by Alys Clare
Daddy. His heart gave a great lurch.
The moment had taken on huge dimensions. Before him was a strange object that even his limited powers knew was so far out of the everyday and the ordinary that it was all but incredible, and his beloved daughter had for the very first time called him by the name to which he had always been entitled.
Slowly, reverently, he unfolded the cloth. He and Meggie, both shocked into awed silence, sat back and stared. It was a statue of a woman seated on a low, simple throne. She wore a mysterious headdress like a pair of horns, or perhaps the crescent moon on its side. Her eyes were closed, and her blissful, beautiful face wore an expression that was at the same time serene and powerful.
‘She is the Virgin Mary,’ Josse whispered, but something told him he was wrong.
‘No she’s not,’ Meggie whispered back. She put out her grubby little hand and gently touched the figure’s belly. Then she picked it up and put it in Josse’s hands.
Just then he realized what had troubled him. Meggie was right; this woman was not the Virgin. For one thing, unlike every representation of the mother of God that he had ever seen, this woman was heavily pregnant. In addition, whatever smooth, shining wood she was made from was also like nothing he had seen before.
It was black.
He had been holding his breath and now, noticing that his discomfort was rapidly growing, he let it out and tried to breathe in.
He couldn’t.
He tried again, but it was as if he were under a sudden enchantment. His ribs felt as if they were encased in steel and, panicking, he turned wide, horrified eyes on to his child. Perceiving his distress, she smiled and calmly took the black figure from him. Immediately air whooshed into his lungs and he gulped and gasped, his eyes watering. Then the dreadful thought struck him: dear God, if it – she – can do that to me, a strong man, what will she do to a little girl? He lunged towards Meggie, ready to strike the black figure from her hand, but Meggie, muttering softly under her breath and with a happy smile on her face, was nursing the statue as if it were nothing more dangerous than a doll.
Walking back to the abbey, Josse suggested to Meggie that they leave the figure in the safety of the abbess’s room. ‘People come and go freely at Hawkenlye,’ he explained, ‘and we would not want such a wonderful object to go missing, would we?’
His daughter turned her bright brown eyes up to him. ‘Nobody will steal her,’ she said confidently. ‘You know what she did to you.’ He did; it was all too vivid a memory. She must have seen the distress that briefly crossed his face, for she grasped his hand, gave it a quick squeeze and said, ‘You can hold her now and nothing will happen.’ She pushed the wrapped statue into his hands and reluctantly he took it, waiting for that paralyzing grip on his chest.
But it did not come.
‘She didn’t know who you were,’ Meggie said. ‘When you took her out of the tree and then when you held her, she did not know if you were all right or not. Now she does.’
Josse grinned. ‘She did not appear to have that dilemma with you,’ he remarked.
And Meggie said simply, ‘Of course not.’
They went in through the gates and Josse led the way to the abbess’s room. The door was ajar and, looking up, she smiled and beckoned them in.
Josse took a deep breath and, unwrapping the figure, prepared to explain to her what Meggie had found.
That evening, Josse went off to the vale to settle Meggie for the night in a cosy little bed beside his habitual place down in the monks’ quarters. He had asked Helewise if he might return when he had done so and she had instantly agreed. She could tell by his face that something had happened; something that he did not wish to discuss in front of his child.
He came into her room, closed the door, leaned back against it and then said, ‘The Domina says Joanna had to stay in Chartres. She—’ His face crumpled and tears filled his eyes. Brushing them away, he cleared his throat and went on. ‘I don’t understand, but the Domina seemed to be implying that what Joanna has to do may remove her into some other sort of existence and . . . and I may never see her again.’ Briefly he put his hand up to cover his eyes.
Helewise longed to rush over and comfort him. Longed to take this big, tough, brave man with the tender heart in her arms and pour out words of reassurance. Longed to say, I’m still here Josse and I love you!
But she was abbess of Hawkenlye. She stayed where she was in her chair.
