The Enchanter's Forest Read online

  ‘Aye,’ the lad confirmed. ‘Go on in, sir.’

  Josse tethered Horace and ran up the steps to the door. He heard voices: an old man, a young woman and Gervase. Pausing, he identified the first two: Sabin de Retz and her elderly grandfather.

  They were Bretons from the town of Nantes and they had fled to England in February of the previous year when their lives were in danger. Gervase had taken them under his protection and he and Sabin had promptly fallen in love. For the past fourteen months or so, Sabin had been trying to make up her mind whether to return to Nantes or remain in Tonbridge. She was an apothecary, taught by her grandfather; he had brought her up after the deaths of her parents. He was now all but blind and his unwillingness to face the long journey back to Nantes was one of the factors affecting Sabin’s decision. She had steadily built up a clientele in and around the town and her fame was spreading; there was a living for her and old Benoît in Tonbridge and it was hers for the taking.

  But the pair of them had also had a fine and rewarding life back in Nantes, where they had been the confidential servants of an important figure. Josse, aware of the bare bones of Sabin’s dilemma, had sympathised with the young woman: hers was not an easy choice.

  He went on into Gervase’s hall. The argument stopped and Gervase and Sabin hailed him; Benoît’s quavery tones demanded, ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s Josse.’ Josse went up to him, bending down so that the old man, seated on a bench by the fireplace, could peer into his face.

  ‘Josse,’ Benoît said on a sigh. ‘Josse, they’re going off and leaving me all on my own! They’ll be away so long – why, I might very well be dead by the time they return! If they return,’ he added dismally.

  ‘Grandfather, of course we shall return!’ Exasperation was apparent in Sabin’s voice as she swept across to kneel at the old man’s feet and take hold of his hands. ‘And as for leaving you on your own, you know that isn’t true. Gervase’s servants have been given detailed orders on how you are to be looked after.’

  ‘It won’t be the same. Won’t be like having my own kin at my side,’ the old man moaned.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Sabin said. ‘But I have to go – you know that as well as I do, Grandfather. We sent word to the Duchess explaining our absence, and I’m sure she has realised by now that we’re not going back. But, for the trust that she placed in us in the past and for the affection that grew between us, I cannot rest until I have seen her and explained myself to her face to face.’ Abruptly she dropped Benoît’s hands, throwing herself away from him. ‘Oh, try to understand!’

  Gervase, eyeing Josse, gave a faint apologetic shrug. Then, turning to Benoît, he said firmly, ‘You understand very well, I think, Benoît.’ The old man had the grace to look ashamed. ‘It is only natural that you do not like the prospect of Sabin’s absence but, knowing what this trip means to her, you will surely give her your blessing.’ It sounded more like a command than a question and Josse hid an admiring smile; Gervase appeared to have the measure of the old man.

  ‘I don’t know about blessing,’ Benoît muttered, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes and peering up in Gervase’s general direction.

  Gervase moved closer, adopting Sabin’s former position at the old man’s feet. ‘She has made up her mind at last in the matter of a decision that has been extremely hard,’ he said gently. ‘Your welfare has been a major factor in her consideration and she was willing to give up what she herself wanted if you did not wish it.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back to Nantes!’ Benoît wailed. ‘I’m too old for such a journey and it would be the finish of me!’

  ‘Which,’ Gervase said – and Josse could almost hear the gritting of teeth – ‘is precisely why you’re going to stay here. Sabin will be back with you again very soon, but first you must let her do what she has to do. She will not rest easy until she has spoken to the Duchess.’

  Benoît gazed into Gervase’s eyes. ‘You’ll take good care of her?’ he whispered.

  Gervase smiled. ‘You know that I will. I give you my word to protect her with my life.’

  ‘Hm.’ The old man turned his head to where he thought Sabin stood. ‘Sabin?’

  ‘Here, Grandfather.’ She hurried to his side.

  Benoît gave a dramatic sigh and, placing a hand on each of the two heads before him, one brown, one fair, he said, ‘Go, then, and may the good Lord above keep you in his care. Do what you must, Granddaughter, and then return to me.’

