‘He’s barely conscious,’ Saul said. He was sitting on the hard earth, with Josse’s head cradled in his lap. ‘He’s been hurt — there’s a bandage round his head.’
‘Sister Martha, would you please take Sir Josse’s horse into the stables and see to him?’
‘Of course, Abbess.’ Sister Martha led Horace away.
‘Brother Saul, can we, do you think, help Sir Josse between us to the infirmary, or should I summon help?’
‘I can walk!’ Josse said from the ground.
‘Come, then, Sir Josse,’ Saul said, helping him up, ‘the Abbess here and I will support you.’
Helewise went round to Josse’s other side, and they half dragged him the short distance across to the infirmary, where Sister Euphemia, assessing her latest patient with a practised eye, put a hand to his forehead, nodded and said, ‘No fever. Put him in the little cubicle at the end, please. No need to make him lie with my fever patients.’
Helewise and Saul did as they were ordered. Then Sister Euphemia shooed them out. ‘My nuns and I can manage now, thank you,’ she said firmly.
And Helewise, longing to ask Josse a dozen questions, had to nod meekly and leave.
* * *
Sister Euphemia came to report to her soon afterwards.
‘A bad blow on the head,’ she said, ‘which, according to Sir Josse, happened three nights ago. He’s confused, though, and he may not really know for sure. Says he was following someone through the woods, and was struck from behind. That he was, indeed. He was cared for, so he says, by some woman.’ Euphemia gave a sniff. ‘Put a poultice on his head, she did.’ Another sniff, as if Euphemia had trouble with the concept of anyone but herself having sufficient wits and knowledge to apply a poultice properly.
‘And did her nursing have any effect?’ Helewise made sure to keep her tone neutral.
‘Aye,’ Euphemia admitted grudgingly. ‘He’s on the mend. Leastways, his wounds are. But I reckon he’s still suffering from concussion. He’s complaining of dizziness — which was how come he fell off his horse, and that wasn’t the first time, either, when he came a cropper outside our gates. He says he’s been on the road since first light, only he fell off earlier, and must have lain senseless for some time before he came to again.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Helewise said, frowning in anxiety. ‘This sounds serious.’
‘Don’t you fret now, Abbess dear,’ Euphemia reassured her. ‘He’s a tough one, is Sir Josse. It’ll take more than a bash on the head and a couple of tumbles off his horse to keep that one down!’
‘I pray you are right.’ Helewise hesitated. ‘May I visit him, Sister? I must admit, I’m longing to talk to him. Or would it be better to let him rest?’
‘I think he’d rest better if he talked to you first,’ Euphemia said. ‘He’s fretting, see.’ She gave Helewise a speculative look. ‘Seems there’s something he wants to tell you.’
* * *
Josse looked, Helewise thought, stepping into the curtained-off cubicle where Euphemia had put him, pretty dreadful. She opened her mouth to say something bracing, but he got in first.
‘Don’t even try,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m quite sure I look as bad as I feel.’
She folded her hands in her sleeves and said, ‘Sister Euphemia says you wanted to speak to me.’
‘Aye.’ His voice dropping, he said, ‘Can we be overheard?’ She glanced out through the hangings. ‘No.’
He beckoned her closer. ‘Only it’s a secret. I gave my word I wouldn’t tell, but I’ve stumbled into a right clutch of adders,’ he said softly. ‘On the trail of little Tilly’s handsome stranger, I saw a man in Tonbridge Castle who wasn’t there, and, when I tried to trail him, he ended up following me. Then, when he surprised me, he hit me hard enough to half kill me.’ Leaning forward so that he spoke almost into Helewise’s ear, he whispered, ‘I was saved by a child with incredibly blue eyes, whose mother is plainly so desperate to keep her whereabouts a secret that I felt obliged to leave her before I should have done.’ Sinking back, he said, ‘And here I am.’
Helewise, trying and failing to make sense of what he had just told her, wondered if he were still fuddled. ‘A man who wasn’t there?’ she asked softly. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I was told nobody was at home,’ Josse said irritably. ‘In the castle. At Tonbridge. The Clares have gone to some other residence of theirs, to escape the sickness down in the valley. Their man told me nobody was at home, but I saw him. The man. Then I waited, and, when he sneaked out at dusk, I followed him.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Helewise nodded. ‘Was he the man from the inn?’
‘I don’t know.’ Josse frowned, the movement of his brows bringing his fresh white bandage down low over his eyes. ‘Every instinct tells me he was, but I have no grounds whatsoever for saying so.’
‘Assuming he was,’ Helewise said tentatively, ‘why should he attack you? Because he knows you’re investigating the death at the inn, and he’s afraid you’ll find out something he doesn’t want you to?’
Josse said tiredly, ‘Abbess, we don’t even know that the man at the inn is involved in the death! In fact, since he himself seems to have been the intended victim, then he’s surely the last person we should suspect. A man’s hardly going to poison himself, now, is he?’
‘No, no.’ It was her turn to frown. After a moment’s thought, she said, ‘Sir Josse, what about this? Somebody else knew why he had come to Tonbridge. They tried to stop him — with the poisoned pie — but the wrong man died. Now this stranger is pursuing whatever brought him here, and that’s why he attacked you. Because he must keep his purpose here a secret. Which surely points to its being something suspicious? Something, can we propose, to do with your mysterious woman hiding in the woods?’
‘You reason well, Abbess.’ He gave her a weak grin. ‘As ever. But no!’ he said suddenly. ‘What of our earlier conclusion, that he can’t have been here for any evil purpose because, if he had been, why advertise his presence by spending the evening at the inn?’
‘Oh.’ Helewise felt deflated. But then she said, ‘Unless he had to go to the inn!’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know … to meet someone? To seek information?’
‘Hm.’ Josse closed his eyes, and, in repose, Helewise saw the lines of pain and fatigue in his face.
‘You need to sleep,’ she said, moving away from his bed. ‘Let me worry over this puzzle for a while, Sir Josse.’
He opened his eyes again. ‘I wish you joy of it,’ he murmured. Then, making a visible effort, he added gallantly, ‘I can think of nobody more likely to come up with an answer.’
* * *
His faith in her was, she had to admit as she prepared for bed that night, generous but ill-founded.
The trouble was, there was so much that they had to assume.
That Tilly’s stranger and the man who attacked Josse were one and the same, for one thing. That the man had been searching for the mysterious woman, for another. Oh. dear, this was getting them nowhere!
She lay down, wondering if there were any chance at all of quieting her mind to enable her to sleep.
Poisoned pie. An attack in the woods, a child with blue eyes, a poultice that managed to win Sister Euphemia’s vote of approval.
Something was stirring on the very edge of Helewise’s mind. Mentally, she ran towards it, only to have it recede.
Go to sleep, she ordered herself. There’s nothing more to be done tonight.
* * *
She went to see Josse in the morning, after Tierce. He looked better, but was very drowsy. Helewise was quite relieved when Sister Euphemia asked her not to stay with him long. She had nothing to tell him, and didn’t want to admit it.
Back in her room, she was surprised a little later by Sister Ursel announcing a visitor.
‘A man, Abbess, well-dressed, well-set up, like.’