The other child had long, curly brown hair. She appeared to be about six or seven. Sensing Josse behind her, she spun round and he looked into her brown eyes, which sparkled with golden lights. Her strained expression broke into a joyful smile and, leaping up, she ran to Josse and threw herself into his arms. He felt her firm little body shake with suppressed sobs and, gently stroking her hair, he said, ‘It’s all right, sweeting; you’re safe with me. I’ll look after you.’
It was Meggie.
Dominic and Paradisa managed to restrain their curiosity until later, when Josse had finally put his daughter to bed. The remainder of the evening had been occupied with supper, a bath for the little girl and a lengthy bedtime ritual during which her father demonstrated the advantages of her hastily arranged bedroom, snuggled her down in soft blankets and told her three stories.
Finally he sank down in his chair and, looking first at Dominic and then Paradisa, said wearily, ‘So what happened?’
It was Paradisa who told him. ‘I was here in the hall in the middle of the afternoon,’ she began. ‘Dominic was out with Will. I’d just fed Hugo and he was asleep; Ralf wanted to go outside and I said he could play on the steps but no further because I had to keep an eye on the baby. I was dozing — it was warm this afternoon, wasn’t it? — but suddenly I heard Ralf laughing. I thought at first that Dominic must have come back, but then I heard a child’s voice. I hurried outside and there she was, sitting on the bottom step beside Ralf and showing him how to do cat’s cradles with a piece of string.’ She paused, eyeing Josse anxiously.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘She seemed to be quite alone. I didn’t want to scare her, so I stood in the doorway and said hello, then asked who was with her — I thought maybe she had run on ahead to the house, in which case whoever had brought her would not have been far behind. Anyway, she said she was looking for Josse and that they had brought her home from the big Shining City where the building was going up. I said, “Where are they?” and she said they’d gone.’
‘Did you look for them?’ he demanded. Then, hearing the echo of his voice, made sharp by anxiety, he said, ‘I’m sorry, Paradisa. I did not mean to interrogate you.’
‘It’s all right, Josse.’ She gave him an understanding smile. ‘I hurried out to look up and down the road, but there was nobody about.’ Her smooth brow creased into a frown. ‘The trouble is that I don’t know how long she’d been there. As I say, I was dozing, and she could have been there for some time, in which case whoever brought her could already have been some distance away. Oh, I’m so sorry, Josse!’
‘No need to be,’ he said hastily. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, dear Paradisa — quite the opposite, in fact, because I’m sure Meggie must have been afraid, left here by herself, and you managed to reassure her and make her feel welcome.’
‘It wasn’t difficult,’ Paradisa said. ‘She knows me, of course, from when she’s visited here before, and she seemed quite happy as soon as I said you’d be coming home before long.’
‘I’m grateful,’ he said. ‘You have a loving heart and a child like Meggie can recognize it instantly.’ He saw by the puzzled expressions on Paradisa’s and Dominic’s faces that they did not understand, so hurriedly he changed the subject. ‘But why is she here?’ he said. And, he added silently, where is Joanna?
He barely slept that night. He knew he must ask Meggie to tell him much more about this mysterious trip and why she had ended up all alone at New Winnowlands, but so far all he knew was that she had been in Chartres. Well, that made sense, for had he not met Joanna there less than three weeks ago? He had wondered afterwards if that strange meeting in the haunted and deserted cathedral had been a dream but, now that Meggie claimed to have been there too, he must conclude that it had really taken place. So for some reason Joanna had not chosen to leave Meggie with him this time but taken the child with her… Of course! She couldn’t leave Meggie here with me, he thought, jubilant at having resolved at least a small part of the puzzle, because I’d already left for France.
But why bring Meggie now? Perhaps it was because Joanna had remained in Chartres. She had mentioned her people’s desire to banish the dark shadow cast by Paul de Fleury’s murder, and there was also the business that had taken her there in the first place. Maybe that task, whatever it was, had still to be completed and, knowing somehow that Josse was going back to New Winnowlands, Joanna had sent Meggie to him in the care of some trusted friend.