  There was a short silence, and then Sabin murmured, ‘Thank you, Grandfather.’

  The old man dropped his hands back into his lap and Gervase and Sabin stood up. Then Benoît got to his feet with a groan – Josse noticed how both the two young people instantly went to help him – and said, ‘Now, all this has tired me. I shall retire to my bed and take a nap.’ He shrugged off the helping hands and shuffled off towards the doorway at the rear of the hall. Reaching it, he turned.

  ‘Oh, Sabin?’

  ‘Yes, Grandfather?’

  ‘You say you intend to fetch back from Nantes as many of the tools of our trade as you can carry. Well, while you’re at it, bring the smaller of my two herbals, will you? I would dearly like to look at it again before my sight fails entirely.’

  And with that remark, punctuated by a couple more sighs, he went through the doorway and out of sight.

  Josse heard a quiet sob; Gervase heard it too and went to Sabin, taking her in his arms and whispering words of comfort. After a few moments she wiped her eyes and, giving Josse a smile, said, ‘I apologise for my tears. Grandfather has the ability to make me feel so very sorry for him and, although I know full well he knows exactly what he’s doing, still it affects me.’

  ‘I understand,’ Josse said. ‘It’s hard to ignore the appeal of blood kin and to do so would take a sterner heart than yours, Sabin.’ He returned her smile with genuine affection; he had developed a high regard for her. Then: ‘So you’ve made up your mind?’

  Now her smile was radiant. ‘Yes. I shall return to Nantes to see the Duchess and collect what Grandfather and I require of our possessions there. I have work enough and more here in Tonbridge to keep myself occupied and, there being still a great deal that Grandfather may teach me of our craft, he too will have a useful and fulfilling life.’ She shot a glance at Gervase and her face flushed pink. ‘There is one more thing to tell you. Gervase and I are to be married.’

  Josse held out both hands and Gervase took one, Sabin the other. ‘I am not in the least surprised but I confess myself quite delighted,’ he said warmly. ‘You will be an asset, dear Sabin, to both town and husband.’

  She laughed, leaning forward to kiss him on both cheeks. He noticed, as he had done when first he met her, the faint and attractive smell that he guessed to be a melange of the herbs that she worked with. It was, he thought absently, the trademark of the apothecary . . .

  ‘. . . just finished briefing my men and Sabin and I are off to Brittany as soon as we can,’ Gervase was saying.

  ‘What?’ Despite having listened to the discussion of this trip that had just been batted to and fro, Josse had not made the connection. ‘But – I am bound for Brittany too! I am aiming to leave at first light tomorrow.’

  Gervase and Sabin looked at each other, and then back at Josse. ‘Why?’ Gervase demanded. Quickly Josse told him about the problem of Merlin’s Tomb, adding that the reason for his present visit to Gervase had been to inform him that, in Josse’s opinion, the whole operation was almost certainly fraudulent. He explained that the decision had been made for him to be shown the real tomb of Merlin, over in Brittany, and that this was why he was being sent there. ‘So you go on a mission for Hawkenlye Abbey,’ Gervase mused, ‘where the monks and the nuns and the good Abbess must for sure be missing their usual pilgrims?’

  ‘In part, aye, but it is also to prevent a great many people paying out hard-earned money to a trickster,’ Josse returned promptly.

  Gervase bowed his ac
knowledgement. ‘Of course.’ Then: ‘Do you agree to our riding together, Josse? I have given my word to Benoît that I will take good care of Sabin’ – he gave her a loving look – ‘but how much safer she will be with you also at her side.’

  ‘I agree right readily,’ Josse said, ‘I plan to leave tomorrow: can you be prepared to depart by then?’

  Gervase looked at Sabin. Shooting a swift glance at the doorway through which her grandfather had gone and biting her lip, she said, ‘Yes. Of course.’ Then, taking a breath so deep that it raised her tense shoulders, ‘The sooner we leave, the sooner we shall return.’

  ‘I must inform you,’ Josse said, ‘that I will not be alone.’

  ‘Who is to accompany you, Josse?’ Sabin asked. ‘Somebody from the Abbey?’

