‘No,’ Helewise said. ‘You only said she was called Joanna.’
‘She was born Joanna de Courtenay,’ he said, ‘the daughter of one Robert de Courtenay.’
‘Your brother.’ So must the woman’s father have been, for Denys de Courtenay to be her uncle.
‘No, Robert de Courtenay’s father and my father were brothers.’ Denys laughed lightly, as if indulging a perfectly natural mistake.
‘Then,’ Helewise persevered pedantically ‘I believe that makes you and Joanna second cousins, or in fact first cousins with one degree of removal. But not uncle and niece.’
‘Does it indeed?’ He laughed again. ‘I never was very good at the complicated network of kin relationships. Not that it matters the smallest bit!’
‘Only if you wished to marry her,’ Helewise observed. ‘Second cousins have been known to be wed, given the proper dispensation, whereas uncle and niece cannot, such unions being commonly regarded as incestuous.’
There was an instant’s icy silence in the room. Then Denys de Courtenay swept his cloak across his shoulder, bowed to Helewise and said, ‘Ah, well. There it is. Now, I fear, Abbess Helewise, that I have wasted your time.’
‘But what of your niece’s friend?’ Helewise said. ‘Her woman friend? Surely-’
But he acted as if he hadn’t heard. Bowing low, he said, ‘I would ask, Abbess, that you and your nuns keep Joanna in your prayers. If it please God, I pray that she and I may soon be reunited.’ His eyes on Helewise’s, he went on, ‘You will tell me if you hear word of her, won’t you? Or if, by God’s grace, she comes here?’
Helewise didn’t want to undertake that she would. Adopting her guest’s evasive tactics, she said instead, ‘And how will we find you to tell you, if we do have news?’
He said, ‘No need for that. I will find you.’
And just why, Helewise wondered, does that sound so ominously like a threat?
‘Now,’ de Courtenay was saying, ‘I have, as I said, taken up far too much of your precious time, so I will take my leave.’
Bowing again, he had let himself out and closed the door behind him before Helewise could say another word.
It did not occur to her for some time that, if Joanna de Courtenay had been married, then her name must now be something other than de Courtenay.
Something else which her uncle — in fact, her cousin — had chosen not to divulge.
* * *
She went straight over to tell Josse.
He was awake, in the middle of eating what appeared to be quite a substantial meal. He was, as she had hoped, riveted by what she had to say.
‘He has to be Tilly’s handsome stranger!’ he said, his mouth full of boiled hare. ‘Your description and hers tally far too closely for him not to be.’
‘It does seem likely,’ she agreed. ‘Denys de Courtenay. A King’s man. Have you ever heard of him, Sir Josse?’
Josse shook his head. ‘No, but that alone doesn’t mean he’s lying. About his royal connections, anyway. And, if he was the man I saw at Tonbridge Castle, that implies a link with the Clares and they certainly have court connections.’
‘If, if, if,’ Helewise said dismally.
‘One less if now!’Josse reminded her.
‘Probably,’ she said.
‘Oh, Abbess, let’s be rash! It is the same man!’
‘Very well. Which leads to the next question: is your mysterious woman in the woods the missing Joanna de Courtenay?’
‘She could well be,’ Josse said. ‘Although her name is not de Courtenay, or, at least, her son’s name isn’t. It’s de Lehon, and it’s a French name.’ He fixed Helewise with an intent look. ‘Did this Denys say she’d lived in France?’
Helewise thought back. ‘No. But, there again, he didn’t say she hadn’t. He was, as I said, very reluctant to tell me anything definite.’
‘Strange,’ Josse mused. ‘And, Abbess, I’ll tell you what else is strange. Your friend Denys didn’t seem to know that Joanna had a son. Did he?’
‘He didn’t mention any child,’ Helewise agreed.
There was a reflective silence. Josse finished his meal, wiped his hands, and, taking a long drink, lay back on his pillows. ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ he offered. ‘Well, I’ll tell you two.’
‘Yes?’
‘First, if he’s the man responsible for my sore head, then it’s just as well we didn’t come face to face just now. I should not want blood spilled in the sacred confines of Hawkenlye Abbey.’ He smiled at her, but she wasn’t at all sure that he wasn’t deadly serious.
‘And the second thing?’
‘If we’re right in our guessing and it is Joanna whom de Courtenay is searching for, then, believe me, she doesn’t want him to find her.’
Helewise saw the man again in her mind’s eye. Tall, strong, oozing a charm that was far too obviously false. And, worst of all, that frightening moment when he had lowered his guard and allowed her to see him for what he really was.
She shivered. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I believe you readily enough.’ She raised her eyes to meet Josse’s. ‘And, having met him, truly, I can’t say that I blame her.’
Death by Drowning
Chapter Seven
Josse discharged himself from Sister Euphemia’s care the next morning.
‘I don’t know!’ she complained, giving the wounds on the back of his head a final inspection. ‘You and the Abbess Helewise, you’re a right pair! You both believe the world’ll come to an end if you’re not around to make sure it doesn’t.’
‘How true,’ Josse agreed. ‘Of myself, in any case. I always was an arrogant fellow, Sister Euphemia.’ He gave her a wink, and she blushed faintly.
‘Go on with you!’
‘I’m going.’
‘You hurry straight back, now,’ she said, trotting along the long, open space between the infirmary’s many beds to keep up with his strides, ‘the moment you start to get head pains, or dizziness, or-’
But, with an acknowledging wave of his hand, he had gone.
* * *
In the crisp morning air, the heavy frost sparkled pure, dazzling white. Horace’s breath hung in clouds, like the smoke of some idling dragon.
Josse met nobody on the road down into Tonbridge. Which was no surprise: it was too cold a day to venture out of doors and go off journeying unless you really had to.
He rode straight for the castle.
He hadn’t really hoped he would find his stranger there, which was just as well since he didn’t. The drawbridge was now fully up and the castle looked, if it were possible, even more abandoned than it had on Josse’s last visit.
A woman passed by, a bundle of kindling under one arm.
‘You’ll get no welcome from them,’ she remarked, nodding in the direction of the castle. ‘They’re away. Gone, they have, and gone they’ll stay, s’long as there’s sickness in the valley.’ She sniffed. ‘Don’t have no truck with the idea of helping the sick and needy, they don’t.’
‘Ah.’ Trying to sound casual — a passer-by venturing a conversational remark — he said, ‘I’m surprised they don’t leave at least a small staff, though. After all, there must be caretaking duties and there’s security to think of…’ He trailed off, hoping she would take up the opportunity of a bit of a gossip.
She did. Putting down her kindling and folding her arms, she said, ‘Security? I don’t imagine that bothers them, not with that ruddy great drawbridge pulled up. I mean, who’s going to try to climb up there?’ She jerked her head towards the castle’s formidable walls. ‘And why bother, that’s what I say! If them grand folks don’t want to associate with the likes of us, then there’s no call for us to go bothering them.’
An independently-minded woman, Josse reflected. ‘Is there truly nobody within?’