Alys Clare - The Joys of My Life

There was nothing there.

He bit down the flare of panic. Ninian’s taken her to the house in the woods, he thought. Perhaps he sensed danger — he might even have seen de Loup lurking while he waited for the right moment to climb over the abbey wall and slip into the infirmary — and he’s hidden her somewhere more secure. Perhaps she’s safe with him at the house.

Fighting the fear that scorched through him, Josse briefly put his hand on his sword hilt and then set off towards the forest house. He had not gone far when he saw Ninian coming towards him. The boy looked worried.

‘Josse, I did not expect to see you here yet,’ he greeted him. Relief was plain to see on the young face.

‘What’s wrong?’ Josse demanded, clutching the boy by the upper arms.

‘I saw a horseman on the track that runs close by the house,’ Ninian said in a rush. ‘I can’t swear to it but I believe it was Philippe de Loup. The horse was a beautiful long-maned grey, and he rides such a mount.’

‘When was this?’

‘Very early — the sun wasn’t up. I was awake and I’d gone out to watch a stoat with her young. She’s worried because I’m living in the house and I’m too close to where she was bringing up her offspring. She moved her kits to a place under a hollow tree not far from the road that runs round the forest. I wanted to make sure they’re all right.’ Josse suppressed a smile; Ninian had inherited his mother’s love of wild creatures. ‘I heard a horse, hard-ridden, and crept close to the track to look.’ He was studying Josse’s face intently. ‘What’s wrong?’ His tone had changed and now he sounded deeply anxious.

‘Ninian, I have bad news. Sir Piers was found dead this morning.’

Ninian’s face crumpled and Josse was sharply reminded that he was still little more than a boy. ‘But… Oh, Josse, I thought he was getting better.’ Then, in a cry of grief, ‘I thought I’d saved him!’

‘You did, lad! He did not die of his wounds. He was smothered.’

‘De Loup.’ Ninian’s voice was cold and biting.

‘Aye. So it seems.’

‘Who else would murder him?’ Ninian demanded, blue eyes alight, his grief spilling out as furious anger. ‘He was decent and good, and nobody but a wicked, evil-hearted devil like de Loup would wish to see him dead!’ He paused, panting, then said more quietly, ‘It’s because of what happened on Oleron, Josse. He wouldn’t join in and because what they were doing was so foul, he took the statue. He said they were not worthy of her.’

‘You mean the two of you had the figure with you all the way from the island?’

Ninian smiled faintly. ‘Yes.’

‘But I thought… Piers implied the knights had the statue then. He said they had considered putting her in a place of honour at Chartres, only the proposal was outvoted and de Loup was to commission a new carving instead.’

‘Did he? Well, don’t be offended, Josse — Sir Piers would not have told you a lie without very good reason.’ He paused briefly to think and said, ‘The figure is what’s important. Sir Piers would have been careful, I think, to remain vague about her. I do not entirely understand, but I was happy to obey Sir Piers because he was good and I liked him.’ Ninian lowered his head so that Josse could not see his face. ‘I’ve always done what he told me,’ he added quietly, ‘even when it meant telling lies.’

Josse gave him a moment. Then he said gently, ‘Have you got her?’

Ninian’s head shot up. ‘The statue?’ He had gone white. Filled with dread, Josse nodded, and in a horrified whisper Ninian breathed, ‘No.’

No wonder de Loup was racing away as dawn came up, Josse thought. Not only had he just killed Piers, he had stolen the statue. He had achieved his business in England and now without a doubt he would be making for France.

‘Come on.’ He gave Ninian a shake. ‘Get your horse and your gear and meet me on the track by the forest house.’ Ninian met his glance and Josse saw his own excitement reflected in the bright blue eyes. ‘I’ll hurry back and fetch Horace and we’ll be on our way. We’re going after him.’

As he sprinted back to Hawkenlye, Josse wondered if he had been right in saying he and Ninian together would go after de Loup. The boy’s young, he thought as he ran, and de Loup is dangerous. Just then in his mind’s eye he saw again those fierce blue eyes, so full of his determination to avenge the master he had served only briefly but come to like and admire; perhaps, even, to love. If any lad was in need of a father figure, then, God knew, it was Ninian.

No, Josse concluded, panting as he trotted down the last slope to the abbey. I did right, for if I hadn’t suggested he and I go after our prey together, he’d have gone on his own and we’ll be safer hunting together.

He collected his horse and his gear in record time, pressed as he was and desperate to get on to de Loup’s trail. He sought out the abbess and stilled her protests with a raised hand. ‘I am sorry, my lady, but I have no choice.’ He knew there were many things she wished to say but, smiling his apology, he said, ‘I cannot take Meggie with me, for we shall ride hard and probably far and the mission is no place for a little child. Will you-?’

She did not need to hear the rest. ‘Yes, of course. Meggie seems happy with us and we, for our part, love to have her here.’

Josse struggled with the sudden pain that the thought of being parted from his daughter brought so swiftly in its wake. He tried to smile. ‘You all spoil her dreadfully.’

‘Yes, we do,’ the abbess agreed.

He did not know what else to say. ‘Wish us luck,’ he muttered.

And she, bless her, simply said, ‘I shall pray for you, Sir Josse. Both of you.’

Then he was off.

He and Ninian picked up the hoof prints of the fast-moving grey, which went for some distance along the track that bent round the forest. But then the path met other, busier roads. The combination of a sunny morning and a time of intense activity on the land meant that many people were about and they lost the grey’s trail in the hectic mix of cart tracks, horse, mule, ox and human footprints.

‘Which port did he sail into?’ Josse asked. They had drawn up at a place where the road divided, branching off due south or south-east.

‘Pevensey, I think,’ Ninian replied. ‘That’s where Sir Piers and I landed, and I believe he was hard on our trail.’

‘Then my guess is that he’ll go back.’ Josse spoke with a confidence he did not entirely feel. ‘He’s a stranger here and, although he’ll be aware there are many other ports, he’s in a hurry so he’ll probably do the easiest thing, which is return to the port he already knows.’

Ninian grinned. ‘Good enough for me. Come on!’

Side by side they kicked their horses to a canter and plunged off down the road that led south.

They asked repeatedly after a well-dressed man on a white horse. One or two people said they had seen such a man and confirmed that he had been riding fast in the Pevensey direction. Eager now, Josse and Ninian urged their tired horses to a last effort. They pulled up on the quayside and, leaving Ninian to tend the horses, Josse hurried to speak to the captains of the variety of craft tied up there.

Quite quickly he returned to Ninian. ‘He’s gone,’ he reported. ‘Sailed about two hours ago.’ Ninian muttered a curse. ‘But it’s not all bad,’ Josse added, ‘because we now know he’s landing at Dieppe, which I would say confirms that he’s making for-’

‘Chartres,’ Ninian supplied.

‘Aye. He’s murdered the man who was making the carving for the cathedral so he’s going to put the goddess figure there instead. Do you agree?’