Free Faithful Dead by Alys Clare Page B

brother! Let us go out straight away to greet him.’
    He and Augustus stood back to let her precede them out of the room, Sister Anne bobbing along beside them like a rowing boat attending a sailing ship. Watching the Abbess’s straight-backed figure gliding along just ahead of him enabled him to regain something of his composure so that, by the time they were approaching the little group at the gate – Sister Ursel, Sister Martha, Yves’s bay and, naturally, Yves himself – Josse was ready – eager – to rush forward and take his brother in his arms.
    ‘Yves, Yves!’ he said against the warm and slightly sweaty skin of his brother’s neck; he must have been riding hard, for the bay, too, was lathered. ‘How good it is to see you!’
    Straightening up and pulling away slightly, he held Yves by the shoulders and studied him. His brother’s pleasant face was beaming his delight, which, Josse fervently hoped, suggested that, whatever had brought him to England to seek out his elder brother, it was nothing too terrible.
    ‘Josse, you look good!’ Yves was saying, slapping Josse on the arm. ‘This English country life must suit you!’
    ‘Aye, it does.’
    ‘They told me at New Winnowlands where I might find you and, after they’d put me up for the night – she’s a good cook, that serving woman of yours, isn’t she? – they gave me directions and saw me on to the right road.’ Another grin. ‘Ah, dear God, but it’s good to see you!’
    Josse, suddenly remembering where they were, took a step back. ‘Yves,’ he said, ‘a moment, please.’ Turning to the Abbess, he said, ‘Abbess Helewise, may I present to you my younger brother, Yves d’Acquin? Yves, this is Abbess Helewise of Hawkenlye Abbey.’
    Yves bowed deeply. ‘My lady Abbess, it is a great honour at last to greet the woman we at Acquin have heard so much about,’ he said gravely. ‘I am your servant.’ He bowed again.
    Josse, observing the Abbess, hoped that she would not find Yves’s manner rather overcourtly; he does not know, he fretted, that she is a plain-speaking, down to earth woman, even if she is an abbess . . .
    He need not have worried. The Abbess, smiling, was clearly unperturbed by Yves’s display of Gallic charm; she was asking him the usual questions that one asked a new arrival, about his journey, were the family well and so forth, clearly at her ease.
    That particular small concern out of the way, Josse thought, but why is he here?
    The Abbess, bless her, must have read his mind. Turning to him, she said, ‘Sir Josse, your brother will, I am sure, desire to speak to you in private. You may take him to my room, if you wish, and I will send refreshments.’
    Josse looked at Yves, who nodded swiftly. ‘Aye, then, Abbess Helewise,’ Josse said, ‘if you are sure we shall not put you out?’
    ‘Not in the least,’ she said smoothly, ‘I am expected over in the infirmary.’
    With a silent but steely look around at the various members of her community – Sister Martha, Sister Ursel, the wide-eyed Sister Anne and Brother Augustus – the Abbess dismissed them back to their duties.
    And Josse took his brother’s arm and led him across to the cloisters and along to the Abbess’s room.
    ‘Now then, what has brought you all the way across the Channel to see me?’ Josse asked him as soon as the door was closed behind them. ‘Is anyone sick? Is there trouble at Acquin?’
    ‘No, everyone is well, thank the good Lord’ – ‘Amen,’ Josse said fervently – ‘and the estates run smoothly. We had an excellent harvest this year, Josse, we’ve got it all in now and we shall do well this winter, us and the animals, although we’ll be putting plenty of meat down to salt come Martinmas to see us through the lean times, and––’
    ‘Yves,’ Josse reprimanded him. ‘I may know very little of farming, but even I know about that.’
    ‘Of course. I apologise, Josse, you must be keen to know my