The Song of the Nightingale (15 page)

He looked at Gervase, then at the abbess. ‘What can we do?' he asked in a whisper.

Slowly, Abbess Caliste shook her head.

His anger and frustration evident in the single word, Gervase said, ‘
Nothing.
'

J
osse made his way up to the clearing by St Edmund's Chapel. His heart was sore, and he longed more than anything to share his burden with Helewise.

As he crossed the clearing, he saw her emerge from the chapel. She was facing away from him, and when he called out to her, she spun round. In that first instant, her expression was one of simple delight at seeing him. He hurried across to her, and, even as he ran, it seemed to him that she deliberately straightened her face. Whatever was amiss between them, it certainly hadn't been put right by a couple of days' absence from each other . . .

‘Is Meggie here?' he asked coolly, coming to a halt a couple of paces away from her. ‘I need to speak to you both.'

‘No,' Helewise replied. ‘She's gone out to the hut to fetch some supplies that Tiphaine needs. My granddaughter,' she added with a soft smile, ‘is down at the abbey, helping out in the infirmary.'

‘Tiphaine's here?'

‘She was. She's gone again now.'

Josse realized it was some time since he had seen the former herbalist of Hawkenlye Abbey. ‘Is she all right?'

Helewise shrugged. ‘She looks tired and strained, but who doesn't?' Then in a gentler tone, she added, ‘Will you come inside the cell and take a warm drink? You said you need to speak to Meggie and me, but will I do?'

It's you I most want to talk to
, he thought.
If only you knew
. ‘Aye,' he said shortly.

She led the way inside the small cell. The women had made it very comfortable, and, with a fire glowing gently in the hearth, it was warm and cosy. As if noticing his reaction, Helewise said, ‘The one big advantage of living in a tiny stone-walled space is that it's very easy to heat, which is just as well since we're all too busy to spend much time foraging for firewood.'

His heart sank. If they were busy, it meant that pilgrims were finding their way to the clearing. ‘You have many visitors, then?'

She gave him a smile, apparently reading his mind. ‘Yes, Josse, I'm afraid we do.'

His private little hope that, finding nobody came to seek her out, she would give up this whole venture and come home, quietly faded and died.

She poured out two mugs of a spicy concoction sweetened with honey and handed one to him. She sat down on what he supposed was her own cot, and he sat on the one beside it. He sipped his drink. It was delicious, and he said as much.

‘It is rather good, isn't it?' she agreed. ‘I must remember to tell my granddaughter.'

‘Little Helewise made it?'

‘Indeed she did. We are keeping her busy, and she's a very willing pupil. Already, she looks much happier and healthier than when she joined us. She's—' But whatever she had been about to say, she stopped. ‘Now, Josse, what did you want to discuss?'

He realized just how long it had been since they had sat down together like this to chew over some puzzle, and how very much he had missed it. There was a lot to tell her: he ordered his thoughts and began.

‘So the fact that these acts of revenge are continuing leads you to believe that Sister Estella's Brown Man – if, indeed, it is he who is perpetrating the deeds – is still in the vicinity, and perhaps still looking for a priest to absolve him?' she said when he had finished.

‘Aye, that's about it,' he agreed.

‘You are sure that he is responsible?' she asked. ‘It seems a large conclusion to draw from scanty evidence.'

‘I
know
,' he said in frustration. ‘But the facts are these: one, the long list of brutal crimes that Gervase knew of came to a halt when the three dead men at Hawkenlye were killed. Two, at around the same time, a stranger told Sister Estella that he needed to talk to a priest because he was about to do something bad. Three, similar acts of vengeance are being carried out again, specifically, the flogging of Lord Benedict's man Matthew and the killing of Gervase's Rufus. In each case, the punishment echoes the crime.'

She was nodding thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I do see,' she said. ‘And no doubt you are going to tell me that neither Gervase nor you have any other suspects in mind.'

‘No, we haven't,' he grunted. ‘There's more,' he added, before she could speak. And he told her how the man who killed Rufus had been spotted, and that Lord Benedict's men, their blood up and violence on their minds, were even now out hunting him.

