Josse made himself stand upright. Fighting to keep his voice level, he said, ‘Whose body?’
The man had had time to realize his mistake. ‘I’m sorry, sir, that I am, really sorry.’
I’m sorry…
‘Who is it?’ Josse shouted.
‘It’s not the little girl. It’s a man, sir.’
Not the little girl. Josse put up his free hand and covered his face, for a moment shutting out the world and simply praying silently, over and over again, Thank you. Then, recalling Geoffroi beside him, he composed his expression and dropped his hand.
‘I will return to the house to leave my son there and to fetch my horse, then I will go with you,’ he said. He was quite surprised at how calm he sounded. ‘Will you wait here for me?’
The men glanced at each other. ‘I should return,’ the first man said dubiously. ‘Sheriff said not to be too long about it, as I was leading one of the groups looking for her.’
‘I’ll stay,’ the other man said. ‘My horse is blowing hard from the ride over here. She’s not as young as she was.’ He gave the mare an affectionate pat.
‘There’s water in the stream that passes under the road, just down there,’ Geoffroi said helpfully, pointing along the track. ‘If you loosen her girths and give her a breather and a good drink, she’ll soon be better.’
The man smiled at him. ‘That’s good advice, young lad,’ he said. ‘I shall do just that.’
Relieved that he had avoided having to take either man back to the house — although he was not entirely sure why — Josse grabbed Geoffroi’s hand and hurried away.
The mare had indeed recovered by the time Josse rode Alfred out on to the track. He had left a message with Tilly to say what had happened and where he was going, and he knew she would deliver it efficiently as soon as any of the others came in. Geoffroi would add any necessary details. The most important thing was to make sure none of them experienced the same shocking moment that he had done, when the man broke the news.
Now Josse followed his companion — whose name, he told Josse, was Tomas — down the road. They rode fast, pushing the horses as hard as they could. On, on, they went, round the great bulge of the forest and the curve that swept past the abbey. A narrow path led off to the left — Josse had ridden that way and knew it led to the forest hamlet of Fernthe — and the main track went on to dip down into a shallow valley. Ahead, Josse knew there was a turning up to the right that led, via a steep-sided and ancient road, up to Saxonbury, but that was not where they were going. Before they reached it, Tomas indicated a trail that led off to the west, quite soon veering to the north-west.
Tomas turned in the saddle and gave Josse an encouraging grin. ‘Not far now,’ he said. He waved a hand to the right. ‘River’s over that way. The body’s on the edge of a little copse of trees beside it.’
The land on either side of the track was flat and few trees grew. Soon Josse was able to make out the stand of oaks. He could see five or six horses, their reins held by a lad scarcely older than Geoffroi, and a group of men stood huddled together. Several of them were banging their arms across their bodies to keep warm.
Josse nudged his heels into Alfred’s sides and the horse took off, passing Tomas and taking the long, gentle rise up to the oak trees at a gallop. He pulled the horse up and, as soon as Alfred was approximately at a standstill, slipped off his back and threw the reins to one of the men.
He had spotted Gervase, crouched over something that lay on the ground, covered by a cloak. He ran up to him, and Gervase, turning to face him, slowly stood up.
‘Who is he?’ Josse demanded. ‘Has he-’ Has he anything to do with Rosamund? he almost said. But that was foolish. However would Gervase be able to tell?
‘I do not know his name,’ Gervase said. His eyes on Josse’s were full of compassion. ‘It is possible that you may.’ He bent down and folded back the cloak.
Josse stared at the dead face. The body lay on its back, arms outstretched, the right leg bent beneath the left, which was extended. It was that of a young man in his early twenties, with long, light-brown hair and a clean- shaven face. His clothes were of good quality, the tunic bound with a rich brocade trim in shades of yellow and gold. There was a large pool of caked blood beneath his left nostril, extending down over his mouth and chin and dribbling on to the tunic, and he had a black eye. A bruise darkened the left side of his jaw.
‘He’s been in a fight,’ Josse said, kneeling down beside Gervase.
‘He has, and he gave as good as he got.’ Gervase uncovered the hands, placed side by side on the corpse’s belly. The knuckles of the right hand were grazed, reddened and swollen. It looked as if one of the punches that the dead man had landed had broken a small bone in his own hand. The left hand was bruised over the first and middle finger knuckles.
‘Not quite as good,’ Josse observed.
‘What’s that?’ Gervase demanded. He sounded tense.
‘You said he gave as good as he got,’ Josse said. ‘He didn’t, for he is dead and his opponent, whoever he was, has fled.’ He straightened up, feeling another twinge in his back.
‘Do you think the blows to his face were enough to kill him?’ Gervase asked.
Josse stared down at the body, trying to bring to mind all that he had ever learned about violent death. ‘I would not have said so,’ he stated eventually. ‘I would guess that he suffered those fists in his face while he was still on his feet and fighting back, for his nose has bled a great deal and the bruising has come out on his face and his hands. Men don’t bleed much once they are dead,’ he added. Sister Euphemia had told him why, once, but he wasn’t sure he remembered the details.
He turned to face Gervase. ‘I’m wondering why you waited here with him until I came to join you,’ he said. ‘It must be quite some time since you found him, and the day is chilly.’
Gervase raised an eyebrow. ‘You are always so insistent that you must be allowed to see a body where it fell, Josse,’ he replied, ‘and I for one do not dare to risk your scorn and your wrath by going against you.’
‘My scorn and my-’ Josse began, and then he realized that Gervase’s tone had been ironic. ‘Aye, well, that’s as maybe,’ he muttered, embarrassed.
He heard Gervase give a soft laugh.
‘I will have a look around,’ Josse announced firmly, choosing to ignore it. He bent down to the body again. ‘There’s little to learn from the spot where he fell — ’ gently he lifted one outstretched arm — ‘and I’d say he went over backwards, perhaps as a result of one of those heavy blows.’ He touched the bare flesh of the throat and then slid his hand inside the costly tunic. ‘His garments are fine quality… and his body is very cold.’ Slowly, he stood up. He looked around, taking in the surroundings. Narrowing his eyes, he stared up into the stand of trees. With a soft exclamation, he hurried up the slope and began a close inspection of the ground.
‘I believe someone camped here,’ he said when Gervase hurried to join him. ‘Look. A horse stood there, and for some time, I would say. There are some oats scattered, and about a horse length away, a pile of droppings.’
‘A single horse,’ Gervase murmured.
‘Aye, and a sizeable animal.’
‘The dead man’s horse?’
‘Perhaps.’ Josse had seen something else and, slowly and carefully, he was moving across to look. ‘There was a camp fire here,’ he said, pointing to where cut turfs had been laid over a patch of burned earth. ‘And one — no, two people lay beside the fire.’ He indicated the areas of flattened grass.
Gervase frowned. ‘Two men camped here but with only one horse. What, they’re Templar Knights, sharing their mount for the sake of brotherhood and poverty?’
Josse grinned briefly. ‘Maybe, but I would suggest rather that the killer rode away on his horse.’
‘What of the victim’s horse?’
‘If, indeed, both victim and murderer rode to this place, then presumably the killer took the dead man’s horse away with him.’ Josse was searching again, slowly circling the trees, but soon he gave up. ‘I can’t read the hoof prints. You and your men have walked and ridden all over the ground, and it’s impossible to say if a mounted man rode away leading a second horse.’
‘So what-?’
Josse held up both hands as if fending Gervase off. ‘No more!’ he exclaimed. ‘I need time to think about what we have found here.’
Gervase held up his hands. ‘Yes, of course.’
They walked side by side back to where Gervase’s men stood around the body.
