Free The Winter King by Alys Clare Page A

His voice was suddenly strong again.
    Helewise was watching Josse. He was scowling deeply, and she guessed he was seeking for the right words with which to send the young man through the gates of death.
    Josse’s expression cleared. He held out his hand to Helewise, pointing to something – the simple wooden cross she wore around her neck. Swiftly she lifted its leather cord over her head and handed it to him.
    With his left hand on the young man’s sword, Josse pressed his right to the young man’s chest. He drew a breath, then said gravely, ‘We place this cross on your breast that you may love it with all your heart, and may your right hand ever fight in its defence and for its preservation.’ He paused. ‘May God have mercy on your soul.’
    The young man’s hands closed over Josse’s, still holding the sword, and his deadly pale, gaunt face stretched into a smile. He whispered, ‘Thank you, my lord. Symon and I will not fail you.’
    They crouched around him, Helewise, Josse and Ninian, and Helewise hoped that their vigil gave him comfort. Presently, he drew a deep, ragged breath, letting it out on a soft sigh.
    Helewise put her hand over his heart. Then she leaned down so that her cheek was against his mouth. She waited, just to be sure.
    Straightening up, tears falling from her eyes, she said, ‘He’s dead.’
    They covered the face with a linen sheet. Ninian made to remove the blankets, but Helewise grasped his hand. ‘Please, leave them,’ she said. Ninian raised his eyebrows. ‘He was so cold,’ she muttered.
    It made no sense, and she felt foolish, but Ninian seemed to understand. Bending down, he tucked the soft wool more closely around the still body, as tenderly as if he were comforting his own little daughter.
    They would return to him in the morning.
    Helewise prepared hot drinks for the three of them, adding herbs from what they all referred to as ‘Meggie’s heartening brew’. Whatever was in it – and Helewise still was not sure – it always worked. Apart from anything else, as soon as the mixture met the hot water, a warming, calming aroma issued from the ingredients, stilling the mind even in the most trying of circumstances. Looking round at her companions, Helewise observed that their tense expressions had eased.
    ‘It was a fine gesture, to accept his service and speak so fittingly,’ she said to Josse. ‘It comforted him, just as Ninian said it would.’ Josse grunted a response. ‘I watched you as you sought in your memory for the right words. From where in your life did you recollect them?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Josse admitted. ‘They just came into my head.’
    Ninian looked up. ‘
I
know,’ he said quietly.
    ‘Then I wish you’d tell me,’ Josse replied gruffly.
    Helewise studied his face, illuminated by the soft lamplight. His expression was profoundly solemn.
    ‘It is the oath taken by a Knight Hospitaller when first he is given his cross,’ Ninian said. ‘You chose well, Josse, for a man on the point of death.’

FIVE
    E arly that same morning, Meggie and Sabin had set out from the House in the Woods, bound for the manor of Medley, perhaps an hour, two hours’ ride away. Meggie had borrowed Helewise’s mare, Daisy, not having a mount of her own, and she was looking forward to a decent ride in the crisp sunshine. As to what would happen when they reached their destination, that was another matter.
    Although Sabin had begun to protest, Meggie had insisted on giving at least some explanation to her father of Sabin’s presence, and, indeed, of where the two of them were off to that morning. Aware of Sabin furiously shaking her head out of Josse’s line of sight, Meggie had taken his hand and said quietly, ‘Sabin is concerned about a matter of some delicacy, and I have undertaken to give her my opinion.’ It was the truth, more or less. Josse, bless him, had not asked any awkward questions, but simply bent to kiss her on the top of the head and then wished