Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

‘What of your other son?’ Josse asked. ‘Might Leofgar have sought sanctuary in the household where he grew up?’

She turned dark-circled eyes to him. ‘You think then that Leofgar seeks a place of sanctuary?’ she whispered.

Mentally kicking himself for the blunder, he said hastily, ‘Indeed no, my lady, it was but a figure of speech.’

But he could tell that she was not convinced.

After a moment she said, ‘Dominic was brought up in his uncle’s household. My brother Rainer,’ she explained. ‘Ivo’s parents predeceased him and Ivo himself was an only child; my sons have neither uncles nor aunts on the paternal side of the family. Dominic came to treat his cousins as brothers and indeed he is as another son in that household, or at least he was until he went abroad and I am sure that he will resume that position when he returns home.’ She paused. ‘Although Rainer would have made Leofgar welcome, I do not think that he has gone there.’ Looking up and meeting Josse’s eyes, she said, ‘There always seemed to be so many people in my brother’s cheerful home — open, friendly people — and I just can’t see it as being the place for somebody hiding a secret.’

There was a brief and, on Josse’s part, surprised silence. Then he said softly, ‘That is your conclusion, my lady? That Leofgar has something to hide?’

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I wish it were not so but it is surely the only explanation. Let us think back,’ she said, and a little colour crept into her face as she leaned towards him. ‘Leofgar brought his wife and son to us at Hawkenlye because he was worried for Rohaise’s health, in particular her state of mind. There also appears to be something amiss with little Timus, who is unnaturally quiet.’ She flashed a brief smile at him and said, ‘Or was , that is, until he had the good fortune to meet up with a certain large and friendly knight who managed to make him laugh.’

Embarrassed that she should refer to his tricks, Josse waved a dismissive hand. ‘It was nothing. Really. The lad was ready to laugh again, that was all.’

‘Then you do my family another great service,’ she went on, relentlessly ignoring his protestations of modesty, ‘by extracting from Leofgar the admission that his priest believes Timus to be a changeling who must be removed from Rohaise’s care in order that he be given back to the place where he came from and the true child brought home again. Time passes and, in Hawkenlye’s healing atmosphere, Rohaise begins to improve. Perhaps, as she returns to her right mind, she sees this tale of changelings for the nonsense that it is. But then something happens and Leofgar takes the decision to run away in the middle of the night, taking his wife and child with him. But what happened?’

Josse paused. But there was no point in prevaricating since she must surely be thinking exactly the same thing. ‘De Gifford came hunting for a man known to be violent and whom there was evidence to suggest was making for the Abbey. And then the man’s brother is found hanging by the neck.’

‘My son saw this man,’ the Abbess said slowly. ‘And that same night he fled from Hawkenlye and went we know not where. Sir Josse, surely there has to be a connection!’

‘Not necessarily,’ he said, trying to use his most positive tone to convince her that there was yet room for doubt. ‘For one thing, I find it hard to think what reason there could be for your son knowing a man of Teb Bell’s nature and habits. Why should their paths have ever crossed? For another, we know what Rohaise — and therefore Leofgar — were afraid of, and it had nothing to do with some Tonbridge ruffian looking for his missing brother.’

The Abbess hesitated, and then said, ‘Unless this priest that Rohaise feared was so anxious to locate Leofgar and the family that he employed one or both of the Bell brothers to search for them.’

Josse thought it most unlikely. Nevertheless, he said, ‘Perhaps we should speak to the priest before we head off for Hawkenlye.’

And she simply said, ‘Very well.’

Wilfrid, his son and the blonde young woman he shyly introduced as his wife saw them on their way and Wilfrid told them where to find Father Luke. Josse and the Abbess rode in silence. They carefully followed Wilfrid’s instructions and in time found themselves outside a small and immaculately kept stone cottage that nestled beside the church.

Father Luke was a short and round little man with twinkling blue eyes set in laughter lines and curly grey hair clinging tightly to his bald head as if afraid of being swept away. His black robe was as neat as his cottage, the mud carefully brushed from the hem and only a couple of rusty-looking stains down the front, where the cloth stretched over his protruding stomach. He greeted the Abbess with elaborate and formal good manners, clearly impressed by her title; Josse noticed with amusement that he was not nearly so moved by a mere knight. He offered them what hospitality his humble home might provide but the Abbess, with an impatient shake of her head, declined.

‘I am grateful, Father Luke,’ she said, ‘but Sir Josse and I must be on our way back to the Abbey. I have sought you out merely to ask after two of your flock: Leofgar Warin and his wife Rohaise.’

The priest shook his head. ‘Ah, yes, a sad little family,’ he said. ‘The young wife is deeply troubled and I fear for her child.’ Leaning closer, standing right beside the golden mare’s shoulder, he elongated his stubby neck so that his face rose closer to the Abbess’s and declared, ‘I suggested to her that her child was a changeling and said I would take him away and put him in the care of the monks!’ He smiled and nodded, as if expecting their amazed and delighted approval.

But the Abbess said, ‘What possessed you to do something so cruel?’

All pleasure and pride left his plump face. He exclaimed, ‘But my lady, my intention was to help !’ Hurrying on before she could interrupt, he said, ‘I reasoned that perhaps the lady Rohaise herself was uneasy with the child — well, I could see very well that she was — and I came up with the idea of the changeling for her sake. I thought that if I took the little boy away for a time and then brought him back, I could tell her that a miracle had happened while he was with the monks and that, thanks to their prayers, her own boy was returned to her. Then she — all of us — could adopt the pretence that she hadn’t been happy with the child before for the very good reason that he wasn’t hers! Oh ,’ he pleaded, ‘do you not see? I thought to give her a fresh start! I really was trying to help!’

‘Yes, I see,’ said the Abbess. Josse thought that her tone was marginally less stony. ‘And you do not in truth subscribe to the possibility of changelings, Father Luke?’

He laughed, only a little uneasily. ‘Of course not, my lady Abbess! Superstitious nonsense!’

Josse, who remembered why they had come to see the priest even if the Abbess appeared to have momentarily forgotten, gave her a swift glance and then said, ‘Father Luke, you are not aware, I believe, that Leofgar and Rohaise are not at the Old Manor?’

‘Not … No, indeed, sir knight, although in fact they were not there when I called a few days ago and I imagined they were merely off on a ride somewhere getting some fresh air. I was planning to visit them today or perhaps tomorrow and-’

Before he could continue and possibly ask any questions that Josse and the Abbess would not wish to answer, Josse interrupted. ‘So you did not send two men out to look for them?’

‘I did not!’ Father Luke’s astonishment was written all over his puzzled face. ‘As you rightly surmise, I did not know they were from home!’ His frown deepening, he said, ‘And why should I send someone out to find them?’