He did not keep them long. He came into the chamber alone, dressed in a scarlet tunic with extravagant, fur-lined sleeves and edged with panels of embroidery worked in real gold thread and sparkling with jewels. He wore a heavy gold chain around his neck, and on each of his fingers and one of his thumbs there sparkled a precious stone set in more gold. He looked, as he always did, so clean that he appeared to shine.
He stopped before his visitors and extended his hands. Josse and Gervase approached and made their reverences. Then, as if suddenly impatient, the king waved away their attentions and, fixing Gervase with a hard blue stare, said, ‘You are here, I hope, to tell me that you have made an arrest.’
Josse winced on his friend’s behalf. Had it not been for Gervase’s first loyalty, to Josse and his kin, then his answer would undoubtedly have been yes. However, Gervase was a man of authority in his own right, and it soon became apparent that he was not going to be cowed, even by a king. With admirable brevity, he outlined his reasons for believing that Hugh de Brionne’s killer was not the madman from the clearing by the chapel — whom he now named as Ninian de Courtenay — but Olivier. ‘With your permission, my lord king,’ he concluded, ‘I will see Olivier de Brionne to verify what the Hawkenlye infirmarer has stated concerning the bruises on his right hand and, once I am convinced, I will charge him with being responsible for his brother’s death.’
The king, congenitally unable to stand still for longer than half a minute, had begun slowly pacing to and fro as Gervase spoke. Now, coming to a halt in front of the two men, he turned and fixed his eyes on the sheriff. ‘Admirably deduced and utterly reasonable,’ he declared. He glanced at Josse, stabbing a finger in his direction. ‘Of course, this conviction that Olivier is guilty has nothing at all to do with the fact that, if he is, then your lad will no longer be wanted for murder.’ Josse made to speak, but the king had not finished. ‘Oh, Josse, Josse! I have known for some time exactly who this man is.’
‘My adopted son is no murderer, sire,’ Josse said steadily.
‘So you do keep saying,’ the king murmured. His eyes hardened. ‘Nevertheless, he attacked Olivier and me. I have the scar on my shoulder to prove it, although already it is fading.’
Josse steeled himself to speak. He knew the risks — so much depended on the king’s mood, for he could switch from genial host to furious tyrant in the blink of an eye — but, for Ninian’s sake, he had to speak up. ‘Sire, I would speak concerning that fight in front of the chapel,’ he said, wishing his voice sounded more authoritative.
‘Yes?’ The one cold syllable seemed to hang in the air. Josse sensed Gervase go tense, and he could all but hear the sheriff’s warning: take care!
‘Sire, Ninian was deeply concerned for the little girl, Rosamund Warin, who Olivier had brought to you. He had followed your party from the hunting lodge to Hawkenlye, and when he saw two of the group break away and take the child up towards the woods, he was very afraid for her safety.’ Steady, he told himself. He wanted to put it into the king’s mind that Ninian’s anxiety had been justified but, if he went too far and hinted that the king had been about to seduce an eleven-year-old child, then the king would lose his temper and he and Gervase would probably end up in the grim dungeons all those floors below.
He eyed the king, trying to gauge his reaction, but John was giving nothing away. ‘I do not know the details of what occurred,’ he plunged on, ‘but, from Ninian’s point of view, he believed Rosamund was in danger, and he launched himself against the two men who were with her. He did not know your identities,’ he said, ‘and had no idea that one of the men in the clearing was his king.’
John watched him intently. ‘Do you think,’ he said silkily, ‘it would have made any difference if he had?’
That, Josse realized, was the point on which his whole defence of Ninian really hung, and it was typical of the king to have pinpointed it. He made himself meet the king’s eyes. ‘I do not know, sire,’ he said. Then — for it was not wise to treat the king like a fool — ‘Probably not.’
There was a long silence, broken only by the swish of thick, costly silk as the king resumed his pacing. Finally, he stopped, turned and faced Josse once more. ‘I am of a mind to be generous,’ he said. ‘You speak with passion and eloquence for your son, Josse — yes, very well, your adopted son — and, indeed, your picture of a man rushing in to take on two armed men because he fears for the safety of a young woman has echoes of the deeds of the chivalrous knights in the tales so beloved by my late mother.’ He paused, clearly thinking hard. Then he said quietly, ‘Rosamund was as safe in my company as in that of her mother, whoever she is. But I will not pretend that I am unaware of the wagging tongues; indeed, one of my close circle believed he would greatly please me by his gift of this pretty child.’ His expression hardened, and he said icily, ‘I will not add fuel to this particular fire; I want this matter to remain between those few people who are already aware of it.’
It was a direct order. Josse and Gervase both bowed their heads in acknowledgement.
‘Revenge would have been singularly sweet,’ the king murmured, ‘but, perhaps, unjustified. Besides,’ he added after a moment, ‘my wound is, as I said, all but healed, and, in the melee before the chapel, I cannot put my hand to my heart and swear it was Ninian who inflicted it. It seems, Josse — ’ some change in the king’s voice made Josse look up and meet his eyes — ‘that your son is safe.’
Gervase said, ‘Sire, have I your permission to send for Olivier? There is no reason to delay the resolution of this sad business, and faced with our suggestion of what really happened, he may realize that there is no point in protesting his innocence.’
‘Well he might,’ the king replied, ‘and I would not prevent your summoning him, except that it would serve no purpose. He is not here.’
‘Not here!’ Josse exclaimed. ‘But he left Hawkenlye when you did, sire, and we thought he had ridden here to London with you.’
‘He may have left with us, although I do not recall seeing him,’ the king said. ‘He certainly did not arrive with us.’
‘Then where is he?’ Josse was looking wildly around.
‘Stop that, Josse, he’s not hiding behind the wall hangings,’ the king said sharply. ‘I do not know where he is. I will send word that I wish to see him and, when he arrives, I will let you know. Is that good enough for you?’ The irony was unmistakable.
‘Aye, my lord king, of course,’ Josse muttered.
There was an awkward pause. Then Gervase cleared his throat nervously and said, ‘Hugh de Brionne paid a high price for his insolent scheme, and-’
‘You think the plan was Hugh’s?’ the king interrupted.
‘Well, Olivier claims it was,’ Gervase said. Josse nodded his agreement.
The king sighed. ‘Hugh would never have come up with anything as dangerous and misguided as abducting a child as a present for his king,’ he said softly. ‘Everything about this matter smacks of Olivier. He is unbalanced, you see.’ He sighed. ‘We should have taken better care of him, but he was tucked away down there in the house on the downs and it was all too easy to forget his existence. By the time I invited him to come and join the circle of my close companions, it was already too late.’
Josse did not understand. ‘Sire?’
‘Hugh de Brionne was already of my company,’ the king said. ‘His father, as you will know, Josse, was a friend of my brother’s, and, indeed, of my father’s as well, and it followed, as these things do, that Hugh in turn would be one of my companions. Then, later, Olivier came too.’