‘She thought you were some sort of night spirit,’ Josse said.
John laughed. ‘I have been many things, but not that. Yet,’ he added.
‘Where did you go? What did you have to do every night?’
John looked at him. ‘I can’t tell you. I hope I shall be able to, but for now it is too dangerous. What you don’t know, Sir Josse, you can’t tell.’
‘I would not betray you,’ he protested.
‘You might,’ John said. He must have seen Josse’s reaction. ‘I am sorry. I mean no offence.’
‘Those who murdered the Turk are both dead,’ Josse said.
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Did you kill them?’
John turned to stare at Josse and his grey-blue eyes were clear and honest. ‘No.’
‘One was killed with a longbow. I think the shot was fired by one of Touros’s companions and that it was in revenge for his death.’
John nodded. ‘That is very likely. The men who travelled with Touros are called William and Tancred. They are Franks from Outremer. They are in the employ of a ruthless and wealthy man who wants me dead. Touros was their best weapon. They will sorely miss his prowess.’
‘They made a shrine to him,’ Josse said. ‘They did not have his body — he was buried at Hawkenlye — but they made a special place on the edge of the forest and stuck his broken bow in the ground.’
John shrugged. ‘Well, perhaps there was some sentiment there after all and Touros was more to them than a useful servant.’
‘They killed a man they believed was you,’ Josse said softly.
‘The Hospitaller? Yes, I suspected it, and I am sorry. They must have thought Thibault had found me at Gerome’s house and was taking me to Clerkenwell.’
‘They murdered the Hospitaller in his bed and then set fire to the place.’ Josse was not sure whether or not this would be news to John Damianos; he seemed to be remarkably well informed.
‘They have their orders and they will not rest until those orders are carried out. They are commanded to hunt me down and kill me. They believed that poor, innocent monk was me and they do not waste time asking questions.’
‘Do you think they have discovered their mistake? Are you still in danger from them?’
‘I wish it were not so, but the answer to both of your questions is yes.’
‘How do you know?’ Josse demanded.
John hesitated. Then he said, ‘Again, I am sorry, Sir Josse, but you will just have take my word for it. I can’t tell you.’
Josse had had enough. With the Abbess’s and Gerome’s help, so many of the pieces of the puzzle had been fitted together. But he knew they had not reached the core of it. Thibault knew much that he was not telling them; so did Gerome; and now here was John Damianos, who seemed to be at the heart of it all, calmly saying, I can’t tell you.
‘You have led me quite a dance,’ he said coolly. ‘I believed you to be a Saracen travelling in the company of the Knight Hospitaller sought by Thibault. I thought he was this runaway English monk who had been at the meeting in the desert, and that you — the Saracen — were Fadil, the prisoner who was being exchanged. Now I find that you are the English monk known as Brother Ralf.’
‘You called me that earlier,’ John observed. ‘Did Gerome tell you the name?’
‘Aye. That was one of the few things he did tell me. Where’s Fadil? He’s here, isn’t he? You’ve brought your prisoner all the way to England and you-’
‘I last saw my prisoner, as you call him, in Constantinople,’ John interrupted. ‘Fadil wasn’t my choice of a travelling companion and I was very glad to see the last of him.’
‘Why did you let him go? You should have taken him back to Margat or Crac des Chevaliers!’
‘I should indeed. But something strange happened out there in the desert. I had a sort of vision of what he would be going back to if we returned him to his master. I couldn’t be responsible for forcing him back into that life, Sir Josse, so I took him to where he wished to go and then said goodbye.’
Josse was shaking his head. ‘This is all too deep for me. You were being hunted by three separate groups, one of which we may discount because both Kathnir and Akhbir are dead; another of which is out of action while Thibault of Margat and Brother Otto lie in the infirmary at Hawkenlye recovering from their burns. Only one of these groups therefore remains, and yet you-’
‘And yet I continue to be evasive and secretive and I refuse to satisfy your curiosity by telling you everything?’ John’s voice was bitterly angry. ‘Sir Josse, one group out of three may not sound much to you and, indeed, those who would have made me suffer torment before they killed me are in their graves. But do not dismiss these Frankish mercenaries. Their purpose in searching for me so doggedly and relentlessly is what I dread the most, for-’ He stopped. He watched Josse intently for a moment and then, as if he read Josse’s honesty and something in him yearned to confide, he gave in. ‘They are the most dangerous of my enemies, Sir Josse, because it is not only I whom they seek. There is another quarry; and if by so doing I could guarantee her life, I would willingly die.’
Seventeen
Helewise persuaded her unexpected visitor to sleep in her own private room. She offered to fetch bedding but the young woman refused. ‘I am used to sleeping on hard ground and my cloak and blanket are adequate, thank you.’
‘You may lock yourself in,’ Helewise suggested, and the young woman looked relieved. ‘I shall return first thing in the morning. I am in no doubt that you need my help and I am prepared to give it to you, if you in turn are prepared to explain yourself to me.’ The woman had made no reply. ‘Think it over,’ Helewise advised. ‘Sleep well.’
Then she closed the door. As she walked away she heard the key turn in the lock.
She returned shortly before prime. She had collected food and drink from the refectory and now she tapped softly on the door. ‘Hello? Are you awake?’
The door opened a crack and the young woman’s face appeared. Seeing Helewise, she looked relieved. As she saw what Helewise was carrying, relief turned to wide-eyed appreciation.
‘That is a welcome sight, my lady Abbess,’ she said politely. She was wrapping the enveloping cloak around her as she spoke and Helewise caught a glimpse of the tunic and thick woollen hose she was wearing beneath. ‘I am ravenous.’
She seemed to be waiting for permission, so Helewise said simply, ‘Eat.’
Despite her very evident hunger, the young woman folded her hands, closed her eyes and muttered a short prayer before falling on the bread and dried meat. Well-brought up, Helewise observed, despite the fact that she has been masquerading as a man. No doubt she has her reasons…
‘I must go,’ she said. It was time for the office. ‘I will be back soon.’
The young woman hastily chewed what seemed to be a huge mouthful, managed to swallow it down and then, getting to her feet, bowed and said, ‘I shall be here.’ Then, looking up and meeting Helewise’s eyes, she added, ‘I am ready, my lady.’
Hoping very much the woman meant she was prepared to tell her story, Helewise nodded and hurried away.
She returned immediately after prime. The young woman must have been listening out for her because the door opened as Helewise approached. She entered, sat in her chair and said, ‘I am listening.’
The young woman settled on the stool, the wide skirts of her cloak pooling gracefully on the stone floor around her. She had braided her long hair and arranged it neatly. She must also have used some of the water provided to wash her hands and face, for she looked almost presentable. As soon as this is over and I have heard what she has to tell me, Helewise thought, compassion stirring, I shall offer her a bath.
‘I was born in Antioch,’ the young woman began, ‘and until recently spent all my life in that sunny land. My
