The Tavern in the Morning (22 page)

To turn his mind from fretting about her, he thought back over everything they had done together since waking, in his bed, soon after first light. She had scorned his suggestion that she return to the small guest chamber which Ella had prepared for her: ‘
I
am not ashamed to have lain here with you,’ she said grandly, sitting up in bed and waving an arrogant arm, ‘and I don’t care a fig for what your servants mutter about me.’ She had given him a look through narrowed eyelids. ‘If you, however, wish to be secretive about what you and I have become to one another, then naturally I will do as you ask, and set about making the bed assigned to me look as if I have been sleeping chastely in it all night.’

‘I didn’t
ask,
’ he pointed out mildly. ‘It was only a suggestion.’

She leaned over him, pinning him down with a hand either side of his head, her face hovering inches above his. ‘I’ll go if you really want,’ she said softly. ‘I was only teasing. After all, you’ll be the one who goes on—’ Abruptly she stopped.

‘Goes on what?’

‘Nothing.’

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. ‘Stay,’ he said, nuzzling into her thick, soft hair. ‘I don’t care what Ella tells Will. I don’t care what they think. Stay.’

She had lowered the length of her body down on to his, and he could feel her breasts, her belly, the firm thigh muscles. ‘If they thought you
hadn’t
bedded me,’ she murmured right into his ear – her warm breath sent great shivers of excitement up and down his spine – ‘they might mutter about your manhood.’ As she said
manhood,
her hand slid down across his stomach and into his groin, making him throb so that he gasped aloud. She chuckled. ‘Ah, he’s saying good morning!’ A pause. ‘My, he’s eager!’ She put her mouth to his, kissing him at length. ‘Just let Ella ask
me
about your manhood,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll soon reassure her…’

*   *   *

They had gone out after breakfast. Will had saddled Horace and Joanna’s mare, and they had ridden around the New Winnow-lands estate. Not that it took very long: Josse’s manor was modest. Drawing rein on a low rise, he had pointed out the road leading to the house of his nearest neighbour.

‘He’s a decent fellow,’ he said, ‘we enjoy an occasional visit when I’m in residence here.’ He watched her. ‘Would you like to call on him?’

‘No,’ she said instantly. Then, as if fearing she’d offended him, ‘Josse, under any other circumstances I’d love to meet your friends. But just at the moment, I feel that the fewer people who know I’m here, the better.’

‘Of course.’ He could have kicked himself for his dullness. But, riding out with her, watching her free, flowing movements, hearing her talk, hearing her laugh, just for a moment he’d forgotten.

*   *   *

Ella had prepared a fine midday meal, and, after that, Josse and Joanna had settled in front of the fire. He sat in his chair, and she curled up on the floor at his feet. He had wanted to ask her more about herself, but, forestalling him, she said, ‘Now, I’ve told you enough about me. Please, Josse, what about you? Acquin – where is that?’

So he had told her. Told her everything there was to tell about himself, really, since there was nothing he wanted to keep secret. Not from her.

And, as they sat cosy and warm inside, gradually the day wound to a close.

Josse had just sat down again after putting more logs on the fire when there came the sound of voices from the courtyard. Will’s voice and another, one that was shouting something … Something about a man, attacked, lying beside the track out there, frozen half to death, poor soul …

Josse leapt up. Taking Joanna by the shoulders for a hurried instant, he said, with all the command he could muster, ‘Stay here. Bolt the door behind me, don’t open it again till you hear me tell you to.’

‘But—’

He gave her a little shake. ‘
Stay here!
’

After a moment, she gave a meek nod.

He raced outside, jumping down the steps and running across the yard to the gates. Will, looking highly relieved to see him, said, ‘This here fellow tells me there’s a man injured, out in the road. I was on the point of going to have a look, only—’

‘Quite.’ Josse gave him a warning look; no need to elaborate in front of a stranger, to reveal that Josse had given Will orders not to open the gates to anybody, all the while Joanna was with them. ‘Thank you, Will, you did right.’

Will, with a nod, stepped back, and Josse went up to the gate. ‘Someone lying injured?’ he said to the man outside, a rough-looking fellow dressed in a sacking cloak, the end of which he had draped over his head, presumably in an attempt to shelter his face and ears from the keen wind.

