The Song of the Nightingale

by Alys Clare

  There was a brief silence. Then Yves, emotion audible in his voice, said softly, ‘Amen.’

  Further down the table, Ninian and Eloise – delighted with the new version of her name, which, she decided, was more adult and therefore fitting for a mother-to-be – sat holding hands and trying to fill in for each other everything that had happened while they had been apart.

  ‘You know I’d marry you as soon as we get home if I could,’ he said to her, looking sadly into her eyes. ‘Well, we’d have wed ages ago, had it been possible.’

  She nodded. ‘I know that.’ Then she sighed. ‘The only consolation is that we’re by no means alone in our plight.’ Leaning closer, she added in whisper, ‘My father’s accepted it now, although he was a bit shocked at first.’

  ‘What about your mother?’ Ninian whispered back.

  Eloise sighed again. It was painful to think about her mother, for Rohaise, on finally hearing the news, had expressed her horror in no uncertain terms. ‘That a daughter of mine should behave in that manner!’ she had whispered, as if she could not bear to speak of it out loud. ‘Mother is refusing to speak to me,’ she admitted.

  She felt a movement beside her, where Josse’s sister-in-law Marie sat. ‘I am sorry to interrupt and, indeed, to have listened to your private conversation,’ she began.

  ‘It’s not really private,’ Eloise said with a short laugh. ‘My mother’s attitude is no secret.’ She turned to Marie, encouraged by the woman’s warm smile. ‘Maybe she’ll change her mind once the baby’s born,’ she went on. ‘People do, or so I’m told.’

  ‘Would she forgive you, do you think, if you and Ninian married?’

  ‘Probably, but we can’t,’ Eloise replied, slightly impatiently. ‘The interdict, you know.’

  Marie’s smile broadened. ‘There’s no interdict here,’ she murmured.

  Meggie sat with Jehan, leaning back against a straw bale and watching the swirling dancers in Acquin’s courtyard. It was early afternoon, a week after Josse and his party had arrived, and Ninian had just made Eloise his wife. Yves had found a band of musicians to come and play, and the Acquin household were trying to teach their guests the steps of a traditional wedding dance. Jehan had whirled Meggie round until she begged for a break, and now both of them were catching their breath and refreshing themselves from the trestles heavily laden with food and drink.

  She knew now that she loved him. She had known from their first meeting that she trusted him, and that trust had been right. Throughout their journey, he had protected her and cared for her, while at the same time never treating her as less than his equal. She did not think she could have borne a man who tried to control or patronize her; she was far too used to her independence to accept that.

  They had not spoken yet of the future. Now, watching Ninian and Eloise in their radiant happiness, seemed a good moment.

  Leaning against him, Meggie said, ‘What shall we do now?’

  He bent to kiss the top of her head. ‘I could fetch you another drink, and maybe we could dance again.’

  She dug an elbow into his ribs. ‘A proper answer, please.’

  There was a pause, as if he were thinking of how to reply. Then he said, ‘I do love it, Meggie, that you ask your question with such frankness. The matter of our future is undoubtedly uppermost in both our minds, and, typically, it is you who broaches the subject.’

  She twisted round to look up at him. His head was uncovered, the long, black hair glossy and smooth. He looked extraordinary; still, sometimes, the very strangeness of his appearance took her breath away. ‘I’ve never lived in the sort of world where women must act prim and proper, getting what they want from sly hints and little flirtatious glances,’ she said. ‘I prefer to be direct.’

  He laughed. ‘I do not know that sort of world, either,’ he said. ‘I’m a blacksmith, Meggie.’

  ‘I know.’ She grinned. ‘I like a man who earns his crust with honest labour.’

  There was a brief silence. Then he said, ‘I will tell you, Meggie, how I see the future, and then you shall tell me if it is acceptable to you. I must return to my home in Brittany, for there I have family, friends and obligations. But I do not propose to remain there. If you agree, I will come to England.’

  She tried to absorb what he had just said. Did he mean to go to Brittany on his own? Was he then intending to come to England to find her? Ask him, said a beloved voice in her head.

  ‘Would you like me to go with you?’ she asked. She wondered if he too heard the tremor in her voice.

  He wrapped his arms round her; strong arms, in which she knew she would always feel loved and safe. ‘I will not move from this spot unless you do,’ he said softly. ‘I do not wish ever to be parted from you.’

  She turned her head so that they were face to face. ‘I will come,’ she whispered.

  He stared into her eyes, his own deep and intent. Then, as if to seal their pact, he nodded.

  It was late. The moon had risen over the fields and woods of Acquin, the revels were over, the guests had gone home and the household were in their beds. All except for two people, who walked in the long grass beside the little river that ran through the valley. Somewhere hidden in the willow trees, a nightingale sang.

  Josse stopped to listen, and the sweet notes seemed to echo his happiness. As if Helewise picked up his thoughts – he would not have been at all surprised if she did – she said softly, ‘The nightingale’s song sounds like a comment on the day.’

  He smiled. ‘It all went well, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I rarely saw a young couple that looked so very suited to each other.’

  ‘Will Rohaise forget her distress and welcome Ninian into the family, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, I expect so.’

  Josse thought he detected a certain wryness in her tone. ‘You don’t care for her much, do you?’