When she felt she had given him enough time to control the emotion that threatened him, she said, ‘Is it certain that this will happen?’
His red-rimmed eyes met hers. ‘No. You know the Domina – like all her kind, she talks in riddles. All I could make out is that Joanna and the others have to give some of their own power so that what they are – what her people are – and what they believe in becomes fixed in the new cathedral. I don’t know. It sounded like a lot of nonsense.’
Helewise said after a moment, ‘I believe I perceive a little of what they are trying to do.’
‘I wish you’d explain it to me,’ he said, his grief making his voice harsh and cruel.
‘I’ll try.’ She swallowed nervously, for she knew how crucial this moment was. ‘Josse, did you not feel that the magnificent cathedral at Chartres is . . . well, just a little brash? It’s as if the rich people who are paying for it are determined to show off their wealth and their power, as if they want a permanent memorial – in the form of a window or a beautiful carving – so that, for all the years the building will stand, people will know their identity and how rich they were.’
He stared at her. ‘That’s what she said. She said –’ he frowned as he tried to remember – ‘that the spirit had gone from the world.’
‘Yes. Yes, that’s it!’ Helewise said eagerly. ‘And – don’t you see, dear Josse? – her people recognize the spirit so clearly, for they are so close to the earth and to nature. Why, they don’t have any permanent buildings, do they?’
‘No,’ he agreed.
But she noticed that, after the brief period of animation, his face had fallen into sorrow once more. It was time for some bracing encouragement; she prayed for the strength to provide it. ‘Sir Josse,’ she said firmly, ‘we don’t know what will happen for certain over there in Chartres and, from what you have told me, it sounds as if the Domina was just preparing you for one possible outcome.’ He looked at her dubiously. ‘It may not come to pass.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll have to wait and see,’ he said heavily.
‘Yes. Yes, you will.’ She searched frantically for something positive with which to encourage him. Then she had it. ‘You must keep your optimism,’ she said, ‘for Meggie’s sake if not your own.’
‘Meggie.’ He repeated the name in a whisper and it worked. His face lightened and, giving her a look that was almost shy, he said, ‘Today, she called me Daddy.’
Helewise was not sure she could trust her voice. She said softly, ‘That’s what you are, Josse.’
He stood mutely staring at her for a few moments. Then, shaking his head as if ridding himself of some thought that was unwelcome, he said, ‘What about that statue, then? Did you feel its force?’
She was very grateful for the change of subject. ‘Yes, indeed. Only when I first touched her, however. When I put my hand back on her a second time, it was as if . . . Oh, it sounds silly, but I felt she knew who I was and accepted me.’
‘Aye, I reckon that’s the way of it,’ he agreed. ‘Meggie says –’ his face softened – ‘the figure has to decide if you’re all right or not.’
‘And presumably we are?’ Helewise suggested.
‘Aye.’
Well, that was good to know. ‘The statue is surely very valuable, Sir Josse. Would you like me to find a safe place for it?’
‘Aye, I would.’
She considered. ‘I’ve put it for the time being in the back of my book cupboard.’ She pointed to the recess let into the stone wall. ‘It’s wrapped in the cloth and
hidden behind some account rolls.’
‘That sounds as safe a place as any,’ he said. ‘Does anyone come in when you’re not here?’
‘Hardly ever.’
‘Then let’s leave it there.’ He yawned, so overcome by all that had happened that he forgot to put his hand to his mouth.
‘Go to bed, Sir Josse,’ she said. ‘Things may seem brighter in the morning.’
He looked at her and she almost heard his thought: Will they? Then he gave her a cursory bow and left.
She allowed a few moments for him to go out of the rear gate. Then she got up, made her way over to the deserted church and, sinking to her knees in front of the altar, began to pray for him.
Ten
The next morning, Helewise’s master mason finally lost patience and announced that if they could not agree a site for the new chapel, he was going home. Helewise, ragged after a virtually sleepless night worrying about Josse, very nearly lost her temper.
