Out of the Dawn Light (10 page)

Read Out of the Dawn Light Online

Authors: Alys Clare

BOOK: Out of the Dawn Light
8.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
It will eat up the land, I thought. I didn’t know where the image came from – I still don’t – but I saw in my mind an image of low cliffs crumbling before the constant, effortless attack of the waves. Mighty buildings cracked and the lines that webbed out across them, tiny and insignificant at first, swiftly and inexorably grew into huge fissures, and then enormous chunks of masonry fell away and disappeared with vast splashes into the hungry sea. People cried out in panic, the church bells sounded their urgent alarm, and from out of the turmoil I thought I heard a sudden clear note ringing out, as if someone had struck a ring of metal with an iron hammer.
Then the image faded.
I was shaking, my knees suddenly weak. I would have liked to sit down but Romain, impatient now, was already striding on.
‘Come on!’ he urged, and Sibert and I hurried to join him. ‘We’ll look down on the town, then we’ll proceed on to – to our destination.’
Had we further to go? I did not know, for Romain had only said vaguely that we were going to the coast and now we had reached it. I looked at Sibert, raising my eyebrows in enquiry.
‘The port’s down there,’ he said quietly, jerking his head in the direction of the town. ‘Romain’s land’ – a sardonic smile briefly crossed his face – ‘is on the coast a few miles to the south.’ He added, half to himself, ‘Drakelow.’
Drakelow? Was that the name of Romain’s manor? If it was, I didn’t much like it. A drake is another name for a dragon, and it was surely inauspicious to call one’s dwelling place after such a fearsome and aggressive creature. To compound the folly by adding
low
– our word for the roar of a wild beast – seemed to be just asking for trouble . . .
The bellowing of a dragon . . . Why, I wondered, did that image seem familiar? But there was no time now to dwell on that.
I frowned as I walked, already deeply uneasy about the task before us. Before
me
, in fact, for I was the dowser and it was for me to pinpoint the location of whatever we had come to find. All at once I was very angry with Romain. He had been high-handed and arrogant, assuming my – our – ready compliance with his wishes and giving out so little information in return. I’ve been such a fool, I thought miserably; I’ve gone along with his wishes as meekly as a puppy eager for a pat on the head. I ought to have demanded to know what I was getting into before I even considered leaving the safety of my sister’s house.
My sister. My fat, pregnant, complaining, cruel but nevertheless suffering sister. And I had abandoned her. Oh, well, I reflected, while I was castigating myself I might as well do the job thoroughly, so I gave myself a good scolding for being selfish and heartless as well.
Romain had stopped. I was so preoccupied with my unhappy thoughts that I almost walked right into him. I went to stand on his right; Sibert was on his left.
He stretched out his arm, indicating the scene before us. ‘Dunwich,’ he said grandly. ‘It’s one of the largest and most important ports on the east coast. Three thousand people live there’ –
three thousand!
I could not believe it, nor begin to imagine how so many people could possibly be in one place – ‘and there are half a dozen churches and quite a few chapels, and several religious foundations as well. The port exports East Anglian wool and grain and those ships you see down there’ – he pointed to the harbour – ‘are probably from the Baltic. They’ll have brought furs and timber, mostly,’ he added knowledgeably. ‘We also receive ships from the Low Countries with fine cloth’ – he brushed nonchalantly at the sleeve of his tunic – ‘and from France, bringing good wine.’
He spoke with such confident authority and for a moment, scared and homesick, so far from my home and all that I knew and understood, I had an urgent need of his strength and self-possession. He’d said
we
.
We
receive ships. How possessive he sounded about this astonishing place. Well, if his manor were indeed close by, then it appeared he had every right to be. I was suddenly struck by the unpleasant thought that he can have had nothing but an abysmally low opinion of Aelf Fen. Oh, dear Lord, and I gave him some of the food my mother had prepared for Goda’s wedding. Whatever could he have thought of it, he who was used to the very best that money could buy?
I felt my face flush with shame.
But then I thought – actually it was almost as if someone else had put the thought into my head, and the voice sounded very much like Edild’s – that Romain might be wealthy and powerful but despite all that he had come looking for our help, mine and Sibert’s. This vital task that he had to do could not, it seemed, be achieved without us.
After that, I began to feel less abject.
 
