The Enchanter's Forest (8 page)

     The Forest and the Abbey both would like to see an end to it, the Abbess had said. Oh, thought Tiphaine now, she does not know how truly she spoke!

They came to a wide clearing a mile or so within the forest. Tiphaine stopped, looking around and sniffing the air.

     ‘Where are we?’ the Abbess asked, coming to stand beside her. ‘I do not know this place.’

     Tiphaine glanced at her. The Abbess, she knew, was no stranger to the forest; living so close beneath its shadow, she had had occasion more than once to enter deep within its mysterious interior when the interests of Abbey and Great Forest coincided.

     As indeed they did now.

     ‘It is a place of meeting, my lady,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘Usually a watch is kept on this glade so that word may be passed on when someone comes here.’

     ‘You mean we’re being observed?’ The Abbess glanced around and Tiphaine felt her apprehension.

     ‘Aye, but not with any malicious intent. They know you, my lady, and respect you.’

     ‘Oh!’

     Tiphaine hid a smile; one of the things that she most admired about her superior was her absence of grandeur. It was true that she could be prideful in small matters, but her evident surprise at being told she was held in esteem by the Forest Folk was typical of her. Abbess of a great foundation such as Hawkenlye she might be, but she did not expect everyone to fall on their knees and grovel at her feet because of it.

     ‘Shall we wait, my lady, and see what may happen?’ Tiphaine suggested.

     ‘Yes.’

     They moved across to where a fallen log made a convenient bench seat – which in fact was exactly why it had been placed there – and made themselves comfortable. Tiphaine, happy to be out in the forest and breathing in its good air, closed her eyes in bliss. Then, remembering just who it was that sat beside her, she opened them again and looked at the Abbess. With amusement she observed that her superior had also closed her eyes and was sitting with her face turned up to the sun, apparently taking the same keen pleasure in her surroundings as Tiphaine. Relaxing, Tiphaine shut her eyes again and let the forest take her over.

     Presently there was a small sound.

     Tiphaine’s eyes shot open to see the grey-clad figure of the Domina standing before her. Instinctively she rose to her feet and, forgetting for a moment that other superior who sat beside her, made a reverence to the woman who was one of the Great Ones of the forest people.

     To her surprised pleasure, the Abbess did the same.

     The Domina extended her hands, briefly touching those of Tiphaine and the Abbess. Then, looking at the Abbess, she said, ‘I knew that you would come and I know why.’

     ‘I thought you would,’ the Abbess replied. ‘This business affects us at Hawkenlye badly, diverting as it does those seeking help and comfort and taking them instead to a place whose prime purpose is to separate them from their money. But you of the forest are affected far more grievously, for I am told that this Florian of Southfrith has felled trees and cleared ground in pursuit of his dishonest scheme.’

     The Domina’s eyes were fixed on the Abbess. ‘The man Josse has visited the place,’ she stated.

     ‘Indeed. He went there yesterday,’ answered the Abbess.

     The Domina nodded. ‘It is known.’

     And was, Tiphaine thought, probably the reason why the Domina had expected a visit from the Abbess.

     ‘I assume I am right in believing that you and your people wish to see an end to this Merlin’s Tomb?’ the Abbess said.

     ‘Yes.’ The single word was uttered with quiet force. Then: ‘It is sacrilege.’

     There was a pause. Tiphaine wondered if the Abbess had been about to ask the Domina to elucidate but, if so, then clearly she thought better of it. Instead she said, ‘What can we do?’

     The Domina sighed. ‘There are many things that
could
be done and that may indeed be done,’ she said after a moment, ‘although whether they
should
be is another matter.’

     ‘You mean—’ But the Abbess broke off. With a faint smile, she said, ‘Better, I think, that we do not speak of such things.’

     The Domina nodded. ‘Perhaps the most sure path would be to prove to the people who now flock to gape and wonder that these bones are not what Florian of Southfrith claims them to be.’

     ‘Yes,’ the Abbess said eagerly. ‘If there is a way of proving that Florian has brought in the bones from elsewhere and it’s not Merlin at all in the tomb, then they’ll all realise they’ve been duped.’ A smile spread over her face. ‘Perhaps they’ll demand their money back.’

     ‘Such an action would be only fair,’ the Domina agreed, ‘although success would, I fear, be unlikely.’

