by Alys Clare
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I asked after her, and I was told that she’s keeping to her room.’ He turned to Edild. ‘The wet-nurse who you found has brought the baby up to Lakehall, and the three of them have shut themselves away together.’
I was relieved to hear it. It sounded as if Lady Rosaria was starting to act like a mother at last. I should have been more charitable towards her, I thought. I’d suspected from the first that she’d suffered some awful experience, and was still in a state of shock. That could easily account for her apparent indifference towards Leafric. She was safely ensconced now with people of her own station; people who had promised to do their best to help her find her kinsmen. It was only natural she’d begin to feel better. To remember, perhaps, that she had a child who needed her.
Cheered by the thought – I’d become very fond of Leafric – I hurried after Jack and Edild.
We went in through Lakehall’s open gates, and Jack strode on across the yard and up the steps to the great door. Edild’s and my boots, I noticed with horror, were now as muddy as Jack’s, although we’d had the foresight to tuck up our gowns and keep them relatively clean. I turned in dismay to my aunt. ‘We’re going to make the hall filthy!’ I whispered. ‘Should we not take our boots off?’
Jack overheard. Turning, he said, ‘You are here at Lord Gilbert’s request, because he has need of you. Don’t worry about dirtying his floor.’ There was, I reflected, not for the first time, something very fair-minded about Jack Chevestrier. Then, with a grin, he added, ‘Besides, the damage has already been done.’
I followed Edild up the steps.
Lord Gilbert and Lady Emma were waiting for us. There was no sign of their children, and I guessed they’d been packed off somewhere with their nursemaid, well out of earshot. What we were about to discuss wasn’t really fit for young ears.
Lord Gilbert greeted Edild and me, murmuring his thanks for our prompt arrival, and Edild acknowledged him with a graceful inclination of her head. Then he turned to Jack, instantly engaging him in conversation, and, from the way he addressed him, I realized something.
I hadn’t been present the previous day, when the two men first met; Leafric’s abrupt onset of yelling had seen to that. I had therefore missed the chance of observing Lord Gilbert’s reaction to having Jack Chevestrier turn up in his hall. Now, as I could plainly see, it must have been a favourable one. From the way Lord Gilbert was treating him, it was clear he both knew of his reputation and, on meeting him, had liked him. Also, there was little in Lord Gilbert’s manner to suggest Jack was some lowly underling well below his notice. On the contrary, Lord Gilbert was listening to him attentively, giving him the respect that only a senior lawman would warrant.
Lord Gilbert, as I’ve said before, is fat and indolent, content to leave much of the running of his manor to his intelligent and capable wife and his efficient reeve. However, he is still a lord; if he judges a man worthy of respect, then that is something to bear in mind.
‘We have, as you suggested, Jack, dispatched four men with a cart to collect the body,’ Lord Gilbert was saying. He glanced towards the door. ‘They should be back soon, although conditions will probably mean the journey takes longer than normal.’
‘We must prepare a cool place to receive the body,’ Edild said calmly.
‘Cool?’ For a moment Lord Gilbert looked puzzled, then, with a grimace, he nodded. ‘Yes, I see.’ He turned to Lady Emma, his expression suggesting he was at a loss.
‘The undercroft, I think,’ she said, exchanging a glance with Edild. ‘We should be able to avoid going down there for a few days, and the door is stout.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ Edild said. ‘I have brought sweet herbs to burn. Perhaps Lassair and I might make a start now?’
‘Of course.’ I had half-expected Lady Emma to summon a servant, but instead, pausing only to pick up a lighted lantern, she took us herself. We went back down into the yard, then, walking round to the side of the building, she unlocked and opened a low, heavy oak door. Steep steps led down into the ground, and we found ourselves in a low-ceilinged, vaulted space apparently as broad and as wide as the hall above. There was a strong smell of lavender; all to the good, I thought. Perhaps we wouldn’t need our sweet herbs. Lady Emma lit half a dozen rush lamps, and the shadows danced back to the far end of the crypt. Indicating a trestle table set up in the middle of the floor, she said, ‘Only last week I was sitting there preparing lavender to refill the little bags we use in the linen store.’ She sighed, as if the table’s abrupt change of use saddened her.