Romain was very aware of the two young people standing either side of him. The boy was trembling. Although the awareness of this disturbed Romain he was not surprised at it, for he had been aware of Sibert’s growing fear for some time. He was fairly sure that he knew from where it stemmed: at the outset, the youth had said very promptly that he knew where the search must be carried out, no doubt about
that
. Now that the time had come, was he beginning to question himself? Perhaps he was thinking,
Oh, but it’s all changed
– as indeed he well might –
and I’m no longer sure of my bearings.
In a way, Romain hoped that this was the cause of Sibert’s obvious distress. Romain could deal with it if it were; a few encouraging words, a few hearty phrases on the lines of ‘Of course you can do it, Sibert! Just relax, take your time, study the area carefully and the rest will follow, you’ll see!’
There was something else that could be causing Sibert’s alarming tension. Studying him covertly, Romain wondered if at long last the boy had realized what Romain had tried so very hard to gloss over. Sibert was far from being stupid but he was obsessed, and such a violent and all-encompassing emotion did not always permit rational thinking. Romain had rather depended on this. So far, he had got away with it.
Please,
he prayed to a power he could barely envisage,
please don’t let him realize now, of all times, what I’ve been so very careful never to mention!
Sibert gave himself a shake, as if coming out of some bleak reverie. Sensing Romain’s eyes on him, he turned and gave the older man a small smile. Romain, taking that as a good sign, returned it with a broad grin. ‘Not long now!’ he said encouragingly.
Sibert did not answer.
Romain twisted round to look at the girl. Something had shifted within her, too, although the change was subtle and Romain could not interpret it. He had sensed her awestruck reaction to her first sight of Dunwich – it was hardly surprising, she was a rural peasant who had probably never strayed more than a few miles from her ghastly little village before now – and he had compounded the moment by sharing a few of the impressive facts about the great port. Let her be in no doubt, he had thought, who is master in our enterprise. She’s right out of her natural element here, as well as being absent from her sister’s home without permission, and she’s got to realize that I’m the only one who can protect her. I need her to be utterly dependent on me and on my good will, he reminded himself. That way she’ll be completely in my power and there won’t be any silliness when we find what we’ve come looking for.
To begin with she had seemed cowed and afraid, and he was sure that just for an instant as they stood there looking down on Dunwich, before she brought herself under control, she had leaned in closer to him. As if she desperately needed his kindly touch to reassure her that everything was all right.
But it had only been fleeting. Now she had edged a clear pace or two away from him and she had raised her chin in that gesture he had seen in her once before.
He wondered, just for an instant, if he had underestimated her.
SEVEN
 
