Ashes of the Elements (11 page)

She marched through the door and along the length of the room, stopping at the foot of the cot occupied by the old woman with the cough.

‘Hilde!’ she said, in a loud voice. ‘I have brought Abbess Helewise and Sir Josse d’Acquin.’ If she had hoped to cower the old woman by announcing Helewise and Josse so loudly and grandly, then, Helewise observed, Euphemia was in for a disappointment.

‘Oh, aye?’ Hilde said hoarsely. ‘Nice, it is, to have visitors! Good day, lady! Good day, Sir Knight!’

Sister Euphemia was shaking her head in annoyance. ‘Never mind all that! Hilde, kindly tell the Abbess here what you just told me! Right now, if you please!’

The three of them waited while Hilde shifted first to the left, then to the right, punched the straw-filled pillow a couple of times, coughed, then settled herself comfortably. Clearly, she was intending to make the most of the brief attention. ‘Well,’ she began slowly, ‘I heard you’re looking for that sister, the pretty blue-eyed one with the white novice’s veil?’

‘Yes!’
Sister Euphemia said crossly. ‘Do get on with it!’

‘Didn’t ought to be a nun, that one,’ Hilde said. ‘Too pretty, like I says. Ought to be warming some fellow’s bed at night, eh, Sir Knight?’ She shot a look at Josse and cackled with laughter, which brought on a violent fit of coughing.

Sister Euphemia, at once the caring nurse, sat down beside her, supporting the thin shoulders while Hilde coughed and choked. Then, when the fit began to subside, she gave her first some sips of water, and then a measure of some light-coloured syrup from a stoppered glass bottle.

‘Aaagh,’ Hilde said, lying back again, ‘I reckon I’m not long for this world!’ Having closed both eyes, she opened one again, just a slit, to take stock of how her performance was being received.

‘Do you think you could stay with us long enough to impart this vital information?’ Helewise said gently, smiling down at the old woman.

Hilde opened her eyes again. Grinning a gap-toothed smile in reply to Helewise’s, she said, ‘Aye, Abbess. Reckon I could.’ Abandoning her delaying tactics, she said, with admirable brevity, ‘If you want to know where Sister Caliste’s gone, I can tell you. She’s gone into the forest.’

‘Into the
forest
?’ Helewise and Josse spoke together, with the same surprise. Although, Helewise thought, I don’t know why I, at least, should be surprised. Not after I witnessed the girl emitting that weird humming. As if she were calling out to the great tract of woodland.

Or – which was even more unnerving – answering its summons to her.

‘What did Sister Caliste say, exactly?’ Josse was asking Hilde.

‘She said she weren’t going far,’ Hilde said, which was reassuring. ‘Said something about the other sister what was in there.’

‘Another sister?’ Helewise queried. ‘Are you quite sure, Hilde?’ She could think of no other nun who had ever expressed the least interest in entering the forest; quite the contrary, she often felt they were too in awe of it, too reluctant even to let the shade of its trees fall upon them. Superstition! Ignorant, stubborn superstition, that was what it was, and it ought to have no place in the minds of women who had given themselves into God’s holy care! In Helewise’s opinion, such sentiments demonstrated a distinct lack of faith in the Heavenly Father’s protective powers.

But: ‘I’m quite sure, Abbess Helewise,’ Hilde was saying firmly. ‘Like I says, I didn’t really catch the full story, but I heard the young ’un say that about the other sister.’

‘Could it have been Sister Tiphaine?’ Josse muttered to Helewise. ‘Gone in to pick mushrooms, or fly agaric, or belladonna?’

‘It’s possible,’ Helewise agreed. ‘After all, Sister Beata did say that Caliste had been sent to Sister Tiphaine for supplies. Perhaps Caliste thought Sister Tiphaine would be in the forest.’ She frowned. ‘But it makes no sense! Even if that had been so, Sister Caliste wouldn’t have known, surely, that Sister Tiphaine was in the woods? And, even more to the point, Sister Caliste would have been back by now!’

Josse put a hand briefly on the back of Helewise’s. A swift light touch, but, she found, reassuring. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Now that we’ve been given a clue as to where she was going,’ he glanced down at Hilde and grinned, ‘I can go after her. I’ll find her, Abbess.’

