The Scrivener s Tale - By Fiona McIntosh Page 0,15

So many times in his working life he'd had to adopt that calm but implacable stance with parents, guardians, teachers, even other doctors.

'Where?' Reynard asked sounding reluctant.

'It will have to be my studio, I suppose. It is neutral for Angelina. It is also spacious and quiet. You can wait downstairs in the lobby or you're welcome to sit on the landing outside. But I want to speak to her without interference of any kind.'

'I will wait on the landing as you suggest. When?'

Gabe shrugged, surprised by Reynard's continuing possessiveness. 'It's my day off tomorrow. Let's say eleven, shall we?'

'That's fine.'

Gabe stood. 'Bring a book. The landing offers no diversion,' he said, his tone neutral. He looked at the girl. 'Bye, Angelina.' She ignored him. Reynard began to apologise. 'Don't,' Gabe said, 'it's okay. We'll talk tomorrow.'

'Thank you,' Reynard said.

Gabe left without another word, unaware of how Angelina's gaze followed long after most people's vision would have lost him to the blur of street life.

Brother Josse opened the door to the calefactory and felt the change in temperature. It was the only chamber, other than his private room, where a fire was permitted. But he invariably went without setting a fire in his living quarters as he believed in leading by example, and though his bones were weary - when he lay down these nights his muscles seemed to lock themselves without his permission, then the aches and pains would arrive - and his eyesight failing, he would not capitulate and give himself more comfort than the rest of the Brothers.

The warmth enveloped him like a blanket and he sighed with silent pleasure. He regarded the back of his visitor, who was looking out of the window onto the herb gardens. Spare and small-framed, the man turned at the sound of Josse closing the door.

'I didn't hear you arrive,' the stranger said, soft of voice but with a warm and ready smile.

'That's the point, I believe,' Josse replied, equally genially. All in the Brotherhood could move in silence. 'It has been a very long time.'

'It has,' came the reply. 'You were not much more than a lad last time we met.'

Josse nodded. 'And you said one day you would need my help, that you would come,' he said, taking in his guest's straight bearing beneath the simple grey robe, the neat hair shot through with silver, but the face surprisingly unlined for one so old. How could that be?

'I have kept my promise,' the visitor said gently.

Josse knew he was staring, trying to make sense of the man's presence. He finally gathered his wits. 'Er, will you break bread with me?'

'Thank you. My tastes are uncomplicated though, Brother Josse. I eat no meat.'

'Ah, that's right. No living creature; I remember you telling me all those years ago.'

The man smiled again, the echo of its brightness sparkling in his eyes. 'I think the fruits and vegetables forgive me though,' he said with a shrug.

'I have followed in the same steps.'

Surprise registered on the man's face. 'Truly? I'm impressed.'

Josse laughed. 'I believe I've been in awe of you since childhood.'

'I don't know why,' came the reply and even the tone was modest.

Josse shook his head. 'Even now you surprise me with your own humility and yet I know that you are - '

'Please,' the man said, 'do not treat me with any deference. I am, as you see, a simple soul with simple needs.'

'May I offer you a cup of gleam?'

'Certainly, it would be a treat. I haven't tasted the spicy wine in many years. It will loosen our tongues for we have important matters to discuss.'

Josse felt a thrill of excitement. He didn't know why this man had taken such an interest in his life when he'd been brought to the priory at the age of nine. He remembered him not much differently than how he stood here now: the hair was a little less silvered perhaps, but beyond that the eyes were still sharp and bright, pierced by a curious shot of gold around the pupils.

The jug of gleam arrived, and although they seated themselves by the fire, Josse was sure that his guest did so only out of cordiality rather than need. Josse had asked for them not to be disturbed, and so now they sat opposite one another, but not really in a comfortable silence - because Josse felt nervous.

Josse grabbed his opportunity. It was now or never. 'May I ask, um