Why in heaven’s name didn’t she tell me? he thought crossly. She could have explained it to me that night I met her. I could have collected Meggie there and then, and she could have travelled home with me. Dear God, but Joanna was an unfathomable, difficult woman. His irritation spilled over into anger and, sitting up in bed, savagely he punched his pillows. Anger did no good; he tried to calm his mind and think about what he ought to do next.
Well, he decided after some time, he still had a job to do for the queen and he could hardly take a small child to London while he attempted to pick up the trail of de Loup and his companions. He could leave Meggie at New Winnowlands while he was away, for she already knew Dominic and Paradisa and seemed happy in their company; she loved playing with little Ralf and was obviously entranced by the baby. Josse would explain to her that he had to go away for a few days but he would promise faithfully to be back soon. If she accepted that serenely, he would leave her here. If not, well, he’d just have to take her with him. It was, he realized, an appealing prospect.
He dragged his mind away from visions of himself and Meggie riding down a sunny lane and returned to the present matter. Before setting off for London he would pay a visit to Hawkenlye and go into the forest. He would seek out Joanna’s people and demand answers to a few questions, such as why is Joanna still in Chartres, what is she doing there and how long is she going to be there? Another pertinent question might be who brought Meggie home? He might ask that too.
With the immediate future decided, Josse turned on to his side and settled down to sleep.
The master mason and his team arrived at Hawkenlye and within hours Helewise found herself in the middle of a dispute. Since she had been informed of Queen Eleanor’s plan to build the new chapel, Helewise had envisaged it within the abbey walls; the mason, however, said firmly that there was no room even for the modest building he had in mind, not unless existing structures were radically altered or demolished. ‘Impossible,’ said Helewise. ‘There is nothing wrong with any building here and it would be sinfully wasteful to damage or even alter them in any way.’ Besides, she reminded herself, had not Queen Eleanor expressed her reluctance to alter any of the existing abbey structures? The mason — whose name was Martin — proposed to site the new chapel on an apron of land projecting from the forest opposite the main gates. It was abbey land — Helewise had verified that — but for some reason she had not explored she found it quite inconceivable for the chapel to be constructed there, so close to the forest that it would be in the shadow of the trees.
It was stalemate and neither Helewise nor Martin saw any way to break it. Meanwhile the team of stonemasons sat idle in the camp they had erected down in the vale and, as everyone knew, the devil had a habit of finding mischief for men with time on their hands.
In due course mischief arrived. Two days after the arrival of the masons, a badly wounded man wrapped in a bloodstained cloak was found at the abbey gates by the porteress when she went to open up after the first office of the day. The cloak was wet with dew and the man’s hands so icy to the touch that at first Sister Ursel thought he was dead. Sister Martha, hurrying over from the stables on hearing the porteress’s cry, bent down, put her cheek to the man’s lips and said, ‘He’s breathing. Come, Ursel, we must take him to the infirmary before he bleeds to death.’
Sister Euphemia, busy organizing the early morning round of patient care, told the two nuns to put the man in the curtained-off recess at the end of the long ward. Summoning Sister Caliste, she stripped him, washed off the blood and inspected his wounds. He had been savagely attacked; there were blows to the forehead and left cheek, cuts and bruises to the shoulders and chest, and a deep slashing wound across the throat. Although this had bled copiously, Sister Euphemia discovered that no major vessel had been damaged; she watched as Sister Caliste neatly stitched the wound and then she prepared a dressing soaked in comfrey and diluted lavender oil and covered it up.
The man remained unconscious for most of the day. As the sun set, his eyelids fluttered open and he gave a hoarse cry. While Sister Caliste tried to calm his extreme agitation, Sister Euphemia hurried to find the abbess.
‘I am Abbess Helewise and you are safe in Hawkenlye Abbey,’ Helewise said, bending over the man a few moments later. He was, she noticed in a quick assessment, in his middle years, lean-faced and wiry, with greying light brown hair and hazel eyes set in a face whose lines indicated that he was more inclined to happiness than misery.
