by C. B. Hanley
‘Well, even if Brother Alexander did vanish, he obviously came back, so nothing too evil could have happened to him.’
‘Maybe. But still, you’re not going. We can go together – or better still, you stay here and I’ll go.’
Edwin nodded. ‘All right. If I stand here I can be in the same spot that Anabilia was, so maybe I can see what happened. Just …’ he gestured helplessly, ‘just walk straight towards it and see what happens. And then touch the cliff, and if you can’t see anything in particular, walk back again. I’ll see if I can see anything from here.’
Martin turned to face the cliff and set off at a steady pace. He didn’t actually draw his sword, but Edwin noticed that his hand was clenched around the hilt.
It didn’t take Martin long to cover the open ground, even though he was walking carefully and looking where he put each foot, presumably in case he was about to fall into some kind of crevasse, although Edwin couldn’t see one.
Edwin continued to watch as Martin neared the cliff. He slowed and then stopped. Edwin saw him reach his hand out, and then turn sideways.
And then he disappeared.
Chapter Six
‘He’s not here?’
Alys experienced a sinking, sick feeling in her stomach, followed by the first flutterings of panic. She had given up everything to come to Edwin, because he had asked her to, and he wasn’t here waiting for her? She turned to Master Theobald, who shrugged without altering his stolid expression, and Mistress Christiana, who looked as bemused as Alys felt.
A small crowd was gathering as they stood next to the cart. The oxen strained forward to reach what little grass they could at the edge of the village green, and a couple of small children skipped back out of the way of the huge beasts. Without thinking Alys turned to make sure that Randal wasn’t getting himself into any mischief, and then remembered that it was unlikely she’d ever see her youngest brother again. Or would she? Was she about to be sent back to Lincoln in shame like unsold goods?
She fought back tears as she faced the man who had spoken. ‘Where has he gone? When will he be back?’
The man shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Went out on some business for the lord earl, riding out on a fine horse like the great man he thinks he is now.’
Alys looked around at the people. She saw both curiosity and indifference in their faces, but no sympathy, no hint of help. But then, why would they pity her? She was a stranger.
Everyone was looking at her. What was she to do?
She was saved from having to speak again by the arrival of a woman for whom the crowd parted. She didn’t seem to be noble or rich, wasn’t dressed in fine fabrics – although her gown was of a superior weave and better cut than some of the others around – but she had a dignity which made Alys feel she ought to curtsey. She bobbed uncertainly.
The woman addressed the man who had spoken. ‘Robin? Your youngest came to fetch me. Do you need me?’
The man nodded his head and indicated Alys and her companions. ‘They’re looking for Edwin, so I said he wasn’t here.’
The woman greeted Master Theobald and Mistress Christiana, then looked at Alys properly for the first time. Alys wished she didn’t look quite so rumpled after the long journey in the cart. After a few moments the woman’s eyes opened wide. ‘You’re not … are you by any chance Alys?’
Alys licked her dry lips. ‘Yes, mistress.’
She was rewarded with a wide and welcoming smile, and was then taken aback to be folded in an embrace. The woman smelled of fresh herbs and flowers, and Alys couldn’t help lifting her own arms to half-return the gesture, even though she was confused.
The woman stepped back and held Alys at arm’s length. ‘There now. Somewhere, somehow, there has been a misunderstanding, but you’re here now, so that’s all that matters. My name is Anne, and I’m Edwin’s mother.’ Alys was embraced again and this time felt a kiss on her cheek. ‘Welcome to Conisbrough. Now, come home, bring your companions with you – master, mistress, you are very welcome – rest and tell me all about it.’
The sinking, sick feeling receded and Alys let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Everything was going to be all right.
Edwin stood dumbfounded as he looked at the place where Martin had been a moment ago. He wanted to run towards it, but his feet were somehow stuck to the ground.
And then Martin appeared again. Thank the Lord. He shouted something but his voice echoed off the cliff and by the time the sound reached Edwin he couldn’t make out what it was. He raised his arms in an exaggerated shrug and put his hand behind his ear. Martin waved both of his arms above his head and made an unmistakeable beckoning gesture, so Edwin started to pick his way forward across the scrubby ground.
He reached Martin a few yards ahead of the cliff. ‘What happened? I was watching you and you just disappeared, just like Anabilia said Brother Alexander did. How did you do it?’
Martin was grinning. ‘I couldn’t see it until I was right on top of it, but look.’ He pointed.
Edwin couldn’t see anything except a sheer cliff face. Martin grabbed him by both shoulders and propelled him so they were standing exactly one behind the other. He reached around and took Edwin’s right hand in his own, pointing it. ‘There. Look.’
And Edwin saw what he hadn’t noticed before; something which would be impossible to see from more than a few yards either side of where he was standing right now: there was a fissure in the rock. He took a few steps back and it disappeared. He moved forward again and it came into view. He did the same a few steps to either side. It was very difficult to see because of the whiteness of the stone, but it was definitely there, and it was big enough for a man to enter.
‘Shall we go in?’
Martin nodded and stepped forward. This time he drew his sword out of the scabbard and held it in front of him as he walked into the crack in the cliff.
