The Paths of the Air (37 page)

‘I would never have given him up, no matter who demanded that I should!' she cried hotly.

‘No, of course you wouldn't,' Josse agreed. ‘But as well as that, there was the danger. Those others – the Franks and the Saracens – were utterly ruthless. Had Dominic come openly to the Abbey, innocent people might have got between the hunters and their quarry.' He paused and then said softly, ‘People such as you.'

‘But—' She struggled with her indignation. She still felt hurt that Dominic had not brought his problems, perilous and terrible though they were, straight to her. It was like plainly stating he could manage quite well without her.

Josse said gently, ‘My lady, he is still and will always be your son. But he is a grown man, a fighting man who has been in grave danger and who, by his own wits, courage and common sense, has lived to tell the tale.' Then, softly: ‘Let him go.'

She choked on a sob. She reached for Josse's hand and he took hers in his big, warm palm. It was immeasurably comforting.

After quite some time she said, ‘A part of me knew it was him long before he revealed himself.' Josse did not speak but waited for her to go on. She struggled to put her thoughts into words. ‘I felt –
odd
, as if something momentous was happening, and I did not understand why.' Smiling, she shook her head. ‘And, of course, there was his name.'

‘His name? What, John Damianos?'

‘No, no. His name in religion. He took the name Brother Ralf.'

Her smile deepened. She could all but hear Josse trying to work it out and failing. ‘What of it?' he asked.

She squeezed his hand, leaning against his reassuring bulk. ‘Ralf was my father's name. Dominic was always very fond of his grandfather.'

Much later, the newly married couple were led by a lively, ribald escort to their marriage bed in the guest quarters. The nuns had made up the bed with fine linen and warm blankets, and decked it with lucky charms and bunches of dried herbs. The priest had sprinkled it with holy water to sanction the union.

Finally the last of the happy, tipsy guests were shooed away and the gates firmly closed. The celebration was over and it was time for the lanterns and the candles to be blown out and for the night to descend.

Josse had been waiting for this moment.

When everyone had settled and all was quiet, he slipped out and hurried away to the forest. Joanna was waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the hearth. Meggie was deeply asleep up on the platform, warmly wrapped, her thumb in her mouth.

Josse leaned down and kissed Joanna on the mouth, then settled beside her. He put his arm around her and she leaned into his shoulder.

‘You smell of wine,' she murmured.

‘I'm not surprised. I have drunk rather a lot of it.'

‘It was a great celebration, wasn't it?'

‘Aye.' He put a hand to her jaw, raising her face so that he could look at her. ‘I am very glad that you and the Domina put in an appearance. It was a profound honour for her to give the young couple her blessing.'

‘Yes, it was. She did it, I think, because of the respect she has for Abbess Helewise.'

‘Dominic and Paradisa had been living in the forest, in your house. Yet the forest people made no protest?'

‘No. We recognized they are good people. They were in danger and no threat to us. Why should they not use the forest as a refuge?'

‘Mmm.' He kissed her sweet-smelling hair as she nestled against him. It was beyond him even when sober to attempt to fathom out the strange ways of her people. He certainly wasn't up to it tonight.

He realized how tired he was. ‘Sweeting, shall we go to bed? I fear I am too weary for more than a hug, but it would give me great pleasure to have you sleep in my arms.'

He felt her tense. ‘Yes, Josse, of course.' She pulled a little away from him, turning her head so as to look him in the eyes. ‘But first I—' She broke off.

‘What?' He felt alarm swiftly rising in him. ‘
What?
'

She looked down. ‘I may have to go away.'

‘But you often go away!' He tried to make light of it. ‘You're frequently not here when I come looking but you always turn up again.' He forced a laugh.

She did not join in.

‘This time it is different,' she said neutrally. ‘I have to – they have told me I must go to a place which is of vital importance to us. To my people, I mean. Something is happening there. It's under threat and we must protect it.'

‘Why you?' he demanded. It was the first thing that flew into his head.

She smiled. ‘Oh, Josse. Dear, lovely Josse. Because I'm powerful now. I can do something about this threat. I won't be alone,' she hurried on. ‘They'll choose the very best of us for the mission. I won't be very important – others will do what is necessary. I'll just be there to make up the necessary numbers.'

He looked straight into her dark eyes.

He did not believe her.

She was either being modest or, more likely, telling him this to comfort him. Trying to minimize the danger.

‘Where is this place?' he said gruffly. ‘Is it far?'

‘Northern France.'

‘That is a big area. Can you not narrow it down?'

She grimaced. ‘No, Josse. I'm sorry. I can't.'

Anger burst out. Keeping his voice down so as not to wake his daughter, he hissed, ‘Always so mysterious! Always
I've got to do this
or
I have to go away so I won't see you!
But I'm welcome enough when you are here and you do want me, aren't I? I'm very useful as a stud in your bed to keep you warm and give you pleasure!'

He heard his furious words and instantly wished he could draw them back.

But she took his face in her cool hands and, bending her head, kissed him. Then, breaking away, she said, ‘It's the way it has to be. It's never my wish to hurt you or to use you.' A tiny pause. ‘Actually I love you.'