Edild put down her bag. ‘Thank you, my lady. Lassair and I can manage now.’
It sounded rather like a dismissal, and, risking a quick glance at Lady Emma, I wondered if she thought so too. But, as hurriedly she turned and went back up the steps, the only expression I saw on her face was relief.
Laying out the dead is not to everyone’s taste.
When at last we heard sounds of commotion above, we were ready for the corpse. A length of worn but clean cloth was spread on the trestle, wide enough to wrap around the body, and Edild had set bunches of her herbs smouldering in the corners of the cellar. Combined with Lady Emma’s lavender, the effect was almost overpowering. The tools of our trade had been neatly laid out on an upturned chest: pots of ointment, skins of water for washing out wounds, and Edild’s own leather-wrapped set of sharp knives and probes.
I wasn’t looking forward to witnessing their use, and was hoping fervently that a detailed examination of the body wouldn’t prove necessary. We were, I assumed, here to determine how the dead man had met his end, and, in all probability, he’d drowned.
There was quite a lot of shuffling and one or two muttered curses, and then two men appeared at the foot of the steps, carrying one end of a hazel hurdle. Two more men followed, and the four of them carried their burden over to the trestle and laid it down. The corpse had been covered with a thin, much-mended cloak.
‘Thank you.’ Edild turned to the men. ‘You may go now.’
I’ve rarely seen four people move so fast. Not that you could blame them: despite the herbs and the lavender, I could already smell the corpse. I was used to the smell of death – well, becoming used to it – and even I felt like retching.
‘Come along,’ Edild said briskly. ‘The sooner we complete our task, the sooner we can leave.’
She picked up the cloak at what appeared to be the head end of the body. Just as she began to fold it back, once more we heard feet on the stairs. Jumping the last few steps, as if he couldn’t wait to join us, Jack emerged into the undercroft.
Edild raised her eyebrows in query. He indicated the cloak she held in her hands. ‘I’d like it back, when you’re done,’ he said. ‘The man it belongs to won’t be able to afford another one.’
‘You can take it now and go. I have cloth with which to cover the body.’ She indicated the fabric folded to the side of the trestle.
Jack held her gaze. ‘I’ll stay, if it’s all the same to you.’
She smiled at him. ‘You are welcome, of course, although it will not be pleasant.’
‘Nevertheless, I’ll stay,’ he said shortly.
Edild turned back to the body. She arranged the cloak so that the head and face were exposed, and all three of us stepped forward to take our first look at the victim.
He was young, about my age, which made his death more poignant. I couldn’t help thinking of the years he’d been denied. His hair was worn long, and it was dirty from his immersion in the wild water. Edild picked at the filth, getting a fingernail under a big flake of caked mud, and a strand of bright blond emerged. His face was well-shaped, the cheekbones high and proud, and the wide mouth looked as if it would have readily spread in a smile.
The eyes were half-closed. I took one glance at them, then hastily looked away. I’d believed I had conquered my revulsion, but, at the sight of those eyeballs, the nausea threatened to return. Edild’s quiet voice brought me back from the brink. ‘En
ough remains to determine that the eyes were blue,’ she said, her tone devoid of any emotion. We are here to do a job, she seemed to be reminding me.
She folded the cloak back another turn, exposing the shoulders and upper arms. So far, the flesh was unbroken, although here and there angry bruises darkened its whiteness.
‘Is there any sign yet to suggest he did not die by drowning?’ Jack said softly.
Edild paused, apparently thinking, then reached under the cloak and brought out the corpse’s right hand. It was long-fingered and quite small. She turned it over, revealing the palm and the undersides of the fingers, all of which were deeply wrinkled. ‘He had obviously been in the water a long time,’ she said, ‘and I noticed a crust around his mouth and a small amount of foam in the nostrils, which can indicate death by drowning.’ Tucking the hand away once more, she went on, ‘I am, I confess, puzzled by some aspects of the markings on the skin, and I think it is time to study the body in its entirety.’ She looked up at me, nodded, and, taking this as my cue, I went round to the far side of the trestle and took hold of the cloak. Together we drew it right back to the feet of the corpse.
