Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

It did not take long for Sister Euphemia’s practical mind to turn from her anxiety to concern for Josse; noticing that he was drooping with fatigue and looked cold and drawn, she suggested that he go across to the Abbess’s room, where she would order a fire to be lit and food and drink to be brought. He was reluctant to accept — it would sit ill on him to be warm, well-fed and comfortable when the Abbess was possibly being deprived of all of these happy states — but in the end he agreed for, as Sister Euphemia wisely remarked, his strength might well be needed soon and he would be of far more use if he were fully restored.

He sat himself in Helewise’s high-backed chair and his mind was filled with thoughts of her. I’ll not stay here, he told himself; I’ll eat, drink, warm myself and rest for a while, then I’ll go out again and I won’t stop till I’ve found her.

But he was exhausted. The simple meal that he was served combined with the warmth and he relaxed in the throne-like chair, propping his elbow on one of the arm rests and resting his head on his hand. In no time he was fast asleep.

It was dark when he woke abruptly from his deep sleep and for a few moments he could not remember where he was. Then the sound that had wakened him came again: someone was tapping on the door. Then he felt the hard chair beneath him and, stretching out his hand, knocked over the wine cup on the table. There was a candle on the table somewhere — he passed his hands to and fro until he found it — and, taking it to the brazier, he put the wick to a faintly glowing ember and, blowing the ember to a small flame, lit the candle.

Then, standing up straight and hoping he did not look like a man suddenly roused from a slumber he should not have taken, he called out, ‘Come in!’

For a moment nothing happened. Then the door opened very slowly and quietly and a cloaked and hooded shape slid through the narrow gap and into the room, carefully closing the door again.

‘Who are you?’ Josse demanded, for some reason picking up the figure’s soft-footed and furtive manner and speaking not much above a whisper.

The figure put back the hood.

It was Leofgar.

Hastening to put down the candle and take the young man’s hands — they were very cold — Josse said, ‘Leofgar! What are you doing here? Did anyone see you come in?’

Answering the second question first, Leofgar said, ‘No, I made sure that I was not spotted; my black cloak and the darkness helped, and the good sisters were not expecting me.’

‘But why have you come?’

Leofgar rubbed his hands over his jaw and Josse studied him. He looked as tired as Josse felt and his face was pale. Then the young man said, ‘I have been to the Old Manor. Wilfrid told me that you and de Gifford were there, hunting for something. I knew you had gone to search through the table and I realise that you did not find anything. He said — Wilfrid said you were both very anxious — there was a dread about you, he said, and I just-’ He stopped, apparently unable to go on.

‘You just had to know what is happening,’ Josse finished for him. ‘And so you come here and, instead of finding your mother sitting in her usual place, you find me. Aye, Leofgar,’ — he sighed deeply — ‘she is not here.’ Taking a breath and looking the younger man straight in the eyes, he said quietly, ‘It appears that Arthur Fitzurse has taken her captive. Gervase de Gifford’s men are even now searching for her but so far without success.’

Leofgar’s white face had paled yet more. He tried to speak, swallowed and then said quite calmly, ‘If he harms her I will kill him.’

You’ll have to beat me to it, Josse thought. Aloud he said, ‘We must not speak of harm, Leofgar. There is no reason to suspect that he intends to mistreat her or indeed wishes her any harm.’

‘Then why,’ Leofgar said with cold logic, ‘has he taken her?’

‘I do not know,’ Josse said gently.

‘Where is she?’ Leofgar said, although it seemed to Josse that he spoke more to himself. ‘What does Fitzurse want with us? With her?’

‘I believe,’ Josse said carefully, ‘and indeed it is the opinion of your mother, that this all has to do with your family’s past. That, whatever it is that Fitzurse was trying to find at the Old Manor, it is likely that it concerns a claim that the man believes he has on the Warin family. He-’

‘Fitzurse,’ Leofgar cried suddenly, interrupting him. ‘Son of the bear. Why did I not remark it before? The bear is the traditional device of my forefathers.’

‘Aye, lad, I know,’ Josse murmured. Not wanting to elucidate — it was a matter of extreme delicacy — he simply said, ‘So, now you have it.’

Leofgar nodded slowly. ‘Fitzurse claims to be a bastard son of — of whom, Josse? Of my father?’

‘I could not say,’ Josse answered. ‘Your mother — well, I do not know what she thinks of this suggestion for she has not discussed it with me. Not that she should!’ he added hastily. It was, after all, he reflected, far too personal.

‘My father loved my mother greatly,’ Leofgar said. ‘I was but a child of six when he died but I understood well enough that he had eyes for no woman but her.’

‘He would have begotten Arthur years before he met your mother,’ Josse pointed out gently. ‘If it proves to be he who fathered the man, then it will not detract in any way from your father’s love and loyalty to your mother.’

‘No, I see that,’ Leofgar said slowly. ‘Yet-’ He shrugged. ‘It is not easy, Sir Josse, for a grown man to face the possibility that he may have a half-brother whose existence he has never even dreamed of, and who is a rogue into the bargain.’

‘Do not forget that it is but a possibility,’ Josse urged him. ‘There is a tale yet to be told here, and we should make no assumptions yet.’

‘Good advice,’ Leofgar said. ‘I will-’ Again he broke off, as if struck by a sudden thought.

‘What is it?’ Josse demanded.

Leofgar frowned. ‘Something you said keeps coming back into my head.’

‘What?’

‘You made a remark about all this being to do with my family’s past.’ He was wrapping himself in his cloak again as he spoke. ‘If you are right — and I confess that I think you are — then there may be something that I can do to help. Wait here, Sir Josse, I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘Help in what way? Where are you going?’

But Josse found he was speaking to empty air; Leofgar had hurried out through the door and, when Josse looked out and along the cloister, was already racing for the gates.

There was nothing to do but obey Leofgar’s order and wait for his return. Closing the door, Josse went back to the Abbess’s chair and sat down again.

He did not know how Leofgar was getting into the Abbey; the first time he appeared, he had presented himself alone at the door of Helewise’s room, and this suggested to Josse that he had not entered via the gates for, had he done so, then Sister Ursel or one of the other nuns would probably have escorted him across the courtyard and along the cloister. Or perhaps even then it had been late, and the good sisters all abed.

When Leofgar returned, it was well after midnight and the gates were shut fast.

He was breathless and red in the face, his cloak bespattered with mud; noticing Josse’s eyes on him, he gave a quick smile and said, ‘I apologise for my appearance but I have been riding hard.’ Then, excitement bursting from him, he cried, ‘I think I know where she is! Will you ride with me to fetch her home?’

Josse leapt to his feet and went to embrace the young man. ‘Aye, and gladly!’ he cried. ‘Give me but a moment to fetch my horse and collect my weapons, and I’ll follow wherever you lead!’