Edwin followed. The fissure was quite narrow but inside it opened out a little so there was room for both of them to stand and still have space between them; it was high, as the crack reached up into the cliff, so even Martin could stand upright. Edwin looked round at the white rock which surrounded them, with a few shrivelled-looking weeds growing out of it in places. ‘Now what?’
Martin looked helplessly at him. ‘I don’t know. Why would he want to come in here?’
‘To meet someone? But who?’
Martin reached out to touch the wall. ‘Or to hide something? But where?’
‘Have a look round as carefully as you can. Maybe there’s a crack in the wall somewhere. The Lord knows what we might be looking for, but it could be something really tiny.’
They scoured the walls, and Edwin moved further back into the cave where the fissure in the cliff became narrower and narrower. When he could move no further he knelt down on the sandy floor and reached forward with his hand into the darkness.
‘Ow!’
Martin spun round, knocking his scabbard against the rock. ‘What?’
Edwin sat back on his heels. ‘I just pricked my finger. There’s something here.’
There wasn’t room for Martin to crouch down next to him, so Edwin reached forward again, carefully this time, and hauled towards him the stuff he could feel on the ground. Once he was satisfied he’d got all of it they moved it into the centre of the cave so they could examine it properly. It proved to be the rotting remains of a canvas sack and the broken pieces of a wooden box, a packing crate of some sort. It was a splinter of this which Edwin’s hand had first encountered, and he sucked at the bleeding end of his finger.
Martin moved away from where he had been blocking the light, and Edwin put his hand up to shield his eyes as the sun streamed in. He went through every inch of the wood and the bag, but there was nothing to be found.
‘So Brother Alexander was here, and we can assume that he knew this was here.’
Martin knelt next to him. ‘Yes. And something was packed in this. But what?’
; ‘I have no idea. And another question is – did Brother Alexander hide something here? Or did he find something hidden by someone else?’
Martin shrugged. ‘There’s no way of telling. And until we know what it was, we can’t know where it might be now.’
Edwin bundled the fabric and wood up together and shoved it back in the furthest corner. ‘Or whether this is what got him killed.’ He stood back up and rubbed his hands together to get rid of the fine sand which now covered them.
There was a sudden noise which made Edwin jump before he realised it was Martin’s stomach rumbling. Martin made a face. ‘I told you I was hungry.’
‘Well, you may have missed your dinner but we have found something interesting, so it’s a good exchange.’
‘Huh. I’d still like a plate of good meat.’
‘Maybe Brother Amandus can find us something to eat even though the dinner hour is past. I don’t think you’ll get any meat though.’
Martin grumbled good-naturedly as they squeezed themselves out of the mouth of the cave. Once he’d moved away from it Edwin looked back and was amazed again at how it seemed to disappear from sight. It was definitely a good hiding place, but for what?
Martin looked at the sun. ‘I don’t fancy trying to find my way back through the woods and getting all turned around, but if we just follow this cliff then it should take us back in the direction of the abbey.’ He set off.
Edwin followed, but as he glanced back at the edge of the forest he had a strange feeling they were being watched.
They did manage to get something to eat, as the guestmaster had left them out a bowl of some kind of mush each on the communal table. By the time they got to it the food was cold, but Martin was so hungry he ate it all anyway, having made sure he got the bowl which looked as though it contained a slightly larger portion. Edwin didn’t speak during the meal, which suited Martin, but once he’d finished eating he looked at Edwin and realised he wasn’t just concentrating on the food – he was miles away.
‘So, what are we going to do next?’
Edwin didn’t answer so Martin nudged him. ‘What?’
‘I said, what are we going to do next?’
‘I thought I might go and talk to Brother Octavian again.’
‘Who? I mean, which one was he?’
Edwin still had that faraway look in his eyes. ‘The precentor. The librarian.’
‘Oh, him. Why? Will he help? Or do you just want to go and look at a roomful of books again?’
Edwin looked ever so slightly guilty, and Martin sighed. How was he to have known that it would be so difficult to keep Edwin on the right path here? Normally he would just concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing for the lord earl until it was done.
‘I suppose I’d better come with you.’
Edwin smiled. ‘That sounded very enthusiastic. No, you don’t need to come. As you say, I’ll be in a room full of books, and besides, if you’re there Brother Octavian will fuss about you knocking things over or damaging something, and he won’t talk to me properly.’
Martin grunted. But still, he really oughtn’t to leave Edwin alone …
‘Perhaps you could go out and talk to some of the lay brothers? You could exercise the horses while you’re at it – it’s not good for them to just be in the stable all the time, is it?’
Martin thought this through. Edwin was right – the horses did need a run. And it was certainly tempting to think of a ride out in the air and the space outside, rather than being stuck in here behind these walls.
‘Well, if you’re sure …’
‘I’m sure. Now, if you’ve finished eating then let’s get to it.’
Martin pushed the bowl away and stood. After they left the guesthouse he made sure that Edwin got safely inside the main abbey building before he turned and headed off to the stables.
