Alys Clare - The Enchanter's Forest

Josse turned to him, taking in the man’s air of strength contained within an elegant and well-dressed body; the man’s garments simply shouted expensive , from the closely fitting tunic of very fine wool to the soft leather boots and the hint of scarlet-died fur at the ends of the wide sleeves. Feeling Josse’s intent eyes, the man met them and, smiling widely, said, ‘I am Ranulf of Crowbergh, family friend to Florian and his household.’ Josse might have been mistaken but he thought he heard a sudden intake of breath from the Abbess, standing close beside him. ‘Sir Josse-?’

‘Josse d’Acquin.’ Josse gave a formal bow.

‘Sir Josse.’ Ranulf of Crowbergh returned it.

Primevere had moved across to and through an arched doorway at the far end of the room and her voice could be heard giving instructions to whoever was working there. She returned and, still the epitome of good manners, Ranulf of Crowbergh made a show of pulling up a seat for her and settling her upon it.

Primevere, after a swift look up at him, gave a little cough and said, ‘You are most kind to concern yourself, my lady Abbess, over my grief and my sickness. The former nobody can help me with, although Maman assures me it is but a matter of time.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘As to my sickness, as I said, it was a simple matter of the heat. Now, why, you can see for yourselves that I am well!’ She beamed around at her four guests and indeed, Josse thought, she looked the picture of health, from her glossy dark hair, shining like the coat of a well-groomed horse, to the clear eyes and the faint flush of pink in her cheeks.

‘You were sick enough to be in your bed when last we saw you,’ the Abbess reminded her kindly. ‘And you were very pale; as I said, I was concerned for your health, which is why I brought with me our two nursing nuns here. Would you not like to speak privately to Sister Euphemia, or perhaps Sister Caliste, to discuss your-’

‘No,’ said Primevere very firmly. Then, with an apologetic laugh, ‘You are so kind, mes soeurs , to have made the journey, but it is all for nothing for, as you see, today I am no longer the least bit pale! It is the heat, nothing but that, which occasionally makes me sick. As I told you just now, it does not suit me, yet I am forced to spend much time outside under the sun because, with no husband to bear the burden, it is I alone who must ensure that the builders do as they are told and do not try to take advantage of a poor, helpless widow.’ She cast her eyes down and put a hand to her eyes as if wiping a tear.

Josse, on whom not one nuance of the speech was lost, reflected that the place where Primevere usually stood was, as he had noticed on his first visit, the one place in the courtyard that was not in the sun. But, bearing in mind all that this young woman was having to cope with, it would have been churlish to mention it.

Ranulf of Crowbergh was speaking, saying something about helping out Florian’s widow and her mother whenever he could but, in addition, having the demands of his own household to see to. ‘And, the dear Lord knows, it always seems that there are just not enough hours in the day for all that has to be done!’

A servant arrived with a jug of ale, so cold that droplets of water were condensing on its sides. He poured out mugs for the visitors and, after a swift enquiry, one for Ranulf of Crowbergh as well. The ale, Josse discovered, was excellent, light but very refreshing. He drank almost the entire contents of his mug and then, feeling awkward, held it in such a way that his hostess could not see how much had gone. She, however, watched him with observant eyes and gave him a little smile.

Neither the infirmarer nor Sister Caliste had spoken. Both stood a respectful couple of paces behind their Abbess. They too, Josse knew, had observant eyes. He wondered what impressions they were gaining of Florian’s household.

Melusine was getting to her feet. A glance passed between her and her daughter and Primevere gave an almost imperceptible nod. We are about to be very courteously sent on our way, Josse thought. Putting down his now empty mug, he said, addressing Primevere, ‘My lady, one thing puzzles us. We have heard that Merlin’s Tomb is now closed and that visitors are being turned away.’

‘Ah, I expect some of them have gone instead to Hawkenlye,’ Primevere said with an understanding nod.

Neither confirming nor denying that, Josse went on, ‘We are asking ourselves who, in the absence of your late husband, has made and implemented the decision to shut down the site? It had proved extremely popular, I am given to understand, and was clearly fulfilling a need for the people in these difficult times. Why, then, close it?’ He looked from Primevere to her mother, then, finally, at Ranulf.

Whom he caught in what appeared to be an intense exchange of glances with Primevere. ‘It was my decision, naturally,’ she said calmly after a moment. ‘The tomb was Florian’s project and I had nothing whatsoever to do with it. It is no task for a woman and although it is possible that I might have engaged someone to run the place — why, my neighbour here has offered his help’ — she looked up and gave Ranulf a smile — ‘I do not care to go on being associated with it.’ Meeting Josse’s eyes she said, with a moving catch in her voice, ‘Sir Josse, how could I possibly wish to take over a matter that was the cause of my beloved husband’s death?’

She made a good point, he conceded, and he made her a swift bow in acknowledgement. ‘I quite understand,’ he murmured.

But I’ll wager, he thought, that you have no such qualms over spending the vast amounts of money that the tomb has brought you.

The Abbess had also put down her mug. ‘We must be going,’ she said. ‘But remember, please, that we are not far away. If, Primevere, you continue to be troubled by the heat, come and see us and I am quite sure that my infirmarer will be able to prescribe a tonic.’

‘Thank you, you’re most kind,’ Primevere said. ‘Now, let me see you on your way.’

She got up from her seat and, stepping forward, raised her chin and preceded the party out of the hall.

The groom was waiting in the courtyard with the horses and the Abbess, Josse and the two nuns quickly mounted. Primevere bade them farewell and, just as they rode off, Josse saw Ranulf of Crowbergh hurrying round to the stables. They had gone only a short way up the road when there was the sound of hooves from behind them and he trotted up to join them.

‘I too must be about my work,’ he said to the party in general, ‘back to home, hearth and the bosom of the family, you know!’

‘Indeed,’ said the Abbess politely.

Then, surprisingly, Sister Euphemia spoke up. ‘My lady,’ she said to the Abbess, ‘may I make a request?’

The Abbess looked surprised. ‘Of course, Sister. What is it?’

‘I ought to have asked the lady back there’ — she jerked her head back towards the house they had just left — ‘but somehow, what with her very recent bereavement, I didn’t like to. I would so love to see for myself these bones we’ve been hearing so much about. May I ask you, sir’ — she turned eager eyes to Ranulf — ‘if you think it would be all right for us to make a detour to Merlin’s Tomb before we return to Hawkenlye?’

Josse, wondering what was behind the request, studied Ranulf as he thought about it. The man seemed doubtful, which could, Josse acknowledged, be for a very good reason, if he had guessed that Florian’s site in the forest was a fake. Any decent man would do his best to protect his dead neighbour’s widow from such harmful gossip about her late husband. And on the face of it Ranulf of Crowbergh did indeed appear to be a decent man. .