He still had not returned from his mission to New Winnow-lands.
There was probably nothing to worry about, she kept trying to reassure herself. After all, Saul hadn’t set off until gone noon and, even making the best speed — not very fast, on that old cob — he would have been hard put to it to get to New Winnow-lands and back to Hawkenlye by nightfall. And that was assuming he’d been able instantly to locate Josse, to give him the message that Denys de Courtenay was looking for him. Even then, Josse surely wouldn’t have let Saul set out again straight away — he’d have taken him inside, let him warm himself by the fire, given him something heartening to drink, possibly prevailed upon him to stay for a bite to eat. To rest there for the night.
Oh, yes. It all sounded most plausible.
Why, then, could the Abbess not rid herself of the dreadful fear that something terrible had happened?
Helewise sat alone in her room while the rest of the community set about turning in for the night. When at last all was quiet, the Abbey gates barred and bolted and the lanterns extinguished, she made her way back inside the church. The soft glow of the sanctuary lamp seemed to welcome her, and, kneeling down before the altar, she sensed a strong hand reaching down to her.
She began on her formal prayers. But, interrupting her concentration, she kept seeing the face of Brother Saul. Most reliable, most likeable, most trusted of friends, she was very afraid that she had sent him into danger.
Unable to think of anything but him, her prayers turned into a simple repetition of the same phrase: ‘Oh, dear Lord, of thy mercy, please look after Brother Saul.’
* * *
Josse and Joanna had spent a delightful day. Or, at least, it had been delightful for Josse, although, judging by the preoccupied expression which he sometimes caught sight of on Joanna’s face, at times her problems and anxieties must have intruded on her happiness.
Only to be expected, he told himself, trying not to allow dismay to ruin the day. Naturally she’ll worry about Ninian, about the whole sorry mess she’s in, and it’s no reflection on the joy we’ve found together if, occasionally, her thoughts revert to her problems.
The bright sky of morning had clouded over as the hours went on, and, as the short February daylight came to a premature end, Josse watched Joanna, seated by the fire, staring into the flames. She had, he reflected, an air of expectancy. Any small sound made her start up, stare at the door. As if she were waiting for something …
To turn his mind from fretting about her, he thought back over everything they had done together since waking, in his bed, soon after first light. She had scorned his suggestion that she return to the small guest chamber which Ella had prepared for her: ‘I am not ashamed to have lain here with you,’ she said grandly, sitting up in bed and waving an arrogant arm, ‘and I don’t care a fig for what your servants mutter about me.’ She had given him a look through narrowed eyelids. ‘If you, however, wish to be secretive about what you and I have become to one another, then naturally I will do as you ask, and set about making the bed assigned to me look as if I have been sleeping chastely in it all night.’
‘I didn’t ask,’ he pointed out mildly. ‘It was only a suggestion.’
She leaned over him, pinning him down with a hand either side of his head, her face hovering inches above his. ‘I’ll go if you really want,’ she said softly. ‘I was only teasing. After all, you’ll be the one who goes on-’ Abruptly she stopped.
‘Goes on what?’
‘Nothing.’
He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. ‘Stay,’ he said, nuzzling into her thick, soft hair. ‘I don’t care what Ella tells Will. I don’t care what they think. Stay.’
She had lowered the length of her body down on to his, and he could feel her breasts, her belly, the firm thigh muscles. ‘If they thought you hadn’t bedded me,’ she murmured right into his ear — her warm breath sent great shivers of excitement up and down his spine — ‘they might mutter about your manhood.’ As she said manhood, her hand slid down across his stomach and into his groin, making him throb so that he gasped aloud. She chuckled. ‘Ah, he’s saying good morning!’ A pause. ‘My, he’s eager!’ She put her mouth to his, kissing him at length. ‘Just let Ella ask me about your manhood,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll soon reassure her…’
* * *
They had gone out after breakfast. Will had saddled Horace and Joanna’s mare, and they had ridden around the New Winnow-lands estate. Not that it took very long: Josse’s manor was modest. Drawing rein on a low rise, he had pointed out the road leading to the house of his nearest neighbour.
‘He’s a decent fellow,’ he said, ‘we enjoy an occasional visit when I’m in residence here.’ He watched her. ‘Would you like to call on him?’
‘No,’ she said instantly. Then, as if fearing she’d offended him, ‘Josse, under any other circumstances I’d love to meet your friends. But just at the moment, I feel that the fewer people who know I’m here, the better.’
‘Of course.’ He could have kicked himself for his dullness. But, riding out with her, watching her free, flowing movements, hearing her talk, hearing her laugh, just for a moment he’d forgotten.
* * *
Ella had prepared a fine midday meal, and, after that, Josse and Joanna had settled in front of the fire. He sat in his chair, and she curled up on the floor at his feet. He had wanted to ask her more about herself, but, forestalling him, she said, ‘Now, I’ve told you enough about me. Please, Josse, what about you? Acquin — where is that?’
So he had told her. Told her everything there was to tell about himself, really, since there was nothing he wanted to keep secret. Not from her.
And, as they sat cosy and warm inside, gradually the day wound to a close.
Josse had just sat down again after putting more logs on the fire when there came the sound of voices from the courtyard. Will’s voice and another, one that was shouting something … Something about a man, attacked, lying beside the track out there, frozen half to death, poor soul …
Josse leapt up. Taking Joanna by the shoulders for a hurried instant, he said, with all the command he could muster, ‘Stay here. Bolt the door behind me, don’t open it again till you hear me tell you to.’
‘But-’
He gave her a little shake. ‘Stay here!’
After a moment, she gave a meek nod.
He raced outside, jumping down the steps and running across the yard to the gates. Will, looking highly relieved to see him, said, ‘This here fellow tells me there’s a man injured, out in the road. I was on the point of going to have a look, only-’
‘Quite.’ Josse gave him a warning look; no need to elaborate in front of a stranger, to reveal that Josse had given Will orders not to open the gates to anybody, all the while Joanna was with them. ‘Thank you, Will, you did right.’
Will, with a nod, stepped back, and Josse went up to the gate. ‘Someone lying injured?’ he said to the man outside, a rough-looking fellow dressed in a sacking cloak, the end of which he had draped over his head, presumably in an attempt to shelter his face and ears from the keen wind.
The man edged closer and put one hand on the gate. ‘Aye, that he does! Been struck on the head, I reckon, there’s blood trickling down his face.’
Josse was torn. What should he do? Go out and tend to this poor soul, attacked on the road? Or do as his instinct strongly told him to, and ignore this as an elaborate bid to get him to open up and go out?
Once I am outside, he thought, Joanna will be alone within.
But supposing there really was an injured traveller out on the road! It was quite possible the man had merely taken a tumble from his horse, it might just be Josse’s heightened sense of danger that was making a threatening situation out of something perfectly innocent.