to our own lives. We stay and fight beside our brothers, and if they succumb, we battle on to our last breath at their side.’
‘And so you set out to follow the runaway?’ Helewise asked softly.
Thibault turned to her, looking slightly surprised, as if he had forgotten she was there. ‘I returned to Margat first, my lady, and made my report,’ he replied. ‘Then, when we had tried to patch together a likely sequence of events, we realized that the monk who ran from the scene might by his desertion be responsible for the deaths of his brethren. My master declared that he must be apprehended and brought back to give an account of himself and face whatever punishment was deemed appropriate. I volunteered to lead the pursuit; Brother Otto and Brother Philip were selected to go with me.’ He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘We did not anticipate, when we set out all that time ago, just how long and how far the pursuit of our missing brother was going to take us.’
‘Brother Philip?’ Josse asked, frowning. ‘I thought the third monk’s name was Jeremiah?’
Thibault’s eyes were unfocused again. He was clearly tiring rapidly now and he appeared to be staring back into the past. ‘Brother Philip died,’ he muttered. ‘He took sick of a fever soon after we left Constantinople and Otto and I were unable to save him.’
‘Then — was Brother Jeremiah not originally of your company?’
Thibault’s eyelids were drooping. ‘We met Brother Jeremiah on the road up from the coast.’
‘The coast? Which coast?’ Gervase rapped out.
The shadow of a smile played on Thibault’s lips. ‘Yours,’ he replied. ‘Brother Otto and I recognized by his habit that he was a brother Hospitaller and Otto asked where he was bound. Jeremiah said he was heading for Clerkenwell, and that being our eventual destination too, we decided to join up and travel together. It’s safer — ’ he gave a huge yawn — ‘to travel in company.’ Slowly his eyes closed.
‘Then-’ Gervase began.
But Sister Caliste stood up. Considering how slight she was, Helewise thought, watching the young nun, there was a considerable presence about her. She knew very well what Sister Caliste was going to say and, with a secret smile, she watched to see how she would set about it.
‘My lord,’ she began quietly, ‘enough. My patient is very tired and he must sleep.’
‘Sister Caliste, I am investigating not only the death of the man found on the forest track but also that of his own companion, this Brother Jeremiah!’ Gervase protested in an angry hiss. ‘I must hear what he has to say of the fire in the priory.’
Sister Caliste stood her ground. ‘I understand that, my lord,’ she said. ‘Nevertheless, you cannot hear it now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘We have not yet told him of Brother Jeremiah’s death, although of course he may already know, and it would be better if you wait until he is stronger before you discuss such a tragic matter with him.’ She added, with quiet dignity, ‘I have been put in charge of this man — ’ she looked down and bestowed upon her patient a kind and loving glance — ‘and I will not allow you to endanger his recovery by keeping him awake when his body is pressing him to sleep.’
‘You-’ Gervase looked furious.
Sister Caliste stepped forward towards him and, well-mannered man that he was, even when angry, he moved back. Sister Caliste pressed on and Gervase was soon outside the recess. Helewise slipped out beside him and Josse did the same. Sister Caliste drew the curtains closed and held them together behind her back. Smiling sweetly up at Gervase, she said, ‘I will watch over him as he sleeps. If he says anything, I will tell you. When he is awake and can speak to you, I will send word.’
With that she gave a low reverence to Helewise, slightly more perfunctory bows to Josse and the sheriff, and vanished back inside the recess.
The Abbess led the way back to her little room. Once the three of them were inside and the door closed, Josse burst out, ‘It is the same event that the two Saracen warriors described!’
‘Saracen warriors?’ Gervase queried.
Josse turned to him. ‘Aye. I had a visit from them — ’ he paused, calculating when it had been; so much had happened that it came as quite a surprise to realize that it had only been two days ago — ‘the day before yesterday. They gave their names as Kathnir and Akhbir and they said they were hunting for one of their own.’
‘Another Saracen? Then surely the man they seek must be the dead man who was brought here!’
Josse sighed. ‘No, Gervase. He isn’t. That was what I suggested and they were sure he was not their man.’ He looked across at the Abbess. ‘I am sorry, my lady, to repeat what you already know but it is important to explain matters fully to Gervase.’
‘Hmm?’ She seemed to be deep in thought and it seemed to Josse that she had barely heard him. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said vaguely.
Swiftly Josse related to Gervase the tale that the two Saracens had told him. ‘And during this exchange out in the desert,’ he concluded, ‘something happened and their master’s young brother — who must be the Hospitallers’ prisoner — disappeared and was probably killed. Their master managed to escape, but the man they’re hunting stole some precious treasure from him.’
‘Did they not say what this treasure was?’ demanded Gervase.
‘No,’ Josse replied shortly. ‘There was rather a lot that they did not say. Clearly they knew far more than they were admitting.’
‘Could they have been at the meeting in the desert?’ Gervase asked. ‘Their master trusts them enough to send them after the thief and the stolen treasure; might this not mean that they form part of his personal bodyguard?’
‘I don’t know,’ Josse said. He gave a wry smile. ‘If so, then they are definitely holding back, for they would have witnessed the whole thing.’
‘What could the thief have taken? Something portable, for it appears that the two men who hunt him expect to recover it. Gold? Precious stones?’
‘Either is possible,’ Josse agreed. ‘My understanding of these hostage exchanges is that, if it’s not a simple swapping of one prisoner for another, then usually the payment is in coin.’
Suddenly the Abbess spoke. ‘How did they know it wasn’t him?’
Josse and Gervase exchanged a glance. ‘My lady?’ Josse said.
‘Your Saracens, Sir Josse. I’ve been puzzling over how they knew that our dead man here was not the man they sought. Was there anything in your description that would have enabled them to be so certain?’
Josse thought back. ‘I told them I thought the dead man to be a Saracen, but that was solely on account of his colouring, since his clothes and possessions were missing.’
‘You did not give away some detail such as that the dead man had long black hair?’ she persisted.
Josse concentrated very hard. Then: ‘I do not believe, my lady, that I mentioned any such detail.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Then they must have seen the dead man for themselves,’ she said simply, ‘for how else could they have been so certain?’
‘They might have caught sight of their quarry after the dead man was killed,’ Gervase pointed out.
‘Yes, that is so,’ the Abbess admitted.
She did not, Josse thought, look very convinced. ‘My lady?’ he said. ‘Won’t you share your thoughts with us?’
She looked slightly alarmed. ‘Oh — no, I do not think I should, for what I am thinking amounts to a terrible accusation, and if I’m wrong I would be blackening two men’s names for no reason.’
‘There are only the two of us to hear,’ Josse said softly. ‘We won’t repeat anything you say.’
She was frowning. Then her face cleared and she said, ‘Very well. But bear in mind that I am probably right off the scent.’
‘We will,’ Josse and Gervase said in unison.
She took a deep breath. ‘Well, when the two Saracens told you, Sir Josse, that they were hunting for a man like themselves, you instantly thought of the dead man, because he too was a Saracen and there are not many of them in these parts. I’m just wondering if they made the same swift judgement.’
Josse waited to see if she would go on but she did not; she sat in her imposing chair watching the two of them eagerly, as if waiting for them to agree. ‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ Gervase said, ‘but I do not understand.’
She clicked her tongue in irritation but it was at herself and not them. ‘I am sorry; I did not explain. What I am suggesting is that Sir Josse’s Saracens caught sight of someone whose manner of dress and general appearance were that of the man they had hunted for so long. They assumed he was their quarry and without pausing to check