Helewise and Hilde watched as he strode off down the length of the infirmary, heavy boots making a dull thump, spurs ringing out melodiously.

‘Aaah,’ said Hilde. ‘Fine fellow that, eh, Abbess?’

‘He is an honourable and courageous man,’ Helewise replied somewhat stiffly.

‘Wish I were a dozen years younger,’ the old woman sighed. ‘Well, twenty years, mebbe.’ She sighed again. ‘What I wouldn’t have got up to with a man like that! Abbess, don’t you—’

Whatever Hilde was about to say, Helewise decided it was probably better not to hear it. ‘Thank you, Hilde,’ she interrupted, ‘you’ve been most helpful. Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to see to.’

‘Off you go, Abbess.’

Helewise couldn’t help but notice that, as she turned to go, the old woman gave her an exaggerated and very suggestive wink.

*   *   *

As Josse made his way back into the forest, along the same tracks and paths he had taken the previous night, he had a sudden thought. As he played with it, mentally trying it out, his conviction grew until he was tempted to return to the Abbey and discuss it with the Abbess.

He came to a stop, thinking hard.

Hilde had said that Caliste was going into the forest after another sister. But supposing the old woman hadn’t really heard properly? Had jumped to conclusions – which would have been understandable – and only
thought
that Caliste had meant another nun?

Perhaps what Caliste had really said was that one of the
others
had gone ahead into the forest, and Hilde, on the basis that the others were all nuns, had translated the remark and understood it as ‘one of the sisters’?

I know one of the Hawkenlye community who goes into the forest, Josse thought. At least, I think that’s where she’d been, when I met her on her way back to the Abbey. This very morning.

Had Esyllt returned there now? Was it she whom Caliste had followed?

There was only one way to find out. Deciding that there was little point in dashing back to talk it over with Abbess Helewise, instead Josse hurried on into the forest.

*   *   *

He realised quite soon that he was lost.

He had imagined it would be far easier finding his way in late afternoon than it had been by the moonlight of last night. But, unfortunately, a thick bank of cloud had come up from the west, so that, deep within the trees with no sun to guide him, he had no way of getting his bearings. And, as he was quickly discovering, one path looked much like another. One stand of ancient oaks was indistinguishable from the next.

It began to rain.

With no clear idea which way would lead him further into the forest and which would take him back to the world outside, he crawled into the shelter of a yew tree, pressed his back against its trunk and waited for the rain to stop and the skies to clear.

*   *   *

He sat under his yew tree for a long time. Its dense foliage kept out most of the rain, but sitting still meant that he grew cold. After what seemed like hours, he realised that it had become quite dark.

And that the rain had, at long last, ceased.

He stepped out from under his tree, feeling a sudden and inexplicable urge to thank it for its protection. Going back and putting a hand to the trunk, he actually found himself framing the words.

Fool! he thought, hurrying away. It’s only a tree! It can’t
hear.

Back on the track, he followed it until he came to a clearing. Staring up, he saw a sight that released in him a flood of relief: a perfectly cloudless sky. The moon was full, and riding high, giving nearly as much light as day, and, over to the north, he could make out the Plough and the Pointers.

Now that he knew which way led out of the forest, he felt less inclined to take it. He hadn’t actually achieved anything yet; all he had done was to get himself lost and shelter from the rain beneath a tree. He had found neither Esyllt, Sister Caliste, nor any sign of either of them.

Working out which direction he had taken the previous night, making a mental map of the forest, he stepped out under the brilliant full moon and headed on into the heart of the woods. He was still wearing the talisman, on his leather thong; he reached inside his tunic and, drawing it out, clutched on to it.

*   *   *

Nobody had told Josse that Hamm Robinson had been killed on a full moon night. Exactly one lunar month ago, Hamm had trespassed into the Great Forest, and somebody had spitted him with a spear.

Perhaps it was as well, for Josse’s peace of mind, that he didn’t know it.

*   *   *

More by luck than judgement, Josse found himself back at the grove with the fallen trees. In the midst of congratulating himself on his skill, he was suddenly overcome by an urge as strong, if not stronger, than the strange emotion he had felt underneath the yew tree. Not understanding, and with the sense that he was outside himself, a witness to his own actions, he stepped slowly across to the larger of the trees. Putting out his hands, he held them palm-downwards above the great trunk.

