by Alys Clare
‘And was that what happened?’
‘It was exactly what happened.’
There was a silence. Then Sabin said warmly, ‘Good for you.’
Silence descended again. Sabin’s breathing deepened and she began to snore faintly. With a smile, Joanna reached across and gently turned her on her side.
Joanna lay awake for a while longer, thinking about Sabin, about Gervase, about the bright sunshine that was going to bless their wedding day and the garland of ivy and wild flowers that Sabin would wear in her pale hair. Her thoughts turning to tomorrow, and to the prospect of setting out on the road to the forest with Josse beside her, eventually she too slept.
In the morning the party met up in the dining area. The inn served a hearty breakfast and, thinking of the long roads that lay ahead, all of them ate plenty. Then they went outside to where the horses were standing ready for them, and soon were setting off out of the shady inn yard and into the bright morning sunshine, heading through the busy streets towards the town gate that opened on to the south.
The party stayed together for some miles, following the road that wound its way south-eastwards to Rennes. For the first part the road followed the river Rance, taking the same line along the river valley, and the going was level, steady and easy.
Looking ahead, Josse could see the dark outline of a dense forest; it seemed to take up the entire horizon. Calling to Sabin, he said, ‘Does your road lead through the forest?’
‘I think that Gervase and I must veer off to the east,’ she replied. ‘I do not know the road, for this is the first time I have been so far north in Brittany, but I asked at the inn and they told me to turn left, on the road that bends away from the river.’ Standing up in the stirrups, she gazed ahead. ‘I believe that I can see the place where the road forks, and indeed it appears that our road leads through an area where the trees are thinner.’
The party came to the junction and drew up. ‘Josse and I must follow the river a little further and then turn to the south,’ Joanna said.
‘Then this is where our paths part,’ Gervase said. Reaching out, he took Josse’s outstretched hand, then leaned close to Joanna and gave her a kiss. ‘Look after this little girl,’ he added, patting Meggie’s cheek, ‘and each other!’
‘We will,’ Josse replied, kissing Sabin in his turn. Joanna and Sabin embraced. Then Josse and Joanna watched as Gervase and Sabin rode away. The pair turned once or twice to wave, then rounded a bend in the road and were out of sight.
Josse took a deep breath. Then he said, ‘Well, Joanna, now it’s just you, me and Meggie.’
She turned and gave him a smile. He was both surprised and delighted by its intensity; whatever happens over the next few days, he thought as they urged their horses on down the riverside path, I am going to make absolutely sure that I enjoy it.
Chapter 8
The Brocéliande felt subtly different from the Great Wealden Forest. Riding in the patchy sunshine, watching Joanna in front of him carefully picking her way, Josse tried to work out what the difference was.
There was much more water here, for a start. Back in England, the Great Forest spread itself high up on the ridges, on uplands where the land was well drained and where it was rare to come upon even so much as a thin trickling stream, never mind any standing water such as a lake or a pond. Here in Brittany the forest was lower-lying and it was filled with small meandering rivulets; the air was alive with the hypnotic sound of running water. There were many places where springs came bubbling up out of the rocks and at some of these sites anonymous visitors had left small offerings, presumably as gifts to whatever spirit they believed resided in the spring. Riding gently along, his eyes half-closed and his mind and body filled with joy, Josse could well believe there were spirits all around, moreover ones whose present mission was purely to make him happy through every one of his senses.
In addition to being noisy with the sound of water and alive with numinous spirits, there was something else that made this place so different from the sombre woodlands of the Weald. The Breton forest seemed . . . Josse screwed up his face as he tried to put a name to the impression he was receiving. It feels younger, he thought, smiling at himself for his whimsy. You can wander in the Great Wealden Forest and think yourself back in some age before time began and where man had yet to plant his footsteps. The Old Forest is unchanging and ever watchful and it does not like intruders. Whereas this place feels green and young and so full of life that it makes a man want to sing aloud from sheer happiness.
His eyes on Joanna’s bottom as she rode ahead of him, he wondered if his sudden desire to sing might have more to do with her than any benevolence he might or might not be receiving from the trees around him.
He was still trying to get used to the headiness of being alone with her. Well, alone except for Meggie, but her presence was an enchantment in itself. This morning she was riding with her mother on the golden mare – he could have spent all morning simply watching his child’s lithe and graceful little body and the way the sun caught glints of gold in her dark hair – but, during much of the long journey from Hawkenlye, Josse had been in the close company of his daughter for hours at a stretch and their fascination for each other had not faded; quite the opposite, in fact. Well, it was not to be wondered at since they were making up for the first sixteen months of Meggie’s life during which neither had been aware of the other’s existence.
