Alys Clare - Heart of Ice

‘Very well,’ he said curtly. ‘Prepare a cart,’ he ordered, turning to the guards, ‘wrap the prisoner warmly and put him on it. We’ll take him up to Hawkenlye.’

‘Should we chain him?’ one of the guards asked.

De Gifford glanced at Sabin. Then, answering the guard, he said, ‘Manacle one wrist and fasten the end of the chain to the cart.’

Sabin rewarded him with another dazzling smile.

When the small procession was ready to set out, Sabin presented herself at de Gifford’s side. ‘I shall fetch my mare,’ she said, ‘and accompany you.’

But this time — for he had guessed she would want to go up to Hawkenlye with him — he was ready with an answer.

Taking hold of her gloved hands, he looked down into her eyes and said, ‘Please, lady, no. For one thing, your grandfather is chilled and miserable and surely needs your attentions. For another, we shall wait only to deliver our prisoner into the hands of those who will tend him. I will leave two of my men on guard and then I shall come straight back.’ Improvising but guessing he had it right, he added, ‘They do not allow anyone into the infirmary unless there is no choice so you would not be able to stay with him. And I shall leave instructions that I am to be informed the moment he is capable of talking to me. Believe me, I am almost as anxious as you to hear what account he will give of himself.’

Her eyes steady on his, she said, ‘May I come with you then, when you question him?’ Sorrow crossing her face, she whispered, ‘I do need to know about Nicol, you see. I have to — that is, until I know what became of him, his memory keeps me from proceeding with my life.’

‘I understand,’ he said gently, although he was not entirely sure that he did. ‘You have my word, lady. When — or perhaps if — I am able to ask the man to explain himself, I shall do my utmost to make sure you are with me.’

She bowed. ‘Thank you.’ Then she disengaged her hand, stepped back and walked back into the house.

It was long after midnight; the dead hours of the night that hold sway before dawn.

The Abbess had all but slipped away.

Earlier — some time late the previous evening — Father Gilbert had stood over her pleading with God to forgive her her sins and explaining that she would of course have confessed them and humbly asked for his indulgence, only she could not speak.

Now Josse sat alone on a bench outside the Vale infirmary. He had begged and begged to be allowed to see her — ‘You let Father Gilbert in!’ he had shouted at the infirmarer — but Sister Euphemia was adamant and would not break her rule, even for him. Especially for him, she had thought, for when the Abbess goes, we shall have need of his strength while we learn how to manage without her.

The moon had come up and the night was bright. All was quiet.

It seemed to Josse, half out of his mind with mental fatigue, physical exhaustion and grief, that he was aware of her soul hovering somewhere near. Turning his head as if trying to catch some faint essence of her through eyes or ears, it seemed to him that he felt her light touch on his shoulder.

He spun round so fast that he felt dizzy.

Sister Tiphaine stood over him. She said, ‘Sir Josse, there is something that I must tell you.’

‘She’s dead?’ He could hardly get the words out.

‘No, but death is very close.’ Tiphaine sat down beside him. ‘You are aware of this new draught that we have been giving to the patients?’

‘Aye, and you’ve been using the Eye of Jerusalem to prepare it. I already know, Sister, and you’re welcome to the jewel. It’s done her no good,’ he added bitterly.

‘No,’ Tiphaine agreed, ‘although you may be pleased to know that after drinking it, several others have been brought back from the brink.’

Josse supposed he should be glad for those others but, try as he might, he could not manage the charity. As if she knew this and shared his thought, Tiphaine reached out and took his hand. ‘I know,’ she murmured.

After a time she said, ‘It was not in fact our use of the Eye that I wished to discuss with you.’

‘No? What else, then?’ He could not imagine — and didn’t much care — but it was only polite to ask.

Tiphaine took a breath, then said, ‘Sister Caliste and I have had some help this time in our use of the stone. We have been into the forest and fetched Joanna.’

Joanna.

Amid the swirling emotions of that endless night, here was yet one more.

‘And precisely why are you telling me this, Sister?’ His voice emerged sounding far angrier than he intended. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

She squeezed his hand. ‘I am telling you because she has become a very powerful healer. I wondered what you might think if I suggested we — you and I — went to find her and asked her if she would come to see what she could do for our lady Abbess.’

At first Josse could find no words with which to reply. Then he said, ‘Is she willing?’

‘I have not yet put the question to her,’ Tiphaine replied. Then, with a small smile: ‘I thought the request might have more chance if it were you that made it.’

Josse managed an even smaller smile in response. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, getting to his feet.

He found that, as he and Sister Tiphaine approached the forest fringes, he was holding his breath.

‘Do you know where she is?’ he said in a very audible whisper to the herbalist. ‘Will we be able to find her hut in the darkness?’

Sister Tiphaine did not reply. Half turning, Josse saw that she had stopped a few paces behind him so that, beneath the first great oaks of the forest, he stood alone.

He seemed to know what was required. His heart hammering, he strode on.

There was a narrow clearing some dozen paces within the forest where the undergrowth was thin and where low hazel trees were interspersed with holly. As Josse stepped into it she emerged right in front of him. In the moonlight shining down on the clearing, he could see her quite plainly.

He stared at her.

She was Joanna, of course she was. But oh, how she had changed!

He stood and drank her in, from the glossy brown hair above the high forehead to the feet in their gold-clasped sandals. The wide folds of the cloak that she wore disguised her body but he had the overriding sense that she looked. . stronger, was the only way to describe it.

Her face had a new serenity that enhanced her strange beauty. The eyes, dark under the arching brows, were fixed on his and, as he stared at her, she gave him a smile.

‘Hello, Josse.’

‘Joanna, you look-’ He shrugged, grinning. ‘I can’t begin to describe it.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said kindly, ‘I think I know what you are trying to say.’

‘What’s happened to you?’ he burst out. ‘Where have you been and what have you been doing? Tiphaine says you’re a great healer now?’ He could not prevent the remark turning into a question; he wondered if she knew how much hung upon her answer.

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘It is true that healing is my destiny and I have already put my feet upon the long path that will allow my powers to emerge.’ Observing his puzzled look, she laughed softly. ‘Josse, I apologise — in short, the answer is, yes, I am a healer. Of sorts.’

‘You have been taught by — er — by your own people?’

‘My own people,’ she repeated, half under her breath. Then, again picking up that he was not following her, said, ‘Yes, that’s right. I have been far afield, Josse, and I have seen sights that have frightened, inspired and greatly affected me.’

He wanted more than anything to ask if she was prepared to try to help heal the Abbess, but somehow it did not seem diplomatic, on seeing a former lover for the first time in two years, to ask almost immediately if she would go with him to help another woman.