At first he felt nothing. Then, right in the middle of each palm, he began to feel a tingling. It grew swiftly in strength until it was almost burning him, only just tolerable. And, at the same time, he was hit with a devastating sadness, a mourning, almost, for the vast dying thing that lay at his feet.

Moving across to the smaller oak, he repeated the action. This time, as well as sorrow, there was anger.

Someone had killed this tree, deliberately.

And the forest was furious.

Josse felt that fury. Standing there, a profound, deep dread upon him, he began to shake with fear.

Summoning his courage, he stepped away from the fallen trees. Squaring his shoulders, standing up straight, he said softly, ‘“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff do comfort me…”’

He trailed off. No, it was not evil that he feared. He stood in awe of some vast natural power, but it was not an evil force. He was sure of that.

Comforted by the familiar words of the psalm, he took some deep breaths, then set out to explore the far side of the clearing.

Beyond the spot where, according to Josse’s theory, Hamm Robinson, Seth and Ewen had been digging for treasure, there seemed to be another disturbance in the forest floor. Josse hadn’t noticed it the previous night, but now, staring at it, he began to wonder. If he’d been right about the treasure being Roman in origin, then might that not suggest there were other relics of the Romans in this area of the forest?

He made his way carefully to the edge of the clearing. There were stones there, ancient, worked slabs of stone, forming the rough shape of a right-angle … The remains of two walls of a building?

Pushing his way into the undergrowth, Josse followed the line of the better-preserved of the walls. And came to a gap, spanned by a flat slab. A doorway?

Stepping back to have a better look, he tripped over something. Feeling with his hands, he found a circular stone, broken off at an angle.

Hurrying now, he searched first to the right, then to the left. And quickly found five more round stones.

They were, he was certain, column bases. Which, from what little he knew about Roman buildings, strongly suggested that this edifice had been a temple.

He circled the walls, finding the remains of a stone floor, and, leading away from the entrance, a paved road, badly broken up, overgrown, all but gone.

But it was evidence enough. The Romans – or someone – had built a temple here, deep in the forest. They had mined here, that Josse knew already, built their roads here. Now, if he were right, it must be concluded that they had also buried something very valuable out here.

We must come back here with a proper working party, Josse thought, bring ropes and—

He heard voices.

Muttering voices, speaking quietly as if anxious not to be heard.

Very close at hand.

Moving as silently as he could, Josse hurried back into his temple. Crouching down behind the ruined wall, he pulled down a branch of hazel to cover his head and peered out into the clearing.

Two men were approaching the fallen trees, carrying what looked like a spade and a sack. They were still muttering, and Josse thought he could detect fear in the higher pitched of the voices.

‘… still ain’t happy, all the same, not after you-know-what,’ one was saying.

‘Shut up and dig,’ said the other.

And Ewen and Seth clambered down into the hole under the trees and began to shovel out earth.

Josse watched them for some time. Periodically one or other would emerge, put something in the sack, then disappear into the ground again.

When the noise came, it scared Josse as much as it did Seth and Ewen.

It was a humming sound, rather lovely at first. Sweet, like singing. Or chanting, perhaps.

But then, as if the strange music had slid into a scale that no human ever used, it began to chill the very soul. As it grew louder, making the night air vibrate with its sound waves, Josse, crouched down behind his walls, trying to make himself small. Trying to make himself invisible. For, illogical though it was, he was assailed by the fear that there were people out there, watching him from their hiding places, deep-set eyes penetrating the shadows, lighting on him,
knowing
him …

He felt a moment’s pity for Seth and Ewen, out there in the middle of the clearing, exposed and vulnerable. Ewen had his hands over his ears, Seth, clutching the half-full sack to his chest, was trying to look challenging, but succeeding only in looking afraid.

‘Oo’s there?’ Seth shouted. His words made no echo: their sound was instantly cut off, as if someone had closed a mighty door.

‘I’m off!’ Ewen sobbed, running and stumbling out of the clearing. Seth began to go after him, but just at that moment the humming stopped.