Alys Clare: The Paths of the Air

‘How do you plan to get her all the way back to Outremer, even if you manage to kill me and Josse here and then remove her from an abbey full of nuns without anyone stopping you?’ Still John sounded calm.

‘I know where she is sleeping,’ William said coldly. Josse felt a shiver of dread. ‘I can be inside that room and render her senseless before she knows what is happening. Then down to the coast and a ship in which to sail home. Bound, gagged and locked in a cabin to which only I have the key, there will be no escape for her.’

‘You have it all worked out,’ John said, still in that reasonable voice. Only Josse, standing right beside him, could tell what an effort it was.

‘Of course,’ William replied. ‘I am a professional, hired and well paid to carry out my task. I do not intend to forfeit the remainder of my reward.’

‘You speak of a living, breathing woman.’ Now there was emotion in John’s tone. ‘Have more respect!’

William laughed. ‘Respect? Picture her in a few months’ time when the scum of the ports of Outremer have been through her. She’ll be naked, humiliated, filthy, poxed and foul. There won’t be anything left to respect then.’

Josse sensed John go tense. ‘In that case,’ he said, calm once more, ‘I shall just have to kill you.’

The bang and the flames followed so quickly on his words that Josse could not work out how he had done it. But William lay on the ground with a small hole above his left eye. It was rapidly filling up with blood.

John flung down the brass tube and swooped down on his victim. ‘Is he dead?’ Josse demanded.

‘No. He is still breathing, but shallowly.’ Without turning round John held out his hand. ‘Your knife, please, Josse.’

He was proposing to slay an unconscious man. That could not be. ‘No,’ Josse said quietly. ‘I am sorry, John. I cannot provide the weapon that murders a defenceless man.’

John had spun round, his face furious. ‘But you just heard him say what he’ll do if he escapes! Would you have my death and the knowledge of what will happen to Paradisa haunting you as William slays you?’

‘We will bind him and take him to Gervase de Gifford for judgement and punishment!’ Josse cried. ‘That is the right thing to do, John. I will not be a part to this cold-blooded murder which-’

William thrust himself up off the ground. With incredible speed he clasped John firmly around the neck and, rapidly moving his knife from his left hand to his right, slashed it at John’s wounded throat.

He is going to kill him before my eyes, Josse thought.

Then there was no more time for thought.

He drew his knife and with all his weight and power behind it drove it down into William’s chest, coming in from immediately to the right of where John lay clasped against him.

He must have struck the heart.

William’s knife fell away from John’s throat and the encircling arm relaxed and dropped with a soft thud to the ground. John got slowly to his feet. He stood staring down at the dead man for a few moments. Then he turned to Josse and wordlessly put his arms around him.

John packed up his satchel while Josse covered William’s face with the man’s cloak. There were now two of them to bury; William and Tancred had been companions in life, so it would be a charitable gesture to bury them side by side. I’ll make sure I mention it to the Abbess, Josse thought. He felt cold, strangely distant from all that had just happened, and the wound in his upper arm was hurting so much that he wanted to moan.

Presently they climbed out of the dell and walked back to the Abbey.

There was no need to make their way back inside the walls by whatever clandestine means John had worked out. Lights were burning and the gates were wide open.

Josse made out the figure of the Abbess, at the head of a group of monks, lay brothers and nuns. The men were armed with sticks or clubs and Sister Martha was wielding her trusty pitchfork.

The Abbess strode out through the gates, her expression stern and fixed.

Oh, dear, Josse thought.

With John Damianos beside him, he walked towards her.

Helewise had thought at first there must be a storm brewing. Awakened by a loud crash, she assumed it to be thunder, only it came again and it didn’t really sound quite like thunder…

She lay drowsily in her bed, on the point of falling asleep again — it was, after all, only thunder — when suddenly she was filled with a stab of such horrified fear that it shot her up into a sitting position. It was as if something quite terrible was going to happen and she knew it without any doubt. The sense of foreboding was so undeniable that she got up, dressed swiftly and hurried outside.

Others had also heard the strange sounds and ventured out into the chill pre-dawn air. Sister Martha and Sister Ursel had unfastened the little spyhole in the gates and were peering out. From the rear gate down to the Vale came a party of monks and lay brothers led by Brother Saul and Brother Urse the carpenter, carrying an axe.

‘I can see two men approaching over there in the distance — ’ Sister Ursel pointed — ‘but there were lights out there, my lady!’ she gasped. ‘Brilliant, flashing lights! The dear Lord alone knows what devilry is going on, but-’

‘Sir Josse and the young man are missing from their beds,’ said Sister Euphemia’s clear voice. She strode up to Helewise’s side. ‘My lady, the nun on duty in the infirmary felt a draft and noticed that the small door at the far end of the ward was ajar. She checked on her patients and found the two beds empty.’

I knew, Helewise thought. I knew there was danger. But somehow something did not seem quite right…

‘Open the gates, Sister Ursel,’ she said calmly. ‘We shall go out and help them.’

‘It might be dangerous, my lady,’ protested Sister Martha. ‘Should you not let the rest of us go while you stay here where it’s safe? They could be battling with vicious enemies!’ She was clutching her pitchfork in her strong hands as if she just could not wait to plunge it into whoever had the effrontery to threaten Josse.

‘Then all the more reason for us to make haste,’ Helewise replied. ‘Come along!’

Sister Ursel drew back the heavy bars and opened the gates. Helewise led her party outside.

She saw Josse coming towards her. Beside him was the slighter figure of another man who must be John Damianos. The infirmarer had reported that he was running a slight fever, which would not have been helped by this excursion out into the cold night…

John Damianos. Brother Ralf.

She frowned. Her eyes were on the young man beside Josse. His face was in the deep shadow cast by the hood of his cloak. She experienced an odd feeling, as if — as if- She gave up.

‘Sir Josse,’ she said as the two men stopped in front of their rescue party, ‘are you all right?’

‘Neither of us has received further injury, my lady,’ he said. Then, meeting her eyes, he added quietly, ‘It is over now.’

She nodded her understanding.

‘Go back to the infirmary, both of you,’ she said, addressing the two men, ‘for you are wounded and one of you at least has a fever. We will-’

‘My lady, I am sorry to contradict,’ came a low voice, ‘but I must speak privately with you.’

Josse, she noticed, gave the younger man a quick, sympathetic glance before turning to her. ‘It is important, my lady,’ he said. ‘And — ’ he eyed the gathered monks and nuns behind her — ‘it’s rather a delicate matter.’

‘Very well,’ she said, controlling her surprise. ‘Go along to my room, Sir Josse, and take your companion with you. Paradisa is sleeping in there but I expect the commotion will have woken her up already. I will join you shortly.’ She watched the two men set off. Josse, she noticed, seemed to be clutching the wound in his arm.