The Rose of the World by Alys Clare

Tilly. Tilly’s younger children, subdued for once, sat in a corner quietly playing with their toys. The eldest child, a boy, sat close to his father, and Gus had an arm around the lad’s thin shoulders. Ella, presumably, was in her habitual place in the kitchen.
    Just as Will had said, Meggie was not there. Josse repeated his question: ‘Has Meggie been home today?’
    Gus looked up at him, surprised. ‘No! We thought she’d be over at the hut.’
    â€˜She’s not. She hasn’t been there at all.’
    â€˜Oh, no! Then where is she?’ Geoffroi looked wildly around, his expression anguished.
    â€˜Will thinks she’s taken Daisy,’ Josse added. ‘Where can she have gone?’
    â€˜She’s probably met up with one of the other search parties and gone back with them,’ Gus said reasonably. ‘Dominic was here earlier. He found nothing,’ he added quickly, in response to Josse’s unspoken enquiry, ‘and he said he was going to make his way slowly back to New Winnowlands and aim to be there as darkness fell.’
    Dominic. Oh, Dominic. ‘How is he?’ Josse said gruffly.
    Gus shrugged. ‘He’s holding up.’
    Poor Dominic had to go home to Paradisa this night, Josse realized, and tell her the child is still out there somewhere. Dear Lord, help them both.
    Tilly got up and went to stand beside Josse. ‘Come and eat,’ she urged. ‘Ella’s got hot food all ready, and there’s a jug of spiced wine just waiting for the hot poker to make it steam.’
    Food. Wine. Josse realized how hungry he was. He subsided on to a bench by the fire and, looking gratefully at Tilly, said, ‘Aye, I like the sound of both of those.’
    Tilly hurried off to fetch the food, and Gus prepared the wine. Josse took a deep draught – he felt the warmth and the alcohol hit his empty belly and for a moment his head swam – and he emitted a long, ‘Aaaah,’ of satisfaction. Presently, Tilly returned with a platter of mutton stew in rich gravy, with chunks of root vegetables and a generous hunk of bread, and Josse ate as if he hadn’t seen food for days. It did not take him long to clear the platter and, putting it down, he said, ‘I have some news. Not much, but I wish to keep you all informed. Gus, would you please fetch Will and Ella?’
    While they waited, Josse wondered idly how many other knightly households included their servants in family discussions. He smiled wryly to himself. His no longer felt like a knightly household – if, indeed, anywhere he had lived fitted that description, whatever it meant – and he had never been entirely sure where kin ended and kith began.
    Geoffroi got up and came to sit beside him on the bench. Josse put his arm round the boy, just as Gus had done to his own son. It felt good.
    When Will and Ella had settled – the diffident Ella so far to the back of the little group that Josse could hardly see her – he told them everything that had happened since he had been summoned that morning by the sheriff’s man, Tomas, and ridden off with him. His listeners made no comment beyond a few soft muttering among themselves, so Josse went on to outline Abbess Caliste’s thoughts on what might have happened.
    It was Gus who spoke first. ‘It’s either a falling out among the two people who slept in the camp, then, and in that case probably nothing to do with our Rosamund.’ A frown creased his brow. ‘It could be that the man who took her was challenged by someone, who he fought with and who was killed in the fight. Or else maybe it was the dead man that took her, and somebody objected to that and went to try to take her back.’ His frown cleared. ‘I reckon that’s the most likely way of it.’
    â€˜Aye,’ Josse said thoughtfully. ‘Aye, it’s possible.’
    â€˜This other man got the better of the