‘You have been engaged by Queen Eleanor and you will do no such thing,’ she said, controlling herself. ‘I will tell you where to build when I have decided. For now, you will just have to –’ what? Dear Lord, what could this man and his team do while she made up her mind? – ‘get on with your preparations,’ she finished feebly. ‘There is stone to cart, wood to select and purchase. Do that,’ she ordered.
The flash of steel seemed to do the trick for Martin the mason, standing open-mouthed in amazement, put his cap back on his head, turned on his heel and said, ‘Right you are, my lady.’
And that, for the time being, appeared to be that.
Nevertheless, Helewise knew she must make a decision. For one thing, that was no way to treat a man with the standing of a master mason. She took a slow walk around her beloved abbey, trying to see it with new eyes and asking herself yet again which building could be sacrificed to make room for the new chapel. As before, she came up with the same answer: none of them. She walked on through the main gates, nodding a greeting to the porteress, and on up the slope to the forest fringe until she stood upon the flat piece of grass where Martin wanted to site Queen Eleanor’s chapel.
Why not here? Helewise asked herself. Would it be so bad to have it outside the abbey walls? This is our land, after all. She had checked again, and the relevant document stated that the abbey owned the land right up to the first of the trees. She walked around the perimeter of the area, trying to visualize a small, simple chapel set there against the forest . . . and she saw that, in the oak tree that stood out from its fellows like the prow of a vast ship, there was something lodged in the branches.
A chill seemed to creep over her, for she knew without a doubt what it was.
She hurried back to the abbey and sent word to Josse. When he arrived, she said tersely, ‘Someone’s been in my room overnight. They’ve taken the statue and—’
He muttered an oath. ‘It’s been stolen?’
‘No, Sir Josse. It’s back in the oak tree.’
‘Who could have put it there?’
‘I have no idea. Only you, I and Meggie knew where it came from. Only we, indeed, know anything about it at all.’
‘Neither Meggie nor I put it back,’ he said.
‘No, Sir Josse, I did not imagine that you did,’ she replied, calm in the face of his agitation. ‘There is, of course, one other possibility.’
‘That it flew there all by itself?’ he suggested with a faint grin. ‘My lady, you are getting carried away. It is not like you to be so fanciful.’
‘I meant,’ she said patiently, ‘that one other person at least knows where the statue was: the person who put it in the tree in the first place.’
‘And you propose that this mystery man observed that Meggie and I brought her back here; then late last night, when we’d all gone to bed, he crept into your room, managed to find the figure in her hiding place and took her back to the tree?’
It did not, she had to admit, sound very likely, but then it was more credible than a solid wooden statue flying through the darkness of its own volition. ‘Well, it’s one explanation,’ she said lamely.
He smiled at her, a true, warm smile prompted by genuine amusement. Was it a sign that he was feeling more optimistic this morning? Had her lengthy, fervent prayer been answered? Oh, she hoped so! ‘And a reasonable one, my lady,’ he was saying. ‘Still, however she got back into her tree, I’d better go and fetch her.’
‘Yes, please do, Sir Josse. Meanwhile I will sit here and think of a more secure place of concealment.’
Josse hurried out to the edge of the forest, anxious to complete his mission before Meggie came to find him. He was not sure why but he knew he did not want to involve her in this small mystery. It was . . . He could not explain it, but he was all too aware that there were undercurrents to this matter that he could not understand. He had left Meggie helping old Brother Firmin fill up the jugs of holy water that were prepared every morning for visiting pilgrims. Meggie had taken to the gentle old monk as if to a beloved grandfather and as for Brother Firmin, Josse had rarely seen him so happy.
He clambered up into the oak tree, got hold of the statue, which, he observed, had been put back in exactly the same place, and then hurriedly returned to the abbey. The abbess was waiting for him in the doorway of her room and, seeing her now in the bright sunlight, he realized how pale and strained she was looking. I don’t reckon she had much sleep last night, he thought. She works too hard, bless her.
