The Tavern in the Morning

by Alys Clare

  ‘No, it wasn’t awful at all.’ Ninian was poking around in the entrance to his camp, tidying a stray branch of the thorn bush. ‘He didn’t like me and my mother much and when he was dead it meant he didn’t beat us anymore. Mother said I didn’t need to pretend to be sad if I wasn’t really, so I’m not.’

  ‘No reason why you should,’ Josse said.

  ‘The priest said my father was in heaven,’ Ninian said in a whisper, as if afraid some representative of the church might be listening, ‘but Mother and I think he’s probably in hell. My mother says she hopes so, anyway.’

  ‘And what about you?’ Josse asked gently.

  ‘Well, I don’t really want him to be in hell,’ the child replied carefully, ‘although I think he’s undoubtedly in purgatory. I hope he’ll get to heaven in the end. In a few hundred years, perhaps, if he’s good and if lots of masses and that get said.’ He had finished with his branch, securing it to his satisfaction. ‘There! Shall we go inside?’

  ‘Ninian,’ Josse said, thinking hard how best to phrase what he wanted to say, ‘I think your mother might have gone to Mag’s house to find me.’

  ‘Really? Isn’t she silly? You’re here!’

  ‘Aye, but she didn’t know that.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you think it would be all right for you to take me to the house?’

  ‘Mag’s house?’

  ‘No, your house. The house where you’re staying, where your mother took me when it was too cold for me to stay out here in your camp.’

  The boy chewed his lip. ‘I don’t know if I’m allowed,’ he said. ‘Mother made me promise not to tell anybody.’

  ‘I understand about that,’ Josse said, hating himself. ‘But it’s not as if I haven’t been there before, is it?’ He hoped Ninian didn’t know about the blindfold. ‘It’s not as if the house’s whereabouts are a secret from me.’

  ‘Then why do you need me to take you?’ the boy asked intelligently.

  ‘Er – well, we’ve met up with each other now,’ Josse improvised. ‘Why don’t we go back together?’

  ‘She’ll be cross,’ Ninian said resignedly. ‘I’ll be sent to bed early, with bread and water for my supper.’

  ‘I’ll say it was all my fault, that I persuaded you,’ Josse offered. ‘I wouldn’t ask, Ninian, only it’s important I speak to your mother. As I say, I’m almost certain she’s gone to Mag’s house to look for me.’

  Ninian stared at him for a long moment. What was it about those blue eyes? Josse wondered absently, about the boy’s—

  ‘Very well.’ Ninian had made up his mind. ‘My mother likes you, she said so. And I like you too,’ he added.

  ‘I like both of you,’ Josse said. ‘Wait while I fetch Horace, then we’ll be off.’

  ‘Can I ride him?’ Ninian called out as Josse brought Horace down the sloping side of the little vale.

  ‘Aye. Hold on tight, though.’

  The last thing he wanted, he reflected as, with Ninian directing him, he led Horace off through the forest, was to arrive back at the secret house not only having persuaded Ninian to break his word to his mother, but with the child damaged from a fall from a large horse into the bargain.

  * * *

  Joanna was already back at the manor house when Josse and Ninian got there.

  Having tended to Horace together, Josse and the child went on into the house, to find her pacing to and fro in front of the fire.

  Ninian had predicted she would be cross. In fact, she was furious. Josse, who knew full well that her anger was born of anxiety – he didn’t like to imagine what she must have felt on arriving home to find the child gone – let her rave for a while, then, with a protective arm around the boy, said mildly, ‘He’s safe, Joanna. Isn’t that all that matters?’

  Instantly she rounded on him. ‘And just what do you think you’re doing here?’ she demanded. ‘Nobody comes here without being blindfolded! Not even you!’

  Even in her fury, there was a brief glint of something else in her eyes as she stared at him. Something that suggested she remembered their last farewell as clearly as he did. He tried to ignore the blood beginning to pound through his body; now wasn’t the moment.

  If there was ever going to be a moment.

  ‘I thought you were going to let me help you!’ he protested.

  ‘Whatever made you think that?’ she shouted. ‘Perhaps I might have been, before this! But now that I’ve seen how you wormed your way in, how you’ve played on my son’s youth to make him tell you where the house is, how you’ve – you’ve—’

  He waited, but she didn’t seem to be able to think of anything else. ‘You’re not to be trusted!’ she finished.

