The Paths of the Air Read Free Page B

want the foreigner to regain his health and strength as quickly as possible. This might have been with the aim of seeing the back of the fellow but Josse thought not. He concluded that Will was concerned with the reputation of New Winnowlands and, indeed, of Josse himself. It was as if it was up to Josse’s household to respond to the man’s faith in them and do their utmost to provide that which he had humbly come seeking.
    Ella, who normally did no more than silently obey whatever orders were issued to her, also seemed affected by this generosity of spirit. Josse noticed the sudden variety in the dishes that were brought to his table; they all seemed to have the most delicious and mouth-watering smells. Josse checked with Will, who confirmed that the same dishes were being sent to the outbuilding. ‘Hope it’s all right with you, sir, only you did say as to feed him up.’
    â€˜Aye, Will, of course it’s all right,’ Josse assured him. ‘I had—’ I had never imagined Ella to be such an imaginative cook, was what he nearly said. But since it was hardly kind or flattering to the mild and chronically unselfconfident Ella, he held back.
    But Will seemed to understand. ‘Makes a change from pie, sir,’ he observed in an undertone.
    â€˜Nothing wrong with Ella’s pies,’ Josse said stoutly. Then, grinning, ‘But aye, it does.’
    Will’s contribution to the stranger’s comfort was to furnish the outbuilding. He had knocked together a crude bed frame from old hurdles and stout pieces of wood and stuffed some sacks with straw for a mattress. He – or perhaps Ella – had provided woollen blankets. To help keep the night chill at bay, he had repaired the hearth, adding more stones to its circle, and he kept the stranger well supplied with firewood.
    With regular and nourishing meals and a warm place in which to sleep, the stranger ought to have recovered some strength. Which made it all the more peculiar that instead of rising in the morning with the rest of the household and offering to help with the chores – even a relatively weak convalescent could have done something – John Damianos continued to sleep through the short November days as if all the food and rest had no effect at all.
    Far from being able to ignore the presence of a stranger in their midst, then, Josse – and, he was quite sure, Ella and Will and everyone else at New Winnowlands – found that John Damianos was perpetually on his mind.
    It was odd .
    Days passed. Soon the stranger had been at New Winnowlands for a week, then ten days. Ella continued to provide him with large amounts of food and drink. Will had approached Josse bashfully one morning and asked if it would be all right to broach the new barrel of small beer, only the previous one had gone down so fast, what with one thing and another. Josse had noticed that the amount he had to fork out for flour had gone up considerably; Ella seemed to be constantly baking . . .
    It was time to go and see for himself.
    Early the next morning he went to the outbuilding. He tapped on the door – it was closed and latched – but there was no answer from within. Josse was about to tiptoe away but then a flash of anger got the better of him. Rapping smartly on the wooden door panel, he said loudly, ‘Are you awake in there?’
    There was a snort, as if someone were being roused from deep sleep, then sounds of rustling straw. ‘A moment,’ said a sleep-dazed voice.
    After quite a long time the door opened and John Damianos stood in the doorway. He was fully dressed in his tunic and the concealing headdress. Behind him, the straw mattress had been shaken up and the blankets neatly folded on top of it.
    The stranger made his hand-to-heart bow, bending low so that Josse could not look into his face. ‘Master,’ he murmured. ‘You wish to speak?’
    â€˜Er – aye, I do,’