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
