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Authors: Alys Clare
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be at no greater risk than anyone else. As to his guide, the person whom I have in mind has visited the place where they say Merlin lies buried and will not have any difficulty in recalling the way. Moreover, the presence of this guide will ensure Josse’s safety in realms where it could be perilous for outsiders to tread. He will be taken to the spot, shown the granite slab and the spring that they call Merlin’s Fountain. He may then bring the account of his visit back here to you and you may do with the information as you see fit.’
The Abbess was nodding her enthusiasm. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she said eagerly. ‘The word of Sir Josse that Merlin lies buried elsewhere, and that he therefore cannot possibly be the skeleton on the far side of the forest, will suffice to raise doubts as to Florian’s claims. People are less credulous than men such as Florian believe; Sir Josse’s word added to the fact that Florian has been making so much money from the supposed tomb will surely convince all but the most unintelligent that the whole arrangement is nothing more than a fake.’
‘So it is to be hoped,’ the Domina said.
‘You said that this place lies over the seas.’ The Abbess returned to the practicalities. ‘Where is it? In Ireland, perhaps?’
‘Not Ireland,’ the Domina replied. ‘It is in Armorica.’
‘Armorica?’ The Abbess frowned.
‘You may know the land as Brittany,’ Tiphaine supplied.
‘Brittany!’ exclaimed the Abbess. ‘Merlin lies buried in Brittany?’
But the Domina did not answer.
The Abbess was looking doubtful now, as if she were entertaining second thoughts about the wisdom of sending Josse off on such a trip to a place so far away.
Perhaps reading the thought, the Domina said softly, ‘Remember, he will have a sound guide with him.’
‘Yes, of course, so you assured me.’ The Abbess sounded relieved. ‘Who is this man? One of your own people?’
‘One of our people, yes. But not a man.’ The Domina’s face was expressionless. ‘I speak of a woman. She has been to Armorica and has stood beside the great granite slab. She of all people will ensure that your Josse achieves the journey there and back again as safely as it is in her power to make it. And she is powerful: be in no doubt of that.’
‘It’s Joanna,’ the Abbess breathed. ‘Isn’t it? You mean to send Joanna to be his guide.’
And the Domina said, ‘Of course.’
Chapter 4
Unaware of what was being planned for him by the two powerful women out in the forest, Josse had dressed himself in his habitual tunic and hat and set off on Horace for the heathlands to the south and east of the Great Wealden Forest where he understood that Florian of Southfrith had his home. He lives with his beautiful wife in a modest but very fine manor house near Hadfeld , Brice had said. Well, the man’s name and the place where he had his abode ought to be enough for Josse to locate him.
He had followed the same path that he had taken the previous day for the first part of his ride then, when he emerged on to the open, heathery country on the far side of the forest, branched off to the south-east. The going was easy and he let Horace amble along at a steady, unhurried pace. While he remained close to the dense woodland behind him, withies, hazel and rowan grew alongside the track, giving him some shade, but as he progressed further into the open countryside, the trees finally gave out and he felt the full strength of the morning sun beating down on him. Now it was the gorse that held sway: the gentle slopes over which he rode were glowing with the dense yellow of the flowers, so that the air was redolent with the sweet, heavy, intoxicating scent. Horace’s big hooves brushed the wild thyme, which contributed its own clean smell. Josse could hear the delicate twittering of linnets and he
The Abbess was nodding her enthusiasm. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she said eagerly. ‘The word of Sir Josse that Merlin lies buried elsewhere, and that he therefore cannot possibly be the skeleton on the far side of the forest, will suffice to raise doubts as to Florian’s claims. People are less credulous than men such as Florian believe; Sir Josse’s word added to the fact that Florian has been making so much money from the supposed tomb will surely convince all but the most unintelligent that the whole arrangement is nothing more than a fake.’
‘So it is to be hoped,’ the Domina said.
‘You said that this place lies over the seas.’ The Abbess returned to the practicalities. ‘Where is it? In Ireland, perhaps?’
‘Not Ireland,’ the Domina replied. ‘It is in Armorica.’
‘Armorica?’ The Abbess frowned.
‘You may know the land as Brittany,’ Tiphaine supplied.
‘Brittany!’ exclaimed the Abbess. ‘Merlin lies buried in Brittany?’
But the Domina did not answer.
The Abbess was looking doubtful now, as if she were entertaining second thoughts about the wisdom of sending Josse off on such a trip to a place so far away.
Perhaps reading the thought, the Domina said softly, ‘Remember, he will have a sound guide with him.’
‘Yes, of course, so you assured me.’ The Abbess sounded relieved. ‘Who is this man? One of your own people?’
‘One of our people, yes. But not a man.’ The Domina’s face was expressionless. ‘I speak of a woman. She has been to Armorica and has stood beside the great granite slab. She of all people will ensure that your Josse achieves the journey there and back again as safely as it is in her power to make it. And she is powerful: be in no doubt of that.’
‘It’s Joanna,’ the Abbess breathed. ‘Isn’t it? You mean to send Joanna to be his guide.’
And the Domina said, ‘Of course.’
Chapter 4
Unaware of what was being planned for him by the two powerful women out in the forest, Josse had dressed himself in his habitual tunic and hat and set off on Horace for the heathlands to the south and east of the Great Wealden Forest where he understood that Florian of Southfrith had his home. He lives with his beautiful wife in a modest but very fine manor house near Hadfeld , Brice had said. Well, the man’s name and the place where he had his abode ought to be enough for Josse to locate him.
He had followed the same path that he had taken the previous day for the first part of his ride then, when he emerged on to the open, heathery country on the far side of the forest, branched off to the south-east. The going was easy and he let Horace amble along at a steady, unhurried pace. While he remained close to the dense woodland behind him, withies, hazel and rowan grew alongside the track, giving him some shade, but as he progressed further into the open countryside, the trees finally gave out and he felt the full strength of the morning sun beating down on him. Now it was the gorse that held sway: the gentle slopes over which he rode were glowing with the dense yellow of the flowers, so that the air was redolent with the sweet, heavy, intoxicating scent. Horace’s big hooves brushed the wild thyme, which contributed its own clean smell. Josse could hear the delicate twittering of linnets and he
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