     ‘Quite.’ The Abbess frowned. ‘It might, however, be a matter for the Tonbridge sheriff if it could be proved that Florian was taking money fraudulently.’

     The Domina gazed at her. Whatever profound thought was running through her head, Tiphaine, watching the two powerful women with close attention, could not guess. ‘The bones are not those of Merlin,’ the Domina said. ‘Be quite sure of that, Abbess Helewise.’

     ‘You . . .’ The Abbess hesitated, as if reluctant to ask for further assurance. Then, squaring her shoulders – she was slightly taller than the Domina, Tiphaine noticed – she said, ‘I am sorry if I appear to doubt you, but I must ask how you can be so certain. If we are to press ahead with our plans to discredit Florian’s scheme, I have to be absolutely sure that we are acting fairly and honestly. Otherwise – if, that is, there is a possibility that the skeleton is that of Merlin and that the bones are therefore capable of working miracles – then it would be wrong to close down a source of comfort and relief when our people so badly need all the help they can get.’

     For some time the Domina did not reply. Tiphaine, who knew rather more about what lay behind the affair than she had revealed to her Abbess, waited.

     Eventually the Domina said, ‘They are not the bones of Merlin. If miracles have happened, then this may be because of people’s expectations.’ Tiphaine could detect the care with which she was choosing her words. The Domina continued, ‘For one such as Florian of Southfrith to make money out of the exposure of bones that he falsely claims are those of Merlin is not only cruelly dishonest; it is also dangerous, for there is a force in that place that has been desecrated with which it is folly to meddle. For both reasons he must be stopped.’

   
‘Dangerous?’
the Abbess echoed, and Tiphaine saw her eyes widen in alarm.

     ‘Be assured, Abbess Helewise,’ the Domina continued implacably, ‘that the entity known commonly as Merlin has nothing whatsoever to do with either the bones or the miracles.’

     And with that, it appeared from the Domina’s demeanour, the Abbess was going to have to be content.

     After some time the Abbess spoke. ‘How do we prove it?’

     ‘I believe,’ said the Domina, ‘that, as far as the people are concerned, it is a matter of proving that Merlin is in truth entombed elsewhere.’

     ‘
Is
he?’ demanded the Abbess.

     ‘They say so,’ replied the Domina enigmatically.

     ‘And his tomb is there for all to see?’ the Abbess pressed.

     ‘Oh, yes. I have seen the spot where they say Merlin lies entombed with my own eyes. There is a spring that bubbles out of the ground whose water is ever cool and sweet. Above it is a great slab of granite, shadowed by a thorn tree. It is told, is it not’ – she had fixed the Abbess with a penetrating stare – ‘that Nimü penned the enchanter up beneath a hawthorn tree?’ Before the Abbess could speak, the Domina pressed on, her voice now low, hypnotic. ‘There is a long white banner tied to the thorn bush and it floats and dances in the breeze. They come to worship and they scare themselves, daring one another to stamp on the great granite slab and then running wild in horror when the power is unleashed.’ There was a pause as the echoes of her dramatic voice faded and died. ‘But,’ she concluded in her normal tone, ‘they come to no lasting harm.’

     ‘And this – this place of which you speak, it is in truth the burial place of Merlin, magician to King Arthur?’ The Abbess pressed the point.

     ‘So they say, lady.’

     ‘Is it nearby?’

     ‘No.’

     ‘But it is possible to visit there?’

     ‘Yes.’

     ‘Then – then I should go and see for myself,’ the Abbess said decisively.

     The Domina eyed her and Tiphaine thought she saw a certain admiration in the look. ‘It is far away and to go there necessitates a voyage over the sea,’ she warned. ‘You would be absent from your Abbey for considerably more than a matter of a few days, Helewise.’

     ‘Oh. I see.’ The Abbess’s face fell. ‘Then I shall ask another.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘One who I know will agree to accept the mission.’

     ‘You speak of Josse,’ the Domina commented.

     ‘Yes.’

     The Domina nodded. ‘I believe that he is a wise choice,’ she agreed, ‘and I in my turn will propose a guide who will ensure that he reaches his destination safely.’ She was watching the Abbess closely; Tiphaine, who had a shrewd idea what was coming, thought she could guess why.

     ‘Who is this guide?’ the Abbess asked. ‘Josse will not be in any danger, will he?’

     The Domina shrugged. ‘There is always a certain peril in travel but he will 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.