The Tavern in the Morning by Alys Clare Page A

curtained-off cubicle where Euphemia had put him, pretty dreadful. She opened her mouth to say something bracing, but he got in first.
    ‘Don’t even try,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m quite sure I look as bad as I feel.’
    She folded her hands in her sleeves and said, ‘Sister Euphemia says you wanted to speak to me.’
    ‘Aye.’ His voice dropping, he said, ‘Can we be overheard?’ She glanced out through the hangings. ‘No.’
    He beckoned her closer. ‘Only it’s a secret. I gave my word I wouldn’t tell, but I’ve stumbled into a right clutch of adders,’ he said softly. ‘On the trail of little Tilly’s handsome stranger, I saw a man in Tonbridge Castle who wasn’t there, and, when I tried to trail him, he ended up following me. Then, when he surprised me, he hit me hard enough to half kill me.’ Leaning forward so that he spoke almost into Helewise’s ear, he whispered, ‘I was saved by a child with incredibly blue eyes, whose mother is plainly so desperate to keep her whereabouts a secret that I felt obliged to leave her before I should have done.’ Sinking back, he said, ‘And here I am.’
    Helewise, trying and failing to make sense of what he had just told her, wondered if he were still fuddled. ‘A man who wasn’t there?’ she asked softly. ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘I was told nobody was at home,’ Josse said irritably. ‘In the castle. At Tonbridge. The Clares have gone to some other residence of theirs, to escape the sickness down in the valley. Their man told me nobody was at home, but I saw him. The man. Then I waited, and, when he sneaked out at dusk, I followed him.’
    ‘Ah, I see.’ Helewise nodded. ‘Was he the man from the inn?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ Josse frowned, the movement of his brows bringing his fresh white bandage down low over his eyes. ‘Every instinct tells me he was, but I have no grounds whatsoever for saying so.’
    ‘Assuming he was,’ Helewise said tentatively, ‘why should he attack you? Because he knows you’re investigating the death at the inn, and he’s afraid you’ll find out something he doesn’t want you to?’
    Josse said tiredly, ‘Abbess, we don’t even know that the man at the inn is involved in the death! In fact, since he himself seems to have been the intended victim, then he’s surely the last person we should suspect. A man’s hardly going to poison himself, now, is he?’
    ‘No, no.’ It was her turn to frown. After a moment’s thought, she said, ‘Sir Josse, what about this? Somebody else knew why he had come to Tonbridge. They tried to stop him – with the poisoned pie – but the wrong man died. Now this stranger is pursuing whatever brought him here, and that’s why he attacked you. Because he must keep his purpose here a secret. Which surely points to its being something suspicious? Something, can we propose, to do with your mysterious woman hiding in the woods?’
    ‘You reason well, Abbess.’ He gave her a weak grin. ‘As ever. But no!’ he said suddenly. ‘What of our earlier conclusion, that he can’t have been here for any evil purpose because, if he had been, why advertise his presence by spending the evening at the inn?’
    ‘Oh.’ Helewise felt deflated. But then she said, ‘Unless he had to go to the inn!’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I don’t know … to meet someone? To seek information?’
    ‘Hm.’ Josse closed his eyes, and, in repose, Helewise saw the lines of pain and fatigue in his face.
    ‘You need to sleep,’ she said, moving away from his bed. ‘Let me worry over this puzzle for a while, Sir Josse.’
    He opened his eyes again. ‘I wish you joy of it,’ he murmured. Then, making a visible effort, he added gallantly, ‘I can think of nobody more likely to come up with an answer.’
    *   *   *
    His faith in her was, she had to admit as she prepared for bed that night, generous but ill-founded.
    The trouble was, there was so much that they had to assume.
    That Tilly’s stranger and