Alys Clare - The Enchanter's Forest

Josse was hoping to be safely back in Hawkenlye before that. ‘Thank you, captain. We’ll see how we go.’

And, with a bow, he took his leave of both captain and ship and went down the gangplank to join the others.

They climbed the winding, cobbled street that led up from the port, leading the horses because of the steepness of the incline; in addition, the stones were slimy with the refuse of a day’s traffic and, despite the cobbles, more than once one or other of the horses slipped. The incline flattened out slightly as the road approached the town walls and, in single file now, the party went under the great arched gateway, its iron grille at present raised. Joanna, who had been here before, glanced up at the darkening sky: twilight was fast falling and within the hour it would be fully dark and the gates would be secured for the night.

She had not anticipated coming back to Dinan when she had agreed to accompany Josse to Armorica. In a place close by the town she had endured the worst time of her life: pregnant by one of the most famous men in the western world, she had been married off to an elderly lord and sent to live with him in his ancient family manor. For six years he had made her life hell and then he had taken a fall out hunting and his death had released her. She had fled, taking her young son, a few personal possessions, the boy’s pony and her own mare and taking ship to England, to seek refuge with the only person in the world whom she trusted.

And look, Joanna thought as she panted up the last steep incline of the Rue du Jerzual, what that flight has led to. .

She became aware that Josse was speaking and hastily began to listen.

‘. . find a place where they’ll provide a good meal and beds for the night?’ he suggested.

He seemed to be asking her; presumably he too remembered that she used to live in the area.

‘I do not know Dinan well,’ she said, ‘only having visited on rare occasions. I am sure there is decent accommodation to be found, although I cannot say where.’

Josse, she noticed, had flashed her a look of sympathy and understanding; she tried to recall exactly what she had told him of her life with Thorald de Lehon and, embarrassed, thought that she might have included a few details that she would have done better to have left out.

‘There’s an inn down the street to our left,’ Gervase said. ‘Shall we try there? Plenty of people seem to be going in, which is always a good sign!’ He spoke lightly, as if he too felt Joanna’s unease.

She looked in the direction of the inn. It was indeed busy, and the sound of voices and laughter floated out into the street. She nodded. ‘Very well.’

Gervase went in beneath the arched entrance to the inner yard and engaged a harassed-looking man in conversation, pointing back at the others standing in the street. After a few moments the man gave a shrug and nodded. Gervase beckoned, and Josse led the way into the yard. The man had whistled up a couple of lads, who took charge of the horses, and Gervase explained that he had secured a room for the women and Meggie and space in the communal dormitory for himself and Josse.

‘It’s not perfect, but it will serve, I think?’ He looked anxiously at Sabin.

‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Can we eat here too?’

Gervase smiled. ‘Oh, yes. That was the first thing I asked — I’m starving.’

Joanna looked around the small room that had been allocated to herself and Sabin. There was one bed, not very wide, and although the bedding looked reasonably fresh it had clearly been used. I’m going to hate this, she thought miserably; accustomed to nights in the fresh cleanliness of her little hut in the forest, where the invigorating air blew gently through the unshuttered window, to be forced to sleep in a confined space with the smell of other people in her nostrils was anathema to her. And she would have to share her bed not only with Meggie — which she was used to and which she loved — but also with Sabin. And as yet she had not decided whether she even liked Sabin. .

Sabin had removed her gown and under-shift and was washing vigorously, bending over the basin and splashing water over face, neck, breasts and armpits. Drying herself on a small piece of linen from her bag, she grinned at Joanna. ‘That’s better. There’s plenty more water in the ewer if you want to wash too.’

‘Thank you. I’ll see to Meggie, then use up what’s left.’

‘Don’t be long,’ Sabin said. ‘The men are keen to eat.’

‘Very well.’

Quite soon Joanna was finished and she and Sabin set off along the passage towards the eating area, where Josse and Gervase could be seen downing large mugs of something no doubt cool and refreshing and probably also alcoholic. Sabin began to make some comment but just at that moment she caught her toe on an uneven flagstone and tripped, lurching against the wall and throwing out a hand to save herself. There was a ripping sound; looking down at her upper body, Joanna saw a large tear in the bodice of Sabin’s gown. An area of creamy white flesh was visible, together with one rosy nipple.

Despite herself, Joanna giggled. ‘I don’t think you can go in to dinner like that.’

Sabin muttered something in her own tongue, then smiled ruefully as she tried to pull the torn edges together. ‘No, I can’t,’ she agreed. ‘I can mend this, but it’ll take quite a while to do a good job.’

‘Have you another tunic?’

‘Yes. You go on — I’ll go back to our room and change.’

Joanna walked on into the dining area. She swiftly explained what had happened and said that Sabin would join them as soon as she could; Gervase, nodding, indicated a long table at the far end of the room and suggested they sat down and ordered some food.

Gervase sat with his back to the room, and Josse and Joanna sat against the wall, Meggie between them. The child was tired and hungry and consequently on the edge of being fractious; Josse took her on his lap and entertained her with the peek-a-boo game, contorting his face into the alternate happy and sad expressions with each passage of his hand. Meggie found this quite fascinating, wrinkling up her own little face as she tried to copy him. Joanna was in the midst of laughing at the picture that the two of them made together when suddenly she felt as if she was being stabbed; the sharp pain between her eyes was exactly as if someone were attacking her with the point of a dagger.

Recognising the sensation, she bent forward briefly, pretending to straighten Meggie’s tunic, and unobtrusively drew forward the small veil that she had put on when they came ashore, careful to make sure that it concealed her face. Then slowly she raised her head and let her eyes wander around the crowded room.

She saw him almost immediately. The force of his expression horrified her; no wonder it had caused her pain, for malice poured out of him, honed to a fine point that was aimed straight at her.

She thought quite calmly, I have to get away.

She leaned close to Josse and murmured, ‘I’ll go and see if I can help Sabin,’ then, getting up with unhurried grace, she left the room. Once out of sight of anyone within it, she ran as fast as she could along the passage to the bed chamber.

Bursting into the room, she found a flustered Sabin struggling with the laces at one side of a pretty grey-blue gown; the braid had got itself into a knot that she could not untie. Sabin looked up as Joanna flung the door closed and, panting, leaned against it.

‘What’s the matter?’ Sabin’s eyes were round with amazement. ‘You look terrible — what has happened?’ Her face paled suddenly and she seemed to sway. ‘Oh, God, it’s not Gervase? He’s not hurt?’

Registering with a part of her mind how deep was Sabin’s love for Gervase, if even the thought of his having come to harm affected her so badly, Joanna hastened to say, ‘No, Gervase is perfectly all right — they all are.’