasons to get up from his chair and out into the fresh air. A man more involved in his acres — a farmer or a conscientious landlord — would have been out at dawn on his daily inspection to make sure that everyone was working hard and everything was running smoothly. Josse, whose estate of New Winnowlands ran as smoothly as any thanks to his man Will, knew full well that any inspection tour he made would be seen for what it was: a complete waste of his and everyone else’s time.
Josse knew next to nothing about agriculture. He was a soldier; a King’s man. With King Richard engaged in keeping Philip of France out of Normandy and with no threat of war looming, Josse had little purpose in life.
He scowled. Perhaps none at all would be nearer the mark.
He knew he should pray daily in gratitude for the steadfast Will, who, over the years that they had been together, had grown into a thoroughly dependable, capable and authoritative figure, whom the many people who worked Josse’s land obeyed almost as readily as they would Josse himself. Other than having to weigh in occasionally in some small matter that was beyond Will’s diplomacy and skill to solve, Josse knew that he did not need to be at New Winnowlands at all.
He was very tempted to pack his gear, saddle his horse and set off for France. King Richard would pretend to know who he was and put him to work on some task aimed at furthering the Plantagenet cause. The King, they said, was building a wonderful new castle called Chateau Gaillard, situated on a bend of the Seine to the north of Paris and designed to pen Philip into the Ile de France. Philip, naturally, took exception to this and had been provoked into renewing hostilities with all the energy and force he could muster.
The trouble was that Josse had absolutely no enthusiasm any more for fighting King Richard’s battles. He told himself that this was a perfectly understandable reaction, King Richard having proved to be a man more concerned with winning glory than with the well-being of his people. And just look at that business of his capture, Josse thought, and the enormous ransom we had to stump up!
But this was only one of the complex set of reasons why Josse did not want to re-enter his monarch’s service in Normandy. The main cause of both his peevish discontent and his lack of enthusiasm for a foreign venture was that he wanted very much to be in two other places and he was not sure of his welcome in either.
He wanted to be with Joanna and Meggie. Joanna had kept her word and usually she would be there in her little hut in the forest when Josse went to visit her after each of the eight annual festivals that her people celebrated. She had been there at Yule and he had even been allowed to join in one of the lesser feasts; something he was quite sure he had enjoyed although he couldn’t really remember. Those forest people certainly knew how to brew up a good mug of mead. He had not seen her at Imbolc; he had been summoned to Hawkenlye Abbey to help in a minor crisis and there hadn’t been time. Then when he’d gone into the forest at the spring equinox she hadn’t been there; it was only with great difficulty that he’d even been able to locate her hut, as she seemed to have become very skilful at casting some sort of hiding or camouflaging spell over the place when she wasn’t at home. At Beltane he had been allowed to take Meggie away with him for a couple of days. Joanna had given some vague explanation about having been summoned for an important role in some ritual that was too powerful for a small child of three years to attend.
Josse enjoyed being alone with his daughter even more than being with her when her mother was there too. There was something very awesome about Joanna these days; he could tell that she shielded her power when she was with him but sometimes she didn’t do it very successfully and quite often he felt quite… Quite what? he wondered.
Quite afraid, was the honest answer.
He did not want to think about that.
Meggie had power, too. They had explained to him about her ancestry on her mother’s side (on her father’s too, they said, although he didn’t want to think about that either) and he knew from personal experience that what they said was true. But when she was alone with him she was just a bright and pretty little girl with a wonderful sense of fun, an infectious giggle and a way of twining her arms around his neck in a loving hug that just about made him melt. During the two days they had spent in each other’s company — he’d taken her to the Abbey overnight, where they knew about her and asked no awkward questions — they had ridden together, walked in the woods and fields tracking small animals and birds, waded into streams and climbed trees. They had talked non-stop. Returning her to her mother and riding away had all but broken his heart.
There had been no sign of either of them when he went visiting in midsummer and at Lammas they had had half a day and one night together before Joanna announced she had to go off somewhere. He and Joanna had made love that night; she had been as ardent, as loving as ever, although he sensed some sort of reserve, as if she wanted to give more than she felt she could. Or should…
He had been invited to attend the daytime celebration at the autumn equinox and he had had a great time. Joanna’s people seemed to accept him for who and what he was and nobody ever made him feel like an outsider; well, not intentionally. Then when Joanna had gone off to do whatever it was she did, he had taken Meggie home to the hut, where he fed her, bathed her, cuddled her, told her five stories and then put her to bed.
He had not even looked for them at Samhain; Joanna had told him not to bother as they wouldn’t be there. He didn’t know where they had gone. He didn’t know where they were now and he didn’t know when he was going to see them again.
It made him angry.
Some time later he resumed his seat by the hearth, a mug of ale in his hand. He had tried to divert himself by going out into the courtyard and checking that Will had dealt with the dead leaves blocking the gulley — of course he had — and by pretending an interest in Will’s woman Ella’s preserve-making.
The other place he wanted to be was Hawkenlye Abbey.
But he had been there only a couple of weeks back on the flimsy excuse that perhaps they’d like help in raking up the leaves. They had accepted his offer with gracious kindness and given him a besom and a rake, and for four or five happy days he had worked alongside the lay brothers in cheerful companionship.
Abbess Helewise must have realized that it was Samhain and that he visited Joanna and Meggie around the time of the festivals. She had been too tactful to mention it.