Alys Clare - The Joys of My Life

Josse tried to take in the quality of their opponents. Many of them were old and in a separate part of his mind he thought, the Knights of Arcturus are doomed, for no young men are rising up to replace them. He reckoned he could take on several of them and, switching his knife to his left hand, he drew his sword.

He heard Ninian cry out in the same split second that de Loup rushed him. He swung up his sword but de Loup leaped to one side. He wrested the figure out of Ninian’s hand — the boy could not hold on to her one-handed and he held his knife in his right hand — and, leaping through the circle of knights, de Loup flew across the floor and away up the stairs.

The knights closed in. Josse and Ninian fought back to back. Horribly aware that Ninian had only one weapon, Josse swung his sword in wide circles in front of them both, trying to keep the knights back. One went down, crying out and clutching at a slash across his chest from which there instantly welled a line of blood. Another leaned forward to stab at Ninian and Josse caught him a heavy blow on the back of the head with his sword hilt. He too went down. Ninian was suddenly fighting hand to hand with another, and Josse caught the flash of white teeth as Ninian bit into the knight’s hand and the knife he had been holding fell with a clatter to the floor. Then the knight’s cry changed to an agonized grunt as Ninian’s knee drove into his testicles. In addition to the courtly pursuits, then, squires were still taught to fight dirty. His blood singing from the thrill of the fight, Josse laughed aloud. A knight leaped on him from his left and a blade flashed up towards his throat; with a curse, Josse elbowed him away and drove his sword into the man’s chest.

Four down, four to go. Josse wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his wrist and assessed his remaining assailants. He and Ninian had made some progress towards the stairs and now they managed to edge round so that the four knights still on their feet were on the far side of them. Now, backing steadily away, they could keep the quartet covered with their three weapons.

Two of the four knights were very old and already lagging back. One was breathless, blue around the lips and clutching his chest. The man beside him, equally old and bald-headed, round-bellied and limping, stopped to help him. Josse raised his sword and lunged towards the last two. One stepped hastily back; the other dodged and, his own sword raised, ran straight at Josse. Ninian’s dagger flew through the air and landed at the base of the knight’s throat. With a cry that quickly turned to a gurgle as the blood spouted out of him, his sword fell from his hand and he fell to his knees.

‘Come on!’ Josse shouted, grasping Ninian’s shoulder; the boy was standing transfixed, horrified eyes wide as he stared at what he had done. Then, for still he did not move, ‘De Loup’s got the figure!’

That was enough. Ninian, white-faced and looking sick, bent to retrieve his dagger from the dying man’s throat, wiped it on the cloak that pooled on the ground and ran after Josse up the steps.

As they emerged into the nave, the sight that met their eyes was so unexpected, so amazing, that they skidded to a halt. It appeared that the lanterns arranged below in the crypt had, by some extraordinary magical means, risen up through the solid floor to rest here on the ground above. Now, though, the circle of light was much bigger, stretching right across the wide nave, and instead of thirteen points of light there were now perhaps a hundred.

As Josse stared, he realized something: the light encircled the labyrinth.

There were dark-clad figures round the circle’s perimeter — thirty or forty. He cursed himself for his stupidity: the Knights of Arcturus must have followers, adherents, perhaps, and had brought them to form a guard up here while they placed the figure down below. He and Ninian had fought off a group out of which more than half were so old and doddery that they barely counted; this was a different matter entirely.

One of the figures turned away from the light and, facing Josse, walked towards the place where he and Ninian stood against the wall. Josse raised his sword and stepped forward. His mouth was dry and he was filled with dread, but his arm was quite steady. Then he saw that the man approaching him was unarmed. From within the circle behind him, white light had started to pulse.

The man said, ‘We know why you are here and what you have just done. We are grateful, for without your intervention we would have had to deal with the intrusion into the sacred place beneath. They were an abomination and neither they nor any deed done by their corrupted hands could be allowed to remain here.’

‘Aye,’ Josse said, unable to look away from the circle of light and the white mist that seemed to be rising up within it, forming itself even as he stared into a cone shape. ‘What is it?’ he whispered, and the man smiled briefly.

‘Power,’ he said simply. ‘This is our most holy place. We know now that we must share it with the men of the new religion, for they are stronger than us and far, far more numerous. We have had our time; now we must retreat into the shadows. But we will not go without honouring she who we hold most sacred. She was worshipped down there in the cave that hollowed out the earth where the crypt now lies. She was there from the beginning, she is there now, and she always will be. Our last great act of homage now begins and with it we leave the very best of ourselves to remain here in this holy spot for as long as the world lasts.’ He paused, staring intently first at Josse then, with a start of recognition, at Ninian. He added softly, ‘You may stay. But keep back!’ He gave them a low bow, then, turning, went back to his place in the circle.

The cone of light was soaring high above their heads and its fast spinning was accompanied by a noise like the wind blowing across harp strings. The combination of light and sound was hypnotic and Josse felt himself rapidly detaching from the real world and entering some strange place that he neither recognized nor even began to understand

… until he saw Joanna.

Her face was pale and there were greyish circles round her dark eyes, as if she had just undergone some ordeal. She looked thin, although her face seemed fuller than he remembered and her breasts pushed against the fabric of her deep blue robe. He thought she had stars in her hair.

She was intent on what she was doing. In the way of dreams, he was suddenly right beside her. She turned, gave him a tired smile and said softly, ‘Dear, lovely Josse.’

‘Why are you here?’ he asked through his tears. He thought he knew.

‘It is time,’ she murmured. ‘This is what they have been preparing me for — they tell me this is what I was born to do, for Mag Hobson, my mother, was one of the greatest of my people and she conceived and bore me for this purpose.’

‘Do you want to go, sweetheart?’ It was so important to know! If she gave just one little hint of hesitation, he would… he would..

What would he do? What could he do?

But her face was serene and the smile had spread, illuminating her face. ‘Oh, yes, Josse,’ she whispered. ‘I have to — it is the only way.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘It is not without reluctance, for I love you deeply and I shall miss you and the children — it is only because I know you will look after them so well that I can leave them.’ She raised her hand and wiped her face.

‘Will we ever see you again?’ He was weeping openly now.

‘Perhaps.’ She tried to smile. ‘Meggie and… my daughter already sees me and speaks to me; this may be the gift that I leave to those of my blood. I hope so.’

‘And me?’ He could not stop himself asking, although he feared the answer.