The Paths of the Air (36 page)

He shook his head in wonder. I ought to be used to her and her weird powers by now, he thought, but I'm not. I'm not sure if any normal, human man ever could be. The thought that swiftly followed – if a human couldn't hope to understand Joanna, then what did that make her? – slipped in and out of his consciousness so swiftly that he barely noticed it. It was dark, Meggie was fast asleep and Joanna was lying in his arms.

He had other things on his mind.

The dead had to be accounted for.

Gervase de Gifford was satisfied that in several cases the murderer was dead: Kathnir killed the Turk Touros and died at the hands of William and Tancred, who were also responsible for the death of Brother Jeremiah and the fire in Tonbridge Priory's guest wing. Tancred died fighting Josse and John Damianos, and William was slain by Josse to save John's life.

‘Except that he's not really called John Damianos, is he?' Gervase said with an ironic lift of his eyebrows. He and Josse were riding out to the old manor house in the forest, Dominic and Paradisa behind them.

‘No,' Josse agreed.

Gervase looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘I must get used to calling him Dominic Warin, I suppose,' he said. Then, bitingly: ‘And I only have his and your word, Josse, as to how these two Franks were slain.' Pretending surprise, he added, ‘Both killed by you, as it happens, fighting for your life, you say, alongside this son of your extremely good friend Abbess Helewise.'

Josse waited until he had his anger under control. Then he said, not for the first time, ‘Tancred would have killed me had I not struck the fatal blow before he did. And William virtually had his knife in Dominic's throat and was about to kill him.' He added stiffly, ‘I will swear to it if you wish.'

There was quite a long pause. Then Gervase said, ‘Your word is enough.'

The mood between them was definitely chilly. Gervase had been intensely curious about that strange, round indentation in William's forehead and Josse's explanation – that William fell on his face and the stone must have embedded itself, only to fall out and roll away into the grass – sounded feeble, even to Josse's ears. He was tempted to say more but it was not his secret to tell.

They rode on in silence until at last – and it was not nearly soon enough for Josse – the old manor came into view.

Paradisa told her story and again Josse noticed the scepticism in Gervase's eyes. It was as if the sheriff was thinking, ah, but it is too easy! These people all swear that the killings were justified, done in self-defence or in defence of the innocent, but since they all bear witness for each other, how am I to decide if they speak the truth?

Paradisa led them to the place in the trees where she had buried the body of Akhbir. Gervase stared down in silence and then observed that it was a long way for a woman to carry the body of a grown man.

Paradisa said tonelessly, ‘I did not carry him. I tied a rope around him and fastened the other end to my horse's saddle. I dragged him to his grave, and I bitterly regret both the treatment and the fact that I was not able to dig the grave deep enough. I have had dreams of his body being dug up and eaten by wild creatures.' A sob escaped her, hastily suppressed, and she put her hands up to hide her face. Dominic put his arm around her. Gervase went on staring down at the man-shaped mound of earth. Then abruptly he turned away.

He and Josse rode back towards Hawkenlye without a word being spoken. When they reached the place where Gervase's road down to Tonbridge branched off, he drew rein. He looked Josse in the eye and, nodding in the direction of the young couple, said, ‘You can tell them I'm satisfied.'

‘I will,' Josse said. ‘Thank you.'

‘But, Josse, next time—' Gervase bit off whatever he had been about to say. Then: ‘Just remember who's sheriff around here.'

He touched his cap, put spurs to his horse and cantered away.

Perhaps Sabin de Gifford had sufficient tact and understanding to reason the sheriff out of his bad mood at what he clearly saw as a challenge to his authority, if not worse. Either that or he came to his senses by himself. Sabin sent word that she and Gervase would come to the Abbey on Dominic and Paradisa's wedding day to add their congratulations and good wishes.

Josse learned of this with relief. Gervase was just too good a friend to lose.

The day of the wedding began misty and dank and there was a soft, chilly rain in the air. The nuns and the monks, eyeing the weather and trying to smile, endlessly repeated the old saying
rain at dawn, sun by mid-morn
, and at least some of them believed it. The sceptics were proved wrong. As the church emptied after sext, the congregation looked up to see that the clouds had cleared. By the time Dominic and Paradisa stood side by side at the church door, the sun was shining brightly down from a pale winter sky.

