The Enchanter's Forest Read Online Free PDF

sounded dejected, even to himself. Then: ‘My lady, I do not believe for one moment that these vast bones belong to Merlin. Do you?’
         She hesitated. ‘I would like to be as sure as you, Sir Josse, but I do not think that I can. For one thing, it seems that miracles have already been reported and attributed directly to Merlin’s intervention.’
         ‘But—’ He had been on the point of saying that miracles always happened at shrines; in his own view, he had a vague and barely formed notion that when people genuinely believed they were going to become well again, quite often they did. The healing water, or the saint’s finger bone, or the splinter of the True Cross, or the phial of the Blessed Virgin’s milk, might be the impetus that brought about that belief, but the cure itself was merely the body doing what it was best at.
         However, recognising that his own ideas were quite irrational and probably blasphemous as well, Josse firmly closed his mouth on his objection.
         ‘But?’ the Abbess prompted.
         He shook his head. ‘Nothing, my lady.’
         After a while, she spoke again. ‘Brother Firmin said something comforting,’ she said slowly.
         ‘Aye? And what was that?’
         ‘He is remarkably sanguine about the whole thing. I was relieved – I had thought that he would be deeply distressed at this apparent shunning of the precious Holy Water that has become almost his life’s blood. And he is still weak, you know, after the sickness last year.’
         ‘Aye.’ Privately Josse was amazed that the old monk was still alive.
         ‘I asked him why he seemed so unconcerned,’ the Abbess went on, ‘and he replied that as soon as the pilgrims realise that the new shrine doesn’t work, they’ll be back.
         ‘But it does work,’ Josse protested. ‘You have just been telling me of the recent miracles.’
         ‘Brother Firmin maintains that they are false. He was very apologetic about what he saw as wishing disappointment on those who think they’ve been cured, but he says that what appear to be miracles are just the excitement of the new attraction.’
         ‘Does he, now?’ Good for Firmin, Josse thought, quite surprised that the old boy should demonstrate such clear-eyed objectivity. ‘Well, my lady, that is an encouraging thought. But since we can have no idea of how long it will be before people discover their mistake, and since the Abbey which you and I both love is suffering in the meantime—’
         ‘ And people are being seduced away from the true source of help,’ she put in. ‘If it is true that these are the bones of Merlin, then I am a little surprised that they should have brought about healing, for Merlin was a sage and a magician but not specifically a man who was renowned for the working of miracle cures. Whereas our Holy Water spring was discovered via the direct intercession of the Blessed Virgin herself who, as you will recall, Sir Josse, appeared to a party of French merchants dying of fever and told them that the water would cure them, as indeed it did.’
         ‘Aye, I remember, and indeed there’s that too . . . Where was I? Oh, yes. We can’t just sit back and wait. We must do something.’
        ‘Yes,’ she cried, as fervent as he. Then: ‘What?’
         He thought for a moment. Then he said slowly, ‘My lady, you keep in your mind room for doubt, I think; you will not say definitely that these bones are not what they are claimed to be.’
         ‘No-o,’ she agreed tentatively.
         ‘I am less charitable and I am all but certain that this is nothing but a scheme cooked up by a clever man to rob the credulous of their money.’
         ‘But you can’t be sure!’ she protested. ‘What if the bones are genuine and are really capable of doing good and helping those in need?’
         Thinking that he’d eat his cap if they were, Josse said, ‘I will try to keep