Ashes of the Elements (17 page)

Unless some sense of chivalry aroused in Tobias the desire to acquire his own wealth, that was.

Was it likely? Josse couldn’t be sure.

He was still pondering that, while at the same time engaging in superficial conversation with Petronilla concerning various mutual acquaintances in the Plantagenet court, when, shortly afterwards, the manservant returned to summon them to table.

*   *   *

The food was excellent, and the manservant Paul remained at hand, answering Petronilla’s quiet orders and frequently replenishing Josse’s and Tobias’s goblets with more of the sweet wine. Petronilla, Josse observed, drank but little.

When they had eaten the last of the small, round honey cakes that followed the fish and the game, Petronilla stood up and announced she was going to her chamber to have a short rest. The manservant also having disappeared, it was left to Tobias to share what was left in the wine jug between Josse and himself.

‘A superb meal, Tobias,’ Josse said, stretching his full stomach. ‘You and your lady keep a fine table.’

‘We live well,’ Tobias agreed.

Josse was trying to kick his somewhat fuddled wits into order and come up with a diplomatic way of asking some more penetrating questions about Tobias’s household when, as if suddenly impatient with sitting still, the young man tossed back the dregs of wine in his goblet, leapt up and said, ‘Come, Sir Josse! Let us take a turn outside in the sunshine!’

Josse managed the necessary admiring comments as, with an almost childlike pride, Tobias showed off his estate, from barns and paddocks to hunting birds and fine horses. As the two of them were about to go back into the hall, someone called out to Tobias – to judge by his clothing and by the mud on his feet and lower legs, he was an outdoor worker – and, with a brief apology, Tobias went back across the yard to speak to him.

Josse went into the empty hall alone.

He glanced around. There was a tapestry hanging on one wall, its colours too fresh and vibrant for it to have hung there long. And, on a long wooden table that stood against the opposite wall, there were several decorative objects … a carved ivory statue of the Madonna, a wooden triptych depicting the Crucifixion on its central panel, with angels and cherubs on the two outer panels. The paintwork, to Josse’s fairly experienced eye, looked well executed and, considering the strong, rich blues and golds, had probably been expensive.

He glanced over his shoulder. Tobias was still in conversation with the labourer. He had a few moments in hand …

He opened the first of the wooden chests ranged beneath the table; it contained a quantity of white cloth, which he thought might be household linen. No incriminating Roman treasure
there.
Moving on to the next chest, he was in the very act of raising the lid when a quiet voice said, ‘What are you doing, Sir Josse?’

He spun round. Petronilla stood a few feet behind him.

There was nothing he could say, no possible excuse he could offer; he bowed his head and said, ‘Lady, forgive me.’

For some moments she did not speak. Then, when finally she broke her silence, it was not to say the accusing words that Josse had both expected and deserved.

Instead, she said, ‘We made a bargain, my Tobias and I.’ She had moved to the doorway, from where she could look down at her young husband as he stood in the courtyard. ‘I know, Sir Josse, what you think. What they all think. That it can only be my wealth that attracted a fine man like Tobias.’

She turned to meet Josse’s eyes; the expression in her own was surprisingly calm. ‘It is true that his marriage to me gives him riches he had never hoped to possess. He was orphaned young, you see, and raised by an elderly aunt, the sister of his mother, who kept a meagre household with no aspirations either to style or to comfort.’ With sudden passion, she said, ‘Is it any surprise that Tobias should have fallen into dishonourable ways? For pity, Sir Josse, a young man must have
some
excitement!’

‘I—’ Josse began.

But Petronilla hadn’t finished. ‘No, Sir Knight, let me speak. It was the truth when, earlier, Tobias told you that it was he who comforted me in the loss of my dear father, and, not being the fool you and the world take me for, naturally I suspected his motives. However, while he admitted freely that it would gladden him immeasurably to help me manage my fortune, he promised that he would, in return, make me an affectionate, if not a passionately loving, husband.’ She moved a step or two nearer to Josse, so that he could see the fervour in her dark eyes. ‘He promised me,
promised,
Sir Josse, that, if I agreed to marry him, with all that such an undertaking involved, then he would forsake his – forsake the ways of his misspent youth.’ A faint smile briefly twisted the narrow lips. ‘And I accepted.’

