Alys Clare - The Enchanter's Forest

The stable lad was standing scuffing his boots in the dust, clearly waiting to be dismissed. Josse drew Gervase a little apart and said, ‘I am thinking that it was the news that you were due home that made Ranulf decide on this sudden trip to his French estates, for he made no mention of it to us yesterday.’

Gervase looked grim. ‘And I cannot help thinking that among the group of horses he has spirited out of England there might well have been a certain fast-paced bay.’

Josse emitted a brief curse. ‘He’s got away, Gervase.’

Gervase was already preparing to mount. ‘He may still be at the coast,’ he replied. ‘I will-’ He broke off.

Josse nodded, appreciating the difficulty. ‘But where on the coast?’ he said softly. ‘Any number of ports harbour ships that sail from England to France. Where, Gervase, will you start? And to what purpose, when, according to the lad here, Ranulf fully intended to sail yesterday evening?’

Gervase flung his horse’s reins into Josse’s hand and strode back to the lad. ‘Are you sure your master sailed last night?’ he demanded.

The lad looked anxious. ‘He said he was going to, sir. But I can’t swear to it, not actually having seen him take ship, like.’

Gervase turned back to Josse, anger and frustration in his face. ‘I must-’ he began.

But the lad had raised his hand. Josse, noticing, said, ‘What is it?’

‘I could ask Peter,’ the boy volunteered.

‘Peter?’ Gervase and Josse said together.

‘He’s head groom. He rode down with Master.’

Even from a couple of paces away Josse could hear Gervase grinding his teeth. ‘Please ask him to come and speak to us,’ he said through a patently false smile.

The lad trotted away and presently returned with a bow-legged man with a very tanned face, no hair and few teeth. ‘You’re asking about my master,’ he said suspiciously. ‘Who are you and what business may his comings and goings be of yours?’

With a sigh, for the third time that morning Gervase explained who he was. Peter gave a smug smile and said, ‘You’ll have a long wait if you want to ask questions of Sir Ranulf. He’s in France. He sailed last night and before you ask, no, I don’t know when he plans to return.’ Then, curiosity overcoming loyalty, he burst out, ‘What d’you want Master for, anyway?’

Gervase stared at him. Instead of answering, he said, ‘Whereabouts in France are your master’s estates?’

‘How should I know?’ Peter replied. ‘I ain’t never been there and I ain’t likely to be going.’ He spat on the dusty ground.

Gervase summoned his dignity and said frostily, ‘When your master returns, send word to me.’

Peter gave a grunt that could have been an acknowledgement. Then he turned on his heel and, with the lad trotting behind him, stomped off back to his stables.

‘I think,’ Gervase said as they rode away, ‘that we must go back to Hadfeld and insist on seeing the lady Primevere.’

Josse wondered whether to say what he was thinking. Oh, why not? he thought. We’ll know soon enough in any case.

‘We’ll find the bird flown,’ he said.

‘What? Where will she have gone?’

‘My guess is that at this moment she’s either on board ship for France or else she’s already there. Gervase, think!’ he said urgently as the sheriff began to protest. ‘The Abbess and the nuns and I last saw her around the middle of yesterday. After we left her, Ranulf finds out you’re on your way home and will be making enquiries. He decides to make a run for it, taking Florian’s horse — which I’ll wager money that Ranulf, being a breeder of fine horses, sold to him in the first place — to remove it from the scene. He pays a hasty visit to his mistress to tell her what’s happening and quick as she can she dismisses her building gang — no point in having them do any more work when she’s leaving — packs her bags, orders her horse prepared and races off to follow Ranulf so that she can sail with him on the same ship.’

Gervase was shaking his head. ‘Josse, it all makes sound sense, as I have learned to expect when listening to you. But. .’ He paused, chewing at his lip. ‘But I am still going to verify your theory by going back to Hadfeld.’

The courtyard and the house were, if anything, even quieter than on their previous visit. But the door was now closed; hurrying up the steps, Gervase banged hard on it with his fist.

After quite some time, Melusine opened it. To Josse’s surprise, she invited them to come in.

‘I must insist on seeing your daughter, madam,’ Gervase said.

Melusine smiled thinly. ‘You cannot.’

Gervase was making for the doorway giving on to the passage; Josse followed him.

‘Her room is up the steps and straight in front of you,’ Melusine called after them.

They ran through the archway, up a couple of steps and along the corridor to the upper chamber. Bursting into the room, it was a matter of a brief glance to see that it was empty. The rushes on the floor had been disturbed and the bed, with its white linen, tumbled bedclothes and many pillows, had not been made. A chest at the far end of the room stood with its lid thrown open; it, like the room, was empty.

Melusine came to stand in the doorway with them. ‘She has taken all her lovely new clothes,’ she said conversationally. ‘For all that he’ll buy her more and better, still she’s a woman and she wouldn’t part with a new gown unless she had to.’

‘When did she leave?’ Gervase asked, although Josse guessed that he already knew the answer.

‘Yesterday afternoon. He came for her and told her she must make haste and she did. I’ve never seen her go about a task so quickly or efficiently, but then it’s not every day you flee the country with your lover, is it?’ Her voice was poisonous with sarcasm; whatever had happened here, it did not appear that Melusine approved.

‘Why were they in such a hurry?’ Gervase said.

Melusine gave him a sideways look. ‘I didn’t ask,’ she said coldly.

‘Where have they gone?’

She shrugged. ‘France, I imagine, although I didn’t ask that either.’

‘He has estates in Le Mans, I am told,’ Gervase said.

Again, the shrug.

Gervase muttered a curse and, with one last look around the room, turned and strode back to the hall and out into the sunshine.

Josse and Melusine followed more slowly.

‘This place wasn’t Florian’s, you know,’ she said. ‘It belongs to a relation and he used it as yet another way of persuading my daughter and me that he was a man of wealth.’

‘He would be that in truth now, were he still alive,’ Josse said. ‘That tomb of his was bringing in money as if he was minting it.’

She turned down the corners of her mouth in a gesture of doubt. ‘For a while, yes, it is true, much money could have been made. But sooner or later the truth would have emerged.’

‘They are not Merlin’s bones?’

Melusine laughed. ‘Of course not.’

They were at the entrance now. Josse stopped, turning to Melusine. ‘And what of you, madam?’ he asked her.

She shot him a look, her dark eyes narrow with suspicion, and he thought her already pale face went a shade whiter. ‘Me? What do you mean?’

‘Your daughter has fled with her lover and your son-in-law is dead so, presumably, you will no longer wish to go on living here,’ he replied.

‘Ah, I see.’ Melusine suddenly seemed to sag and Josse put out an instinctive hand to support her. For an instant she stood quite still, head bowed, then, rallying, she straightened up. ‘I shall return home,’ she said firmly. ‘Do you know Angers, Sir Josse?’

‘Er — no. Can’t say I do.’