Alys Clare - Heart of Ice

‘I thank you, my lady, although in truth the link was not difficult to make. So you see, I need to return to Newenden and speak to Adam Morton again to see if he can tell me anything more about Sabin de Retz and why she wanted to find Nicol Romley.’

‘Back on the road, then, first thing tomorrow?’ she suggested. ‘Sir Josse, it is many miles that you’ve covered these past days.’

‘Aye, but sometimes in times of trouble it’s easier on those who have a definite job to do.’

‘Easier than waiting and watching helplessly while they die?’ she said bitterly. ‘Oh, yes, Sir Josse, you are the lucky one, for indeed it is.’

There was a short and, on Josse’s part, uncomfortable silence.

Then she put out her hand to touch his and said, ‘Forgive me, old friend.’

‘Nothing to forgive,’ he muttered gruffly.

They walked on, both deep in their own thoughts. At the door to her room she turned and said, ‘Sir Josse, may I ask a favour of you?’

‘Anything!’ he cried. ‘Whatever you like!’

She managed a brief smile. ‘It is nothing that great,’ she said. ‘It is merely to ask if you would take Brother Augustus with you tomorrow.’

‘Young Gussie? Of course; nothing would give me more pleasure than to have his company on the road.’

She made a face. ‘He is not himself, Sir Josse, for he is sorely grieved over Brother Firmin. Firmin has been like a beloved grandfather to Augustus and the boy will not accept that he is dying.’

‘It is true, then?’ Josse pictured the kind old face and he felt like weeping. ‘There is no hope for Brother Firmin?’

‘There is always hope,’ she said swiftly, ‘but Brother Firmin moves further along the road that takes him away from us with each hour that passes. He barely speaks and indeed he sleeps most of the time, waking only to drink some of his precious holy water.’

‘It has saved many lives before,’ Josse said stoutly. ‘Let us pray that the miracle will happen for dear old Firmin.’

‘Amen,’ the Abbess said fervently. Then, with a courageous lift of her chin that went straight to Josse’s heart, she bade him goodnight and disappeared into her room.

Josse and Brother Augustus were on the road early the next morning. Augustus did indeed seem very downcast and it was not long before he let out all his pain and grief to Josse.

‘I keep asking if I can nurse him,’ he said, close to tears, ‘but they won’t let me and I feel so guilty not being beside him. It’s just the infirmarer and her nursing nuns that are allowed into that temporary ward they’ve made in the Vale and they tell me I must obey their orders and keep away from him. But, Sir Josse, I can’t bear it, I want him to know how much I love him and that I’d do anything to make him well again!’

Bearing in mind what the Abbess had told him, Josse chose his words carefully; it seemed kinder to prepare Augustus for the worst than to give him any false hopes.

‘Gus,’ he began, ‘for one thing, you’re a lay brother and you have to obey those in authority over you; you’ve no choice. So you mustn’t feel guilty that you can’t be with Brother Firmin.’

‘I keep him supplied with holy water from the spring,’ Augustus butted in, ‘at least I can do that for him.’

‘Brother Firmin would no doubt say that’s the best service you could render him,’ Josse said. Then, gently: ‘Gussie, you say that you’d do anything to keep him alive, but it’s not for us to choose the time of a man’s death.’

‘It’s up to God, aye, I know, and Brother Firmin’s an old man; so they all keep telling me,’ Augustus said wearily. ‘If he could only have a little bit longer, Sir Josse! Just a little while!’

How many times, Josse wondered sadly, had that cry gone up at the bedside of a beloved person on the point of death! But then he thought — and the thought brought a sort of comfort — well, aren’t those people the lucky ones, to die knowing they are loved and will be sorely missed?

He was about to say as much to Augustus when the young man spoke. ‘I’ve promised God I’ll take my vows and become a monk if he lets Brother Firmin live,’ he said.

Josse’s first thought was, oh, no , Gus! In the years that he had known the lad, he had always considered that Augustus had more to offer the world outside the Abbey than within it and he would never have been surprised, on returning to Hawkenlye, to be told that Augustus had put aside his lay brother’s robe and gone.

‘I am not sure, Gussie,’ he said carefully, ‘that God really wants monks who enter the religious life as part of a bargain. Are you quite sure it’s what you want? What’s right for you and for God?’

There was a long silence. Then Augustus said miserably, ‘No, Sir Josse. I’m not sure at all.’

‘Speak to God, then,’ Josse said. ‘Tell him of your doubts.’

‘But if I withdraw my offer then Brother Firmin will die!’ wailed Augustus.

‘He may well die anyway,’ Josse said. ‘But whether he lives or dies, I do not believe it will have anything to do with your offer, Gus. I don’t think God works that way.’

Augustus turned reddened eyes to look at him. ‘Don’t you?’

‘No,’ Josse said firmly. ‘Tell you what, Gus — we’ll ride along without talking for a while and you have a bit of a prayer. Tell God how you’re feeling, how much you want to save Brother Firmin but how you’re not sure that offering to become a monk is the right thing for you after all.’

‘But how can we pray?’ Augustus looked worried. ‘We’re not in church.’

Josse gave a shout of laughter. ‘Sorry, lad, but I couldn’t help it,’ he said; Augustus was looking horrified. ‘You don’t have to be in church to pray, Gus. If you’re sincere, which you are, and if you put your heart into your prayers, which I know you will, then I reckon God can hear you wherever you are.’

Augustus eyed him doubtfully for a few moments. Then he closed his eyes and Josse heard him muttering under his breath. Resigning himself to a long period of silence, Josse clicked his tongue to Horace and steered the big horse in front of Augustus, mounted on the Abbey cob; it would not help the poor lad if his horse decided to wander off the track and into danger while Gus had his eyes shut, and the cob was more likely to keep to the path with Horace leading the way.

Quite a long time later, with Augustus still praying, they rode into Newenden.

Josse had been noticing that whenever they passed through any inhabited areas, from villages and hamlets down to lonely farms or solitary hovels, those who dwelt there dashed inside and slammed their doors. This road, he told himself, is the route of the pestilence: it went from Hastings to Newenden and from Newenden to Hawkenlye. No wonder the people barricade themselves in against passers-by; they are terrified of infection.

Newenden was deserted. Augustus, open-eyed now and looking considerably more cheerful, remarked on the lack of people.

Josse told him why the place was empty.

‘Oh, aye, of course.’ The boy nodded. ‘Will this apothecary we’ve come to see open up and talk to us?’

Josse had been wondering the same thing. ‘I hope so,’ he grunted.

He rode along the street to the apothecary’s house. Dismounting, he handed Horace’s reins to Augustus and banged on Adam Morton’s door.

There was no answer and so he banged again, more loudly, this time calling out, ‘Master Morton, I would speak with you! It is Josse d’Acquin and I have ridden from Hawkenlye Abbey.’

Even as he spoke the words he realised his mistake: Adam Morton would no longer be the only man in Newenden to know there was pestilence at Hawkenlye, even though he had probably been the first.