Dominic was the first to make his vow, saying in a strong voice that carried right to the back of the crowd, ‘I do take you, Paradisa, as my wife,' and straight away she echoed the words. Rings were handed to Father Gilbert to be blessed, and then he returned them to the young couple and they placed them on each other's hands. The priest led them into the church and up to the altar, where they knelt while he prayed. Then he blessed them and the entire congregation broke into joyous song.

After the ceremony came the celebration.

Josse moved among the crowds spilling out into the cloister, the stable yard and every other available space. He had a pewter mug of excellent French wine in his hand. He was grabbed and greeted by many people: the Abbess's elder son, Leofgar, was there with his wife Rohaise, four-year-old Timus and his two-year-old sister, Little Helewise, the children dressed in their best and bubbling with excitement. Leofgar looked pale and Rohaise confided to Josse that her husband and his brother had been up most of the previous night catching up on the years of Dominic's absence, ‘and talking is such thirsty work, is it not, Josse?' she added with a lovely smile.

He moved on, stopping – or being stopped – with increasing frequency. Among the guests were former patients who had been treated in the infirmary, including some who had been plague sufferers; ordinary people who had cause to be deeply thankful to Hawkenlye Abbey and who had come to express their gratitude on this special day. They all wanted to wring Josse's hand and he was moved at being among so many people who seemed to regard him as a friend. It was quite something, when you considered that—

He saw Joanna.

She was standing just inside the Abbey gates, Meggie holding her hand and looking eagerly about with wide eyes. On Joanna's other side stood a slim, erect figure cloaked in grey. As Josse approached, all three turned to look at him – Meggie shouted with delight, ‘Josse!
Josse!
' – and he saw that the Domina had come to bestow her good wishes on the newly married couple.

He greeted the Great One with a deep, respectful bow. As he straightened up and met her strange, other-worldly eyes, he hoped he was not the only person there who knew just what an honour this was. Joanna murmured that she would escort the Domina over to where the Abbess sat beside her son and his bride, on a bench in the sunny cloister. ‘Of course,' Josse said.

The two women moved away, Meggie between them turning to give her father a beaming smile. Just for a moment Joanna turned, too. She looked straight into Josse's eyes and mouthed the one word,
Later
.

With a secret smile, he continued on his round. Joanna had just made the day perfect.

Late in the afternoon, Josse found himself sitting beside Dominic in the refectory. Not entirely sure how he came to be there, Josse turned with what he hoped was a sensible and sober face and said, ‘Well, Dominic, what a wonderful day!'

Dominic gave him a happy smile. ‘Yes,' he said quietly. He glanced at Paradisa, sitting on his other side. The neckline of her deep green velvet gown had slipped a little and the tops of her breasts were exposed, the skin pale cream, the flesh firm and rounded. ‘
Yes
,' he repeated.

There was a sudden fierce erotic charge in the air.

‘Have some more wine,' said Dominic, reaching out for the jug and topping up Josse's mug.

‘Thank you.'

There was a pause while both men sipped the excellent wine. Then Josse said, ‘Why did you not bring Paradisa to New Winnowlands when you came in the guise of John Damianos? It must have been dreadful to be separated when you knew she was in such peril.'

‘It was,' Dominic said quietly. ‘But I felt that her peril was even greater if she was with me. I hoped to keep the hiding place in the undercroft a secret from the entire world. I believed one or more of my pursuers would pick up my trail in the end and I wanted to make sure it led somewhere else.'

‘You succeeded,' Josse said. ‘And it was to see her and check on her safety that you slipped away each night?'

Dominic met his eyes. ‘Yes, Josse. Although that was not
all
I did.'

Aye, Josse thought with a smile. The Abbess was quite right to insist that this marriage take place without delay . . .

There was something he wanted to say. It concerned a very important matter and he had not been able to find a suitable moment. Now, quite drunk, the suitability no longer seemed important. ‘What do you think of New Winnowlands?' he demanded.