Josse opened his mouth to speak, but, unable to think what to say that could in any way express his feelings, he shut it again.

‘You may search my house if you wish,’ Petronilla went on, her voice distant now. ‘You will find many rich objects, and all are gifts from me to my husband. Or, since naturally he is free to spend as he sees fit, gifts from him to me.’

His shame beginning to abate, Josse found that he was now filled with a different emotion: the stirrings of anger. Petronilla might be prepared to take Tobias’s word that he had mended his ways, but Josse had too clear a mind-picture of the elated young man who emerged from the forest the morning after Ewen Asher was killed. Was it really to be believed, that Tobias had left his thieving ways behind him?

‘My lady,’ Josse said, making his voice as mild as he could ‘you have your husband’s word that he is now a model of respectability. But—’

‘But how do I know I can believe him?’ she finished for him. To Josse’s surprise, she laughed. Only a short laugh, with more than a touch of irony in it, but a laugh nevertheless. ‘Sir Knight, I had him followed. When first he would announce he was off on some early hawking expedition, I asked my faithful Paul to follow him.’ She put her face close to Josse’s. ‘To
spy
on him. Not pretty, is it, for a new wife to resort to such tactics?’

‘Perhaps not pretty,’ Jose replied tersely. ‘But necessary.’

‘
Not
necessary!’ she cried. ‘Those expeditions, every one – even when he was from home for a day and a night together – were as innocent as if I had been there to accompany him! He was, just as he said, hawking.’

‘You no longer have him followed?’ Josse asked, although he thought he already knew the answer.

She studied him for a long moment. Then said: ‘Rarely.’

Was that the truth? Or had she made that reply merely to make Josse think she was not the infatuated, blinkered wife he took her for?

There was, he realised, no way of knowing.

He watched as, Tobias having finished his conversation, he turned back towards the house. Catching sight of Petronilla at the top of the steps, he gave her a wave and then blew her a kiss. With a sharp intake of breath, Petronilla responded.

Then she picked up her long skirts in one hand and, a beaming smile spreading over the pallid, lined face, she ran down the steps and went to meet him.

It is time I left, Josse thought.

Following Petronilla down into the courtyard, he began his speech of thanks and farewell.

Chapter Thirteen

Helewise did not forget her undertaking to notify Josse if any developments occurred. But, other than Seth Miller being charged with the murder of Ewen Asher and the trial set for some six weeks hence, there
were
no developments.

She tried again to get Esyllt to talk. Tried to persuade her to go to Mass, but the girl’s eyes had widened with horror at the thought. ‘I
can’t
!’ she whispered.

Can’t because you are in a state of mortal sin? Helewise wondered, worried to her very depths. ‘Make your confession, child!’ she had urged. ‘Whatever you have done, the Lord will understand!’

But Esyllt, with an expression that had wrung the Abbess’s heart, had shaken her head and turned away.

*   *   *

Helewise went to see Seth Miller, in the stinking cell where the sheriff had locked him away. Sheriff Pelham, apparently surprised to see a nun in his gaol, tried to deter her – ‘In there’s not fit for a lady nor a nun, Sis— I mean, Abbess!’ he said – but she insisted.

‘We are enjoined by Our Lord, are we not, Sheriff,’ she pointed out, ‘to visit the sick and imprisoned? Did not Jesus Himself say that for as much as it is done for one of His children, it is done for Him?’

‘Yes, but – Oh, very well, Abbess, but only for a few moments.’ He leaned confidingly towards her. ‘He’s dangerous, see. Done a man in.’

But Helewise, allowed to go as far as the wooden door set with stout bars that kept Seth penned in his cell, apart from the rest of humanity, didn’t think he looked dangerous. He sat crumpled against a stone wall that ran with moisture and with unknown slimy matter, and the fetters around his ankles had raised angry red welts. The mouldering straw that covered the stone floor smelled rank with decay. And with other, more malodorous stenches; it was apparent that Seth must relieve himself where he sat.

‘Seth?’ she called.

He raised his head. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Abbess Helewise of Hawkenlye,’ she said. ‘Will you pray with me?’

‘Aye, lady.’ He struggled on to his knees, and followed her in her prayers, responding, when required, with a heartfelt fervour.

When they had finished, she asked, ‘Seth, do you wish me to send a priest to you?’

‘Priest?’