Then, as all three of us stared down at the naked body we had just revealed, our mistake shouted out at us.
The body was that of a woman.
She had been tall and strongly built; it was easy to see how, covered as she had been when brought into the hall, she had been taken for a man. Presumably it had not occurred to those who found her to reveal her sex, reasoning, perhaps, that it would be obvious as soon as the cloak was removed.
She was long-limbed and slim-hipped, but, as soon as the eye moved up to her chest, all resemblance to a man ended, for her breasts must have been round and generous. Not that we could have said for certain, for much of the soft flesh had gone. In part, this might have been due to the battering she had received as the furious waters drove her upriver. In part, also, it was the work of the marine creatures which had fed on her. An image came into my mind of the eels my father catches, with their wide, voracious mouths and sharp little teeth. Eels, it is well known, are partial to decaying animal remains.
For the second time, nausea threatened. I swallowed a couple of times, took a deep breath, and it receded.
With a soft sigh, Edild picked up her cloth sheet and draped it over that poor, ruined body. She drew it up over the head, then combed out the tangled hair with her fingers. I looked at Jack, and saw that his face was twisted in compassion. Edild stepped away from the woman’s body, and for a while the three of us simply stood, heads lowered, to pay our respects.
The silence was broken by the sound of some small object falling on the stone floor. Jack bent down to retrieve it, moving closer to one of the lamps to inspect it. He studied it for a while, then murmured, ‘It’s a crab. Quite dead –’ he tapped a fingernail against its dry, brittle shell to demonstrate – ‘and I imagine it fell out of her hair.’
‘We don’t normally find crabs this far inland,’ I said. ‘The water’s not salty enough.’
‘It probably is just now,’ Jack replied. ‘There will still be a lot of sea out in the rivers and the marshes. But this little thing’s been dead quite a while.’ He went on looking at it for a moment, then closed his hand on it.
‘We should report our findings to Lord Gilbert,’ Edild said. She gave the sheet a final adjustment, and I thought that it was only with reluctance that she stepped away from the trestle.
‘And what are those findings?’ Jack’s voice, I thought, had an edge of urgency.
‘That, as far as I can tell, this woman drowned,’ Edild replied, ‘but, in the absence of any garment, article of jewellery or any other possession, we are quite unable to establish her identity.’
He nodded, then, with a gesture of one hand, invited Edild and me to precede him up the steps. Before I left the undercroft, I blew out the rush lamps. It seemed kinder, somehow, to leave the dead woman in darkness.
‘I suppose,’ Lord Gilbert said heavily, ‘we’ll have to set about discovering who she is.’ He spun round to Jack. ‘Was there any clue from the three men who found her? Anything at the scene that might have belonged to her?’
‘I asked them, my lord,’ Jack replied, ‘and they said no. It may be, however,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘that the shock of discovering a naked body drove all thoughts of having a thorough search out of their minds. It would perhaps be worth having another look.’
‘The waters may have gone down a little by now,’ Lord Gilbert said, ‘so I think, Jack, that the idea is a good one.’ He paused. ‘And then what?’
‘Then I’ll go on downriver, north towards the coast,’ Jack said promptly, ‘and try to discover if any family is missing a tall, strongly built, fair-haired young woman.’
‘Thank you,’ Lord Gilbert said. I was sure there was relief in his voice. He’d probably been thinking that the painstaking and laborious task of discovering the dead woman’s name would fall to him, and, since he’s not renowned for being painstaking, and certainly never takes on an arduous task if anyone else will do it for him, his relief was understandable.
Edild suddenly spoke. ‘He should take Lassair with him.’
If I hadn’t happened to be looking at Jack as she said the words, I’d have missed the quick, appraising glance he gave me.
‘Why do you suggest that, Edild?’ Lady Emma asked.