  Ninian wriggled out from beneath Josse’s arm, still round his shoulders, and rushed to his mother. ‘You mustn’t say that!’ he yelled at her, as furious as she was; he seemed, Josse reflected, to have inherited Joanna’s temper. Thumping at her stomach with both fists, Ninian cried, ‘I don’t want to be just with you anymore, I want him!’

  ‘Ninian, we—’ Joanna began.

  But Josse interrupted her. Stepping forward, he grasped Ninian firmly by the upper arms and said quietly, ‘Ninian, a man never hits a woman.’

  Ninian rounded on him, trying to break the grip of Josse’s strong hands and, when that failed, attempting a sly kick in the crotch. But Josse, who had several nephews, was used to small boys. Easily evading the child’s foot, he said, ‘And an honest fighter doesn’t do that, either.’

  The small face was scarlet with rage, making the eyes even more blue in comparison. With a voice full of authority, Ninian said, ‘Let go of me.’

  After a moment, Josse did so. With unexpected dignity, Ninian straightened his tunic. Then, turning first to his mother and then to Josse, he said, ‘I apologise.’

  Josse bowed and said, ‘Accepted.’ Joanna, less easily mollified, merely sniffed.

  ‘I expect you’re going to send me to bed,’ Ninian remarked.

  A smile twitched at the corners of Joanna’s mouth but she managed to suppress it. ‘Indeed I am,’ she said. ‘I wish to speak privately to Sir Josse.’

  Ninian sighed. ‘Very well.’

  Joanna took her son’s hand. ‘Come with me to the kitchen and we’ll put a tray of supper together for you,’ she said. ‘You can eat it in bed.’

  Ninian turned to Josse. ‘I wish you good night,’ he said politely.

  ‘Good night, Ninian.’

  The child paused. Glancing to see if his mother could hear – she had gone on ahead along the passage that, presumably, led to the kitchen – he said, ‘I’m still glad I brought you, even if she’s not.’ And he gave Josse a beaming smile.

  ‘I think she might be, just a little bit,’ Josse said softly back. ‘It’s just that sometimes people have a funny way of showing that they’re pleased.’

  Ninian laughed happily. ‘Especially ladies,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow!’

  Especially ladies, Josse thought as the boy’s footsteps receded up the passage. Now how, he wondered, did the child know that?

  * * *

  It was some time before Joanna returned to the hall. Josse had made up the fire and the brilliant flames took the sombre darkness from all but the far corners of the room. Sitting on a leather-seated chair in front of the hearth, it was a luxury to feel warm.

  ‘Sorry I was so long,’ Joanna said, coming to sit on the floor by the fire; there was a loose pile of fur rugs and a few thin cushions to take the chill off the flagstones. ‘I was talking to Ninian. I had to make him see that he really must not tell people where this house is.’

  ‘Am I “people”?’

  She glanced up at him. ‘How is a child of seven to know the difference?’

  ‘But—’ Josse began. And then stopped. She had, he realised, just played right into his hands.

  ‘Joanna,’ he said instead, ‘supposing it had been Denys de Courtenay who found Ninian’s camp today instead of me. What do you think would have happened?’
r />   ‘Ninian would never have brought him here!’

  ‘Does he know who Denys is? Have they met?’ She shook her head. ‘And have you told the boy about Denys?’

  ‘No! He – what Denys wants is – No.’

  ‘And does Denys know of Ninian’s existence?’

  She gave him a very strange look. ‘Oh, yes. Indeed he does.’

  ‘Then, Joanna,’ Josse went on relentlessly, ‘just think about it. Denys knows you to be somewhere in this vicinity. He knows about Mag, he has tried and failed to make her tell him where this house is. In his hunt he comes across Ninian’s camp – it would be difficult, I grant you, the boy has hidden it well. But Denys might have seen the boy on his way to or from the vale. Somebody else might have seen Ninian, and sold the information to Denys for the price of a couple of drinks.’

  She was looking pale. ‘I’ve been so careful!’ she whispered.

  ‘Of course you have! But, no matter how careful you are, you can’t cover every possibility.’

