Alys Clare: The Rose of the World

Despite everything, she laughed. ‘I have rarely been able to do that,’ she said. ‘But I do think you are right, Yves. Josse?’

To her relief, he grunted his agreement.

Helewise was very impressed by the speed with which Josse’s family made arrangements for a feast. Only a short time after their arrival, she and Josse found themselves the guests of honour in the great hall at Acquin, seated on sturdy chairs padded with cushions and set either side of Yves and his wife Marie at the top of the table. Dish after dish appeared, borne along the passage from the kitchens by a line of servants. The wine was French and a great improvement on anything that was available to all but the very wealthy back in England. It was a shame that neither she nor Josse felt much like eating. For the sake of these kind and generous people who were clearly so delighted to have the head of the family back with them, they accepted everything they were offered, but Helewise could see Josse did not really want to be there. He wanted to be off on the road, following Ninian.

Josse waited until the rest of the household had retired for the night and only Yves remained. The brothers were finishing the last of the wine. Josse turned to Yves and said, ‘Helewise and I will leave early in the morning. We will-’

But it became apparent that Yves was not going to pass up this chance of a private conversation. ‘When did she leave Hawkenlye?’ he demanded. ‘And where does she live now?’

Josse sighed. He did not want to discuss the thorny question of Helewise but, on the other hand, his brother had a right to ask. ‘She has her own quarters in my household,’ he said. ‘She left the abbey in the summer, although she was allowed to stand down as abbess some years before that. For her final years as a nun, she lived in a little cell and tended a chapel close to the abbey. And, before you ask, I’m not going to discuss exactly why she left, for I am not entirely sure I understand.’

‘She loves you,’ Yves murmured. ‘And I know you love her, too.’

‘Aye,’ Josse said heavily.

Yves, ever sensitive and tactful, thankfully did not press him further.

After a while Josse said, ‘Where has Ninian gone, Yves? We’ll go to him, wherever he is, and take him home.’

Yves looked down at his hands, slowly turning the empty wine goblet. ‘He would not tell me. He said it was better for all of us if nobody here knew where he was heading.’

Josse nodded. ‘Aye, I can imagine why. But, Yves, surely he gave some hint?’

Now Yves looked slightly happier. ‘As a matter of fact, I was able to extract a clue from him. I asked him what I was to do if ever you came looking for him, and I pointed out that I should feel wretched if I could offer you no help in finding him.’

‘And he saw the sense of that?’

‘He did. He told me to tell you that he’s going to the place you suggested. He said you’d know what he meant.’

‘The place I suggested,’ Josse repeated. He thought hard. ‘But I suggested that he came here. I didn’t-’

Then he remembered. It had not originally been his suggestion; it had come from Gervase. Relief flooded him, accompanied by a sinking of the heart. The place that Gervase had mentioned was a very long way away.

‘I think I do know,’ he said softly. He gave his brother a rueful grin and told him.

He had not expected such a reaction. Yves’s face paled, his eyes expressed his shock and he breathed, ‘But he can’t go there!’

And he told Josse why.

Josse leapt to his feet. ‘I must go and get him back! I must leave now — there’s no time to waste!’

Yves grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down again. ‘You can’t go after him, Josse! You won’t find him — it’s just impossible. Go home. Take Helewise and return to England. Only God can protect him now.’

Josse barely heard. He was filled with just one desire: he had to talk to Helewise, and it would not wait. As soon as he decently could, he detached himself from his brother’s anxious presence and went to find her.

In the morning, Josse found he simply could not set out for the coast before at least trying to find a trace of Ninian. Helewise, looking at him out of anxious, loving eyes, agreed that they would follow the road south for just one day. As she pointed out, if they failed to pick up his trail very soon, then there was little hope they would stumble across it later.

They said their goodbyes to the family. Yves, who had a little knowledge of the south-east of England, promised that he would come to find them back at the House in the Woods. In a bleak leave-taking, it was the one consolation.

They rode south all day. They stopped soon after dark in a small town, and Josse found lodgings for them in the house of the priest. He was happy to offer them hospitality in exchange for news of the outside world and, when he discovered they came from England, he was overjoyed.

It was late in the evening, and the priest was more than a little drunk when he revealed the one item out of the ordinary run of small town life that had recently happened. A body had been found on the road leading south out of the town, stone dead. The body bore grave wounds, one of them swollen with suppuration. A fine horse had been grazing nearby.

Josse’s fuddled brain instantly cleared. ‘Who was this person? Man or woman?’

The priest, clearly gratified at having such an interested response, elaborated. ‘A man, in his twenties, with brown hair and a square-jawed face. He was well dressed, and his horse was most handsome: black, with a star-shaped mark on his brow.’

There seemed nothing else to do but turn for home, although it took half a day of Helewise’s most eloquent reasoning to persuade Josse of that painful fact. ‘Ninian is gone, Josse,’ she said, aching for the pain she saw in his eyes, ‘and although we know where he is heading, it is far away. Yves has told us what is happening there and-’

‘There’s danger there!’ he interrupted. ‘We must stop him, catch him before he gets there and-’

‘Josse, he has many days’ start on us!’ she interrupted in her turn. ‘How are we to find him in all of the vast heart of this land? By some wonderful chance we found this place, and we can return with the huge blessing of knowing that, with Olivier de Brionne’s death, the greatest danger to Ninian no longer exists.’

‘There’s no need for him to be a fugitive now!’ Josse cried. ‘He can come home!’

Home. The word undermined her, and for a moment she could not speak. Then, reaching for his hand and folding it between both of her own, she said softly, ‘He will come home, Josse. But not through any action of ours.’

He pulled his hand away. ‘You go back if you like,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ll go after him on my own.’

His words cut right into her heart. Tears filled her eyes, and surreptitiously she wiped them away. When she could trust her voice she said, ‘Your daughter, your son and all who love you have already borne the pain of seeing Ninian ride away. Will you put on them the further burden of knowing you have hared off after him because that action, risky and futile though it is, is easier for you than gathering your courage and your resolve and going home?’

There was silence for a long time. She heard the echoes of her own words and noticed absently that she had addressed him in exactly the same tone as when she had been abbess of Hawkenlye. It was agonizing but no surprise, then, when eventually he gave a deep sigh and said, ‘You are right, my lady, as usually you are. We will go back.’

That night they stayed in a dirty, run-down inn where the fleas jumping on the soiled mattresses forced them both to sleep on the floor.

Lying awake, closely wrapped in her cloak and both her blankets, Helewise tried to get comfortable. She knew Josse was awake, not more than an arm’s length away, but there was a distance between them that had nothing to do with their physical presence. She wept, the tears silently running down her face and into the high collar of her gown. I love him, she thought, and I believe that I have lost him.