Alys Clare - The Rose of the World

Pierre shrugged. ‘There’s not much I can say, sir, for I never met him. Nobody did — only Stephan.’

‘Was the man who paid him for information alone?’

‘I can’t say, sir. Stephan seemed to think there was a group of them in the area, fanning out on their manhunt, but he only dealt with the one.’

Yves was silent for some moments, evidently thinking hard. Then he said, ‘Thank you for coming to speak to us.’ He handed a coin to Pierre, who grasped it and tucked it away with a conjurer’s speed. ‘Tell Stephan’s mother that we will do what we can for her. As for the rest of the village, it would do no harm to point out that, whatever happiness Stephan hoped to buy for himself by his betrayal, it has come to naught.’ He stared at Pierre. ‘Men who are willing to pay other men so well to spy for them are not in the habit of leaving them alive to tell the tale.’

Pierre bowed. ‘No, sir.’

‘You may go,’ Yves said. Pierre looked up hopefully. ‘Via the kitchens,’ Yves added.

With a muttered, ‘Thank you, sir,’ Pierre turned and scurried away.

Ninian went straight to the sleeping space that he had been allocated and, kneeling on the floor, began to pack his belongings. Yves watched him for a while and then said, ‘You know who this man was, don’t you?’

‘Not exactly,’ Ninian replied. ‘It’s obvious who has sent him, though.’ He sat back on his heels, looking up at Yves. ‘I did not think the king would act so swiftly. I even wondered if he would think that it was not worth hunting for me this side of the Channel.’ He sighed. ‘Perhaps Hugh de Brionne was very close to him. I don’t know.’

‘The man you are accused of killing?’

Ninian nodded.

‘Hm. They say King John is quick to anger and slow to forgive.’

‘They say right,’ Ninian replied grimly. ‘Now it seems he’s sent a search party to comb northern France till they find me and take me back.’

Slowly, Yves shook his head. ‘It is the act of a vengeful man.’

‘Yes, and unfortunately one with many men at his disposal.’ Ninian rolled up his spare garments and tied the bundle with a sharp jerk of the string.

Yves frowned. ‘There must be somewhere we can hide you. There’s an old disused mill on the road out of the valley to the east, and we could-’

Ninian stood up and faced him. ‘I appreciate the offer, more than I can say, but I cannot accept it.’ He met Yves’s eyes. ‘I bring danger, Yves. One man is already dead because of me, and, as Patrice said, two women are heartbroken. That is hard enough to live with. I cannot take the risk that my continuing presence here would bring about similar tragedy in your household.’

‘But if you were to hide in the old mill-’

Ninian did not let him continue. ‘No, Yves.’ He grasped the older man by the shoulders. ‘I have a place to go.’

‘Where is it?’

Ninian shook his head. ‘I cannot tell you. It is better for all of us that you do not know.’

‘Let me at least provision you!’ Yves’s voice was anguished. Glancing down at Ninian’s belongings, he said, ‘Winter approaches, and you have not packed near enough warm clothes!’

‘I have, truly I have. There’s so much in my pack that I haven’t even reached the bottom yet!’ Ninian protested.

But with a muttered, ‘Wait here,’ Yves hurried off.

He returned quite soon with a heavy, deeply-hooded cloak, lined with fur. He also brought gauntlets, two warm wool tunics, thick hose and two more blankets, and a capacious leather bag for the spare garments. ‘I’ve got food for you for several days,’ he said, holding up another bag, ‘with wine, bread and a good supply of dried meat. That’ll keep you going. Now, have you money?’

‘I have, Yves,’ Ninian said with a smile. He was overcome by Yves’s kindness. He finished his packing, then straightened up. ‘I will leave immediately,’ he announced. ‘There are several hours of daylight, and I can be well away from here by nightfall.’ He took one last look around the room, then stepped out into the passage. He stared along it to the great hall. ‘Say goodbye to your family for me,’ he said softly.

‘I will.’

They walked quickly across the courtyard, and Ninian put the bridle and saddle on Garnet, fastening his packs and his bag. The he turned to Yves.

‘Thank you for all you have done for me,’ he said. ‘I wish I could stay. I like it here.’

Yves smiled. ‘We liked having you.’ He hesitated. Then, speaking in a low voice, he said, ‘You will not tell me where you are bound, and I appreciate that you have good reason, but, Ninian, consider this. You have kin in England who love you. Do you not think that, one day, they might come here looking for you? They know you were heading for Acquin, so it is naturally the place they would come seeking you. I could not face my brother, Ninian, when he asks where you have gone, if all I have by way of answer is to say I do not know.’

Ninian dropped his head. Yves was right; his position would be intolerable. But every instinct was telling him to keep his destination a secret, even from Yves. He thought hard and finally came up with a compromise. Looking up, he met Yves’s anxious face and smiled. ‘Tell Josse, if ever he asks, that I’m going to the place he suggested. He will know what I mean.’

Yves walked slowly back towards the house. He had tears in his eyes, and he paused to compose himself before going inside to face his family. He knew Ninian was right to leave, although he hated to admit it. He could not help but feel that he had failed the young man. But, as Ninian had said, where one man had come to seek him out, others would probably follow. Even now, the man who had paid Stephan to spy for him and then callously killed him was probably reporting back to the rest of the search party. They would be making plans to approach Acquin, go through every chamber, every barn and every storeroom until they found the man they were hunting for.

Yves had done all he could for Ninian. Now the young man was out of his reach. With a sigh, he turned his mind to how best to lay the smokescreen that would both throw the pursuers off the scent and protect his family.

The day was drawing to a close, but Josse could not bear to wait until morning. He curbed his impatience for long enough to visit Abbess Caliste, explaining briefly what he had just discovered and asking if she would send someone over to the House in the Woods to take the news to Helewise. Then he ran back to where Alfred was tethered, mounted up and rode as hard as he could down the hill to Tonbridge.

Gervase was home, and Josse found him about to sit down to eat with Sabin and his three children. Sabin invited him to join them but, apologizing, he explained that he had come on a matter of urgency and must speak privately to Gervase.

‘What is so important that you must drag me from my food?’ Gervase asked lightly as they retreated to the far end of the hall.

‘I am sorry, Gervase, I-’

‘No need to explain, old friend,’ Gervase interrupted with a smile. ‘I know you would not be here, out of breath and mud-spattered, if it were not vital. What has happened?’ Abruptly, his expression changed, his face growing tense. ‘Is there news of the lad?’

‘No,’ Josse said shortly. Gervase’s relief was evident.

He explained, as succinctly as he could, everything that had led him to conclude that Olivier de Brionne had been responsible for Hugh’s death. Gervase listened, occasionally asking Josse to elucidate some point, and, when Josse stopped speaking, stood deep in thought.

‘Well?’ Josse demanded. ‘What do you think? Am I right?’

Gervase turned to him. ‘It would appear so, yes, although the evidence is far from conclusive. But,’ he added firmly as Josse opened his mouth to speak, ‘I do believe the case against Olivier is stronger than against Ninian, who was only suspected of the murder because Olivier suggested it. As, indeed, he would, if it was in truth he who killed Hugh.’