  ‘No. If I’m to find the location of the true burial place of Merlin I’ll need help, for I am told it lies deep in a forest. A guide has been arranged for me.’ He met Gervase’s eyes and read in them understanding and pity. ‘Joanna is going to show me the way.’

  Gervase nodded. ‘The obvious choice, of course. And how do you feel about that?’

  Josse frowned, then suddenly smiled. He said, aware that it was something of an understatement, ‘Fine.’

  Joanna stood just outside the gates of Hawkenlye Abbey, Meggie sitting on the ground beside her yawning hugely, and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. I will be better, she kept telling herself, as soon as I have seen him and we have acknowledged one another.

  Oh, hurry up, Josse, she pleaded silently. Where are you? What are you doing, that keeps me waiting in this painful suspense? To take her mind off her anxiety, she thought back to the extraordinary happenings of the past twenty-four hours.

  It had begun with a visit from the Domina to Joanna’s little hut deep in the forest late in the evening two days ago. Not that there had been anything in that to alert Joanna to what was to come, for the next day was Midsummer’s Eve and Joanna had an important role in the ceremony that would take place that night as the Sun moved from the constellation of Gemini into that of Cancer. It was a special night for her people, even more special than usual, for this year there was a clutch of powerful planets in the summer signs of Gemini, Cancer and Leo. In addition, the ascendant was in the fire sign of Aries and was not fire the very symbol of the Sun himself?

  But the Domina had not come to issue any last-minute instructions concerning Joanna’s role in the forthcoming ceremony. Instead, the moment that Joanna straightened up from her low and respectful bow, the Domina said, ‘A fraudulent Tomb of Merlin has been set up on the Forest’s southern fringes. We wish to stop this sacrilege and therefore you will go to Armorica, to where the Fountain of Merlin issues out of the ground close to our healing place of Folle-Pensée. With you will go the knight Josse and there, with one of our Great Ones, you will lead him to this place so that he will be convinced it is the true burial site of the magician Merlin. On Josse’s return, his word will be sufficient for the false tomb to be exposed.’

  Shock coursed through Joanna and she felt the fast, alarmed thumping of her heart. ‘But I—’ I cannot, she wanted to cry. I must not be with Josse, for the sweet pain is more than we can bear and hence I have arranged matters so that we remain apart.

  One did not, however, say I cannot to the Domina. Joanna bowed her head.

  ‘Very good,’ the Domina murmured. ‘Tomorrow night we celebrate the Solstice. Before that you must prepare yourself and your child for departure early the following morning. You will make your way to Hawkenlye, where you will find the man Josse awaiting you.’

  ‘I may take Meggie?’ Joanna raised her eyes and stared at the Domina, hardly able to believe what she had just heard.

  The Domina smiled faintly. ‘Yes, Joanna. You go on a mission whose success is vital to your people’ – to us? Joanna wondered; she could appreciate how a spurious Merlin’s Tomb could badly affect the Abbey, which explained Josse’s involvement, but why did it matter so very much to the Forest Folk? – ‘but it is not likely that there will be danger and so there is no reason for your child to be robbed of her mother’s company and care.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Joanna said meekly. Her question must remain unanswered; one did not say why? to the Domina any more than I cannot.

  ‘Besides,’ the Domina added, with a wry look, ‘it would be a brave woman or man who undertook to keep your little girl happy when you were not there.’

  Uncertain whether this remark implied praise or criticism – she rather thought the latter – Joanna bowed again and with courteous ceremony escorted the Domina across the clearing to where the path led away into the forest.

  Knowledge of what was to come – and a considerable amount of trepidation – meant that Joanna threw herself all the more fervently into the festival of Midsummer Eve. She needed help and giving all of herself to this night of honouring her gods was the best way that she knew to ask for it. It was not the practicalities that bothered her; the help that she would be begging for was in working out how on earth she was going to cope with being with Josse.

