Free The Enchanter's Forest by Alys Clare Page A

of his,’ he said quietly. ‘Now’ – he deliberately changed the subject – ‘Florian’s dwelling is indeed at Hadfeld, as you imply?’
         ‘Aye, it is,’ the first woman confirmed. ‘You’ll likely find him away from home, since he spends each and every day down at his tomb. But his wife will be there. You could wager that fine horse of yours on that, and your hat.’ Both women chuckled.
         ‘Thank you, both of you,’ Josse said. With a courteous nod of the head, he kicked Horace and went on his way.
     
    The reason why the women had been so sure that Florian’s wife would be at home became evident as soon as Josse rode up to the house. Building work was under way and a woman stood on a mounting block very near to where the workmen were toiling, closely watching every move they made.
         Josse dismounted and tethered Horace to a ring set into the wall beside the open gates. The house was not large but it was well-built and compact, with a pleasing symmetry to its dimensions. Flower beds had been placed either side of the door, beneath small windows set high above them in the smooth stone. There were lilies and gillyflowers in bloom, sweet-smelling and sending out a strong perfume. Outbuildings on the far side of the house appeared to have been carefully repaired. Money had been spent – recently, by the look of it – and must, judging by the buzz of activity and the gang of workmen, still be pouring out.
         Walking across the courtyard, Josse approached the woman on the mounting block. He swept off his hat and said, ‘Madam? Have I the honour of addressing the wife of Florian of Southfrith?’
         Without so much as glancing round, the woman said, ‘He is not here and is unlikely to return until the light fails. You’ll find him at Merlin’s Tomb.’ The bored resignation in her tone suggested that this was not the first time she had made the remark that morning. In addition, the woman spoke of her husband so scathingly that Josse thought he detected dislike.
         ‘Aye, so I have been informed,’ Josse said, maintaining a polite tone; he did not find it easy when the woman had not the manners to turn and address him face to face. Recalling the reason he had thought up for visiting Florian’s home, he went on, ‘They told me your husband is having a solar built’ – it had been a good guess, as had just been proved – ‘and I wanted to ask him if he’s satisfied with the builders he has engaged and, if so, what the name of the master builder is.’
         ‘He’s over there’ – she pointed, with a long, fine hand bearing a large garnet set in a gold ring, towards a thin, dark, nervous-looking man standing on top of a partly built wall with a plumb line in his hand – ‘and he’s called Josiah.’ She spoke with an accent and Josse guessed that her native tongue was French. ‘As to satisfaction, it is not possible to say until the work is complete.’ At last she turned to look down at Josse and he saw a pale face, the smooth skin very slightly olive in complexion, the black eyes almond-shaped under fine, dark brows. She was unsmiling and she stared at him as if he were something smelly on the sole of her narrow calfskin slipper. Lifting her delicately pointed chin in a gesture of pure arrogance, she said, ‘And just who are you ?’
         In no hurry to answer, largely because he could tell she found it irritating, Josse studied her. She was not tall – petite would be the word, he decided – and the slim-fitting silk gown showed a narrow waist and hips but surprisingly generous breasts; the bodice looked as if it had been designed for a woman even better-endowed. The gown was of a pale pearly grey and the colour must have been chosen with care, for it complemented the woman’s skin tone perfectly. Her eyes, he now saw, were not black but very dark blue. What he could see of her hair, which was drawn back off her face and covered by a circle of