The Enchanter's Forest by Alys Clare Read Free Book Online Page A

surprised to find the small beer pretty good, although the bread was hard and the meat had what looked like a maggot hole in it. His meal – served up by another of the strong-looking guards – had cost him another half-penny.
         Assuming the same forty visitors, of whom perhaps thirty took refreshments, then that was another fifteen pennies. Some people clearly made use of the overnight accommodation; Josse had observed that one of the huts contained a pile of straw palliasses and a heap of blankets. Goodness only knew what the charge was for spending the night in Florian’s hut. And then there would probably be another half a penny for food and drink in the morning; people were reluctant to start a long walk with nothing in their bellies. Perhaps a penny for accommodation and breakfast? If only one family spent the night, that was at least another shilling a week.
         Was there anything else? Josse thought it over. Oh, yes – the offerings. There had been a depression in the ground between the tomb and the refreshment tables, at the bottom of which a little spring welled up out of the earth. The stony bed of the spring had, by the time Josse passed by, been already covered with coins and with what had looked like pieces of jewellery and other small metal items such as pins and pocket knives. Doubtless people felt that Merlin would be more likely to answer their prayers if they gave him something and Florian was obviously encouraging them in this belief; Josse himself had been invited to leave his offering, although in fact he had not done so.
         There was no way that he could accurately judge just what Florian was making each day. What was absolutely certain, however, was that it was a very great deal.
         Keeping that fact at the forefront of his mind and pushing firmly aside the memory of how Merlin’s Tomb had affected him, Josse kicked the cob into a surprisingly sprightly canter and headed for the Abbey and the Abbess.
     
    Helewise looked up from her work to see Josse standing in the open doorway. With a smile of welcome, she indicated the stool that she kept for visitors and invited him to sit down and tell her all about it.
         She heard him out in silence, nodding occasionally. When he had finished, she said slowly, ‘Sir Josse, it is far, far worse than I feared, for the crowds whom you describe who queue up so patiently and so optimistically to view the tomb are clearly not to be deterred by reasoned argument. Even if we made a direct appeal – and, believe me, I have been contemplating such a move – I do not think that anyone is at present in a mood to leave the thrilling excitement and promise of the new for the unchanging reliability of Hawkenlye.’
         He seemed to be on the point of speaking but appeared to change his mind; probably, she thought grimly, because, although he would like to protest, he knows I speak the truth. She thought for a while, did some mental calculations and then said, ‘If I reckon aright, this Florian of Southfrith must be making roughly twenty shillings a day.’ As the enormity of that sum struck her – why, a chaplain only earned twice that in a year ! – she realised she must have made a mistake. ‘But that cannot be right,’ she added.
         But Josse was nodding glumly. ‘No mistake, my lady. That’s what I worked out too. And, believe me, I was cautious in my estimates and so the likelihood is that he’s coining in a great deal more.’
         ‘He is surely unlikely to go on making so much,’ she said doubtfully. ‘As the proverb has it, a wonder lasts nine days, and then the puppy’s eyes are open.’
         ‘Hm.’
         She had expected a more emphatic endorsement of her remark; had he not sat outside this very room only this morning and claimed firmly that the whole Merlin’s Tomb business was nothing but a hoax? ‘Sir Josse?’ she said enquiringly. ‘Do you not agree that people will soon tire of this