Mist Over the Water

by Alys Clare

  It is a vision from out of my own imagination! I told myself as I fought panic. It was quite likely, after all, for hadn’t I just heard a tale of horror describing such a figure as this?

  It was likely, yes. I might have believed it, except that I had glimpsed it before. And if it existed only in my mind, why, then, could Gewis see it too?

  He moaned in dread, and I knew I must act. I had to break the spell and remove us both from whatever enchantment held us in its grip. I took a step back and then launched myself on Gewis, knocking him sideways so that he stumbled and fell.

  The apparition vanished. I spared one quick glance at the spot where it had been, and then my head spun round because I had heard Rollo cry out.

  In the first dreadful instant I thought Lord Edmund had stabbed him. But immediately my eyes met his I realized it was a shout of warning. I whipped round to look behind me and saw the four burly guardians coming striding across the open ground towards us.

  Even with Rollo fighting beside us, the odds against the three of us were tough. Without him, Gewis and I might as well have given up straight away. I launched myself at Lord Edmund, my mouth open in a snarl, and as I leapt at him my teeth closed on the hand that held the knife. I wish I could say that my carefully thought out strategy was a success, but for one thing it wasn’t thought out and for another it wasn’t all that successful. Rollo got away, yes, but not without a deep wound in his shoulder. Lord Edmund’s knife also tore into my cheek, but I barely noticed.

  I did not see what happened next but, suddenly, Lord Edmund was on the ground, and Rollo had a bloodstained knife in his hand.

  Now the three of us, Rollo, Gewis and I, stood side by side. Rollo had a sword in his right hand and his long knife in his left. Gewis and I both had knives. We backed away from the four guards who were swiftly advancing on us, heading for the maze of passageways that would lead us back to the place where we could climb the wall.

  The first two guards came at us. They, too, were armed, and there was a succession of jarring clashes as Rollo’s one sword met their two weapons. Rollo fought with the ferocity of a cornered bear. He was so fast that I had no idea how he did it. One guard fell; the other aimed his weapon at me, and without thinking I ducked the swinging sword and brought up my knife. I found flesh, for something gave under my blade and the guard gave a sort of grunt. He dropped to one knee, but I did not think he was badly wounded.

  We were at the start of the first passage. Turning, Rollo sped off down it, Gewis and I flying along behind. From somewhere near I heard the sound of chanting. As a background to what was happening out here, it was so incongruous that I almost laughed.

  The remaining two guards were after us. I could hear the thump of their boots, feel it like a percussion in my body. We ran faster, Rollo twisting and turning through the dim passages with such speed that it was all I could do to keep up. He must have doubled back for I was quite sure we passed one place where several cloisters intersected at least once.

  Then we were out in the open, flying through the moonlit gardens and heading straight for the wall. Rollo leapt up the compost heap, turned, caught hold of me and threw me up on top of the wall. Gewis scrambled up beside me and, as Rollo followed, all three of us dropped down on the far side.

  ‘We have to get off the island,’ Rollo panted.

  ‘The boat is holed!’ wailed Gewis. ‘What shall we do?’

  We stood there, and nobody said a word. Then in my head I heard my aunt’s voice: Keep your eyes wide open for the chance that will present itself. She wanted me to see if I could find the secret ways across the fens. I had forgotten all about it till this moment.

  Had she known this would happen? The chance that will present itself. It sounded as if she had, for here we stood, desperate to get away from men who wanted to kill us, and with no boat, and the ferrymen long gone home for the night, what other choice was there?

  But I was afraid! Just when the waters had begun to recede, it had rained again, and once more the sound of hungry lapping could be heard all around the island. And I was expected to find a safe way across the dark water and the deathly, sucking mud . . .

  My aunt had added something else: she had said, You will not fail. I trusted her. If she said I could do a task, she was invariably right.

  I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath and said, ‘Come on. There’s a safe way.’

  I strode off down the track that led to the water, and, to my surprise, without a word they followed me.

  Two things worried me as I hurried along. The first, naturally, was just how I was to go about finding these safe ways. The monks knew, or one or two of them did, for they had betrayed the secret to the Conqueror during the rebellion of 1071. Where did the ways begin though? How was I to find my starting point? In the absence of any other idea, I decided to pace slowly along the water’s edge and, using my dowser’s sensitivity, wait to see what called out to me. It sounded straightforward and, indeed, usually I had no trouble in putting myself into the light trance that allowed me to pick up the clear and unmistakable signs. But now three lives depended on me, one of them my own, and I was to say the least a little anxious.

  Breathe deeply, I heard my aunt say. Put aside everything else and concentrate. The ways are there and will reveal themselves to you. Be calm.

  Her voice soothed and comforted me as it always did, and I sent her my swift thanks. She was on my mind, in my mind, for the other thing that worried me was that she and Hrype were on the island. I thought – hoped – they were perfectly safe, for Lord Edmund did not know of their existence and had no reason to hunt them down or harm them. And, really, I had no choice. The two guards might have lost our trail for the moment, but I was in no doubt that Lord Edmund had already summoned more men and even now they were fanning out to begin the search. There was just no time to go back, explain to Edild and somehow get Hrype to his feet and fit for a perilous journey across dangerous ground and sinster, treacherous water.