Dominic looked surprised. ‘Your estate? It's fine. A good place, with rich pasture. Your people seem all right, too.' He leaned closer. ‘You might do better moving your sheep to the higher ground during the winter. That way you'll rest the summer grazing on the marshland. It's fertile soil but sheep can damage it in the wet months. Also I reckon some of your land might be suitable for wheat. It might be an idea to keep some of the pasture back for making hay for winter fodder.'

Josse sat back in amazement. ‘You know all that, just from the short time you were there?'

Dominic smiled. ‘I just kept my eyes open. Most of it's pretty obvious, Josse.'

‘It might be obvious to you but it certainly isn't to me,' Josse said ruefully. ‘I'm a soldier. I know nothing about farming the land.'

‘You don't really need to all the time you have Will,' Dominic remarked.

Josse fell silent. What he had just heard made the matter he wanted to put before Dominic all the more imperative. Without further thought he said, ‘New Winnowlands is too big for me and I don't give it the devotion it deserves. If you and Paradisa need a home, I would like you to come and live there. There's plenty of room but if you'd prefer to have the main house to yourselves, I'll build a smaller place on the other side of the courtyard.' He grinned. ‘I might even move into your outbuilding.'

Dominic's expression turned swiftly from shocked surprise to laughter. ‘Oh, I see. You were joking.'

Josse grabbed his arm, spilling quite a lot of Dominic's wine. ‘No, I'm not. Will you come?'

Dominic fixed Josse with a very direct stare. ‘Do you mean it?'

‘Aye.'

Dominic frowned. ‘It's true that we are in sore need of a home. My brother Leofgar and his wife have offered to put us up until we find a place to settle but to be honest, Josse, it's not the start to married life that I'd envisaged, what with us being so used to it being just the two of us. Don't think I'm ungrateful – it's very generous of him and Rohaise to have made the offer. But . . .' He trailed to a stop.

Josse understood his misgivings. ‘Come to New Winnowlands, then. Make it your home.'

Dominic lowered his head and Josse guessed he was thinking hard. Letting his eyes roam around the room, Josse spotted the Abbess, sitting beside the Domina – good Lord, was she still there? – talking animatedly. The Abbess. Helewise. It was as if his heart had suddenly altered, becoming softer, kinder. She's the sort of woman, he thought, who—

He did not finish the thought. Dominic was leaning over towards him and he spoke directly into Josse's ear. ‘I was just about to ask you,' he whispered, ‘why you were making this incredibly generous offer. But I don't think there's any need, do you?'

Guiltily Josse wrenched his gaze away from the Abbess. Too late; he was quite sure Dominic knew exactly where he had been looking. Then he thought, why should I feel guilty? Why should I try to hide my feelings, even if I could, from this perceptive, intelligent son of hers?

He turned to Dominic. ‘I love your mother and have done so for years,' he said quietly. ‘It is true that I would do anything within my power to help her or to make her happy. But I would not have offered you New Winnowlands if I couldn't abide the thought of having you living so close. Fortunately I can.'

Dominic watched him intently for a moment. Then a smile spread across his face. Lowering his voice and leaning closer to Josse, he said, ‘May I tell Paradisa? You're not going to change your mind when you're sober?'

Josse grinned. It was true he was drunk, but not that drunk. ‘I won't change my mind. Tell her as soon as you like, and with my blessing.'

Helewise had gone outside into the last of the late afternoon light to take some fresh air. She went along the cloister and sank down onto a bench. Presently she saw with pleasure that Josse was weaving his not entirely steady way towards her. She smiled up at him, patting the bench beside her. He returned her smile and sank down.

For some time they did not speak. Then she said, ‘I wish he had come here openly when first he visited Hawkenlye. I – we could have helped him.'

‘He could not risk making himself known to you,' Josse said immediately.

‘Why?' she demanded.

She thought she heard Josse sigh. Then he said, ‘Because he would have put you in the position of defending him from his many enemies, whether or not you wanted to.'

‘Of course I would want to!'

Now the sigh was very audible. ‘Helewise, how could he know that? You're the Abbess of Hawkenlye, a respected authority figure with considerable power. One of the men pursuing Dominic was a Knight Hospitaller. Even your own son might just recognize a possible conflict of loyalties.'