  ‘I can! I have done!’

  ‘Joanna, Denys tortured Mag!’ Josse said urgently, keeping his voice down – with difficulty – so that Ninian would not overhear. ‘Supposing she had given way and told him what he wanted to know?’

  ‘She wouldn’t!’ Joanna said scornfully. ‘She would have given her life for us, she knows what is involved and…’

  ‘She would have given her life,’ Josse repeated softly. ‘She did give it, Joanna.’ He got off his chair and went to kneel in front of her. Again, her nearness prompted his body to a response but he made himself ignore it. ‘And just think what might have happened if Denys had found Ninian out in the forest today. Might he not have used similar tactics to make your son tell him what he wanted to know?’

  She gave a sort of gasp and her pale face went even whiter. She whispered, ‘No! Oh, don’t!’

  ‘I don’t say this to wound you,’ he said softly. ‘But you have to realise what Denys is capable of, what he might do in order to find you. And – What is it?’

  For, amazingly, she had begun to smile. A very faint smile, but, without doubt, her expression had lightened, And a little colour was returning to her cheeks.

  ‘I have let your passion persuade me,’ she observed, sitting back on her heels and edging away from him slightly. The brief sparkle in her dark eyes suggested she knew very well what she was saying and had employed the words deliberately. ‘Which was foolish of me, sir knight.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I have persuaded you? Of what?’

  She twisted her legs from beneath her and, pulling out a fold of the soft fur rug and covering herself with it, folded her arms on top of her raised knees.

  ‘Oh, I don’t blame you,’ she said, ‘I see full well that you are telling me what you think could well happen. And, were it any other man and any other child, I would agree. I, too, would think that Denys would use Ninian as he used Mag, to get to this house.’ She gave a great shudder. ‘To get to me.’ The dark eyes met Josse’s again. ‘And Denys, I assure you, would not hesitate to beat a child in order to get what he wanted.’

  ‘I need no assurance of that,’ Josse said quietly.

  ‘No, I’m sure you don’t.’ She was still watching him. He met her eyes, not looking away.

  ‘You speak in riddles,’ he said. ‘Just when I think I have grasped the whole story, you say something that surprises me, and I am forced to realise that I haven’t yet begun to comprehend.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Won’t you confide in me?’ he asked. ‘Lady, you need help, even you must admit that. And here I am offering you mine. Will you not put your trust in me?’

  There was a long pause. Then she said, ‘Yes. I will.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘It is a long story,’ she said, still looking up at him.

  ‘I have nothing else to do but listen,’ Josse replied.

  ‘It—I shall have to tell you many things that I would rather not.’

  ‘What things? There is no need to distress yourself, Joanna. No need, for my sake, to speak of matters that pain you.’

  ‘But there is need,’ she insisted, ‘if you are to understand.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘The things I would prefer not to have to tell you relate to myself, sir knight. To my own past. And I am reluctant because it is to you that I must tell them.’

  ‘I don’t see why you—’ He stopped. Yes, perhaps he did see after all. ‘Oh.’

  She laughed softly. ‘Oh, indeed. I thought for a moment I was going to have to explain still further. I am reluctant, Josse, because of what I feel for you, because of what I sense you might feel for me. I am not proud of my past.’

  ‘Which of us is?’ he countered. ‘We have all done things, lady, which we would rather forget.’

  ‘Forget,’ she murmured. ‘Yes.’ She seemed to go into a reverie and, from her face, he judged it was not a happy one. Then, lifting her chin and staring into the fire, she said, ‘Ah, well, my decision is made. For better or worse, I have a tale to tell you, if you are prepared to hear it.’

  Settling back in his chair, Josse said, ‘I’m listening.’

  * * *

  Taking a very obviously steadying breath, she began.

  ‘My father died just before my sixteenth birthday, in the summer of 1184. He picked up one of those wretched summer fevers – it was during a hot, sticky spell of weather and many people fell sick – and he was dead within a week. My mother took it badly. Well, I’m afraid to admit my mother took everything badly – she was never a strong woman, or so they say, and when my elder brother died in infancy, it undermined what little fortitude she once had. Father dying so unexpectedly and inconsiderately certainly did make problems for Mother, and there really wasn’t anybody she could turn to. Her own family consisted of an elderly and addled aunt who never knew if it was Christmas or Midsummer Day, and my father’s only sister was dead. Father’s side of the de Courtenay family was very much the minor branch – his uncle Hugh was the ambitious one, and he and his wife Matilda and their four surviving adult children all moved regularly and easily in court circles.’