The man edged closer and put one hand on the gate. ‘Aye, that he does! Been struck on the head, I reckon, there’s blood trickling down his face.’

Josse was torn. What should he do? Go out and tend to this poor soul, attacked on the road? Or do as his instinct strongly told him to, and ignore this as an elaborate bid to get him to open up and go out?

Once I am outside, he thought, Joanna will be alone within.

But supposing there really
was
an injured traveller out on the road! It was quite possible the man had merely taken a tumble from his horse, it might just be Josse’s heightened sense of danger that was making a threatening situation out of something perfectly innocent.

‘Any sign of a horse?’ he asked. ‘Could the man have had a fall?’

‘Oh.’ The peasant at the gate appeared to think about it. ‘Could have, I reckon. Could have crumped his head as he fell, aye.’

Josse made up his mind. He said to the peasant, ‘A moment.’ Then, turning, he beckoned to Will and, when he was close enough to speak to without the man at the gates overhearing, he said, ‘Come with me.’

He led the way up the steps, rapped on the door and said, ‘Joanna, open up.’ She did so instantly; she must have been standing right by the door.

Once inside, Josse strapped on his sword and stuck his dagger in his belt. As an afterthought, he collected a heavy bolt of wood from the stack by the fire; it was a clumsy weapon, but would serve as a club in an emergency.

Joanna was beside him. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘Tell me! Where are you going?’

He turned to her. ‘There’s a rough-looking fellow at the gate, who claims he’s found an injured man on the road. It’s possible he’s been thrown from his horse. He’s hurt his head, so I’m told. I’m going out to have a look.’

She was shaking her head. ‘You mustn’t,’ she said urgently. ‘It’s a trap, Josse. They – he – Denys is behind this, I’m sure.’

He stared into her eyes. It was strange, but, while he read in them a thrilled response to this sudden danger, he read no fear. No alarm.

‘What do you suggest?’ he asked softly.

‘I don’t – I’m not—’ She looked down, frowning. Then, meeting his eyes again, she said, ‘No. I do see, you have to investigate.’

‘Oh.’ He would almost rather she had pleaded with him a little longer.

She gave him a quick, hard hug. ‘Be careful,’ she said.

‘I shall.’ He pushed her away gently, staring down at her. ‘Hide yourself,’ he urged. ‘Get Will to help you, and get into some secret corner where nobody can find you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What for?’

He said, exasperated, ‘In case this
is
a trap and I’m overcome! If that happens, Joanna my sweet, then they’ll be in here, quick as you please, and looking for you.’

Again, there was that odd lack of fear. Nodding her agreement, she let Will hurry her out of the hall. It was, Josse thought, almost as if she’d had all this worked out beforehand …

But then he was outside again and the man at the gate was waiting.

Josse opened the gate, slipped out and said, ‘Come along, then. Show me your injured man.’

‘Aye, aye,’ the man said eagerly, ‘he’s along here … just you follow me, sir … past this open stretch of track, then in under here, where the trees make a shadowy overhang. Maybe you’re right, now, sir, and his horse spooked at sommat in the darkness, throwing him off, like. There!’ Stopping, he pointed ahead.

Josse stared into the gloom beneath the trees. He could make out the edge of the track, and, beside it, a narrow grass verge which sloped down into a ditch. There were deeper patches of shadow behind the ditch, where the undergrowth encroached.

On the lip of the ditch was a long shape. A man’s body, dressed in dark clothing. And, at one end, the pale blur of a face.

Josse ran forward.

He did not see the trap until hands descended on him, grasping him by the upper arms, smothering movement, effectively preventing him from reaching for his sword or his dagger. The makeshift club was knocked out of his hand and fell to the ground with a thud.

There were two of them, the man who had come up to the gates and another, who must have been hiding in the shadows. As Josse wrestled with them, managing to throw one of them off him and, with a swift kick to the head, put him out of action, a third man leapt up out of the ditch to take the downed man’s place.

And, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness, Josse could see clearly what lay on the lip of the ditch.

Brother Saul.

His black habit was wound tightly round his legs, secured with a length of twine, and his hands were tied behind him. The man who had been crouching behind him – in his dark cloak, invisible in the darkness – had had a hand over Saul’s mouth, preventing him from shouting a warning. Now that there was no more need for silence, the man removed his hand, straightened up, jumped nimbly across the ditch and stood before Josse.

