‘But you were attacked!’ she had protested after listening to his tale. ‘Saul, you must let Sister Euphemia attend to your hurts!’
‘What hurts I received were mild,’ he reassured her. ‘And Joanna looked after me — she has a gentle hand and a sound knowledge of remedies.’
Helewise had observed, with interest, the distinct softening of Brother Saul’s features as he spoke of Joanna.
‘Well, it’s wonderful to have you safely home, Saul,’ she said, ‘an answer to my prayers.’
His face clouded. ‘Abbess, you may not be so glad when I relay to you the news I bring.’
He had then told her about Denys de Courtenay’s attack on Josse, the fight between the two men and de Courtenay’s death.
‘And they buried him out there at New Winnowlands?’ she repeated, astounded. ‘But why-’
She made herself stop. Brother Saul was not the person to whom she should address that question.
Thanking him, telling him again how grateful she was for his safe return, she dismissed him. And began her long wait for the arrival of Josse.
* * *
He came into her room two days later. She could see at once that he had been hurt; his face was deathly pale and he held his right wrist supported in his left hand. There were small cuts on his throat, neck and left cheek.
‘Sir Josse!’ she cried. ‘Oh, but you’ve been wounded!’
‘I’m all right,’ he said instantly and unconvincingly; he was, she could see, swaying on his feet. She rushed round from behind her table, took him by the left arm and guided him to her chair, carefully sitting him down and hovering anxiously over him.
‘Do you feel faint?’
‘I’m all right!’
She tutted under her breath, then went outside into the cloister and summoned a passing nun to go and find Sister Euphemia. ‘Ask her, please, Sister Beata, to prepare a heartening draught, and bring it back with you for our visitor. Quick as you can, please!’
Then she returned to Josse.
‘I’m honoured,’ he said, looking up at her with a faint smile, ‘to be allowed to sit in your seat.’
‘I shall not make a habit of permitting it,’ she replied, trying to match his attempt at levity. ‘But today you look as if you need it.’
‘Aye, I do.’ He moved his arm a little, wincing as he did so.
‘A relic of your fight with Denys de Courtenay?’ she asked softly.
‘Aye.’
‘And he tripped and fell on to your dagger, and suffered a fatal wound, Brother Saul tells me.’
‘Aye.’
She noticed that he did not meet her eye. She knew straight away that he was lying; the perplexing question was, why?
She walked slowly back to the door, opening it to see if there were any sign of Sister Beata. If Josse killed Denys de Courtenay during a fight in which Denys was the instigator, she reasoned to herself, then that was surely self-defence and no crime has been committed. And there are witnesses to swear that Denys was indeed the instigator of the fight.
Why, then, would Josse …
Her thoughts trailed to a stop.
Yes. Of course.
Sister Beata was hurrying across the cloister, bearing a stoppered flask and a mug. ‘Sister Euphemia says he can have as much of this as he wants, it’s quite mild, and that if you need her, say so, except that could it wait a while as she’s just setting a broken wrist and can’t come right away unless it’s terribly urgent,’ she said, all in one breath. Helewise had the impression that Sister Beata was repeating the infirmarer’s exact words, and wanted to say them quickly before she forgot any of them.
She took the flask and mug from Sister Beata. ‘Thank you, Sister. Please tell Sister Euphemia that, for the present, there is no need for her to come. I will let her know if the situation changes.’
Sister Beata, knowing herself to be dismissed, made a bow and walked slowly away.
Helewise gave Josse a long drink of the infirmarer’s restorative. A little colour returned to his face. With a deep sigh, he put the mug down on the table.
He said, without any preliminaries, ‘Ninian is the child of Henry of England.’
Helewise felt her mouth drop open. ‘The late King?’
‘Himself.’
‘This was one of the unfortunate things you referred to, when you spoke of Joanna’s past?’ she asked gently.
‘Er — aye.’ He leaned towards her, his face intent. ‘That rat of a cousin took her to court one Christmas, paraded her before the King and, when the King took a fancy to her, made quite certain he got her. De Courtenay himself led her to the King’s bed, held her down while the King took her. He-’
‘Sir Josse, I don’t need to hear any more,’ she interrupted, laying her hand briefly on his shoulder. ‘I had surmised, from what little you told me before, that something of this nature had occurred. I had not, however, imagined a seducer of such exalted rank.’ She paused, biting her lip as she thought deeply. ‘And de Courtenay wanted to make a bid to put the boy on the throne?’
‘He did.’
‘Which Joanna, obviously, didn’t want.’
‘Why is that obvious?’ Josse demanded. ‘I’d been taking it for granted until just now, riding over here, when it suddenly occurred to me to ask just why she’s so set against the idea.’
‘Oh, Sir Josse, think!’ Helewise was quite surprised he should ask that. ‘What good impressions can Joanna de Courtenay possibly have of Plantagenet court life? Seduced and impregnated by the King of England, then, when she became an inconvenience, married off to some Breton knight to get her out of the way. Would any woman want to introduce her beloved only son into such a world? I know I should not, in her place.’
‘But the power and the riches!’ he protested. ‘The world would lie at the boy’s feet, were he King!’
‘Only part of the world,’ she pointed out. ‘And it would by no means be a foregone conclusion that he would ever be King, since there are several other contenders for the throne, even assuming King Richard no longer sat upon it. And just imagine the danger to Ninian, once his identity had been revealed! Why, every other faction with its eyes on the throne would be after his blood! No, Sir Josse, The reason for Joanna’s reluctance is perfectly obvious to me.’
‘Hmm.’ He was frowning, his face creased in lines of anxiety. And also, she thought, studying him closely, of sorrow.
‘Sir Josse?’ she asked. ‘What is it?’
He raised his head and turned mournful eyes on her. ‘She didn’t tell me,’ he said quietly.
‘Didn’t tell you what?’
‘Who the lad’s father was. She told me everything else — oh, I had all the sordid details — but not that.’
‘Perhaps she didn’t know?’ It seemed unlikely and Helewise knew she was clutching at straws.
‘She must have done. Anyway, if she didn’t, it makes a nonsense of her elaborate plan to keep Ninian out of de Courtenay’s reach. That was why she agreed to his coming here while I took her off to New Winnowlands — she was leading de Courtenay away from him.’
‘Yes, that makes sense,’ Helewise agreed.
‘So why didn’t she tell me?’ he demanded. ‘She didn’t trust me, did she?’
Helewise’s heart hurt to see the pain in his face. Oh, dear Lord, but she’s got under his skin! she thought. ‘Josse, I’m not sure that it’s possible for anybody but another mother to understand the protective instinct which a woman has for her child,’ she said, her hand once more resting on his shoulder. ‘I know, from my own experience, that, once a baby is born, he becomes, to begin with, the whole world to his mother, and, although that intensity lessens as he grows up and steadily becomes more independent, you never lose it entirely. Indeed, it’s quite common for husbands to resent the children they have fathered, because the act of childbirth changes a wife into a mother, and there is no going back.’ She paused. We speak of Joanna, she reminded herself firmly, not of me.