‘Here’s the figure,’ he said, thrusting it at her. ‘Have you thought of another place for it?’
‘No, Sir Josse.’ She took the figure and quickly bundled it away in the book cupboard. ‘It will have to stay there for the time being, for there is another matter I have to attend to.’
‘What? May I help?’
She gave him a grateful smile. ‘Yes, in fact I believe you can. Two days ago, we found a badly wounded man at the gates and he’s been in the infirmary ever since. I know nothing about him – he’s delirious, and I’m afraid he’s been rambling, telling us some weird tale of ancient secrets. Anyway, Sister Caliste has just come to tell me that he’s awake and I’m going to see him to hear if he makes any more sense today.’
‘And you’d like me to come with you?’
‘Yes, Sir Josse. Two of us together will do better than one alone in shedding light on whatever trouble he is in, and perhaps we shall be able to help him out of it.’ Without further explanation and looking slightly sheepish – he smiled, guessing that her real reason was to keep his mind off his anxiety – she turned and set off determinedly for the infirmary.
The infirmarer was waiting for them and led them to the recess at the end of the ward. The abbess preceded him through the gap in the curtains and stood at the head of the bed, so that to begin with all that Josse saw of the patient was his torso and his long legs.
‘You are feeling better today?’ the abbess enquired.
‘Aye, my lady. I have slept for hours, I believe, and it has been a healing sleep, for—’
I know that voice! Josse stepped to one side so that he could see the man’s face, but he needed no verification. The man in the bed looked up, saw him and exclaimed, ‘Josse!’
Josse, looking from him to the abbess, said, ‘My lady, why did you not tell me his name?’
‘I do not know it!’ she protested.
Josse grinned. ‘He is Sir Piers of Essendon,’ he said, ‘and he has a manor up on the high forest ridges to the west of here. We have known each other,’ he added, ‘for years.’
The wounded man was struggling to sit up but Sister Caliste, watching him anxiously, eased him back on to his pillows. ‘He is still very weak,’ she explained.
‘Weak I may be, but I am no addled fool whose wandering wits cannot tell a true tale!’ Piers said crossly. Then, fixing Josse with a hard stare, ‘Josse, they think I’m delirious, for all that I have no fever and when I try to tell them what happened to me, they look at me pityingly as if I were an over-imagina
tive child!’ He all but spat out the last word, wincing in pain as the violent movement tugged at his wounds.
‘We thought you were dreaming,’ Sister Caliste said apologetically, ‘and if we urged you to rest and not tire yourself by trying to talk, it was because we truly believed it best for you.’
Piers’s face softened at her gentle voice and he looked up at her. ‘I know, lass,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, for I’m worried out of my wits and if I yell at you, it’s only from frustration.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Sister Caliste said serenely.
‘What’s worrying you?’ Josse asked. ‘We can help, perhaps?’
‘Josse, it’s an extraordinary tale and I’m not sure I’d believe it if another man related it to me,’ Piers exclaimed. ‘Nevertheless, I’ll try.’ He paused, breathing deeply. ‘A very long time ago, a group of thirteen knights came across something amazing out in Outremer. It did not originate there – it came from an even more distant, darker land. It represents . . . No, I cannot yet reveal that.’ A shadow crossed his face and again he winced in pain.
‘The knights were permitted to know what this precious object was and they swore to protect it,’ he went on. ‘They formed themselves into a secret brotherhood, which they named the Knights of Arcturus; as you may know, in the heavens Arcturus lies in the constellation of Boötes, which we observe to have thirteen stars, and it is the guardian of the two bears, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. The object that was found in Outremer represented something of vast importance and the Knights of Arcturus swore to protect it, for they understood that it was under grave threat and that with time this threat could only increase. They further comprehended – or perhaps they were made to comprehend – that if this important thing were to be lost to the world, it would be gravely, unimaginably to the world’s detriment.’
‘What was it?’ the abbess whispered. Her eyes, like those of Sister Caliste, Josse noticed, were wide with wonder.