Alys Clare - Ashes of the Elements

It ended, abruptly, in a sort of groan.

Then, as the echoes died away, the utter silence of the brooding forest closed in once more.

And Josse, at last losing what little remained of his self-control, heedless of the brambles and the tangling undergrowth that tried to hold him back, raced out of the clearing and off down the path that led to the outside world.

Josse returned to the Abbey to find, for all that it was after midnight, the community still awake, with torches blazing in the courtyard and lighting the shadows of the cloisters.

After the frightening darkness deep within the trees, it was a blessed relief.

He found the Abbess in her room, with the door open; it was, he thought briefly as the impression hit him, as if, in that night of anxiety and disturbance, she wanted her nuns to feel that she was close by. Accessible.

She got up as he came into the room.

‘Abbess, I haven’t found her,’ he began, ‘but I think-’

At the same moment, she said, her face full of joy, ‘She’s here! Sister Caliste has come back, and she is quite safe! Quite unharmed!’

‘Thank God,’ he said quietly.

‘Amen,’ the Abbess echoed, then hurried on, ‘Sir Josse, would you credit it! She’s dreadfully sorry to have caused us all this worry and trouble, she says, but she went for a little walk under the trees and forgot the time! Dear me, did you ever hear such a silly idea?’

‘She forgot the time,’ Josse repeated. He didn’t want to admit it to the Abbess, but, knowing the forest now rather better than she did, in fact he could see all too clearly how such a thing could happen. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, turning his thoughts with an effort away from the mystical spell of the forest and on to more urgent matters. ‘You say she is not hurt, but has she taken a chill?’

‘She’s fine.’ Abbess Helewise’s relief was evident in her wide smile. ‘She is on her knees in the Abbey church. She is full of remorse, as I said, and praying for God’s forgiveness for having upset all her sisters so badly.’

Sisters. That reminded him. ‘Abbess, this may sound a strange question, but do you know where Esyllt is?’

‘Esyllt?’ Clearly, it did sound a strange question. ‘She sleeps in a little dormitory in the aged monks’ and nuns’ home,’ the Abbess said, frowning. ‘Often they need attention during the night, you see. I’m quite sure that’s where she is.’ Eyes turning to Josse, she demanded, ‘Why?’

‘Could you send someone to check?’ he urged. ‘Abbess, I wouldn’t ask if it were not important!’

She seemed to recover herself. ‘No, of course you wouldn’t. Wait here, I’ll go myself.’

He waited. Sank down on the wooden stool, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

A little later, she came back. One look at her face told him he’d been right.

‘Not there?’ he asked.

‘Not there.’ The frown was back, deeper than before. ‘Do you know where she is, Sir Josse?’

‘Where she is now? No, not exactly. But I have an idea where she went earlier.’ Briefly he outlined to the Abbess the idea he’d had when he was setting off into the forest.

The Abbess was nodding slowly. ‘It seems you were right,’ she said. ‘But why? Why should Esyllt make secret visits into the forest? And at night!’

‘They would have to be at night, if they were to be secret,’ he pointed out. And, even though she’d gone at night, she hadn’t managed to keep it secret from him; he’d seen her returning, yesterday morning.

‘Quite, quite,’ Helewise was saying impatiently. ‘But for what purpose? And why should Sister Caliste know about it, whatever it was, and be prompted to follow her?’

‘Abbess, there’s something else,’ Josse said. ‘Something which, unless I’m very much mistaken, is more dreadful than a young woman going off into the forest at night.’

A sudden terrible thought struck him. Caliste was safely back within the Abbey walls, but Esyllt wasn’t.

Oh, God, what if that appalling, long drawn-out scream of agony had been hers?

What if it was she who now lay insensate in the forest, hidden in some place off the main track?

‘What? Josse, what ?’ The Abbess was shaking him. ‘Tell me! Dear God, but you’ve gone ashen!’

He stood up. ‘Abbess, when I was still deep in the forest, I heard a dreadful cry. I’m very much afraid that the killer has struck again. And that-’

‘Esyllt!’ Now she, too, was ashen. ‘Oh, no! Oh, sweet Jesus, no! Not-’

‘There were others abroad!’ he said, grabbing her by her hands. ‘I fear there’s no doubt but that there’s been another attack, but, Abbess, it is by no means certain that the victim must be Esyllt!’

She was staring at him wide-eyed. ‘We must go and look!’ she cried. ‘Whoever the victim is, we must search for them. Now! All of us!’

And, before he could even try to stop her, she had rushed out of the room, skirts of her habit flying, calling out to her senior nuns. Very soon afterwards, she had made her arrangements; efficient even in such a frightful crisis, she had organised and dispatched the search parties more quickly than Josse would have thought possible.

He waited for her to come back and tell him what she wanted of him, and at last she returned to her room. Wiping sweat from her brow — the night was close — she said, ‘Sir Josse, will you come out and search with me?’

Making her a bow, he said, ‘Gladly I will.’

* * *

Marching off into the forest, Abbess Helewise was more glad than she would have admitted to have Josse’s steady tread at her side. And she had made sure that Sister Euphemia, Sister Basilia and Sister Martha also had strong men with them in their search parties; moreover, every man of them armed with stout staves. Few of the lay brothers, she reflected, would have much sleep this night.

The darkness under the trees was more profound than she had expected. But then, the night was wearing on, and the moon no longer so high in the sky. Full moon, she mused. Full moon again, and now a second murder.

To take her mind off her fears over who the victim was, she said to Josse, ‘Sir Josse, do you realise that-’

But she never asked her question. For at that moment, flying towards them with her skirts raised high around her bare thighs, blood on her outstretched hands, on her chin and on her gown, hair awry and face as pale as death, came Esyllt.

Seeing them, she screamed, ‘He’s dead! And there’s so much blood !’

Then she rushed into Helewise’s arms.

In the first few seconds, Helewise could do nothing but hold the girl tightly against her breast, cradling her, quieting the harsh sound of her sobbing.

‘Hush, child,’ she murmured, dropping a kiss on the wild hair, ‘you’re safe now. We won’t let any harm come to you.’

Esyllt pulled away from her, craning round to look back over her shoulder down the path along which she had just come.

‘He’s in there,’ she said, with a shudder. ‘Way back there. Lying deep in the underbrush, and he’s dead, I’m sure he’s dead, he must be dead!’ She was rapidly losing control again.

Josse said gently, ‘Who is dead, Esyllt?’

She spun round to look at him, staring at him wide-eyed as if she did not recognise him. But then a shadow of her usual smile touched her lips. ‘Sir Knight,’ she said. ‘Are you going to come and see my old dearies?’

‘Soon,’ Josse said. ‘I promise.’

She nodded. ‘Good. They’ll like that.’ Then, as if awareness of her present distress, momentarily put aside, had come flooding back, her face crumpled and she whispered something.