Edild turned to her. ‘For two reasons, my lady. First, because Lassair is a dowser, and has a talent for finding things that are lost.’ Well, I couldn’t argue with that, although it embarrassed me to hear it mentioned in such company. ‘Second, because she is skilled at finding the safe ways over marshland that are usually hidden from our eyes.’
That, too, was true. Once, I had led two people – one of them Rollo – across the deadly, waterlogged land surrounding the island of Ely. Edild knew about it; in some strange way, she had predicted that I would do it. I was surprised, however, that she should bring such a private matter to the attention of anyone outside my own family.
‘What do you say, Lassair?’ Lord Gilbert was saying.
I felt four pairs of eyes intent on me, and my first instinct was to turn tail and run. But, resting my gaze on Jack, I saw his mouth briefly twitch in a smile.
I realized that he wasn’t at all dismayed at the prospect of my company.
‘Very well,’ I heard myself saying. ‘I’ll do it.’
We set off only a short time later. Edild had bade me a swift farewell, squeezing my arm briefly by way of encouragement. I had checked my satchel to make sure I had everything I was likely to need, and Jack had gone out to prepare the horses. The prospect of riding the beautiful Isis again was, I had to admit, one of my main reasons for agreeing to the mission. Lady Emma, meanwhile, had sent to the kitchens for food and drink for us to take with us.
Lord Gilbert and Lady Emma stood at the top of the steps, Bermund just behind them, watching as we rode out of the courtyard. Lady Emma raised a hand in farewell. We rode down the track leading to the road, and I went to turn to my right, through the village.
Jack stopped me. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘we’ll avoid the village.’ Putting heels to his grey, he trotted off to the left, then urged his horse up the bank and on to the higher ground. We cut across the neck of the bulge that forms Aelf Fen, past the ancient, solitary oak that stands behind Edild’s house and, very soon afterwards, descended on to the road leading north. Turning to me, Jack said, ‘How quickly do you think we can cover four miles?’
Never one to refuse a challenge, I tightened my knees against Isis’s flanks and we leapt forward.
We followed the track that runs along the fen edge, although occasionally, where the flood waters had overrun it, we had to veer up to the higher ground to the east. Over to the left, the great basin of the fens looked like one solid sheet of water. I could see that not many hours ago, the extent of the flooding had been even wider. My heart went out to all the fen dwellers that morning. I know, from bitte
r experience, what it’s like to try to clean a house that has been inundated with black fenland mud. And I was quite sure there would have been deaths: our long-limbed woman was surely not the only casualty of the night.
Jack and I kept up a good pace, and quite soon we came to the place we sought. Jack had taken directions from the man who had come to report the body, who had said that we really couldn’t miss the spot because it was the first bridge we would come to after leaving Aelf Fen. I had wondered if the man and his companions would still be lurking about, but there was no sign of them, or, indeed, of anyone else. This was odd, because more than once I had the distinct sensation that someone was watching us.
Jack and I drew rein above the flood water, and we stared down at the scene. The bridge was a simple affair of wooden planks lashed together, and it spanned two distinct rises in the surrounding ground. I knew the place; the banks there are a good spot for comfrey, which we use to knit wounds and broken bones. Now, the little bridge had a collection of debris caught up against it, so that it was acting like a dam. A large pool had spread out downstream, and the slowly circling current carried bolts of wood, planks, broken branches and part of a smashed barrel.
Jack said, ‘I imagine we’re only seeing the bits that nobody could reach.’ He pointed towards a long, thin branch, stripped of its side shoots, which had been left on the bank. He was undoubtedly right, and I had a mind picture of a group of people doing their utmost to collect the bounty that the flood had unexpectedly provided.
I couldn’t blame them – I’d have done the same thing myself – but, all the same, my heart sank. ‘They’ll have probably taken the very objects we’re hoping to find,’ I said dolefully.
But Jack had seen something. He jumped down from his horse, and, eager not to miss anything, I dismounted too. He didn’t bother with tethering our mounts; he must have known they wouldn’t stray far. He made his way cautiously down from the track to the waterside, holding out a hand to me. I took it; the ground was incredibly slippery, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with a wet bottom.