Josse listened to Meggie’s fluting voice as she asked her mother yet another question; the ‘Why?’ game was a current favourite and could, as Josse well knew, go on for hours if the child was not distracted. Aye, he thought, his daughter was a delight and he already loved her profoundly. Regarding Joanna, he was aware that neither the situation nor his own emotions were quite so straightforward. Travelling from England in the company of Gervase and Sabin, the other couple’s presence had been a barrier to any intimacy between him and Joanna and it had seemed quite natural to treat one another politely but with the reserve of near-strangers. Joanna, indeed, had spent quite a lot of time sitting in the prow of the ship staring out at the sea, and Josse, after initially feeling slightly hurt that she should so detach herself from the rest of the company – oh, all right, from him – had finally understood that, given what he knew of her usual habits of solitude, she was probably finding the constant presence of other people quite difficult to cope with.
Then there had been last night in Dinan and that business in the inn. Josse had not liked the look of the man who had come blustering up to their table and he had felt the threatening presence of danger lurking somewhere just beneath the surface; in him, as it always did, this instinct had set his fighting response in readiness and in the aftermath, once the confrontation had been avoided, he was for quite some time left feeling jittery and jumpy. But Joanna had dismissed his anxiety, saying only that she had known the man when she lived in the area and that he had reason to hold a grudge against her. Josse was not reassured; the man had said something about his brother having gone unavenged and what was more there could be no question of mistaken identity because he had called Joanna – or the woman he had believed to be Joanna – by name.
Besides, Josse knew very well what had happened to Joanna when she had lived in the Dinan area. When they had first met, she had told him how, wed to a bully of a man many years older than herself, she had fervently wished to be rid of him and even gone so far as to insert a stone in his horse’s shoe in the hope of bringing about a fall. Josse had no idea what sort of power the brother of Joanna’s dead husband might wield locally but, even given that it was extensive, then surely he would be on very shaky ground if he went ahead with trying to brand Joanna a murderer on such slim evidence and for a crime committed so long ago?
Josse thought about that. Then the aspect that worried him more slid into his mind and he remembered how the furious man had said there was witchcraft involved.
Witchcraft.
Now it might not be feasible to prove th
at Joanna killed her late husband. But if anyone came at her with accusations of witchcraft, that was a different matter. She wouldn’t deny it for one thing or, if she did, she’d do so in terms that to an outsider would be equally damning.
Witchcraft.
Oh, dear God, and they were on the wrong side of the narrow seas for accusations of witchcraft. Here, if you did not obey the dictates of the church you were excommunicated and if you persisted in your heresy you were executed in one of the worst ways imaginable.
They burned witches in France.
It would only take one interested observer of that nasty little scene in the inn to pass on what he had overheard to the religious authorities and the might of the church would be on their trail.
And then . . .
Biting at his lip in his anxiety, Josse felt a sudden slight flow of blood as the skin broke and he winced at the small pain.
I must stop this worrying, he thought. Look at Joanna; is she concerned? No. We’re out of the city now, we’ll have shaken off anyone who might have tried to follow us and in any case, in all likelihood the man realised he was mistaken and has given up the pursuit. Joanna and I are out in the forest, going deeper into its sanctuary with every step. Nobody can touch us here; we’re quite safe and I might as well relax and begin to enjoy myself.
When, a little later, Joanna turned in the saddle and said, ‘Meggie and I are ravenous. Let’s stop by that inviting lake up ahead and eat,’ he agreed with alacrity. And, as the three of them made a secluded and comfortable temporary camp in the shade of the sheltering trees, he gave himself up to the various profound pleasures of the moment.
It was not through any relaxation of Josse’s watchfulness that the unseen presence in the trees went unnoticed. Although he was a big man, the secret watcher was very, very careful to keep himself hidden; nobody saw him if he did not want them to and, even had Josse scoured every inch of the surrounding woodland, it would have made no difference. The man was dressed in garments of soft, muddy shades and he was accustomed to adapting his movements and his breathing to the rhythm of the natural world. In his hiding place he sat perfectly still and watched. Presently, as Josse and Joanna packed up the remains of their meal and prepared to depart – the watching man noted with approval that they were careful not to leave any sign of their presence – he leaned infinitesimally over to his right in order to see which way they set out.
Satisfied that he knew enough to be sure he would be able to follow, he sat still once more and waited until it was time to set out after them.
Josse and Joanna rode on through the long afternoon. It was less than a fortnight past the summer solstice and there would have been light enough, even in the forest, to have gone on for some time yet. But Meggie was clearly tired and, as Joanna pointed out, they were in no desperate hurry and there was therefore no need to ride beyond the endurance of any of them. So, when her searching eyes found what she was looking for – a sort of apron of land set within the loop of the meandering stream that they had been following for some miles – she suggested to Josse that they stop and make camp for the night.
He reined in his big horse and sat looking at her. She met his eyes briefly and then looked hastily down at the ground; straight away he knew the same thoughts ran in her mind as in his. He paused, took a steadying breath and then said, in what sounded remarkably close to his normal voice, ‘This looks a good place. Shelter from that stand of trees and water in the stream.’
‘Yes, and the stream loops round on three sides of us, with the thicket across the neck of the loop forming the fourth side,’ she added quickly, as if as eager as he to speak of ordinary things. ‘Anyone approaching will alert us either by splashing across the water or breaking through the brambles.’ Glancing in that direction, she said with a grin, ‘And I wouldn’t suggest that as the best way.’