Once he would have been filled with joy to hear her say so. Once it would have been enough to keep him happy, keep him returning to her, patient, faithful and true.

Once . . .

He stood up.

‘You're not leaving?' She sounded aghast.

He gave her an ironic smile. ‘No. I'm going to bed.'

He went outside to relieve himself, then dipped his hands in the pail of water by the door and splashed his face and neck. Back inside, he found that she had climbed up onto the platform. She had moved over to the far side to make room for him. Meggie was curled at her feet.

He had imagined they would not speak to each other again that night. But after a while she said, ‘Josse? Are you still awake?'

‘Aye.' As if he would be able to sleep!

He sensed that she was nerving herself to say something important. When it came, it was not what he had imagined.

‘I won't be taking Meggie with me,' she whispered, her mouth right against his ear. ‘She doesn't know but I'll have to leave her here. Lora will look after her, and Tiphaine says she'll visit when she can. There will be others too, of course, who will share her care.'

Oh, dear God, he thought. He tried to speak, failed. Tried again. ‘When are you going?'

‘I don't know. Perhaps next year, even the year after. It depends on – on many things. They haven't told me much yet. There are preparations that must be made. Ceremonies,' she added vaguely.

‘So why are you telling me this now?'

‘Because I can't rest till I know you'll help!' she said in a fierce whisper.

‘
Help?
What help can you possibly want of me?'

‘Josse, I want Meggie to be with you,' she said in a rush. ‘She'll miss me and she won't understand why I'm not here. If she has you instead she won't mind.'

He opened his mouth to speak but found he had absolutely nothing to say.

‘Josse?' Joanna said urgently. ‘Will you do it? Will you give me your word that you'll do what I ask?'

He put his arms round her and drew her to him. The kiss was long and, in time, grew passionate.

When they were both satiated, he said, ‘Aye.'

He slept for some time and then was suddenly wide awake. It was still dark and he could tell from their breathing that Joanna and Meggie were sound asleep.

His mind was full of Joanna.

Where was she going? What would she be ordered to do? It must be dangerous if she was not allowed to take her child.

Joanna was going away. Not yet, but in the future. When she had gone he would slip into his daughter's life. Oh, he was there already; he knew that the child loved him and, as for him, he adored her. But this would be different. Joanna would be far away and those in whose care she had left Meggie would be told that Josse was going to take up the role of parent. They all knew he was Meggie's father; it was his right to care for his own child.

Meggie.

Joanna would be gone but she would leave their daughter with him. Perhaps he would take her away to live at New Winnowlands? He could find a pony for her, a nice, safe, well-mannered pony, and teach her to ride. Will would help – Will knew where to find good horses. And maybe Josse would get Ella to fix up a special chamber with a proper bed and pretty hangings. He could buy her clothes, shoes . . . Or perhaps she would be able to live temporarily at the Abbey? The details did not matter. He would work something out. The important thing was that the two of them would be together.

In a corner of his mind a voice that just might have been his appeared to be cheering.

Historical Note

It is said that gunpowder was first discovered in China, where, as early as 1161, an explosive of some sort was used in ‘noise makers' that might have been firecrackers. In the West, the formula was undoubtedly discovered by alchemists in their endless and ultimately fruitless attempts to turn base metals into gold. The theory was that if only the accretions could be sloughed off, what remained would be pure gold. Newly discovered substances would be tested and combined with other substances, and it was probably by accident that someone stumbled on the result of mixing the right proportions of charcoal, saltpetre and brimstone. Because the alchemists of the Arab world were in general far in advance in their learning than their western counterparts, it seems reasonable to propose that the secret of the ‘black powder' in the west originated with them.

The Church rigidly disapproved of science in general, and of the science of warfare in particular; in the twelfth century, an anathema was laid on those attempting to make or use ‘fiery substances', and this probably referred to Greek Fire (a mixture of naphtha, bitumen, pitch, sulphur, oil and quicklime). The Knights Templar, however – who were universally suspected of dabbling in alchemy – apparently took no notice of the Church's disapproval, and it is reasonable to suggest that their brothers in arms, the Knights Hospitaller, may also have been able to put aside their scruples when faced with the prospect of such a momentous discovery as the ‘black powder'.

It was not until around 1250 that gunpowder became known in England. Roger Bacon, born in 1212 or 1214 and curious about the nature of the world around him from the day he became aware, became known for his enquiring mind and his interest in the diverse and the bizarre. He seems to have discovered gunpowder in around 1247, where he makes a cryptic reference to it in a manuscript. In a later work he proposes the correct mixture as being seven parts saltpetre, five parts charcoal and five parts sulphur.

Gunpowder as the force to propel missiles was first recorded in the middle of the fourteenth century. It is said that the English at the Battle of Crecy in 1346 used some sort of explosive powder to propel bolts (with very little accuracy) from tubes. Men were very wary of it; the powder was so unstable that apparently it exploded if you stamped on it.

Alys Clare