Faithful Dead (29 page)

‘But it
was
found.’

‘I know, I know. You must believe me when I say that I am not usually so careless.’

He only regrets that he did not hide the body well enough, Josse realised, with a tremor of alarm. He does not rue the fact that he murdered the man; not one jot.

‘And the boy?’ he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

‘The boy stole the Eye from his dying master, who was bringing it to you, Josse d’Acquin.’ The man sounded outraged. ‘He did not get very far before his conscience began to bother him, but by then he was in mortal dread that the monks from the Abbey would hold him responsible for his master’s death. He hid out in the fields and the hedges, seeking shelter in barns and outhouses when the weather grew chill. He had no food, and began to grow sick. He was making his slow way back here, I think to return the Eye and give himself up, when I killed him.’

‘But he was innocent!’ Josse protested. ‘He had no hand in Sidonius’s death – the old man was gravely ill, and it was his cough that killed him!’

Again, the look of surprise crossed the stranger’s face. Then he said, ‘Innocent? The boy had stolen the Eye! I took it from him; it is quite safe, you must not concern yourself, and––’

‘You murdered him!’ Josse cried. ‘Although the mark on the front of the throat was faint, it was noticed. What was it? A blow with the side of your hand?’

‘Yes.’ The man looked almost proud. ‘Such skills the Guardians have ever been taught.’

‘Aye, you’re a Guardian.’ Josse nodded. ‘I guessed as much. You followed my father and the Lombard from Outremer to Acquin––’

‘Not I,’ the man put in. ‘My father and his brother. They watched over the Eye while your father kept it, at Acquin, until my father died of a sickness that ravaged the region. Then, although I was quite young, I took his place. With my uncle I followed the man you call the Lombard back to his home. I was for killing him and returning the jewel to your father, but my uncle overrode me.’ A scowl crossed the dark face. ‘He said that the Lombard would repent of his theft, if we were but patient. He was right, but patience was not my way and I found the waiting cruelly hard.’ He shrugged faintly. ‘So we kept watch over the Eye there in the land of the Lombard until he came back north to Acquin, seeking Geoffroi, your father. We followed him, and then my uncle died. He was weak and old, and the long journey proved too much for him. The Lombard led me on from Acquin to England, eventually here to Hawkenlye.’ He said the word slowly and carefully, as if unaccustomed to it. ‘Although I did not know that he was heading here. I had imagined he would try to find you straight away. I lost him, briefly, which was when I killed the man who came hunting the Eye. But then I found him again. The rest, you know.’

Josse nodded slowly. ‘Aye. And I guessed much of what went before. You followed Galbertius Sidonius for much of his life, you and your father before you, and––’

The man held up his hands as if in protest. ‘This is what I cannot understand!’ he said, puzzlement clear on his face. ‘The man known as the Lombard, your father’s friend who stole the Eye from him and then tried to bring it back, you refer to him as Galbertius Sidonius!’

‘Aye, I do,’ Josse agreed. ‘He stayed with my family at Acquin, and my brother reported that his servant addressed him so.’

‘No, you are wrong,’ the stranger insisted. ‘The lad may have spoken the name, but he cannot have used it when referring to his master.’

There was a pause then, with simple dignity, he said, ‘I am Galbertius Sidonius.’

Initially, Josse was certain he was lying, although he could not have said quite why. Leaping to his feet – the dark man got up too – he said, stupidly, ‘You can’t be.’

‘I am,’ the man said with a smile. ‘I am descended from Enil of Sidon, the original chief Guardian. And I am the last of my line for, although I have bedded many women, not one have I impregnated. I leave no son to follow me.’

‘There will be no more Guardians?’