He echoed her smile. Dismounting, he said, ‘What shall I do? Cut some branches or something to make a shelter?’
‘No!’ She sounded horrified. Quickly she explained. ‘Sorry, Josse, but we never abuse the forest by taking living wood. I’ll see to the shelter and I’ll make a fire. Could you – er . . .’ Watching her frown, he realised with amusement that, since she would doubtless be used to seeing to every aspect of a night under the stars all by herself, he was quite redundant and any task she came up with for him to do would be to save his face rather than to help her out. ‘What about the horses?’ she suggested, her expression lightening. ‘They look as if they could do with a rub down.’
‘Then they shall have one.’ Pausing, he said, ‘Do you want Meggie’s help? Or may she come with me?’
‘I can manage without her. Meggie, would you like to help me or Josse?’
With not an instant’s hesitation Meggie said, ‘Josse.’
Josse and Meggie finished their appointed task and, sitting down on the springy grass, Josse took his daughter on his lap and they watched Joanna putting the final touches to their night’s lodgings. He was full of admiration for the speed and efficiency with which she had worked; in no time she had put together a simple framework of dead wood – mainly old leafless branches – over which she had placed bunches of bracken tied on to the frame with lengths of twine. The finished shelter was in the shape of a shallow arc, its base secured to the feet of two young birch trees and its top curving out and covering a space large enough for three people to lie down. She had taken note of the direction of what wind there was and the shelter had been placed so as to protect them from it. She had found several granite chunks, each about the size of a fist, which she had set down in a circle in front of the shelter; within the circle a fire had been lit. On the fire a small cooking pot sat, propped up on three more stones. Water could be heard bubbling in it and there was an appetising smell carried on the steam that issued from it.
She met his eyes. ‘That’s our supper,’ she said.
‘Mm. What is it?’
‘A sort of broth. It’s mostly barley grains with onions and herbs, and when it’s nearly done I’ll add some dried pork strips.’
‘I didn’t imagine you would eat meat,’ he remarked.
She smiled. ‘I don’t unless I have to, but we’re on a long journey and it’s demanding a lot of energy. I won’t be much use if I’m faint from hunger and, away from my home, I have to make the most of what’s available.’
‘I see. It’s like being on campaign – soldiers say that you’re never choosy again once you’ve really known hunger.’
‘Quite.’
‘How are our supplies?’ he asked. They had brought provisions before leaving Dinan, adding these to what remained of the purchases they had made at various ports along their sea route.
‘We’ve got plenty for now.’
‘How long—’ He stopped. He was enjoying himself far too much to want to know how long before they reached their destination.
‘Yes?’
He looked up at her – she was approaching with a flask in her hand – and said softly, ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’
As if she knew full well what he was thinking – she probably did – she gave him a very sweet smile. Then she went back to her broth.
They ate their simple supper, finishing off with slices of a spicy apple tart brought from a Dinan baker. Meggie played in the shallows of the stream for a while, Josse holding tight to her hand, until it was time to settle her for the night. Warmly wrapped in her soft blanket, her stick doll cuddled in the crook of her elbow, she was heavy-eyed and almost asleep even before her parents had finished saying goodnight to her.
Josse and Joanna went to sit on the top of the bank above the stream. Josse, at a loss as to what to do next – he knew full well what he wanted to do, but whether or not he should was another matter – drew up his legs and clasped his hands around his raised knees. His eyes fixed on some vague point in the middle distance, he felt rather than saw Joanna lean closer towards him.
Then, her head suddenly on his shoulder, she put her
arms around his neck, turned his face towards hers and kissed him.
The surprise quickly ebbed and soon he was kissing her back, the frustration of days in her company when he couldn’t touch her combining with his deep love for her – the love that had been a part of him since first he met her – to give an edge of hunger to the embrace which he sensed she felt too. When, after a considerable time, they broke away, she looked into his eyes, grinned and remarked, ‘Oh, but I’ve been longing to do that!’
There was so much that he wanted – needed – to ask her. What her life was really like out in the forest. What her people did, how they lived, what they believed. Whether she spent much time with them or was in the main alone. Whether she had made friends, female or male. Whether there was anyone—
But she was unfastening her tunic. Slipping it over her head, laying it carefully on the ground. Removing the white undergown. Standing naked before him – he noticed, among half a dozen far more imperative impressions, that she wore a charm of some sort, a claw, perhaps, on a chain around her neck – and pulling him to his feet.
‘Josse, I’m hot and sweaty and I need a good wash. Shall we bathe together in the steam? There’s some deep water down there, on the outside of the bend, and a gently sloping pebbly beach where we can get in and out easily.’
He could not take his eyes off her. Her body was not exactly as he remembered – well, she has borne another child since last I saw her naked, he reasoned; my child – and her breasts were heavier. But the life she led had put its mark on her, for she was lithe and strong and he could see the line of long, powerful muscles lying beneath her smooth skin. She watched him looking at her and did not move until at last he raised his eyes to meet hers. Then, opening her arms, she said, ‘Dear Josse, you are a little overdressed for bathing. May I not help you remove your garments?’