Silence fell when he stopped speaking. After a moment, she reached out and took his hand. ‘And you, dear Josse, are suffering deeply because in your heart you do not believe this man is guilty of any crime.'

‘Aye, and apparently it's dangerous to say so,' he agreed bitterly. ‘Gervase tells me such talk is treason.'

‘He's right,' she said quietly. ‘I don't know about the dead men down at the abbey, but the other two are officers of the law, even though they are cruel and heartless ones. Anyone who harms them is automatically guilty.'

‘It shouldn't be like that!' Josse cried.

‘I know, but it is.' She let go of his hand. After a moment, she said, ‘What shall we do?'

He appreciated the
we
. ‘I've been endlessly asking myself the same thing, and all I can think of is that we try to find him ourselves and warn him,' he said.

She looked taken aback. ‘But – you're proposing we should set out for Tonbridge and try to pick up his trail? Wouldn't Lord Benedict's men notice us and realize what we were doing?'

Josse smiled. ‘If it's really the Brown Man, then he won't be anywhere near Tonbridge. He's already been to the abbey, or at least to the vale, where he encountered Sister Estella. Unless he's blind and stupid – and I don't believe he's either – he'll have noticed that Hawkenlye Abbey stands on the edge of a very large forest.'

In the hut in the forest, Meggie sat cross-legged by the hearth wondering if she had done the right thing. She had made the potion – she had no doubt that it would work – and Tiphaine had collected it late in the afternoon. Would that poor young woman already have taken it? Meggie wondered. If so, she was in for a rough night. Tiphaine had undertaken to look after her, and Meggie could think of nobody better. Tiphaine was kind, in her own brusque way, and she would make quite sure that the girl – Melania – would understand what was happening to her. Most importantly, Tiphaine would have no doubts that it was up to Melania to make her hard decision, and that nobody had the right to make her feel guilty about it.

The guilt
, Meggie thought,
is for me
.

With a sigh, she got to her feet, stretching. The daylight was beginning to fade, and she knew she should get back to the cell. But she wanted more than anything to stay where she was, in the snug safety of her mother's hut. She decided to return to the cell, eat supper with Helewise and her granddaughter and then, once they were asleep, do as she'd done before and slip out again.

The lift to the heart that the decision brought quite surprised her. Smiling, she fetched firewood and laid it ready, then climbed up to the sleeping platform to plump up the pillows and spread out the covers, making sure the shiny coin was visible.

I will be back soon
, she said silently as she fastened the door. Then, a spring in her step, she set off for the clearing.

‘You missed a visit from your father,' Helewise said to Meggie as they ate the evening meal. ‘He was at the abbey and called in to see us.'

Meggie looked up, glancing from Helewise to her granddaughter. ‘Did you—?'

‘No, he doesn't know yet,' Little Helewise said. She was looking very serene, Meggie thought, and quietly joyful, as if she were communing silently with the new little life inside her. ‘I was down at the abbey when he came, and Grandmother felt it was up to me to tell him, not her.' She gave Helewise a sweet smile. ‘I think,' she added, ‘I'm looking forward to it.'

Meggie wondered if she would be as calm at the prospect of breaking the news to her mother. Out of nowhere she had an image of Ninian's face; it tore at her heart to think of other people knowing he was going to be a father before he did.
Ninian, come home!
Fervently, she sent out the unspoken plea, so familiar now. ‘Did Father bring any news?' she asked, to take her mind off worrying about her brother.

‘Well, in fact he did,' Helewise said. She told both young women what Josse had told her, and, when she had finished, Meggie had the distinct sense that the solution to a mystery had just presented itself.

She left the hut as soft-footed as the last time and was soon outside and past the lay brothers' shelter, heading out of the clearing and in under the trees. It was a clear night, and she wrapped her shawl round her against the chill.

When she reached the glade where the hut stood, she stopped. She knew he was there; she could see his horse, in a simple rope head collar and tethered to one of the willows by the stream. The horse was looking at her out of friendly, interested dark eyes. It was a gelding, chestnut in colour, with a long flaxen mane and tail. It shifted a little out of the shadows, and Meggie could see it stood some fifteen or sixteen hands and was stockily built. She sent it a reassuring message, and it gave a very soft whicker.

