Read Music of the Distant Stars Online
Authors: Alys Clare
Music of the Distant Stars (3 page)
Talk of food distracted him, as I hoped it would. For the length of time it took to reach the village, we amused ourselves describing what we most liked to eat. Not that he contributed much to the conversation, for his stock of words is paltry and those he does know he pronounces oddly, as if his tongue were far too large for his mouth. By the time I led him up to his door, he was smiling again, and the only reminders of his tears were the streaks of dirt on his face and the snot coming out of his nose.
Derman is a cross we are going to have to bear, for it looks as if he is going to become part of our family. My brother Haward is finally sweet on a girl, and we all have a shrewd idea that there could be a marriage before too long and a new bride in the house. It’s high time Haward was wed; he is nineteen, and although he has a kind heart, gentle ways and a handsome face, he has never sought out the pretty girls with the rest of the young men of the village because of his stammer. It wasn’t just that people made fun of him – although, of course, they did – it was also that if he ever met a girl he liked, some other lad would have charmed her with his silken tongue and led her away while poor Haward was still struggling to say
h–h–h–h–hello
.
h–h–h–h–hello
.
Zarina isn’t like the other girls, either in our village or any other in the vicinity. She isn’t really like anyone. She’s got hair so black it almost looks blue, and her eyes are a greenish-gold colour that changes according to what she’s wearing. Her skin is smooth and silky, the colour of pale oak wood. She’s only a year or so older than me, but she seems ancient, somehow, as if she’s seen a lot and has had to learn how to look after herself. Haward met her at the Lammas Fair, where she was in the company of a group of travelling entertainers. It was unclear whether or not they were her kin, but either way she had no compunction about staying behind when they moved on – she’d met Haward by then – and now she lodges with an elderly widow in the village and spends her days doing laundry. If – when – she marries my brother, she’ll make an interesting addition to the family.
Zarina, however, comes at a price, and that price is her brother Derman. I don’t know how Haward feels about his prospective brother-in-law, for we have not spoken on the subject. Knowing Haward as I do, I imagine he will readily make room in his life for poor Derman if it means he can marry his beloved Zarina. My brother is full of what the Christians say characterized Jesus Christ: a sort of all-encompassing loving kindness that accepts people for who and what they are. Had Derman been evil, malicious, spiteful or sinful, it might have been a different matter, but what ails him is not his fault – Zarina says he was born that way – and Haward is not likely to hold such misfortune against him. If Haward and Zarina marry – and I am all but sure they will – then the family and the rest of Aelf Fen will just have to make the best of it and accept Derman, even if he does look like a gargoyle and frighten little children. Zarina has implied that he cannot support himself and, as she is apparently the only living relative who cares whether he lives or dies, it is up to her to take charge of him. I suppose we’ll get used to him, given time.
I handed Derman into the care of his sister – our knock on the door must have woken Zarina, for she answered it with loose, tumbled hair, a sleepy expression and a tattered old shift clutched loosely around her body, and even under those circumstances she looked absolutely lovely – and, waving aside her thanks, I hurried away.
Edild was already up. She was stirring the breakfast porridge as I arrived and I noticed bread and a pot of honey on the table; she knew I would not have broken my fast before I set out, and clearly she wished to have food ready for my return.
One look at my face told her something was wrong.
‘What?’ The single word cut the tense silence in the tidy, fragrant little house.
Swiftly, I told her. Her face went pale, and her eyes widened in shock. Without another look at the carefully-prepared meal that lay waiting for us, she grabbed my arm and dragged me back along the track to the burial island.
We did not speak as we hurried along. Sometimes we ran, then we would slacken our pace for a while and reduce it to a fast walk. When we crossed the planks on to the island, both of us were red-faced and sweaty. I knew, even before Edild laid a restraining hand on my arm, that this was no way to approach my grandmother’s grave. We helped each other, Edild rearranging my hair and I hers, each of us straightening the other’s robe as best we could. Edild took a large, folded square of linen from her sash, and we both wiped our faces. By now our breathing was almost back to normal; my aunt took my hand, and together we stepped up to the stone slab.
