Alys Clare - The Joys of My Life

‘What have you been up to?’ she hissed as they walked. ‘Something awful has happened — I can tell just by looking at you.’

He hesitated and she sensed conflict in him. ‘I know that whatever the queen sent you to do was highly confidential,’ she whispered, ‘but if it’s so bad, can’t you tell me so that perhaps I can help?’

He gave a rueful smile. ‘It is terrible and I don’t think you can help, my lady.’ He glanced at her. ‘Nevertheless, I shall tell you, for the matter is not over and it is dangerous. I would not have the risks increased out of ignorance.’

She did not entirely follow, but the important thing was that he was going to confide in her. ‘Go on, then,’ she urged. ‘What did the queen ask you to do and what did you find out?’

He told her.

It was all that she could do to keep up her steady pace, so deep was the shock. ‘The king was there?’ she said.

‘Hush!’ He glanced around but there was nobody close enough to have heard. ‘Aye. Looks as if he was.’

‘And you think some unspeakable crime was committed in that tower?’

He looked down. ‘Er… aye.’

Suddenly she knew without a doubt that he was keeping something back. ‘Can you not tell me?’

‘It is only a suspicion,’ he said quickly. ‘I dare not even reveal what I fear to you, my lady, until I know for certain.’

She was frowning in puzzlement. ‘But why have you come here, Sir Josse? If your purpose is to investigate this dreadful matter to its conclusion, then should you not be on the trail of this man de Loup?’ She spoke the name so softly that it was more like mouthing the words.

They had come to a stop in the square and stood together staring up at the workmen swarming on and around the cathedral. ‘I am on his trail,’ Josse said quietly. ‘The trail leads here.’

Josse escorted the abbess back to the convent, where, she told him, she was to meet a carpenter who might agree to go to Hawkenlye, and then he wandered off around the cathedral wondering how he was to find de Loup. Ask, he thought. And what will be my reason for seeking him? He frowned; with an evil man such as de Loup, it seemed best to prepare very carefully. It would not be wise to say he had come from Oleron, for that would instantly arouse the man’s suspicion. I’ll say I’ve brought word from Chalus, Josse decided, that his friend Ambrois de Quercy’s dying. Unable to come up with anything better, he asked directions and set off for the workmen’s quarters. If Philippe de Loup’s ‘special contribution’ was in fact innocent and simply involved a commission for a window or a statue, then that was a good place to start.

The temporary village that housed the huge workforce was sited a short distance beyond the last of the town dwellings and consisted of a variety of structures, some stoutly made and some flimsy. Most of the men were absent, but Josse heard women’s voices and, following the sound, came to a wash house where three girls and two older women were busy doing laundry.

Greeting them, he said, ‘I am looking for a man named Philippe de Loup. Do any of you know of him?’

The girls stared back blank-faced, but one of the women glanced nervously at her companion and said, ‘I’ve heard the name, sir.’

And you don’t much care for it, Josse thought, watching the woman. ‘I am told he is making a contribution to the new cathedral,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Has he hired a craftsman?’

Again the woman looked at her companion, who shrugged. ‘I don’t know the details, sir,’ she said eventually, ‘but I did hear it said that he’s getting Paul de Fleury to do a statue for him.’

‘Paul de Fleury?’

‘He’s a mason, sir. He lodges down there — the house right at the end.’ The woman pointed along a muddy path between two huddled rows of dwellings. ‘He’s not there now. He’ll be up at the cathedral.’

‘Thank you.’ Josse turned and set off back towards the city, but, once out of sight of the wash house, he doubled back and circled round until he reckoned he was at the end of the path that the woman had indicated. The end house was a neat little dwelling and he tapped on the low door. There was no reply. He peered in through the tiny unglazed window and made out a bare room scantily furnished. A single cup and plate sat on a small table; de Fleury, it appeared, lived there alone. Also on the table were a sheet of precious vellum, a quill pen and a pot of ink.

He returned to the cathedral and asked several men but, although some of them recognized the name, nobody could tell him where de Fleury was. ‘I’m told he is to carry out a commission for Philippe de Loup,’ Josse said to one man.

The man sniffed, hawked and spat. ‘Well, nobody else was going to.’

De Loup’s evil reputation, it seemed, had spread far and wide.

First thing the next morning, Josse sought out Abbess Helewise, to tell her about Paul de Fleury and explain that he was hoping, by setting off so early, to catch him before he left for work. She was clearly preoccupied with her lists of carpenters and masons but still she looked at him and, with anxiety in her eyes, told him to take care.

At that hour, few people were about and it was strange to see the cathedral deserted save for the circling pigeons. Something seemed to have alarmed them and suddenly they flew up in a great cloud, leaving a sole carrion crow, which came to land by a huge gap in the wall and strutted away inside.

Josse hurried on. Striding through the workmen’s village, he was increasingly optimistic that he would find Paul de Fleury at home, for in most of the dwellings he heard and smelled the signs that the artisans were eating breakfast. He reached de Fleury’s door and confidently put up his hand to rap smartly on its warped panels. To his surprise, it opened.

There was nobody inside. The cup and plate were in a different position — clearly they had been used since yesterday — and the piece of vellum was rolled up and tied with cord. Without understanding what prompted him, Josse picked it up and slid it inside his tunic. He was filled with a sense of foreboding and, pausing only to look into the tiny back room, where there was a low cot and a heavy cloak hanging on a nail, he left the house and ran back to the cathedral.

He knew as he sprinted across the square that something was wrong. The cathedral site was not deserted now; dozens of people were milling around, most of them talking earnestly in raised voices to whoever would listen. Someone pulled at Josse’s sleeve and a man’s spotty face pushed up close to his. The man was saying something about evil curses and heretics who would stop at nothing to interrupt the Lord’s work, but Josse shrugged him off and ran on inside the shell of the new cathedral.

In the middle of the nave, several black-clad priests huddled over something on the floor. Josse noticed vaguely that a pattern of some sort had been marked out; it seemed to be formed of concentric rings. He stepped carefully around the marker pegs and approached the kneeling priests. Two of them looked up as they heard his footsteps and then he could see what they had been concealing.

At the central point of the pattern, a man lay sprawled on the floor. He lay on his back and his wide-open eyes stared up at the wooden falsework scaffolding directly above, from which he must have fallen. He wore a tunic and hose that were stained greyish-white with powdered stone and, on top of them, a heavy leather apron. He had light brown hair, which was now spread around his head like a halo. It was stained dark with blood.

‘He’s dead,’ one of the priests said. He muttered a prayer, made the sign of the cross over the body and, leaning down, gently closed the man’s eyes.