Now he came to look at it properly he could see that the stable building and its occupants were well cared for. He looked approvingly at the brushed coats, the clean straw on the floor and the filled hayracks as he made his way to the stalls where his three animal charges looked contented.
The packhorse was an old beast who would probably be quite glad of the rest, so he would ask one of the lay brothers simply to walk it around the courtyard while he took the other two out for some proper exercise. He could ride his courser with Edwin’s palfrey on a leading rein on the way out, and then the other way round on the way back. He’d saddle both now so he didn’t need to swap over while he was out.
Whistling while he worked, he looked over the top of the stall to see two lay brothers at the other end of the stable. He hadn’t noticed them before as they went about their tasks in silence; back at Conisbrough the grooms would have been chatting to each other or making jokes. Martin couldn’t get used to this quiet, but he supposed they were accustomed to it.
He hailed them as he led his courser towards the door. ‘Brothers, I’m taking both my riding animals out for some exercise – could you check on my packhorse and walk it round a bit?’
One of the brothers agreed that he would, the other bowed without speaking. Martin recognised the silent man as the one he’d spoken to the previous day. He tied the courser to a post outside and went back in for the palfrey. Oh well, being mute didn’t stop you from caring for animals, he supposed, even if you were some kind of halfwit. The young swineherd in the village of Conisbrough was a bit simple, but he did his job.
Martin stopped to speak to the lay brother on his way back out. ‘You have granges near here where some of the lay brothers work? Places where Brother Alexander would have visited?’
The lay brother paused in the act of shovelling dung. ‘Yes, my son. We have a number of granges round and about, but the nearest is at Newhall, about four miles away.’
Martin nodded. ‘How do I reach it?’
‘Out the gatehouse, take the road through the settlement and out the other side, ride on about two and a half miles and then look for a track to your right, which heads off the road next to a split oak tree. Follow the track another mile and that will bring you to the grange buildings. As it’s Sunday the brethren there will probably be round and about the buildings rather than out in the fields. You don’t have a dog, do you?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Good. It’s just that the track runs through fields of our sheep, and dogs disturb them. If you had had one I would have asked you respectfully to put it on a leash while you went through the field.’
Martin wasn’t sure whether such a fellow was entitled to tell him what to do in such a manner, but he could see the logic. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway as I don’t have one. Thank you for the directions, Brother.’
The man inclined his head as Martin continued outside. He made sure the stirrups on the palfrey’s saddle were tied up correctly and attached its leading rein with care before he mounted. The Lord knew he didn’t want to spend his day chasing after a loose horse. He put his heels to the courser’s flank, walking at a collected pace through the precinct and picking up into a trot only once he was outside the main gate. Now this was more like it. A bit of space, a horse under him and no people crowding round everywhere. He passed through the settlement, which was much smaller than Conisbrough, at a canter and made his way along the road. What would he say when he got to the grange? What would Edwin want him to ask? He decided he would find out who knew Brother Alexander and ask if anyone had a quarrel with him – that should be straightforward enough.
He would probably have missed the turning for the track had it not been for the oak, which looked like it might at some time in the past have been struck by lightning, although why the Lord might want to punish a tree on lands owned by holy monks, Martin couldn’t imagine. He dismounted to move aside the hurdle which blocked the gap in the hedge, led the horses through, and then, conscious of what the lay brother had said, moved it back into place before mounting again. The man was right, there were sheep everywhere, shorn of their fleeces at this tim
e of year, of course, but looking fat and healthy. The thought of roast mutton, so clear he could almost smell it, came to him unbidden and he wondered how they coped with the temptation of keeping all these animals without ever eating them.
As he approached the grange a few men came out of some of the buildings, no doubt alerted by the sound of hooves. They were all dressed like the ones in the abbey, in brown tunics, and they all had beards. Martin had no idea which one of them might be in charge so he gave a general greeting and explained who he was.
One of the lay brothers shouldered his way forward and sketched the sign of the cross in the air. ‘Welcome. I’m Brother Sinnulph. We heard you were visiting the abbey and we have permission to speak to you so please, come in.’
Martin dismounted and passed both sets of reins over to another man before following the broad back through the small crowd. Brother Sinnulph led the way into a building and Martin ducked under the lintel to follow him in. He found himself in what must be the main hall of their living quarters: two long tables were arranged down the length of the room with a hearth on the floor between them. There was no fire at this time of year, of course, and although nowhere indoors was ever quite free from the smell, the space was smoke-free; from the light of three unshuttered windows he could clearly see the rafters with their stores hanging down and the sideboard stacked with bowls and cups. There was no high table on a dais as there was in the earl’s hall; instead there was a large cross affixed to the end wall.
Brother Sinnulph poured a cup of ale which Martin drank thirstily after his ride in the sun. It was weak but it had a decent flavour, slightly different from the stuff which was provided in large quantities at Conisbrough for the soldiers and the lord earl’s servants. He put the empty cup down on the table and stretched his legs out in front of him.
‘So, how may we serve you? Can I show you around?’ The brother had not helped himself to a drink but had sat in that peculiarly patient way which Martin was coming to recognise as being an attribute of the monks of both types.