‘To hear your confession,’ she said gently.

‘Confession?’ The light dawned. ‘I didn’t kill him, Abbess, he were dead when I reached him! That’s God’s honest truth, I swear!’

‘I see.’ Was he telling the truth? He sounded earnest enough, but then a man who stood to hang for murder was bound to deny the crime, as convincingly as he could. ‘But, Seth, what of your thieving?’ she went on. ‘You, Hamm and Ewen were all involved in digging beneath the fallen oak in the forest, weren’t you? And you cut down a healthy tree, too, to help you in your treasure seeking. That’s true, isn’t it?’

‘Aye, aye,’ Seth muttered. ‘I wish to God I’d told Hamm what to do with his coins, I do that! Begging your pardon, lady,’ he added.

‘It was Hamm who found the hoard?’

‘Aye. Setting traps, he were, for game and that. He dug down under the fallen tree because he saw something glinting. It were a coin, and, soon as he started digging a bit harder, he saw that there was more, much more. He got me and Ewen involved because it were too much for one man to do alone – it were the three of us cut down the second tree, which stood right in the way, and no easy job it were. I’m his cousin – Hamm’s cousin – see, we’ve always worked together.’

‘No, Seth, you’ve always
stolen
together,’ she corrected him.

He looked at her, his face pitiful. ‘Aye,’ he sighed. ‘And now they’ve got me for something I never did, and I’m going to hang.’ A sob escaped him. ‘Aren’t I?’

She wished she could say otherwise, but she had to agree; it certainly looked like it. Slowly she nodded.

Seth sank to the floor again, leaning his hopeless, filthy face against the wall. ‘Then I reckon I’d better have that priest.’

*   *   *

When almost a month had gone by, and, once more, the moon was waxing towards the full, Helewise was woken from deep sleep.

She sat up in her narrow bed, wondering why she had awakened. All around came the sounds of women asleep: faint murmurs, regular breathing, a few snores.

All sounds to which she was well accustomed.

What, then, had disturbed her?

She got up and crept through the hangings around her cubicle. All was still, there was nobody creeping about and—

Yes. There was.

Someone was standing by the door to the dormitory, and, as Helewise watched, the slim figure descended the first two steps.

Helewise, barefoot, hurried across the floor, stopping in the doorway and holding on to the door post. The figure was now on the third step down, slim hands clutching at the guard rail, her body leaning forward, tense, as if she yearned with her whole being towards the object of her fierce attention.

Towards the forest.

And, as Helewise watched, Caliste again began her weird, unearthly humming.

It was not, Helewise thought, any the less affecting the second time; in fact, it was possibly more so. The eerie sight of bright moonlight over the sinister darkness of the trees, combined with the still-vivid memory of recent events, created in the Abbess a profound dread.

But, dread or not, it was quite a chilly night, and it would do neither her nor Caliste any good to stand out there on the steps.

Her fanciful thoughts dispersed by common sense, Helewise took a firm grip on herself and went on down the steps until she could take a gentle hold on Caliste’s arm. ‘Come, child,’ she said softly, ‘back to your bed. It’s too cold to be out here in nothing but your chemise.’

Caliste’s humming faltered, then ceased. Turning wide eyes to Helewise, she seemed to stare straight through her.

‘Are you awake, Sister Caliste?’ Helewise whispered. There was no reply. Pulling steadily at the girl’s arm, Helewise led her back into the dormitory and along the room to her bed. There, like an obedient child, the novice lay down and shut her eyes. Helewise arranged the covers over her, then, drawing the hangings across the opening, left the girl to sleep.

Helewise noticed that she had left the dormitory door open; with a mild tut of annoyance at her own carelessness, she went back to close it.

As she did so, she heard the humming again.

Now it was fainter, and, if anything, even more unsettling.

Because, although it was the same wandering tune that Caliste had hummed, in the same unearthly key, it came from the forest.

Somewhere out there in that vast darkness, someone had heard Caliste’s strange song. And they were sending back a reply.

*   *   *

The Abbess’s ability to concentrate on her devotions and her duties the following day was, she soon discovered, severely impaired. For one thing, she had resolved to keep a watchful eye on Sister Caliste, which in itself was disturbing since the girl had a vacant look about her; wide-eyed and anxious, she was far from being her usual serene and smiling self.