The apothecary gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Again, Sir Josse. .’
‘You have no idea,’ Josse finished for him. ‘Thank you for your time, Master Morton.’ He turned Horace and, with a nod to Augustus, set off back down the street.
‘Where are you going?’ Adam Morton called after them.
Josse spun round in the saddle. ‘We’re going to look for her!’
Somebody else had left Hawkenlye Abbey even earlier that morning, slipping out secretively before it was light and when the majority of the community were still asleep. Sister Tiphaine had wrapped herself in her thick cloak, exchanged her sandals for the stout sabots she used for gardening and set off into the forest.
She had not enjoyed the previous day’s conversation with the Abbess at all. While it was true that she had contacts with the forest people — far stronger and more regular contacts than Tiphaine hoped anyone at Hawkenlye was aware — she also had an overriding duty to the Abbey and its Abbess. It had been hard — and strangely painful — to stand mutely listening to the Abbess’s speculations concerning the outcome of the brief liaison between Sir Josse and Joanna and make no comment. But then the secret was not Tiphaine’s to tell. .
Of course, the Abbess had been absolutely right. Joanna had born a child to Sir Josse, and a girl child at that. In addition, given what Tiphaine knew about Joanna — and the child — it was highly likely that both mother and daughter had power in their very blood, although since little Meggie was only fifteen months old, nobody would yet have put her to the test.
A magical jewel, Tiphaine thought as she strode along the faint forest tracks, which were so familiar to her that she barely needed to look where she was going. What might such a precious and powerful thing do in the hand of Joanna or her child! Why, lives could be saved, even that of the old fusspot Firmin, who always looked askance at Tiphaine as if searching for her horns and tail!
No.
Tiphaine made herself arrest that line of thought, for it was far in the future, if indeed it was to happen at all. First she must find a way of approaching Joanna, then she must find the words with which to phrase her request, neither of which tasks she had very much confidence of easily achieving.
She knew the location of Joanna’s hut and, indeed, the secret forest paths that she now trod took her quite close to it. She had been there once, on the night that Joanna bore Josse’s child; she and her old friend from the forest people had helped the young mother bring Meggie into the world, and Lora had taken the baby outside into the cold October night and briefly placed her naked body on to the Earth so that the Mother would know her own. Lora had prophesied that night that Meggie would be one of the Great Ones of her people, and apparently the same had been said by others during the months of Meggie’s short life.
Knowing the location of Joanna’s dwelling by no means meant that Tiphaine could simply stroll up, knock on the door and ask admisssion, for Joanna had grown greatly in power over the past year and Tiphaine did not dare approach unannounced, uninvited and alone. Before she could seek out Joanna, she knew she must first find an intermediary. Which was why, as the sun rose on to another cold and bright February day, she was making her way to the oak grove deep in the forest that was her usual meeting place with Lora.
Time passed.
By mid-morning, there was still no sign of Lora and Tiphaine was beginning to wonder if she ought after all to go on to Joanna’s hut. There was no guarantee that Lora would come; the forest people might be miles and miles away and, even if word had somehow reached Lora that Tiphaine was looking for her, sheer distance could well mean that Lora would not appear in the glade today. And it certainly was not acceptable to keep Abbess Helewise waiting when her request and her need were so very urgent.
The low midday sun of winter was shining down into the glade when a slim, supple figure clad in soft grey stepped out from behind the concealing trunk of a huge oak tree. Her silvery eyes held the knowledge of ages and her long hair was white, yet the smooth skin of her tanned face had barely a wrinkle and she moved like a dancer. Coming forward into the sunshine, she smiled as she called out Tiphaine’s name.
Tiphaine rose hastily to her feet from the log on which she had been sitting and the two women embraced. ‘You were asleep,’ Lora said.
‘I was not!’ Tiphaine protested. ‘I was closing my eyes against the sun’s glare.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Lora said, ‘that February glare.’
‘I need to see Joanna,’ Tiphaine said, ignoring the mild jibe. ‘There’s sickness at the Abbey. I am not sick,’ she hastened to reassure Lora.
‘I know that,’ Lora replied calmly. ‘I should not be here standing so close to you if you were.’
‘They’ve got this jewel that they’ve been trying to use to make people better,’ Tiphaine continued, ‘but it’s not working. It’s a family treasure of Josse’s’ — it was odd, she thought fleetingly, how worldly titles had no meaning here when she was among the forest people — ‘and they reckon there’s some old prophecy that says the stone will only be truly effective when it’s in the hand of a female of Josse’s kin.’
Lora had been nodding as if this was no news to her, although she did not interrupt but allowed Tiphaine to finish. ‘So they need Joanna’s child, do they?’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They would think it appropriate to allow a fifteen-month-old infant to try out her power?’
‘They do not know for sure that Joanna has a child,’ Tiphaine protested, aware both that she was evading the issue and that it had not gone unnoticed.
‘The Abbess knows,’ Lora said.
‘Aye, I reckon she does. But she has never breathed a word to — to anyone else, even though they’re such close friends.’
‘She has not told Josse, you mean.’
‘Aye.’
Tiphaine waited. Lora was one of the venerated elders here in this forest domain and it did not do to hurry her. Since any chance of Tiphaine’s getting to see Joanna rested entirely with the woman standing before her, the herbalist tried to control her impatience by silently reciting a list of the Healing Herbs. .
‘You can stop that,’ Lora said. ‘You are distracting me.’
‘Sorry.’ Tiphaine had known Lora far too long to be surprised at her ability to overhear another’s thoughts.
Finally Lora spoke. ‘I have no quarrel with the Abbess,’ she announced, ‘for our impression of her is that she has a good heart and, although she suffers from a sense of her own importance, she uses her position more to help others than to inflate her pride.’
‘She-’ Tiphaine began, but made herself stop.
‘And similarly I can find no fault with her wish to use an object of power to save life, even though it is clear that she cannot have the first understanding of what this stone is. Therefore I will agree to take you to Joanna.’
‘Thank you, Lora,’ Tiphaine said humbly.
But Lora had not finished. ‘I say only that I will take you to her,’ she warned. ‘You may then tell Joanna what you have told me, but I caution you not to put any pressure on her.’ She lowered her voice and added, ‘She has been to our sacred places and she has learned a very great deal. She is not the woman you once knew, Tiphaine.’
A shiver of fear went through the herbalist. ‘I will do as you command, Lora,’ she whispered. ‘I sense already that Joanna has come into her power, for even from some distance away, I could sense her presence in her hut.’
Lora nodded. ‘Aye. She is back there, with the child, after a year’s absence. She is busy strengthening her defences.’
Tiphaine nodded. She knew without being told that the defences were not on the physical level; no wonder, she thought, she had sensed Joanna’s power.
I am afraid of what lies before me, she realised as she trod in Lora’s footsteps across the clearing and out between the trees. If it were left to me, I should turn tail and flee back to the safety of the Abbey, to the arms of a gentler god than the force they bow before out here in the woods.