The dark man shrugged. ‘Unless there is a distant cousin of whom I am unaware, no. And, even if such a man exists, he is not here by my side, where he could be taught the role which destiny has decreed he must follow.’ He sighed. ‘But, in truth, what is the point? The Guardians existed to protect the Eye’s first owner – indeed, the man at whose behest it came into being – from those to whom he gave it, lest they turn on him and use the jewel’s powers against him. It was so simple then. But now? The Eye belongs to you, Josse d’Acquin. Whom should I protect, that you might threaten with the Eye’s magic?’

‘I will threaten nobody,’ Josse said fervently.

‘No?’ Sidonius cocked an ironic eyebrow. ‘Do not be so sure. Power once in a man’s hands can have a corrupting influence, and only the very strong, the very wise or the very good are immune.’

‘But––’

‘Supposing I were to change my mind and try to take the Eye back?’ Sidonius continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘Suppose you believed I meant you harm?’

‘I do not – I would not know how to use the Eye, either to protect myself or to attack you,’ Josse said.

‘You do not know
yet
,’ Sidonius murmured. Then, cheerfully, he said, ‘But have no fear. As I said, I mean you no harm. It would be difficult for me to hurt you, for not only are you the Eye’s rightful owner, which in itself gives you a certain protection, but you also have . . .’ He trailed to a halt, eyeing Josse speculatively. ‘I do not know what it is,’ he admitted. ‘It is as if – as if someone else has put a guard around you, so that you are shielded from what small magic I can work and could turn against you.’ Before Josse could even raise an arm to defend himself, the dark man had thrown up both hands and was pointing them straight at Josse’s heart. There was a sound like the crackle of pine resin on a fire, and Josse thought he saw a flash of blue, there and gone before he had time properly to register it.

Sidonius, rubbing his hands together as if they pained him, said, ‘There. You see? Someone is looking after you. Somebody quite strong.’

It must be Dee, Josse thought. And he seemed to be doing a good job.

Sidonius was again reaching inside his cloak. This time, he brought out what appeared to be a box made of silver. It hung on a chain which, like the box itself, was tarnished and worn. Sidonius touched the tiny fastening, and some hidden mechanism sprang into action. The lid of the box flew open. Sidonius lifted out what was within, then threw the silver box on the ground as if it were no longer of interest.

Compared with what he now held up, it wasn’t.

And, before Josse’s fascinated eyes, the Eye of Jerusalem swung gently in the light from the fire, its heavy gold surround glistening and the sapphire sending out sparks of brilliant blue, as if it were winking at him.

He held out his hand and Sidonius placed the Eye in it. Closing his fist, Josse felt the stone’s weight. For a brief instant he seemed to see his father; Geoffroi was smiling, nodding, as if to say, there! It was worth the wait, wasn’t it? Then Geoffroi faded, and there were just the two of them in the glade.

Sidonius gave a low bow, muttered something in a language Josse did not understand, and then bent to roll up the sheepskins. Watching him, Josse said, ‘What are you doing?’

‘I am packing up,’ Sidonius replied. ‘My task here is done. There is no need for me to stay.’

It crossed Josse’s mind that there was actually quite a pressing need; this man had killed, twice, and should be brought to justice.

As if he had read the unspoken thought, Sidonius laughed softly and said, ‘You would detain me, Josse d’Acquin? Ask me meekly to accompany you to that fool of a sheriff and give myself up for murder? Ah, but I was following orders. I am a Guardian of the Eye and, unlike my uncle, I carry out my duty instantly and without prevarication. I am commanded to kill those who remove the Eye of Jerusalem from its rightful owner.’

‘Was that in King Cyrus’s original instructions?’ Josse demanded. ‘You paint the picture of a just man, a man keen to redress the wrongs done by others. Do you really believe he would sanction the murder of innocents?’

‘Innocents,’ Sidonius repeated thoughtfully. Then: ‘You may be right; I do not know.’ He shrugged. ‘I cannot in truth say what he would do. It was all so very long ago.’

He had tied the sheepskins to his satisfaction and now walked across to his bundle, picking it up as if it weighed no more than a dead leaf. Then he glanced inside his shelter, presumably checking to see if he had left anything behind. Once more coming to stand before Josse, he made a deeper, more formal bow.