And Denys de Courtenay said, ‘Josse d’Acquin, we meet at last!’

Josse ignored him – even as the attack had begun, he had known who must be behind it – and called anxiously, ‘Brother Saul! Are you hurt?’

‘I’m all right,’ Saul called back. ‘Sir Josse, I’m so sorry – we thought to warn you, to tell you that de Courtenay was searching for you, but instead of helping, I led him straight to you!’

Denys de Courtenay laughed. ‘You did that all right, Saul!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Your Abbess Helewise thought she was being so clever, slipping away to give you your orders! But she’s not as clever as she thinks, because it didn’t occur to her that I’d have guessed she’d do exactly that, and have a man in hiding outside the Abbey to follow her messenger.’

Brother Saul gave a violent wriggle but the cords binding him held fast. ‘You are an evil man!’ he cried to de Courtenay.

‘Evil?’ De Courtenay seemed to think about it. ‘No. I don’t believe I’m
evil.
Scheming, perhaps, but what man is not?’

‘You—’ Saul began. But de Courtenay turned his back and, nodding to his men to bring Josse, walked off in the direction of the New Winnowlands gates.

‘You can’t leave him there!’ Josse protested. ‘It’s freezing out here and he’s injured!’ Was that true? Or was the injury an invention?

‘He’s warmly wrapped in that monk’s habit of his,’ de Courtenay said casually. ‘And the chill will do his head good. Swellings usually go down when you put something cold on them.’

‘You heartless bastard,’ Josse said.

‘Heartless, perhaps. Bastard, nay. My parents had been wed twenty years and more by the time my mother bore me.’

Josse barely heard. With a great heave, he shrugged off the lighter-built man holding his right arm, twisting the man’s wrist viciously, and, before the man had a chance to grasp him again, he lunged forward and grabbed de Courtenay by the shoulder. ‘What do you want of me?’ he demanded. ‘What is your purpose in trailing Brother Saul to my house? How
dare
you assault me in this manner!’ His anger rising to boiling point, he spun round, caught the man on his left-hand side a great blow beneath the chin with his right fist, and, with a singing, jubilant satisfaction, watched as he slumped to the ground.

‘Oh, dear,’ de Courtenay said. ‘Two down, and one disabled.’ He glanced at the third man, nursing a wrist bent at an unnatural angle and moaning softly. ‘Not that I am greatly surprised, they are hardly what one would call an efficient and disciplined fighting force. Still, needs must, eh?’

‘If you live in the gutter, you are forced to use what little the gutter can provide,’ Josse said sententiously.

‘How true, how true.’ De Courtenay was smiling again. ‘Now, Sir Josse, I do believe you asked me a question a moment ago. Two questions, in fact. You seem to have reduced me to an army of one, so why not invite me into your house and hear what I have to say?’

Amazed, Josse repeated, ‘Invite you into my house? Why in God’s holy name should I want to do that?’

With a suddenness that was vaguely alarming, de Courtenay came up close, face full of some unknown emotion. The casual, light-hearted air was totally gone; he looked, Josse thought, like a man possessed. ‘Because I have a matter to put to you, one of the gravest import!’ he hissed. Waving round him at his fallen companions, he said, ‘Oh, I admit I have made a poor start – you must excuse the brutishness of my initial approach, but it was the best I could think of.’ He gave a faint laugh. ‘Fancy me thinking they’d be any use! I’d have done far better to present myself at your door and politely asked for a few moments of your time.’ He shot Josse a glance. ‘Except that you wouldn’t have listened. Would you?’

Josse said, ‘Probably not.’

‘Well.’ De Courtenay’s eyes still held that fire. ‘What do you say, Sir Josse? Will you hear me out?’

Joanna is hidden, Josse thought rapidly, and anyway, Will is there. That makes two of us, against de Courtenay; I’ll make quite certain his ruffians can’t follow him in. And I’ll be receiving him on my own home ground, which adds another advantage.

A further point occurred to him. Relaxing his grip on de Courtenay’s shoulder – with a wince, de Courtenay instantly began to massage it with the opposite hand – Josse said, ‘You may come into my house – alone – on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you release Brother Saul from his bonds and help me bear him inside, where we may attend to him.’

De Courtenay sighed. ‘I might have guessed. Very well.’