We each took a corner and pushed hard. The slab moved quite readily; I recalled that earlier I’d managed to put it back in its rightful position by myself, and it was, naturally, much easier with two. Then we stared down into the grave.
I heard Edild mutter something – a prayer, an incantation, I did not know – as gently, lovingly, her hand dropped on to Granny’s brow in a caress. Then, the due observance of the grave’s rightful occupant accomplished, Edild turned to look at the interloper. Kneeling right beside her, I now took in the details that my horrified eyes had slid past the first time.
The second body was quite short, wrapped in a length of grubby cloth that looked like cheap, coarse linen. The cloth seemed to have been knotted clumsily around the body’s waist, for it made a bulge that was not in keeping with the narrow shoulders and the slight build. Was it a youth or a young woman? It could have been either . . .
Edild was carefully unfastening the linen, concentrating on the head. Soon she had uncovered the hair – which was a chestnut shade, long, glossy and curly – and then the face.
The young woman had been comely. Not beautiful, perhaps, for her cheeks were round and her mouth was wide and full. I knew, from that very first look, that this girl would have been fun. Young as she was – she must have been about my age, and I was just seventeen – already there were laughter lines around her eyes and the suggestion of dimples in her cheeks. Alive, she would have been the sort of girl who smiled readily and convulsed into giggles at the least excuse.
And now she lay dead in my grandmother’s grave.
I swallowed the sob that threatened to burst out of me and made myself concentrate on what Edild was doing. She had gathered up the folds of linen at the head of the corpse and, in response to her nod, I did the same at the feet. Then, very carefully, we raised the body and laid it on the ground beside the stone slab.
Outside the narrow confines of the grave, it was much easier to remove the enshrouding linen. Quickly, Edild untied the knots that bound it and folded it out of the way. Now we could study the girl’s clothing. She wore a gown of faded red, beautifully sewn with embroidered borders at the neck and cuffs, the colours of the silks chosen by an expert eye. The gown was not new, for not only had the fabric faded but, in addition, it was too tight for her. Her full breasts strained against the cloth, and she had recently let out the waist, where bright-red darts showed up to indicate she had altered the seams. Her hands lay folded over her stomach, and I was about to point out to Edild something I had just noticed when I was struck by something far, far more important.
I raised my eyes and looked at my aunt. She, too, had seen; I knew it from her face.
‘Two people lie dead here on the grass, Lassair,’ she said quietly.
I nodded, too sad to speak.
The young woman had been pregnant.
I was sent back to the village for help, leaving my aunt sitting on the ground beside the young woman and the child that swelled her belly. As I hurried away I could hear Edild’s sweet, soft voice in a lament. It was a comfort, if only a small one, for had it been me lying there, I could think of nobody I’d rather have to plead for me with those who take in the souls of the dead.
I dried my tears and forced myself to walk faster. I had a job to do, and there was no time for sentiment.
I wanted very much to run for my parents’ home. I no longer lived there – it was more practical to live with Edild, in the place where we both worked – but all the same, I saw my parents and my brothers regularly. Particularly in the recent days since Granny’s death; mourning her as we did, it seemed that we had all moved closer, as if to try to fill the huge gap she had left. I would have given much, just then, to be able to fly to my home and throw myself in my father’s strong arms while my mother made me something soothing and comforting to eat.
I could not do that. Instead I turned off the track to the village and headed for Lakehall.
Lakehall is where the lord of our manor lives. His name is Lord Gilbert de Caudebec, and he’s fat, easy-going and not very bright. He is married to Lady Emma, whose intelligence far outstrips that of her husband. Fortunately for us, she’s a good woman. Lord Gilbert and Lady Emma have two little children, and there’s a rumour going around in Aelf Fen that she is expecting a third. The rumour is accurate. Healers get to know these things, although of course neither Edild nor I would dream of breaking a professional confidence.
The villagers do not, in the normal way of things, see very much of either the lord or the lady. If we have business at the manor, we speak to the reeve. His name is Bermund, and he is a fair but withdrawn man of early middle age and unprepossessing appearance, being very tall and thin with a sort of poky, pointy face. My little brother Squeak says he looks like an anxious rat. As I hurried into the courtyard, Bermund was emerging from one of the outbuildings.