  She was fairly certain that she could find her way to Folle-Pensée, for she had been there before and in the course of her long training she had been taught to learn a route thoroughly the first time she took it so that she would not forget if she had to go back. Once there, the Domina’s scant orders had implied that someone else – one of the Great Ones, no less – would be instrumental in providing whatever it took to persuade Josse that Merlin lay buried there. This Joanna found a great relief for, as far as she could recall, her people were ambiguous about whether or not this was true, despite the local Armorican people’s firm belief in both Merlin and his miraculous powers.

  It was a relief because Joanna realised that she would not be able to tell Josse a lie, even if the Domina herself stood over her and gave her a direct order.

  And that, she thought uncomfortably, might be more than a little awkward . . .

  She packed up her leather satchel, folding up a change of clothing for herself and Meggie, her small portable pack of herbal remedies, certain charms without which she never strayed far and a suede bag containing items for her own and Meggie’s personal care. She also squeezed in some strips of dark, dried meat – she only ate the flesh of animals if she was desperate, but a long journey might well throw up such a situation, even in high summer – and a handful of the small, sweet apples that Meggie loved. Then she put the satchel aside and turned her thoughts to the ceremony.

  It had been spectacular. The enormous fire had been lit at sunset, its great light blazing forth as if to implore the Sun’s presence and draw down His light. Joanna had wondered whether any reference would be made to her forthcoming mission to Armorica – perhaps a prayer asking for its success and her safe return – but she ought to have known better, for the forest people were secretive even amongst themselves.

  A highly respected bard had told one of the ancient myths, accompanied by a group of people dressed in black, their faces masked with green leaves, who enacted the dramatic events of which the bard sang. Their dark silhouettes against the firelight had inspired fear and awe. There had followed dancing and feasting, then, at a signal from the Domina, all of the people had followed her to a small hillock deep in the forest, where a winding path circled its way up to the summit. At the peak they stood and waited and there, eventually, the first light of the new-born Sun appeared.

  Joanna had been awarded the honour of taking the first flame from the Domina’s torch and bearing it back to the clearing where the festivities had been held. She had worked very hard and was word perfect in the long chant that she sang all the way; the moment when she led the people back to the light of the dying fire, and suddenly they all joined in and sang with her, would stay with her for ever.

  She had finally crawled on to the sleeping platform in her little hut more than two hours after sunrise, only to be woken by Lora – who had cared for Meggie while Joanna was doing her torch-bearing duty – far
too short a time later.

  Now, standing as straight and as still as she could outside the Abbey gates, Joanna felt the excitement and exertion of the night catch up with her. Meggie was leaning against her mother’s legs, slumped and almost asleep; it would not have taken much for Joanna to have lain down on the grass and joined her.

  But suddenly she heard voices and the sound of horses’ hooves on stone; squaring her shoulders, she moved slightly until she could get a clear view of who was approaching.

  Josse was walking along at the side of a fair-haired young woman who was laughing in response to a remark of Josse’s. She looked very happy, as if something very nice had just happened. Josse was leading his big horse – Horace, wasn’t it? – and the woman held the reins of a dainty grey mare whose wide eyes and delicately arched neck suggested good blood.

  Pain scorching her, Joanna thought, ah, I see! Josse and his fine lady are to ride and I am to trudge along behind like the hired help! Oh, how could he!

  Giving Meggie a nudge to rouse her, Joanna raised her chin and stepped forward to greet him.

  Josse saw her standing in the gateway and felt as if some unseen hand had grasped hold of his heart.

  She stood tall and proud, her dark hair neatly braided and the two plaits hanging down to her waist. She wore a robe of fine wool, dyed to a shade of green that seemed to mingle the colours of the forest and blend them into a shade that somehow carried something of them all. The gown was fastened at the shoulders with gold clasps. On her feet she wore beautifully sewn leather sandals, substantial enough for a long journey, and a satchel hung from her arm. Protruding from its flap was a short wooden rod into one end of which had been fixed a translucent brown crystal. At her feet was what appeared to be a soft woollen blanket, rolled up neatly and tied with a cord.

  Meggie, looking heavy-eyed, stood beside her, her thumb in her mouth. She was tracing shapes in the dust with one foot and did not look up.

  Joanna did. Her dark eyes were glaring up at Josse with such ferocity that he stopped dead.