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would, Josse thought, be used to dealing with the deafness of the very old. ‘How may I help you?’
         ‘Good morning, Sister Emanuel,’ he returned. He explained his request and she gave a brief nod, turning on her heel and, beckoning to him, stepping over to the left of the door where, in a recess, stood a large wooden chest.
         Opening it, she knelt and carefully checked through the folded garments. A sweet scent of lavender rose to Josse’s nostrils and he breathed in deeply, reflecting in passing that such an impulse was not one you would normally wish to indulge in an old people’s home. But Sister Emanuel, he knew, would not permit the stench of urine and unwashed flesh in her domain; what luck, he reflected, to be cared for by one such as her at the end of a long life.
         She stood up, a bundle of soft, moss-green woollen cloth in her arms. Shaking it out, she held the garment against Josse: it was a tunic, generously cut if a little short. ‘I think this will do,’ she said, bending down to see just where the hem fell. ‘It was once a fine garment, but has been worn for rather too long.’ She pointed to several neat darns.
         ‘It is just what I want,’ Josse assured her. ‘A decent fellow fallen on hard times, that’s me.’
         She risked a very small smile. Delving back into the chest, she extracted a leather cap. ‘And what about this to cover your head?’
         He tried it on. It fitted perfectly. ‘Thank you, Sister. I am grateful.’
         She bowed. Then, as if eager to return to her charges, she courteously showed him to the door.
     
    Josse and the Abbey cob were old friends. Being in no great hurry, for his destination was probably only eight or ten miles distant, Josse did not press the aged animal but was content to jog along at a pace that was mostly an ambling trot. His path curved round to the east and then turned southwards, then south-westwards, following the outer perimeter of the Great Forest. It would have been more direct to ride straight through the thick woodland but Josse, like everyone else in the area, avoided going into the forest unless he really had to.
         Sister Basilia in the refectory kitchens had packed up some food for him and after an hour or so he stopped in the deep shade of an oak tree and, leaning against its trunk while the cob grazed nearby, ate his bread and cheese and drank the flagon of small beer.
         He had been given only vague directions to the new shrine but he was reasonably confident of finding it. He rode along slowly now, the path following a slight rise in the heathland to the south, watching the densely growing trees and undergrowth to his right and looking out for a break that would give access to the interior. As it turned out, he could not have missed the spot even without such careful attention: a steady stream of people was tramping along the track, making for the shrine, and all he had to do was follow the herd.
         The trees on the edge of the forest had been thinned to allow clear access. About a dozen large trees had been hacked down, their raw, wide trunks testimony to the size and age of the amputated trees. Across the space that they had left was a path, clearly marked by stones set at regular intervals along each side.
         Into Josse’s head flew the thought: the forest people will not like this.
         He pictured Joanna, who lived away on the other side of the forest but who nevertheless, he knew without a doubt, would be well aware of this violation. Then he thought of the strange, otherworldly woman known only as the Domina, and a shudder of fear went through him. The Domina had power and the Great Forest was her land. What would she do in response to this abomination?
         For abomination was what it was. Dismounting and leading the cob – there were many people on the path, young and old, and Josse did not want to push through on horseback and make them leap out of