  ‘One of those children being Denys de Courtenay?’ Josse asked.

  ‘Indeed.’ She gave him an admiring glance. ‘You are paying attention.’

  ‘I’m hanging on your every word,’ Josse agreed.

  ‘Yes, Denys was my father’s uncle Hugh’s youngest child. Hugh and Matilda had a spread-out family – I once calculated that Matilda must have spent more than twenty years bearing children. Denys came along quite a long time after his siblings – although he was cousin to my father, he’s actually only nine years older than me.’

  ‘And so your mother went to this more worldly branch of the family for help?’

  Joanna smiled. ‘Oh, no. My mother wouldn’t have had the courage to do that. No. It so happened that word of my father’s untimely death reached court – we were, after all, related to people who moved in those circles and you know how gossip goes around.’

  ‘Aye, I do.’

  ‘Way back in her youth, my mother had once met the Queen. Henry’s queen, I mean, the lady Eleanor. The two of them spent some time together – although my mother would never have said so, I think she was briefly a lady-in-waiting.’

  ‘Queen Eleanor is a fine woman,’ Josse interrupted.

  ‘You and she are acquainted?’ He nodded. ‘I’m impressed, sir knight. As you say, a fine woman, and one ever willing to help a friend fallen on hard times. I don’t know if you will recall, but that autumn – I speak still of the year 1184, the year my father died – the King sent for Queen Eleanor, and they had a partial healing of the rift between them. Everyone said it was because Henry wanted to stop the endless squabbling and plotting among his sons and, since Queen Eleanor encouraged them in scheming against their father, then it was sensible to involve her in the peacemaking.’

  ‘I do remember,’ Josse said. ‘The Queen, they do say, was overjoyed to be out and about again, after her years of
confinement.’

  ‘Do they?’ Joanna smiled. ‘I dare say they say right. The Queen, anyway, didn’t like to think of my mother shutting herself up within her own four walls, away from the world and everything in it, so she suggested to the King that my mother’s name be added to the list of summonses to be sent out for the royal Christmas festivities.’

  ‘A rare honour,’ Josse murmured.

  ‘Indeed. And, naturally, my name went on the list, too.’

  ‘You must have been thrilled,’ Josse remarked. ‘At that age, to be invited to a court Christmas.’

  ‘I was. So much so that, when Mother began to vacillate and cry that she really couldn’t face it and nobody should expect it of her, after her tragic loss. I knew I had to find a way to persuade her.’ A faint smile crossed Joanna’s face. ‘After all, there I was with two new gowns, new slippers and a jewelled headdress, and they weren’t going to get much use during a miserable Christmas spent alone with my grieving mother.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘In fact, I didn’t need to do anything. The senior de Courtenay family heard of our invitation and Denys was despatched to visit us to make absolutely sure we accepted it. I imagine that they remembered what Mother was like, and had a fair idea she might decide she wasn’t up to it. They would be there, of course, but it could well reflect poorly on them if a relation did the unspeakable and rejected a royal summons.’

  ‘You can appreciate their point,’ Josse murmured.

  ‘I know. And, at the time, I was overjoyed to have someone weigh in on my side. When I got home from a ride one afternoon and found Denys busy charming my mother, I thought he’d been sent from heaven in answer to my prayers.’ Her face had gone expressionless; Josse wondered what was going through her head. ‘He was sitting on a footstool before her, one of her hands in both of his, simply oozing charm. And I, fool that I was, fell for it.’

  ‘You were only sixteen,’ Josse said. ‘And, I would guess, inexperienced in the ways of the world.’

  ‘Totally,’ Joanna agreed. ‘Although many, if not most, young women of sixteen are at least betrothed, if not wed and running their own households, my own particular circumstances meant I was not like them. And, unworldly as I was, I thought everybody must flirt with their nieces – or their cousins, whatever we were – and I took my cue from Denys. He wasn’t repellent, I’ll say that for him.’