  They would understand. I prayed that they would.

  Rollo must also have been thinking about Lord Edmund’s pursuit. ‘How long will this take?’ he said, close beside me.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I paused, not sure how to explain. ‘I have to sense where the crossing begins,’ I said.

  I felt his astonishment flare briefly, but he controlled it. As if he understood that I did not want to be distracted, he simply nodded and fell back to walk beside Gewis.

  We had been pacing along the water’s edge for some time. Nothing had as yet touched against my mind or my outstretched hands, and I was starting to think that I hadn’t been doing it right and would have to start again. I stopped, breathed deeply in and out and made myself relax, from my toes to the crown of my head. I closed my eyes and asked the spirit guardians for help. I summoned my animal guide, and in my mind I thought I saw Fox materialize beside me. His mouth was open, tongue flapping, and it looked as if he were grinning. Then I stretched out my hands, and almost straight away I felt the familiar tingle.

  My eyes shot open. For an instant I saw the path over the water lit up by a purplish-blue light, snaking to and fro across the fen. I stared at it, trying to fix it in my mind. I took very careful note of where it began, then I hurried off to the place where we must set out.

  Unless you were a dowser, you really wouldn’t find it unless someone told you where it was for there was not a thing to mark it out. It was just a stretch of shore, with a meadow and some alders. The slope of the ground was quite gentle and a spit of land led out into the water. Just beyond, in the last place you would expect, the secret way began.

  Without pausing I stepped out on to it. The water rose up to my ankles but the ground beneath my feet was firm. That was no surprise, for this part of the shore was normally above the water line. I knew that the going would get progressively more difficult, as indeed it did.

  Quite soon we were up to our knees. The water was very cold, but fortunately there was no wind and so its surf
ace was smooth. I paced on, growing familiar now with the sensations coursing up through the palms of my outstretched hands so that I made fewer mistakes. Mistakes were dangerous; the first time my foot had headed down into deep water, it had only been Rollo’s quick reaction and his iron-hard hand on my arm that had saved me.

  Sometimes I had to stop because I simply did not know which way the path went next. Then I would have to fight my terror and swiftly turn my thoughts from the image of the three of us lost in the middle of the fen, unable to go forward or back, standing there until weakness and cold made us collapse into the dark water and drown.

  No. It really was best not to think of that.

  It seemed to take hours. My two companions could not actively help me for only I could find the way, but they did not complain once, and I was strengthened by their obvious faith in me. Whether or not I deserved it remained to be seen.

  Shortly before dawn, when the first pale glow was just beginning to appear in the east, I came to a complete halt. I tried to calm myself, closing my eyes and asking the spirits to guide me. Fox was puzzled – I had a glimpse of him casting this way and that. In my mind I saw the dark water before me. No helpful lights shone to show me the secret path. I did not know what to do.

  We stood there for a long time.

  Then I felt a light touch on my arm. Opening my eyes, I turned to see Rollo. He was smiling. Slowly he raised his hand and pointed.

  I followed the direction of his arm and I understood. The light was waxing strongly now – it was going to be a lovely day – and I saw what he had seen.

  The reason why I could no longer make out the path was because I didn’t need to. Firm ground rose up before us.

  We had made it.

  I wish I’d had some warning. I wish I’d had the time, at some point in that extraordinary night, to think it through. As it was, he took me totally by surprise and the devastation hit me before I could get up the smallest, feeblest defence.

  Gewis had thrown himself on his back on the damp grass, his arm over his eyes, and I could see that he was shaking. The crossing of the fens had cost him dear. I was about to go over to offer him comfort when Rollo caught my hand and led me a few paces away. Then he put his arms around me, pulled me against him and kissed me.

  The kiss was hard and it went on for a long time. I had never before experienced the sensations that coursed through me, and all I could think as I melted into him was: so this is what it’s like. I felt my heart leave me to join with his. I wanted to bed him there and then. I knew I loved him.

  He broke away. He stood staring down at me, his dark eyes fierce, the pupils wide. I reached up my hand to trace the pale scar that ran through his eyebrow and, reminded, gasped as I recalled the wound on his neck.

  He read my thought. ‘It’s all right, I’ve bandaged it,’ he said shortly. I knew from his tone that he did not want me to look. Gently, he touched my cheek. ‘You’ll have a scar, Lassair,’ he said softly.

  I had forgotten my own wound. Now, reminded, it throbbed and I gasped at the pain. I would have to get Edild to stitch it, and that would make it hurt even more than it did now.

  I managed a smile. ‘We’ll both be scarred then.’

  He held my shoulders. He was staring at me with such intensity that I was afraid. I opened my mind to his, and what I read made me gasp in pain. ‘No,’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ he said gently.

  ‘But—’ I did not know how to deal with it. He was going, he was leaving me, with no promise of a return. I did not need to ask why. He had come on a mission, and the man who had sent him wanted to know the outcome. Rollo had no choice. I realized that I did not know what that outcome was. I thought back to the moment when Lord Edmund had slumped to the ground.

