Following close behind him — a good place to be, since, apart from anything else, it meant that, with his back to her, she was free to hitch up her skirts and still retain her modesty — she was quickly impressed by how familiar he was with the tracks and the paths of the Great Forest.
The moon was now well risen, and gave sufficient light for the journey to be fairly comfortable; this expedition would, she thought as she carefully took from Josse’s hand a wicked length of bramble whose thorns could have sliced open a cheek, have been an impossibility on a dark or cloudy night. It was wonderful how one’s eyes adjusted, she reflected, because, whereas on first leaving the Abbey, she had been able to make out only vague shapes, now she was seeing details. That little animal run going off into the undergrowth, for example, and that huge beech tree with its tangle of roots half-exposed on the bank, and-
Josse had stopped without warning, and she walked into him.
‘Sorry!’ she said, ‘But-’
‘Hush!’ He glanced at her, looking slightly apologetic for having silenced her so unceremoniously.
‘It’s all right.’ She, too, pitched her voice low. ‘What is it?’
He was standing quite still, turning his head slowly first this way, then that. She waited. After some moments, he shrugged faintly and said, ‘I don’t know. Probably nothing. Shall we go on?’
‘Yes.’
It was apparent to her that he was moving more cautiously now, although he had hardly been reckless or noisy before. He paused frequently, repeating his head-turning, and she realised he was listening.
For what?
Oh, dear Lord, not for that singing! Please, no!
She clutched at the wooden cross that hung around her neck, momentarily terrified.
But then a calm voice inside her head said, and what did you expect? You have heard the chanting, and you know it came from this forest. Is it not more than likely that you are about to hear it again?
She took a deep breath, then another.
It worked. She was still terrified, but at least she felt in control of herself.
Fleetingly she wondered, as she set off once more after Josse, if he was wearing his talisman. Somehow, she thought he probably was.
* * *
They were now deep in the forest. They had come, she reckoned, some two miles or more. Probably more; it was hard to tell, with the frequent stopping, but when they had been moving, they had walked swiftly. Despite everything, a part of her had been revelling in the sheer pleasure of hard physical exercise. It must, she thought, be years since she’d marched along like this, breathing deeply, arms swinging, legs striding out. Nuns in a convent just didn’t walk like that.
It reminds me, she reflected happily, of outings with dear old Ivo.
Her late husband had liked to walk hard, too. Often, when the demands of their busy life had relented for a few hours, the two of them had set out and-
‘Listen!’ said Josse’s soft voice, right beside her.
‘What?’
He had stopped again, at what appeared to be the end of a long and winding little path deep within the trees; they had been following its rather well-concealed course for some time. He drew her back into the moon shadow of a great oak, and, mouth to her ear, said, ‘Can you hear it too, or am I imagining it?’
She held her breath, and, trying to shut out the sounds of Josse beside her, listened.
At first, nothing. The wind in the treetops, high overhead, and a faint distant rustling, quickly curtailed, as if some small animal had been running for safety and had made it to its burrow.
She was just beginning to shake her head in denial when she heard it.
Just a short snatch, which could have been the dancing leaves up above. But then it came again. The same phrase was repeated, again and then once more, each time with a fraction more volume.
And then, in some macabre and premature parody of the dawn chorus, still many hours away, other throats took up the sound. The original phrase echoed again, but extended now, elaborate, involved, turning back on itself and going higher, higher, so high as almost to leave the range of human hearing, only to dive down into a deep, thrumming baritone that throbbed like a distant drum.
Then it stopped.
Helewise felt the sweat of fear run down her back, accompanied by a great shudder that seemed to make her hair crawl on her scalp. In atavistic dread, she wanted to crouch on the ground, curl herself up small, creep away into some dark little niche where she would be safe, where they could not find her. But, just as the urge to hide became all but irresistible, Josse leaned close and said quietly, ‘Abbess, it seems you were right after all, and the answers to all our questions may be just ahead of us.’
She managed to say, in something like her usual tones, ‘Indeed.’
Had he known? Had he picked up her huge fear, and, wanting to help her master it, spoken thus to her?
It was his having called her by her title that did it, she thought, feeling strength returning with each second. It had, in that moment of weakness, reminded her of who and what she was. Of her responsibilities. And, even more important, reminded her what she was doing there in the middle of the forest when she ought to be safe in her bed.
Answers must be found, she told herself firmly. And Sir Josse and I shall find them.
She whispered, ‘What should we do now?’
Turning from his intense concentration on the open space that lay ahead, he whispered back, ‘We are close to the grove where the two fallen oak trees lie, where Hamm discovered the treasure. It is, I believe, of some importance in the forest, and I think we should try to get closer.’
‘Very well. I was going to tell you, I-’ But now was not the moment, and in answer to his eyebrows raised in enquiry, she shook her head.
He hitched the pack higher on his back, and was about to set forth when he hesitated. With a quick look back to her, he said, ‘They — whoever they may be — could be in the oak grove. We must be absolutely silent.’
She smiled in the darkness, and said, ‘I realise that. I’ll be as quiet as the grave.’
Only as she began to creep after him did she wish she had used any other word but ‘grave’.
* * *
The next mile seemed terribly slow. Copying him, she trod carefully, trying each footstep before committing herself to it, making sure no cracking twig gave them away. It was nerve-racking.
At last, he stopped once more. Again, they were on the edge of an open space, but this time it was a much wider one. And, peering round the comforting bulk of Josse’s shoulder, Helewise could see two vast felled oak trees lying across the short turf.
But, apart from the trees, the grove was empty.
Josse was moving forward, peering into the shadows that encircled the moonlit space. Suddenly he gave a soft exclamation, and, as he came back to her, she saw that he was grinning.
‘They’re ahead of us,’ he said softly, when he was right beside her again. ‘In another clearing, through there.’ He pointed.
She looked, but could see nothing. ‘Where?’
He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her gently towards the open space. ‘Go to where the trees thin out, and look to your left,’ he ordered.
She did as he said. And, staring into the darkness of an apparently impenetrable thicket of old trees, younger trees and dense, scrubby undergrowth, she saw what he had seen.
A light.
Faint, as if a single candle had been lit, or perhaps a small and carefully contained fire. But, in the deserted blackness, a strange sight.
She was about to return to him, ask what he thought should be their next move, when something caught her eye.
That light … It was as if, just for a split-second, it had been extinguished, then, just as quickly, relit. Watching, straining her eyes, it happened again.
What was it? Could it be-
Then she knew.
The blinking-out effect had an obvious cause, when you stopped to think about it. A cause that explained, too, why it went on happening.