Alys Clare - The Paths of the Air

But danger was still there.

The Frankish mercenary known simply as William was watching. He had an arrow to the bow and the young man in the hooded robe was in his sights. He knew who he was. He knew he had robbed the great Leo Rubenid Anavarza of his bride. William had a mission; he had lost his colleague and his friend but he could not return to his master all those long miles away unless he had the woman with him. He stared at Leo Rubenid’s bride. In order to take her he would have to kill the man.

Slowly he lowered the bow. Even had he killed the young man — and he did not doubt that he could — there was little point, for the big knight who had slain poor Tancred was just behind him. There were also two more women in the clearing, one of them a nun, and six monks armed with stout sticks.

The odds were too great.

Stealthily, he crept away.

Helewise did not see Joanna go. One minute she was standing just behind Josse, then when she looked again she had gone. She has been caring for them, Helewise thought. They were wounded and she tended them and sheltered them during the night. She knew that she should be thankful for Joanna’s skill but just then gratitude was not the foremost of her emotions.

She instructed two of the lay brothers to relieve Josse and Brother Ralf of the heavy tack and then she led the company down the long slope to the Abbey. Paradisa and her lover had their heads close together and were talking urgently in low voices. The young man had not yet been presented to Helewise but she knew it was not the moment to stand on ceremony, for both he and Josse had walked all the way from Joanna’s hut, wherever that might be, and they were exhausted. She led them in through the Abbey gates, where Sister Martha and Sister Ursel, the porteress, came out to greet them. Sister Martha had tears in her eyes as she squeezed Josse’s hand.

They went on to the infirmary.

Helewise realized that it would cause uproar if Josse’s companion were put anywhere near Thibault and Brother Otto and so, with a look at Sister Euphemia, who nodded her understanding, Helewise led him and Josse to the recess at the far end of the long ward. Sister Euphemia saw her new patients inside then, drawing the curtains, turned to Helewise and Paradisa and said firmly, ‘I will care for them now. My lady Abbess, they must be stripped of their soiled garments and bathed, then we will see to their hurts. When we have finished’- there was a slight emphasis on when — ‘I will send word.’

The infirmarer evidently did not think such tasks were fit for any woman except a professional healer. Helewise hid her amusement. ‘Very well, Sister,’ she said. She glanced at Paradisa, who was fuming. ‘Come, Paradisa.’ Helewise turned it into a command. Turning, she walked away. After a moment she heard Paradisa’s footsteps following behind her.

‘It isn’t fair!’ the young woman burst out as she and Helewise stepped into the open air. ‘He and I have cared for each other for two years and a thousand miles! There is little that I haven’t done for him or he for me.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ Helewise said soothingly. ‘But now you are at Hawkenlye Abbey and you must do as everyone else does and abide by its rules.’

‘Which I don’t suppose include women intimately tending their lovers in the infirmary?’ There was a faint smile on Paradisa’s face.

‘No, they do not.’ Helewise tried to keep a straight face. ‘Come with me, young Paradisa. We shall go and say a prayer of thanks that these beloved men are safe, and then you shall come with me on my rounds and meet my nuns.’ Paradisa hesitated. ‘Do not worry,’ Helewise added gently, ‘Sister Euphemia knows she must send word the instant we are permitted to see them.’

With that, Paradisa had to be satisfied. She fell into step beside Helewise and together they went into the church.

Josse and John Damianos were put in adjoining beds. Nursing nuns stripped them, washed them and dressed them in clean linen shifts, careful not to disturb their wounds more than necessary. Josse noticed that John tried to keep a hand on the strap of his leather satchel and as soon as the nuns had finished, he picked it up and put it on the bed. The infirmarer came into the recess and gave both men a thorough examination.

After her first close look at her patients’ wounds she met Josse’s eyes and said, ‘I believe I recognize the skilful hand that tended you.’

‘Aye.’

Sister Euphemia gave a brisk nod. ‘What luck that you were nearby when your urgent need arose.’

To which, Josse thought wearily, the only response was to say ‘Aye’ again.

But he noticed a frown on Sister Euphemia’s face as she put her hand on John’s forehead. She said bluntly, ‘You, young man, have a slight fever. I shall give you a sedative. You, Sir Josse, could do with a good rest as well. I shall send word to the Abbess that I would prefer you not to have visitors before tomorrow morning.’

John looked aghast. ‘But I must talk to Paradisa!’

The infirmarer looked at him compassionately. ‘And she is just as eager to talk to you. But you will both have to wait.’ With that she left the recess, drawing the curtains together very pointedly after her.

‘She means it, I’m afraid,’ Josse said quietly.

‘And Abbess Helewise will do as she says?’

‘In matters concerning the health of Sister Euphemia’s charges, aye, she will.’

Silence fell. A nun came in with John’s sedative and put it beside him. ‘Drink it all,’ she said as she turned to go. ‘I shall be back for the empty mug.’

John looked at it. Then he threw it under his bed.

‘You must take your medicine!’ Josse whispered urgently. ‘You have a fever!’

‘It is but slight,’ John said. ‘I’ve had fevers before and re covered. I can’t possibly sleep, Josse. If I am forbidden to speak to Paradisa, then I must talk to you.’

Josse looked into the light eyes, now clouded with fever and with anxiety. Knowing there was no alternative, he said, ‘What about?’

‘I’ve told you, or you’ve guessed, much of my story,’ John began, ‘and now I shall tell you the rest. Well, most of it,’ he amended, ‘for the last piece is for another to hear first. You know, Josse,’ he went on before Josse could query that, ‘how I went to Outremer with Gerome de Villieres and left his service to fight with the Hospitallers, meeting up with Gerome later and escorting him to his kinswoman, where I met Paradisa. You know I was involved in that prisoner exchange and had to abandon my brethren to escape with Fadil and the incredible thing that was to have paid for him.’

‘Aye,’ Josse agreed. ‘All of that is clear, as are the identities and the purposes of the three groups that pursued you back to England.’

‘England,’ John said softly. ‘Yes. It had to be England.’

‘Why?’

‘I will explain, but not yet. For now, let me tell you how I escaped death in the desert when all my brethren died.’ He smiled grimly. ‘It was quite simply because of childhood greed.’

‘What?’

‘When I was a little boy I stole a batch of marigold, saffron and cinnamon cakes and ate every single one. Not only was I punished but I was sick for the rest of the day and ever since I have not been able to abide the smell of cinnamon, let alone eat or drink anything flavoured with it. Out in the desert they gave us poison, Josse; the fat man’s smiling servants handed round pretty glasses of a cinnamon-flavoured drink and every monk but I drank it. Hisham intended to kill us all. He had only offered his treasure for Fadil to make absolutely sure we agreed to the exchange. He never intended us to take it away.’