city and they gave it a wide berth. Once they were clear, however, Josse led them back to the well-maintained road beside the river and they followed it as it meandered to and fro, all the time going steadily north.
Late in the evening, they neared the spot where the Eure joined the mighty Seine, looping and winding its way between dramatic limestone cliffs at the end of its long journey to the sea. Somewhere over to the east, Josse knew, was King Richard’s Chateau Gaillard, his beloved ‘saucy castle’, bane of King Philip’s life; the king, bless him, had declared in his usual single-minded way that the place was impregnable and when Philip had suggested the contrary, Richard had shouted colourfully that he would hold his beloved castle on the rock from his lifelong enemy even if its walls were made of butter. What a flamboyant, towering figure the world had lost with the king’s death.
They made camp on an outcrop of rock high above the Eure, hurrying now as it approached the greater river. Ninian tended the three horses, while Josse made a simple shelter and set out stones for a hearth. He lit a fire and prepared a meal; their provisions were low, but with luck they would not have to last much longer. When they had eaten, they rolled in blankets and cloaks and were very soon asleep; it had been a long day, following an even longer night.
Josse woke from a deep sleep and lay quite still, wondering what had disturbed him. To his amazement, he thought he heard a baby crying, but the sound ceased and straight away he decided he must have heard a vixen’s shriek, or a night bird’s cry. Either that or the small sound had been part of a dream. He turned on his side and went back to sleep.
They set out early the next morning. Close to their destination, they stopped at an inn to eat breakfast and do what they could to wash themselves and brush the travel stains off their clothing. Then they rode on and, shortly before midday, came to Rouen.
Queen Eleanor had told Josse she would be in the city by mid-July. He was not entirely sure what the date was, but he thought June had turned into July a few days past. It was very likely that he and Ninian would reach Rouen before her, in which case they could find somewhere comfortable to stay and have a well-deserved rest. On the other hand, it might be later than he thought and she could be there already; it was because of this that he had insisted he and Ninian smarten themselves up.
They ate the midday meal at a busy tavern by the river. Josse listened to the chatter all around him and soon it became clear that a very grand visitor was in residence at the castle where she expected her son, the newly proclaimed King John, to join her at the end of the month.
Josse finished his meal and waited while Ninian wolfed down a second helping. Josse felt strangely calm: he had the answer he had gone searching for and he looked forward to revealing all that he had discovered to Queen Eleanor. He made himself concentrate on that happy prospect to the exclusion of everything else. He did not dare think about Joanna. The time would come when he would have to, he knew it, but he would try to wait until he was back home in England. There he could be sure of the support of people who loved him to help him through his grief.
Ninian had finished at last. Leaving the horses in the inn’s stables, they set off for the castle.
Josse had explained to Ninian why they were in Rouen and what they had to do. The boy had accepted it without comment and Josse had believed he was not particularly anxious at the prospect of telling his story to the queen. If only, Josse mused, he knew… But it was not his secret to tell and firmly he arrested the thought.
Now, however, as they waited in a huge anteroom for the summons to go before the queen, Ninian looked very nervous. He was probably reliving that terrible night in the tower, Josse thought. Such memories would be enough to make anyone look apprehensive.
The servant who had taken Josse’s message to the queen returned and led the way up some wide stone stairs, along a corridor, up some more steps and into a large room sumptuously furnished with beautifully carved chairs, chests and tables, its walls hung with colourful tapestries whose general theme seemed to be the lauding of the Plantagenets and their deeds. Queen Eleanor was seated in a high-backed chair on a low dais. She nodded an acknowledgement to Josse’s low, respectful bow and, dismissing both the servant and the two ladies who had been sitting beside her, beckoned him forward. Ninian remained by the doorway.
Josse kneeled before her, lowered his head and said, ‘My lady, your son the late king was on the Ile d’Oleron that night in March.’ He heard her quick, sharp intake of breath. ‘His purpose, however, was not to participate in what was going on in the tower at World’s End but to stop it.’
There was a long silence. Josse did not dare look up. Presently the queen said, ‘You are quite sure of this?’ Her voice was low and oddly hesitant, as if, having steeled herself for bad news, she could not quite believe that it was not forthcoming.
‘Utterly certain,’ Josse said firmly. ‘The… er, the night’s proceedings were under way and someone was being held there awaiting.. well, waiting to be taken to the upper chamber. King Richard found out what was going on — indeed, what had apparently been going on for some time, for the men who were there that night met often — and he recognized that what they were doing was an outrage that abused your territory and must not be allowed to continue. He broke up the… er, the meeting and rescued the person who had been imprisoned.’
The queen did not speak for a moment. Then she said, ‘Sir Josse, look at me.’
Reluctantly he raised his head and stared into her deep, dark eyes. ‘My lady?’
‘We both know what went on in that tower,’ she said very softly, ‘and I applaud your reserve in not going into details. What you are telling me is that my son prevented the grave misuse and death of a young man?’
‘Aye, he did.’ There was no need to mention the first poor lad, tortured and killed before the king got there.
‘And you have spoken to this man? He has told you himself that my son saved his life?’
Josse risked a smile. ‘Aye, my lady. Better than that, I’ve brought him with me so he can tell you himself. May I present him to you?’
Her eyes were looking over his head towards Ninian, standing unbowed at the back of the room. ‘This is the man? Sir Josse, he’s little more than a boy!’
‘He is fourteen, madam.’
‘A boy,’ she repeated under her breath. Josse, watching her, saw her expression and wondered if she was only now appreciating the full horror of what they had done at World’s End. Then, with a curt nod, she said, ‘Bring him forward.’
Josse beckoned to Ninian and watched as he walked gracefully up to the dais and bowed before the queen. As he straightened up, the queen stared down into his face and Josse thought he heard her give a tiny gasp. Then, recovering, she said, ‘What is your name?’
‘Ninian de Courtenay, my lady.’
‘And where do you come from? I feel that I recognize the name but I cannot place it.’
‘It is the name of my mother’s kin, madam.’
The queen was still staring at him, a faint frown deepening the creases on her brow. ‘De Courtenay… I believe I once met a Marie de Courtenay, but she would have been too old to be your mother — your grandmother, perhaps.’ She shook her head as if to free it from that thought and, with an obvious effort, smiled at Ninian and said, ‘But we are not here to discuss your grandmother. You have something to tell me, I am told?’
With a shining and very apparent honesty, Ninian told his tale. Josse noticed with interest and approval that the boy too obeyed the same instinct as he had done himself not to risk distressing the queen. Like Josse, he did not speak of the true horror of what had happened that night.
‘And King Richard took you and your master out to his ship?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
Josse went to say something but stopped himself. You did not speak to a queen; you waited until she spoke to you.
She must have sensed he had something to add. ‘Sir Josse?’
‘Madam, it was the man who rowed the king, the boy and his master to the ship who disclosed the secret of the king’s presence on Oleron that night,’ he said. ‘He spoke the truth, my lady.’
The queen smiled. ‘No need to remind me, Sir Josse,’ she said with discernible irony. ‘I promise I shall not have the man arrested and his tongue slit for telling lies.’
Josse hung his head, but the queen said, ‘Sir Josse?’ and he looked up at her. She studied him for a few moments. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You have removed a terrible fear from my mind. Now I shall indeed be able to let my son rest in peace.’ There was a short silence, as if all three of them were paying silent homage to the dead king.