  ‘Is he dead?’ I said, my words barely audible.

  ‘Yes.’

  Of course he was. Rollo was a professional. He would not have left his enemy alive to threaten the king again.

  I stared at the man I loved and who I was about to lose. I held my head high and swallowed the sob that rose in my throat. I looked straight into his eyes, and he looked back into mine. I saw then that he loved me too.

  Then he turned and, falling quickly into an efficient, ground-covering lope, set off across the grass. Soon he was out of sight.

  I went about the many tasks I had to achieve in the next few days with quiet efficiency. It was good to have things to do.

  Gewis and I made our way back to Aelf Fen. The crossing of the fens had landed us some eight miles north-west of the village, and as soon as I had worked out where we were it was relatively easy to trudge on home. We were welcomed with anxious solicitude by my family, and it was good to be in dry clothes that were not caked with black mud. Gewis ate as if he was half-starving. I had no appetite.

  Gewis did not seem to know what to do. He was still afraid that the Wessex faction would come for him and force him into the role they had planned for him, and even when I revealed to him that Lord Edmund was dead he was not reassured.

  ‘Give him time,’ my father said wisely. I had told him the whole story, although I had mentioned Rollo only briefly. ‘He’s suffered several shocks in a short time, and he’s lost his mother. He can stay with us for a while – our own village carpenter can find jobs for him – and, when he’s ready, he can think about his future.’

  So that was Gewis dealt with.

  I was about to return to Ely to find Edild and Hrype when they turned up in Aelf Fen. Edild had hired a boatman, who had brought them almost all the way, and a farmer had carried Hrype the last few miles on his cart. Now Hrype was safely at home with Froya tending him.

  I did not like to dwell on how Edild felt about that. Her feelings for Hrype were her secret, hers and his. If they could manage to conceal their true feelings and smile about it, I had no business interfering.

  Sibert came home.

  I don’t know what he and Hrype said to each other. Again, that is between them. I am almost certain that they did not tell Froya that Sibert now knew the truth about his parents. Knowing her as I do – and I admit I don’t know her all that well – I don’t think she is the sort of woman who could receive a blow like that and not show it in her demeanour. She’s a nervy type and life’s knocks hit her a lot harder than they do most people.

  If Sibert saw that too and, out of love for her, came to terms with his anger so that she never knew he had discovered her secret then it is greatly to his credit.

  Maybe he would tell me, one day.

  I returned to my aunt’s house and went back to my studies. She had stitched the cut on my left cheek and done a very neat job. I will have a scar, but it’s quite an attractive one, like a crescent moon. As it matures, it will even be the right pale colour. Edild says the priestesses of the old religion had crescent moons tattooed on their brows, so I am in good company.

  She knows there is something wrong. She is the only one who does, although I have to keep my distance from Granny just now because she’ll pick it up, too, if I let her. Edild only realized because once I was inattentive during a lesson, and she reprimanded me; I dissolved into tears.

  With her warm arms round me and her mouth pressed to the top of my head, she murmured words of comfort. I know she read my mind, for she spoke of private things that I have not told a soul. But I didn’t mind. In fact, I discovered that having her share my secret was a comfort. Bless her, she didn’t offer platitudes and tell me I’d soon forget him and there were plenty of other young men in the world. She knew he was special, and in a way she mourned him with me. She certainly understood my pain.

  One day I plucked up courage and asked her about what was on my mind. ‘Edild, you remember my web of destiny?’ She had cast my birth chart several years ago.

  She looked up from her work. ‘Of course.’ The expression in her eyes suggested she already knew what I was going to ask.

  ‘You said I’d never be close to my lovers,’ I said, blushing, ‘and we’re no
t lovers, I mean we weren’t lovers, but I just wondered, I mean, I—’

  Edild took pity on me. She reached out and took my hand. Hers was cool. ‘I said your lovers would not feel that they were truly close to you,’ she corrected, ‘but I said that applied to your friends and family too.’

  ‘But—’ I began.

  She squeezed my hand to silence me. ‘I did not mean that you would have no lovers, Lassair, any more than that you would have no family and friends, for of the latter you have more than enough.’ She smiled, and I smiled with her. ‘No. What I saw in your chart – what, indeed, I see constantly in you – is that you have a core that is private to yourself. Nobody breaches it, for it is yours alone.’

  ‘I don’t want—’

  Again, she stopped me. ‘It is a good thing, Lassair,’ she insisted. ‘You are loving and open-hearted, and if you did not have this hidden core then there would be a danger of your giving all of yourself and that would not be wise. The way you are, you will love and be loved, yet always keep a little something back that is just for you.’

  I thought about that. I wasn’t sure it sounded very appealing. ‘It’s going to take a special sort of man to put up with me,’ I muttered, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll ever find anyone prepared to risk taking me on.’

  Edild had gone back to her pestle and mortar. She smiled serenely. ‘You will,’ she murmured. She added something else, but I didn’t catch it. I can’t have done, for what I thought she said was, You already have.

  But he had gone, and that just couldn’t be right.

  Could it?