  ‘I believe she is a woman who faces her own devils every day,’ Helewise replied. ‘Ever since I’ve known her – remember, Josse, when Leofgar brought her to Hawkenlye when she was so unwell?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Ever since we met, I’ve sensed that Rohaise is a – a difficult woman, but she is my son’s choice, and I must hope that he truly loves her, and that his love is a help and a support to her, as indeed a husband’s love should be.’

  ‘And now Little Helewise – Eloise – will have her own husband, child and home, and won’t have to endure her mother any more,’ Josse said with satisfaction.

  Helewise’s quiet laugh suggested he’d been rather more frank than he had intended.

  They strolled on.

  ‘You’ll miss Meggie,’ Helewise said presently.

  ‘Aye, I shall, but she’ll be back in the autumn. She has given her word, and her Jehan has too. I trust him,’ he added, turning to look at Helewise.

  ‘So do I,’ she agreed. ‘So the Brown Man will return to Hawkenlye. I wonder what people will make of him?’

  ‘They’ll stare at him at first, as they always do when something exotic and strange comes into their lives, and then they’ll discover that he’s a useful man to have around when their ploughshare breaks, or a horse needs a shoe, and they’ll forget he looks any different from anybody else.’ He paused, thinking of Jehan’s beautiful sword. ‘I hope he’ll be content with such domestic work,’ he said. ‘He comes from a line of swordsmiths, and his own ability is very evident in that miniature sword he made for Meggie.’

  ‘He’ll be content with her,’ Helewise said confidently. ‘They’ll settle down in some little house on the edge of the forest, close by the stream, and Meggie will produce beautiful babies with black hair, pale chestnut skin and eyes that hold the sunshine, like hers and her father’s.’

  ‘That sounds like a prediction,’ he said with a smile. ‘The sort of thing—’ He stopped, shocked at what he had almost said.

  ‘The sort of thing Joanna would have said,’ Helewise finished for him. ‘Yes, dear Josse, I was thinking just the
same.’

  They were on a small apron of land that jutted out inside a bow of the little river. The musical sound of its waters, rippling over stones, blended with the nightingale’s song. Josse closed his eyes. For a moment, Joanna filled his mind and his heart. Then, with a soft sigh, she was gone.

  He turned to Helewise. ‘Will you come back to the House in the Woods?’

  ‘Yes, Josse.’

  ‘And will you . . . Shall we live there together, or will it be as it was before you returned to the cell by the chapel?’

  ‘It won’t be like that,’ she said. She looked down at the river below them, then raised her head and met his eyes. ‘I have changed, Josse. Going back there has taught me many things, most important of which is that the chapel, and the abbey, are now in my past.’

  It was a vast relief to hear her say so. He wanted to speak, but sensed she had not finished.

  ‘What I would like to do, with your agreement,’ she said after a moment, ‘is to carry on giving the help we were giving up by the chapel, but from the House in the Woods. I would like people in need to know that they have friends to turn to when they are desperate. We may not have much, but we have more than many, Josse, and it is possible that the bowl of gruel, or the simple herbal remedy, or even the kindly word, that we give to someone will be crucial in saving them when they are at their lowest ebb.’

  He did not immediately reply. She was right, and he knew it, in wanting to help. But the House in the Woods was isolated, and few knew where it was, and that was very precious; it was also, he believed, the reason why he and his household enjoyed the peace and the relative freedom that they did. ‘I—’ he began.

  But she interrupted. ‘I, too, treasure our seclusion, not least for the security it gives us,’ she said, again reading his thoughts. ‘Besides, we are well hidden there, and people would not find us easily. What I suggest is that we put up a simple structure on the edge of the forest, in that clearing up near the road close to where Ninian made his camp. It is not far from the house, yet far enough that we would manage to keep our seclusion.’

  He turned to her. Her expression held such hope that his heart softened. He knew exactly what would happen: the new refuge would be built, then Helewise – probably helped by Tiphaine, Tilly, Little Helewise, Meggie, once she was back, and sundry others – would pour herself and everything she had into making it a success. She’d be out from dawn till dusk, he’d hardly ever see her, and—

  Then, still staring down at her, he realized that there was more in her expression than the urgent hope that he would agree to her plan.

  She would pour everything she had into making the refuge a success? No, he was wrong. She had just said that she had changed, and now, knowing her as he did, loving her as he had done for so long, he understood what she had not been able to put into words.

  Aye, she’d work herself to a standstill, all day and every day, for the hungry, the sick and the needy who came looking for her, but that was because she was Helewise; she’d probably been put on earth to help people. But even the longest day came to an end, and, when it did, she would come home and he would be waiting.

  It was enough.

  ‘We’ll build your refuge,’ he said.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She managed a nod and a watery smile. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  There was more to say, but he did not know how to begin. He thought for a moment, and then he believed he had it.

  He said softly, ‘You once told me that you were a wife before ever you were a nun,’ he said. ‘Do you remember?’

  She smiled, moving closer. ‘I do. I also recall saying that it wasn’t the passion of the marriage bed I recalled with such fondness but the comfort and the companionship.’

  He hesitated. Then, his voice gruff, he asked, ‘Do you remember the passion with any fondness?’

  ‘I think perhaps I do.’

  He put his arms round her, and she moved against his body as if she’d been doing it all her life.

  His lips closed on hers.

  High in the willow tree, the nightingale sang its blessing.

  Footnotes

  SIX

  fn1 See The Ashes of the Elements

  EIGHT

  fn2 See A Dark Night Hidden

  fn3 See The Joys of my Life