‘I’m glad to hear it, sir knight,’ she replied. ‘I should not like to think that you make a habit of entertaining young women.’
‘Aye. No.’
She was settling herself, clearly making herself at home. ‘I like your house,’ she remarked. ‘Newly renovated, did you say?’
Thankfully they seemed to have lit upon a topic of conversation that was perfectly fit for the possibly listening ears of Ella. One that, moreover, he could elaborate on without feeling the hot blush of embarrassment which never seemed far away when he was close to Joanna. ‘Aye, there was a deal of work necessary when I first came to live here. It had been built as the dower house to the main manor, up the road a mile or so, but was in a sorry state. Nobody had lived here for years, so there was a long list of problems to address. For a start, we had to…’
He had been droning on for some time, listing all the work he had had to put in hand to make his house habitable, when he noticed that she seemed to be suppressing laughter. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Oh, Josse, nothing’s the matter.’ She straightened her expression. ‘There is little I enjoy more than a long sermon on the repair of masonry and the replacement of interior woodwork.’
‘You did ask,’ he said, stung.
‘I did,’ she agreed. Getting up, she came across to him. ‘Do your servants live in the house?’ she asked softly.
‘Well, not exactly. They have a small cottage, a lean-to, really, on the end of the row of outbuildings. It suits them to live a short step away from me, or so I assume, since it was Will himself who requested the place, and-’
‘A simple “no” would have done,’ she whispered, placing her finger to his lips. ‘Would have done very well, in fact, a lot better than “yes”.’
He had a good idea what she was thinking. ‘You prefer that we are alone here, at night?’ he whispered back, excited by the very thought of the night. ‘With no fear of servants’ gossip to ruin your reputation?’
She smiled. ‘My reputation was ruined seven years ago.’ She slid her arms round his neck, pulling him down towards her so that she could kiss him. ‘Now, I please myself what I do.’
‘And it pleases you to be here? With me?’ His voice was husky with growing desire.
‘Oh, yes.’ She kissed him again. ‘It pleases me very much.’
‘I’ll look after you,’ he said, lips to her ear. ‘I swear to you, I’ll help you, care for you-’
‘I know,’ she interrupted. ‘I thank you for it.’ He had the strong sense that, momentarily, she had withdrawn from him, as if something he had said or done had caught her up short.
He began to wonder what it could have been. But then she was pressing herself to him again, and, with his rapidly-accelerating heartbeat sending the blood pounding through his body, he didn’t have the power to wonder any more.
Chapter Fourteen
The first sign of imminent trouble came after Sext.
Helewise, who had gone to check on Ninian on her way back to her room, had found him only a little embarrassed and annoyed at what she and Caliste had devised for him.
‘Yes, I do understand how you must feel,’ Helewise had said soothingly. ‘And I know that, because you are sensible, you can understand why we are doing this. Yes?’
The boy had given a grudging nod.
‘Good!’ Helewise said briskly. ‘Now, here’s Sister Caliste, back from her devotions, so I shall leave you in her care.’
* * *
She was in the act of opening her door when she heard pounding footsteps.
‘Abbess Helewise! Oh, Abbess! Stop!’
Helewise froze. Oh, dear God, no! I can’t do this, I’m not prepared to-
Then she remembered her promise. Straightening her shoulders, offering a swift, silent prayer asking for the sense to act quickly and wisely, and the strength to carry out whatever might be demanded of her, she turned round.
And greeted the red-faced, panicking Sister Ursel with a calm, ‘Sister? What is it?’
‘Denys de Courtenay is approaching. He’s just ridden into sight on the track up from Tonbridge. He’s got three men with him, mean-looking ruffians they are. The gates are barred, as you ordered, Abbess, but what am I to do when they request admittance?’
Helewise paused. If what I plan is not right, oh, Lord, she prayed, then please send me a sign. Please, of thy mercy, do not let me commit a folly …
She emptied her mind.
Nothing.
Taking a steadying breath, she said to Sister Ursel, ‘Go and open the gates. Sister. We must show Denys de Courtenay that we have nothing to hide.’ She fixed her eyes to Sister Ursel’s, trying to give her some of her own certainty, and was gratified to see a response. Sister Ursel squared her jaw, hitched up her robe and said, ‘Right. I’ll let the b — the wretches in.’
Helewise watched her hurry off, then followed her, at a more leisurely pace, out of the inner courtyard and towards the main gates.
There were three men at the gates — Sister Ursel must have miscounted — and they had dismounted. The two companions Denys de Courtenay had chosen were both big and ugly. The sort of men, Helewise imagined, likely to be found at the root of a tavern brawl. Not that she knew anything about tavern brawls. One had a scar from his ear to the side of his nose. The other seemed to be suffering from an unpleasant skin condition. Both were armed with staves, and bore knives thrust into their belts.
‘… can’t bring your weapons into the House of God,’ Sister Ursel was saying, bravely standing her ground, hands on hips, not quite managing to fill the gap left between the partially-opened gates.
De Courtenay muttered something, and the men put their sticks and knives against the wall. ‘You and all,’ Sister Ursel commanded, waving a hand at the sword by de Courtenay’s side.
With a faint smile, as if the whole scene privately amused him, he did as she said.
Helewise stepped forward, and de Courtenay noticed her. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the very lady I have come to see.’ With a wide smile that exposed his white, even teeth, he nodded to his men, who shuffled in through the gates and stood, in poses of varying degrees of aggression, just inside the walls. Then he strode up to Helewise, made her a brief bow — little more than a nod of the head — and said, ‘A word, Abbess, if I may.’
Then he took her by the elbow and marched her off towards her room.
Her instinct was to shrug him off, but something told her to wait, to act in a thoroughly nun-like way, submissive, obedient. She bowed her head and suffered herself to be led away.
She opened the door of her room, and gestured for de Courtenay to precede her inside. Then, carefully closing the door behind him, she turned and said meekly, ‘How may I be of service?’
He was staring round the room as if searching for something, and did not appear to notice her humble tone. Then, spinning round to face her, he said brusquely, ‘You know a knight called Josse d’Acquin. Don’t try to deny it, any number of good folk hereabouts have told me he is a frequent visitor to Hawkenlye Abbey, and, moreover, on excellent terms with its Abbess.’
‘I should not dream of denying it,’ she said calmly. ‘Sir Josse is a good friend to Hawkenlye, and has given us his help and support on more than one occasion.’
‘Hmph.’ De Courtenay looked slightly put out, as if he had expected an argument. ‘Well, is he here?’
‘He is not.’
‘Where is he?’
She hesitated. ‘He spoke of a visit to Winchester.’ That was no lie; Josse had described to her his mission to Queen Eleanor over the matter of his rent demand. ‘I believe he may be there.’
That was a lie. But, Helewise told herself, in a very good cause.
‘Winchester?’
She nodded. Sometimes the nun’s well-known discipline of not speaking unnecessarily came in very useful.