Alys Clare - The Enchanter's Forest

She could not help but catch the edge of his fervour. ‘Yes?’

‘My lady, you are familiar with what has happened at Glastonbury?’

‘The monks have found the bones of King Arthur and his Queen and now the Abbey is a place of pilgrimage.’ She spoke as briefly as she could, not in the least wishing to engage in a long discussion of the rights and wrongs of the issue.

‘Aye, that’s it! Well, you know of it, I know of it, so the likelihood is that Florian does too. You agree?’

‘Ye-es,’ she said. She had an idea she knew exactly where this was going.

‘An enterprising and unscrupulous young man desperate for money finds some unusually large bones. He thinks, why not claim that these belong to someone very famous? Why, you said yourself that everyone knows about Merlin, so maybe the old enchanter’s name was the first one to pop into Florian’s head. He digs up the bones, smuggles them by night into a suitably awe-inspiring and tucked away place in the forest, creates a realistic-looking tomb and makes a lead cross inscribed with suitably confirmatory lettering. He covers up the bones, allows a couple of weeks or so for the undergrowth to grow back — and at this time of year that wouldn’t take long — then back he goes to make his discovery. He hires a few strong men to fell some trees so as to make access easier and to build a couple of flimsy huts, presumably promising to pay them out of the proceeds. Then he spreads the word that Merlin’s secret and long-lost burial site has been found, and the rest we know.’

‘The rest,’ she said slowly, ‘is that Florian is making twenty shillings a day or more out of pilgrims visiting a shrine that is nothing but pretence. If, that is,’ she added, ‘these bones are not those of Merlin.’

‘Aye,’ he said heavily. ‘Aye, that’s the crux of the matter.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘My lady, every instinct tells me that they are not and yet. .’ He shrugged. Then he said, ‘But I cannot deny there is a force to the place or the bones, or perhaps both, although whether it’s what Florian claims it to be or something else entirely, well, I just don’t know.’

‘Ah.’ What had the Domina said? There is a force in that place that has been desecrated with which it is folly to meddle . Oh, dear God, and now here was Josse talking about some frightful force whose origin he did not even try to guess!

But he was waiting and she must collect herself and speak.

‘Sir Josse,’ she began tentatively, ‘I have spoken to the Domina.’

‘My lady, forgive me!’ he cried. ‘I have been so busy expounding on my own actions this day that I have omitted to ask you about yours! Please, tell me what happened in the forest!’

She looked up into his trusting, anxious face and her guilt waxed hot. But there was nothing for it but to report what had been decided. ‘After some discussion,’ she said baldly, ‘we reasoned that the surest way to disprove Florian’s claim is to provide proof that Merlin lies buried elsewhere. The Domina’s people have some idea that he has a shrine or a tomb or some such thing beside a fountain deep in a forest far away, and we-’

‘I’ll go there,’ he said instantly. ‘Tell me where it is and I’ll find it and bring back word of it.’

‘That was what we had in mind,’ she acknowledged. ‘We thought that proof of the location of the true Merlin’s Tomb, plus the revelation of just how much money Florian is making out of the false one, would convince the people that they are being tricked.’

‘Aye, you’re right!’ Josse exclaimed. ‘I’ll set out as soon as I can, my lady. I’ll make a start with preparing my gear — I can get everything ready very quickly once I’ve decided what I’m going to need — and I’ll make sure Horace has a generous feed. The pair of us will get a good night’s sleep, and then-’

‘Sir Josse, there is something else,’ she said gently. She could not bear to hear him make his plans so enthusiastically when he did not know the whole picture. ‘The place of which I speak is far away,’ she hurried on, ‘in fact, in Brittany, which the forest people know as Armorica.’

His face had gone stony. ‘Armorica,’ he repeated dully. She knew then that he had guessed what was coming.

‘You will need a guide who is familiar with the terrain and who will be able to intercede between you and the guardians of the tomb.’

‘The guardians are of the Domina’s people,’ he murmured.

‘Yes, indeed.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The Domina has proposed such a person and it’s Joanna.’

And Josse, his expression a touching mixture of distress and joy, said, ‘I guessed as much.’

The knowledge that Joanna was to escort him to Brittany initially caused Josse pleasure and pain in almost equal measure. The prospect of having her company — and that of his daughter as well? Oh, but surely she would bring Meggie with her, wouldn’t she? — for however long the journey might take was nothing other than wonderful. But then, what would happen when they got back to Hawkenlye? How would he, having become accustomed to living with her, be able to live without her again?

He went to his bed that night with the dread of that destiny filling his head. But in the morning his pragmatic nature had reasserted itself: he had to make the trip, and with Joanna; he had no choice, for the mission was fundamental to the future of Hawkenlye Abbey and he could not let the Abbess down. Therefore he would go with a happy heart, extract what joy he could from being with Joanna and Meggie and let the future take care of itself.

He washed and dressed — some kindly soul had addressed him or herself to the problem of his sweaty chemise and dusty tunic, for both had been laundered and were now fresh and smelling faintly of lavender, and his boots had been polished to a high shine — and presented himself before the Abbess. Without preamble he told her that departure would have to be delayed until later that day at the earliest, more likely early the following morning, since he first wished to visit the sheriff of Tonbridge.

‘I think I can guess why you wish to see Gervase de Gifford,’ the Abbess said.

‘Aye, no doubt you can,’ he replied. ‘I believe we should alert him to our suspicions regarding Florian and the tomb in the forest. If we are wrong — which I admit I doubt — then Gervase can dismiss the warning as if it had never been uttered. But if we’re right, then the sooner he knows about all this, the better.’

The Abbess was nodding. ‘Yes, Sir Josse, I agree that it is a wise precaution to speak to Gervase. I — er, I had not in truth envisioned that you would be leaving today; I am not sure that the Domina will as yet have-’

‘She won’t yet have given Joanna her orders?’ He felt his face twist in a grimace that seemed to turn all by itself into a grin. ‘Oh, my lady, I expect she’ll be doing that right now. And Joanna travels light: if I can be ready in not much more than an hour, then so can she.’

Not entirely pleased with the Abbess just then — although he had not dared to get to the bottom of exactly why that was — he gave her a polite bow, turned and left the room.

He found the house of Gervase de Gifford in a state of confusion. Two horses stood in the shade out in the courtyard and a young groom was walking one of them slowly to and fro; returning Josse’s greeting, he said, ‘She showed up lame yesterday and s’morning she’s just had a new shoe. I’ve to ensure she’s all right now ’cos some day soon she may have a long journey in front of her.’

Josse was on the point of asking where Gervase was going — and who, indeed, was going with him — but stopped. It was none of the groom’s business and Josse would do much better asking Gervase. ‘Your master is within?’