Meggie stepped closer to the hut. The rope that fastened the latch was undone and hung on a nail. She stopped, closed her eyes and, using all the skill she possessed, sent out feelers to assess what sort of a person was inside the hut.

She could have sworn he was not evil and posed no threat. She sent out a message to her mother and had the clear sense that Joanna was smiling.
Go inside
, her mother said.

Meggie opened the door.

He was sitting facing her, cross-legged beside the cheery fire, exactly where she had sat a few hours earlier.

She saw the glitter of very dark-brown eyes, staring at her as intently as she was staring at him. His skin was smooth and dark – the colour of peaty water with the sun shining on it – and he was lightly bearded. His facial hair was black, like that on his head, which was long, glossy and hung down to his chest. There was a heavy gold ring in his left ear.

Glancing down at the rest of him, she saw that he was bare-chested. A long cloth in some dark colour was wound round his waist, spread across his crossed legs and covering him as far as the ankles. At his side lay a sword in a leather scabbard. His feet, she noticed, were long and graceful. His hands had the same elegant shape, but they were heavily calloused as if from some sort of hard work. He was, she guessed, some seven or eight years older than her.

He smiled, his teeth white and even. ‘I have been expecting you,' he said. ‘I knew you would come.'

She went to sit down opposite him. ‘Who are you?'

‘I'm called Jehan Leferronier.'

‘You're – a Frenchman?' Did they come as dark as him, she wondered.

‘A Breton.' The smile widened. ‘I have other ancestry. My grandmother was a woman of Ethiopia.'

‘I see.' She didn't see at all. She wondered why she should feel so happy. So relaxed, talking to a stranger in her own hut. He had just told her his name and was smiling at her as if delighted to see her, but was that any reason to lower her guard like this?

Apparently, it was . . .

‘My name's Meggie,' she said. ‘My father's Sir Josse d'Acquin, and my mother – well, she isn't here any more, but this used to be her hut.'

He made her a low bow. ‘I am sorry that I have been staying in it without your permission.'

‘That's all right. Thank you for the present.' She touched the slim leather sheath that she had made to keep the knife in, hanging from her belt.

His dark eyes widened. ‘You carry it always with you!'

She'd only just acquired it, so
always
was an exaggeration, but she could see what he meant. ‘Yes. It's lovely.'

He looked gratified. ‘I am happy that it pleases you. Thank
you
for the coin.'

He had found it, then. ‘You have to make a token payment when someone gives you a blade, because—'

He put up a hand. ‘I understand, Meggie,' he said.

She took her knife out of its sheath and looked at it. ‘That's a garnet, isn't it?' She pointed to the red stone.

‘
Oui
. It is traditional to put such a stone in a full-sized sword.'

‘For protection. Yes, I know.' She paused. ‘I've heard it said that, as a gift, a garnet grants affection and loyalty.'

‘Yes, I know.' He echoed her words.

Some strong emotion seemed to tremble in the air between them. She could almost see it. With an effort, she recalled why she was there. ‘You're – did you pay a visit to the big abbey on the edge of the forest?' she asked. ‘Five or six weeks ago?'

Gravely, he nodded. ‘I did. I was in search of a priest, but I learned that the priests are forbidden to tend to their flock because his Holiness the Pope has placed England under an interdict.'

‘You told one of the nuns that you needed forgiveness for an action you were about to take.' Now his expression became guarded. She pressed on. ‘I – we, that is, my father, his close friends and I – know what you did, and also we know of the other things you've done more recently.'

He shook his head, trying to protest, but Meggie did not want to listen to lies.

‘You ought to know that someone saw you and there's a manhunt on your trail,' she said, speaking hurriedly, ‘but, as far as we're concerned, you've done nothing wrong and we don't think you should be arrested and tried, because they'll undoubtedly find you guilty and hang you. The law isn't very reasonable,' she added.