Alys Clare - Ashes of the Elements

‘I am aware of that,’ she said, with a new coolness in her voice. ‘However, I-’

‘And yet you’re telling me that, despite all that, the two of us are going to sally out into the forest tonight!’ he exploded. ‘For what purpose, pray? To have a good nose around and see how long it takes for us to get a spear in our backs?’

‘You did not listen when I used that same argument to try to prevent you from going into the forest a few weeks ago,’ she observed. ‘You said, if I recall, that, since you would be armed and on the look out, you would be perfectly safe.’

‘And I was!’ he replied heatedly.

‘So why will you not be as safe now?’ she demanded.

‘Because-’

He stopped. Yes, of course. This was the crux of it. And, having realised it already, this was, naturally, why she was being so belligerent.

‘ I would be as safe,’ he said, after a pause. ‘But I am not prepared to risk your wellbeing.’

‘It is not up to you to make that decision,’ she said coolly. ‘As Abbess of Hawkenlye, I am in charge of my nuns and my lay servants. Two of my women are suffering, and suffering deeply, and it is my duty to do all that I can to alleviate their distress.’

‘By making some ill-prepared and reckless venture into the forest by night?’ he shouted.

‘Yes!’ she shouted back. ‘Do you not see, the forest holds the key to all this?’

He wasn’t at all sure that it did. And, even if she was right, he had to stop her in this wild idea. Good Lord, it was impossible! ‘It will not help your young women for you to be killed!’ he cried.

‘I have absolutely no intention of being killed,’ she said. ‘Why should anyone kill me, in any case?’

‘They killed Hamm Robinson.’ He could not help the righteousness in his voice.

She gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘Hamm Robinson was different!’

‘Why, pray?’

‘He-’ She stopped. Then, in a more placatory tone, ‘Come with me tonight, Sir Josse, and I will show you!’

Come with me! Dear God, but she was determined! If he wasn’t careful, he’d find himself left in the safety of Hawkenlye Abbey tonight while she went off by herself into the forest.

‘Is there nothing I can say that will dissuade you?’ he asked quietly.

‘Nothing.’

He ran his hands over his face. ‘Very well, then.’

‘You will come with me?’ She sounded as if she could hardly believe it.

He removed his hands and looked at her. ‘Aye.’

He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he saw her relax briefly in her relief.

* * *

Helewise had thought he would not give up without one last attempt to dissuade her, and she was right. He kept his peace as they ate the evening meal — her conscience hadn’t troubled her over ordering good portions of the braised hare with vegetables for Josse and herself, bearing in mind the night’s work that lay ahead for them — and, as they drank a fortifying cup of wine back in the privacy of her room, he had managed to restrict himself to the sort of remarks habitually made to one another by courteous strangers meeting on the road.

She excused herself and went across to the Abbey church for Compline, making a great effort to empty her mind of all thoughts of the forthcoming adventure. In the powerful atmosphere of the church in the late evening, she felt a sudden flow of courage come coursing through her; had she not already firmly made up her mind that what she was doing was the right thing, this sign of almighty approval would surely have convinced her.

‘In Thy wisdom, Thou hast put these troubled women in my care, oh, Lord,’ she prayed softly. ‘Dear Lord, let me not fail them now.’ After a moment’s pause, she added, ‘Let me not fail Thee.’

Returning to Josse some time later, she found he had come out into the cloister to wait for her. And, as she approached, he was already saying the words he must have been rehearsing: ‘Abbess, won’t you please reconsider?’

She let him make a brave start, then gently put up a hand to silence him. ‘Sir Josse,’ she said quietly, ‘this is pointless.’

‘But-’

He was glaring down at her, face close to hers. As if, at long last, he read her determination in her eyes, he gave a faint shrug. ‘Very well,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I wash my hands of you.’

‘Oh, no, Sir Josse,’ she replied. ‘That you certainly do not do.’ She added, aware that she was teasing him, ‘If you must add a homily, what about, on your own head be it?’

His only reply was a grunt.

* * *

He had, she observed, been busy while she had been at Compline. He had filled a pack with a couple of blankets, some bread and some water, and, down in the bottom of the pack, was a wrapped object that she thought looked very like a small weapon; a dagger, perhaps. She stared at it for a second or two. But now, she appreciated, was not the moment to remind him of the rule about not bringing arms into the Abbey.

‘You are warmly clad?’ he demanded as, with the darkness now absolute and the full moon just rising, at last they set out. ‘The air is still warm now, but the night will be cold later.’

‘I am indeed,’ she said. She had had the same thought, and had taken the time to visit her cubicle and put on a warm woollen chemise beneath her habit.

He nodded.

They left the Abbey by the main gate. The forest, into whose strange and mysterious depths they would soon be tentatively walking, loomed up ahead. Helewise noticed Josse slip into the Porteress’s lodge, now empty; when he returned, his heavy sword hung in its scabbard at his left side.

Even more than the dagger hidden in the pack, the sight of it gave her a shudder of fear.

* * *

He seemed to know the way.

Following close behind him — a good place to be, since, apart from anything else, it meant that, with his back to her, she was free to hitch up her skirts and still retain her modesty — she was quickly impressed by how familiar he was with the tracks and the paths of the Great Forest.

The moon was now well risen, and gave sufficient light for the journey to be fairly comfortable; this expedition would, she thought as she carefully took from Josse’s hand a wicked length of bramble whose thorns could have sliced open a cheek, have been an impossibility on a dark or cloudy night. It was wonderful how one’s eyes adjusted, she reflected, because, whereas on first leaving the Abbey, she had been able to make out only vague shapes, now she was seeing details. That little animal run going off into the undergrowth, for example, and that huge beech tree with its tangle of roots half-exposed on the bank, and-

Josse had stopped without warning, and she walked into him.

‘Sorry!’ she said, ‘But-’

‘Hush!’ He glanced at her, looking slightly apologetic for having silenced her so unceremoniously.

‘It’s all right.’ She, too, pitched her voice low. ‘What is it?’

He was standing quite still, turning his head slowly first this way, then that. She waited. After some moments, he shrugged faintly and said, ‘I don’t know. Probably nothing. Shall we go on?’

‘Yes.’

It was apparent to her that he was moving more cautiously now, although he had hardly been reckless or noisy before. He paused frequently, repeating his head-turning, and she realised he was listening.

For what?

Oh, dear Lord, not for that singing! Please, no!

She clutched at the wooden cross that hung around her neck, momentarily terrified.

But then a calm voice inside her head said, and what did you expect? You have heard the chanting, and you know it came from this forest. Is it not more than likely that you are about to hear it again?