He saw me, stopped, sniffed and said, ‘Yes? Is it about the eels?’
My father, as I have said, is an eel catcher and so, seeing me, I suppose it was a natural assumption. There’s no reason why Bermund should have remembered that I no longer live under my father’s roof and am a healer.
‘No, sir,’ I said. I took a deep breath. ‘There was a body in my grandmother’s grave. I found it – her – early this morning.’
It seemed to take him a moment to understand what I was telling him. Just when I was wondering if I ought to have explained that the body wasn’t my grandmother’s but a second one, not put there by us, he spoke.
‘Do you know the corpse’s identity?’
I had to admire the way he went straight to the point. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘As soon as I’d made the discovery I ran back to fetch my aunt – that’s Edild, the healer?’ He nodded impatiently. ‘She came back with me to the grave – it’s on the island out in the mere.’ Again that quick nod, almost as if Bermund were saying,
Yes I know, get on with it
. ‘Together, Edild and I lifted the body out of the grave, and Edild unwound the shroud. It is – it was – a young woman, about sixteen or seventeen, with chestnut hair and wearing a red gown. She—’
Yes I know, get on with it
. ‘Together, Edild and I lifted the body out of the grave, and Edild unwound the shroud. It is – it was – a young woman, about sixteen or seventeen, with chestnut hair and wearing a red gown. She—’
The flash of recognition in Bermund’s narrow eyes was unmistakable. He held up an imperious hand and said, ‘Wait.’
I waited.
Not, however, for long. After only moments, Lady Emma appeared at the top of the stone steps that led up into Lord Gilbert’s hall. She looked very distressed, her face pale and her cheeks wet with tears. She beckoned to me, and as I crossed the courtyard and ran up the steps to stand beside her, she reached out and took my hand.
‘Oh, Lassair, tell me what you told Bermund!’ she pleaded.
‘I found a—’ I began.
‘No, no!’ she cried sharply, then instantly said, ‘I apologize. I did not mean to shout. I meant, tell me what this poor girl looks like.’
I repeated the description I had just given, adding details such as the high quality of the workmanship on the red gown, the willing tendency to laughter I’d read in the face, the gloss on the chestnut hair.
As I spoke, I sensed Lady Emma begin to slump. I shot out my arms – I am wiry and pretty strong – and caught her as she fainted.
They couldn’t send for Edild, for I explained to them that she was still out on the island. Instead they had to make do with me. I did my best to put aside the shocking drama of the morning’s tragic discovery and concentrate on my patient. Lord Gilbert and Bermund had carried her to a couch at the far end of the hall, and I sent them off on errands: Lord Gilbert to fetch a warm blanket and make sure the nursemaid kept the children out of the hall, Bermund to the kitchen for cold water.
When we were alone I leaned down to Lady Emma, who was coming out of her faint. Seeing me, her eyes widened in alarm and she tried to sit up. Gently, I pushed her back.
‘You’re quite all right,’ I said. I knew what she was going to ask before she had even framed the words; it’s the same with almost all pregnant women. Speaking right into her ear, I added, ‘So is the baby.’ I felt her relax with relief. ‘You did not fall down the steps,’ I explained, ‘so there was no danger.’
‘I did not fall?’ she echoed, her eyes searching my face.
I shook my head. ‘I caught you.’
She said nothing, but her hand shot out and clasped mine.
Lord Gilbert came puffing back with a lovely warm, soft, woolly blanket, which I told him to drape over his wife; it helps people, I find, if they think they’re doing something useful. I watched him as he looked down at her. It was clear both that he loved her dearly – which was hardly surprising – and also that he knew she was pregnant, for he shot a fleeting glance at her stomach, raising his eyebrows, and swiftly she nodded, a radiant smile crossing her face.
Other books
The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) by Gretchen Galway
Reckless Endangerment by Graham Ison
A Proper Family Holiday by Chrissie Manby
Cross Roads by William P. Young
The Orphans' Promise by Pierre Grimbert
Home in Time for Christmas by Heather Graham
Sordid by Nikki Sloane
One Way or Another by Nikki McWatters
Proof by Seduction by Courtney Milan