‘I take my leave of you, Josse d’Acquin,’ he said. ‘Use the Eye wisely. It can do great good, you know. Adieu.’

And, without a backward glance, he strode off into the trees. Josse made to follow him; he put out one foot and would have started to run, only he seemed to have been turned to stone. His limbs would not obey him.

So he stood there and watched as Galbertius Sidonius walked away.

He was soon lost from sight – had he some magic, Josse wondered, which, besides rendering a would-be pursuer immobile, made him blend with his surroundings? – and, after a while, there was the faint and distant whinny of a horse.

Sidonius was, presumably, mounting up and riding off through the secret paths of the forest. And Josse was perfectly sure he would never see the man again.

Whatever enchantment had rendered Josse so helpless was not long lasting. Quite soon after the echoes of Sidonius’s passage had faded, Josse found that he could move again.

The Eye of Jerusalem was still in his hand. In the dying light of Sidonius’s fire, he looked at it again. This time, without the tension of confrontation to distract him, he was able to study it in a calmer frame of mind. And, staring into its deep blue heart, he saw its eye staring back at him.

It watched him steadily, and he began to feel it was hypnotising him. ‘What am I to do with you?’ he asked aloud. He glanced down at the silver box that Sidonius had cast aside. ‘Shall I put you back in your box, hide you away under my tunic and use you when I am threatened, sick or bleeding?’ It was a tempting thought. ‘Shall I keep you in my hand as I go about my daily round, gradually getting to know what you can do, how you are able to warn me of hidden dangers?’

What great heights I could reach, Josse thought, with such an ally ever with me.

Thoughtfully, he picked up the silver box and stuffed it inside his tunic. He kicked out what was left of Sidonius’s fire, making sure the last glowing ember had been extinguished and smoothly raking over the charred remains with the side of his boot. The forest people were fussy about fires in their domain and it was wise, he knew, to take care when one had been lit. Then, still clutching the Eye in his hand – it fitted neatly inside his closed fist and could not be seen – he headed off towards Horace and the ride back to the Abbey.

He rode slowly, still thinking hard. He took Horace to the stables, where Sister Martha, with a friendly greeting, seemed only too happy to lead the horse away and see to him.

Not yet ready to speak to the Abbess, Josse cast around in his mind for a quiet place to go and sit by himself. The herb garden came to mind; he set off around the east end of the sisters’ dormitory and made his way through Sister Tiphaine’s neat beds to where a rough bench stood, under the shelter of the Abbey walls.

It was very peaceful. The gardens around him had the feel and the scent of autumn, and there was the faint smell of smoke on the air; presumably the herbalist had been burning garden rubbish. Herb cuttings must have been among the detritus, because he could smell something sharp and quite pleasant . . .

He closed his eyes. He had all but made up his mind; perhaps a brief period of silent meditation – of prayer – might bring him the wisdom to decide whether or not what he was planning was the best thing to do.

After quite a long time, he became aware that somebody was approaching, and had come to sit beside him.

‘You have it,’ John Dee said softly. ‘Would you permit me a look?’

Josse opened his eyes. ‘Aye,’ he said. He opened his right hand, resting on his knee, and the Eye winked up at him.

Dee sat and gazed down at it.

‘You may hold it, if you wish,’ Josse said.

Dee looked doubtful. ‘I am not sure . . .’ But then, as if gathering his courage and hastening to act before he could waver, he darted out his right hand and took hold of the Eye’s chain, dropping the jewel into the open palm of his left hand.

He sat perfectly still for some time, staring at the Eye, unblinking, face impassive. Then he went to return it to Josse but, as Josse unthinkingly held out his left hand to take it – the nearer hand to Dee – the magician held the Eye back.

‘It is time for your first lesson in the power of stones,’ he said with a smile. ‘You must always think before you take the Eye in one or the other hand. Are you right or left handed?’