Alys Clare: The Joys of My Life

‘Gussie!’ Josse exclaimed — too loudly, for the young man heard and his head shot up in alarm.

‘It’s all right, Brother Augustus,’ Helewise called. Then, lowering her voice, she said to Josse, ‘I insist. I appreciate that you may not be able to tell him what you’re doing but, please, at least accept him as a travelling companion.’ Sensing that Josse was weakening, she added craftily, ‘You would advise the same thing yourself, would you not?’

He laughed briefly. ‘Aye, my lady, so I would.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Very well. I’ll take the lad with me and I’ll do what I’ve been commanded to do. I’ll join you at Chartres if I can — I do not know how long my mission will take, but you, I imagine, will be in the city for a few days while you go about the task of engaging your workmen. If I miss you there, then I will meet you back at Hawkenlye.’

She looked at him. It all seemed very uncertain. It was undoubtedly a long way even to Chartres, never mind back to England, and suddenly the thought of all those miles, all those days, without his cheery, reassuring company seemed hard to bear. However, he had his orders and so did she.

She squared her shoulders and said, ‘Very well, Sir Josse. God’s speed, and may He keep you safe in His care until we meet again.’

She could tell he was touched by the same emotion — she read it in his eyes — but then he bowed low, saying gravely as he straightened up, ‘And you too, my lady. Good luck.’

Then there was nothing else to do but give Brother Augustus his new instructions, remove two portions of the supplies and the spare clothing from the packhorse and, with Sister Caliste on one side and Brother Saul on the other, ride out of the courtyard, over the stone bridge and away.

Queen Eleanor planned to leave later that day. Well, that was understandable, Josse reflected, standing in a corner of the great courtyard and watching as the queen’s luggage train was prepared. She had had her private talk with him and her business here was therefore done. Now she could go on to attend to some of the myriad other matters clamouring for her attention in these uncertain times as her youngest son, King John, took his brother’s place. According to stable-yard gossip, Eleanor was heading first for Rochefort, then on to Saint-Jean-d’Angely and Saintes. ‘She’s got enemies all around her,’ one of the grooms muttered to Josse, ‘and she needs to make sure her own people will help her if she needs them.’

It seemed as good a summing-up of the position as any, Josse thought. Eleanor’s situation — indeed, King John’s situation — was the one thing every fighting man tried to avoid: facing two enemies at once. Now it was Arthur of Brittany over in the north-west and Philip of France in his heartland around Paris who threatened. Josse did not blame the queen in the least for hastening to ensure the support of her own loyal vassals.

Finally Eleanor’s party was ready to leave and the queen descended into the courtyard. She was helped on to her horse and, as she turned to ride out across the stone bridge, she cast her eyes around as if for one last look. It seemed, though, that she had a more immediate purpose: spotting Josse, her tense expression relaxed and she beckoned him over.

He approached and made a low bow. Straightening, he said, ‘Madam?’

Eleanor leaned down and said, ‘Do you see the squat, swarthy guard at the far end of the bridge? Don’t let him see that you are looking!’ she added in an urgent hiss.

Slowly Josse ran his eyes all around the crowded courtyard as if assessing the number of people in the procession. Finally looking over at the bridge, he instantly picked out the guard to whom the queen referred. ‘Aye, my lady,’ he said softly.

‘When all is quiet and the castle is abed tonight, seek him out. He lodges in a small house close to the port. On its door there is an iron hoop in the shape of a dolphin.’

Josse bowed again. ‘I will, madam.’

She glared down at him for a long moment. Then she gave an abrupt nod, kicked the sides of her horse and set off at a smart trot across the courtyard and over the bridge. The long train of her attendants and her baggage snaked after her, leaving behind, when the last of them had gone and the dust had settled, a sudden silence in the courtyard that seemed almost unnatural.

Josse decided that there was no need to involve Gussie yet, since there could surely be no danger in simply walking down to the harbour to have a chat with one of the castle guards. Accordingly, after supper that night Josse dismissed the young man with the suggestion that he turn in early and catch up on his sleep. Gussie did not need much persuasion; he was already yawning widely as he and Josse said goodnight.

Josse found a quiet corner at the end of the stable block and sat patiently watching and waiting. Guards came and went on their patrols and, as darkness fell, only a handful were left on watch. He had noticed the previous evening that they did not seem to be in the habit of lowering the great portcullis at night; presumably they felt that the narrow stretch of water between the island and the mainland was defence enough. Anyway, the queen would not have ordered him to slip out under cover of the dark if an iron portcullis stood in the way.

He noticed that the patrolling guards passed the bridge less frequently now. If he ran, he ought to be able to get out of the castle without being observed. Not giving himself time to worry about what might happen if they did see him, he stepped softly out of his corner, sprinted across the courtyard and over the bridge. Then he was racing down the winding approach to the castle, keeping to the shadows, and he knew by the silence that they hadn’t spotted him.

He slowed to a walk, panting from exertion. The road led straight to the little harbour, where more of the sort of craft that had carried Josse and his party across the straits lay tied to the jetty. Opposite the water, there was a row of mean-looking dwellings that seemed to lean against the low cliff behind them. Some still showed a light, and Josse could hear the sound of voices. He walked slowly along the row and came to a door whose handle was decorated with a hoop in the shape of a leaping fish. Whether or not it was a dolphin did not seem important and he was prepared to take the queen’s word for it.

He tapped on the door. Nothing happened. He tapped again, a little more forcefully, and suddenly the door opened. A fist closed on his tunic, he was dragged inside, and the door was closed quietly behind him. The room smelled dank, as if it were hewn from rock, and the air within was chilly. It was pitch black. The hand on Josse’s tunic eased and there was a muttered apology. There came the scratch of a flint and a tallow lamp flared. In its light Josse saw that he was face to face with the swarthy guard.

‘Did they see you?’ the guard said, fear very evident in his low voice.

‘No,’ Josse said shortly. ‘You know, then, why I have come.’ It seemed the only explanation for the guard’s furtive, frightened manner.

‘Oh, yes,’ the dark man said. Then, wearily, ‘Wish I’d had the sense to keep my mouth shut.’

‘But you didn’t,’ Josse said, ‘and now I am tasked with hearing what you have to say.’ And deciding whether or not you speak the truth, he could have added.

As if the man heard the unspoken thought, he said, ‘It’s true. It’s all too true.’ He sank down on to a roughly made bench that stood beside a flimsy table — those items and a low, narrow cot appeared to be the room’s only furniture — and rubbed his face with both hands. A muffled sob escaped him, an unexpected sound in a man of his tough appearance, and he said, ‘God help me, I wish I could say I made it all up, but I can’t. As God is my witness, I saw what I saw and I would swear it before the highest authority in the land.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘And that’d be just what the new king would want to hear!’