‘
C
ome on,’ Romain said abruptly.
Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strangely harsh in the awed silence. He had suddenly realized that it was not wise to remain here looking down on Dunwich, for both his young companions seemed affected by the sight.
I have to keep control, he thought. He did not know exactly what he feared; perhaps it was better for his peace of mind not to put it into words.
He turned to his right and led the way at a smart pace southwards along the narrow track. They had kept away from all the main thoroughfares so far and this was not the moment to alter that prudent habit. Presently the path entered the welcome shade of a band of woodland. So much the better, he thought. The trees are in full midsummer leaf and they will give us excellent cover.
They did not have far to go. Drakelow lay two miles to the south of Dunwich and they would be in woodland most of the way. Romain had thought long and hard about this final phase of their journey, debating endlessly with himself whether they should go to the manor house first or to the shore. In the end he had settled on the manor house, although he was still not entirely convinced that this was the right decision.
A mile to go. The familiar landmarks were succeeding each other in swift succession now. Soon the house would come into view.
Half a mile. He risked a glance at Sibert. The boy was frowning, staring about him as if he were confused. Of course he was confused. He had not been here for several years and much can happen in that time.
They were close now, so very close. The woodland was thinning and here and there were the scars of recent timber extraction. So many trees had been felled . . . Should I speak now? Romain asked himself, his heart beating fast. Would it be better to forewarn him?
The decision was taken out of his hands. Sibert gave a sort of groan – a dreadful sound of anguish and pain – and began running on down the path.
‘
Stop!
’ Romain yelled.
Sibert ran on.
Romain raced after him, pain from his blistered heel stabbing like a nail, but violent emotion had put wings on Sibert’s feet. Romain was aware of the girl’s light footfalls as she flew along the path behind him, but his attention was all on Sibert.
He caught up with him at last but it was too late. Sibert stood on a low rise at the very edge of the tree line, staring down at the great wounds that cut across the landscape like the scars of violence on a beloved face.
In the centre of a broad open space totally denuded of the softening trees rose a brash new building. To be accurate, it was a series of buildings, the group dominated by a squat, square tower topped with crenellations that stood on the summit of an earth mound. As befitted a structure designed as the last defence for the inhabitants, the tower had no windows and the single door was stoutly made of oak and bound with iron. It was surrounded by a palisade of stakes, their tops sharpened to savage points. A gated opening in the palisade led to steps leading down to another enclosed area in which there was a large thatched house and a semicircle of smaller buildings, including barns and a smithy. One or two people could be seen in the lower yard and smoke came from the roof of the large thatched building.
Sibert turned to Romain and the power of the emotion coursing through him had so twisted his features that he looked like someone else.
‘
What have you done?
’ he bellowed. ‘Where is my house?’
There was a sharp exclamation from the girl but Romain ignored her. He put out a calming hand, catching Sibert’s sleeve, but Sibert flung him off. ‘Sibert, be calm and I will explain,’ he said. Sibert had bunched his hands into fists, his whole body gathered as if to strike. ‘Please!’ Romain pleaded. ‘Hear what I must tell you!’
Tears collected in the boy’s wide eyes. Romain watched in horrible fascination as slowly they spilled over the lower lids and slid down the boy’s dirty face. Beside him, he heard the girl give a low moan – of pity? – and she moved a step closer to Sibert.
Sibert drew back, and the hand that the girl had tentatively put out to him fell by her side.
Straightening his back with a touching gesture of pride, Sibert said, ‘Go on, then. Say what you have to say.’
It was Romain’s only chance. He knew he must get it right.
‘Come back into the shade,’ he said gently, ‘for although the afternoon is passing, it’s still hot out here in the sunshine. Come – yes, that’s right!’ He made his voice light and encouraging, for the youth had slowly and reluctantly begun to move. ‘We’ll sit down here by the side of the path, and you will be told what you ask to know.’
He sat down, indicating a patch of grass beside him. Sibert lowered himself on to the ground, and the girl did the same. She was watching him intently, he noticed uneasily, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Romain waited for a few moments, taking a few calming breaths, and then, well aware that he had their full attention, he began to speak.
‘Before us lies the manor of Drakelow,’ he said, ‘which was awarded to my grandfather Fulk de la Flèche by William the Conqueror in recognition of my grandfather’s contribution to the victory at Hastings in 1066. My grandfather was a wealthy and influential Norman nobleman,’ he added, unable to keep the bragging tone out of his voice, ‘and he supplied the Conqueror with a band of well-armed, well-drilled fighting men, many of whom did not live to enjoy the fruits of the victory. Fulk de la Flèche’s prize was a fine one, for he was awarded extensive lands on the coast, close to a thriving port where the produce of the estate could be taken away by sea and sold for a handsome profit, and the lands themselves were fertile. Naturally, the king’s largesse was not entirely without self-interest, for in a newly conquered land it was to his advantage to have his own supporters installed in castles and fortified manors so that they could come to his aid in the event of rebellion.’

Other books

Helena by Leo Barton
The Healing by David Park
Playing God by Kate Flora
The Lady's Tutor by Robin Schone
The Intruders by Stephen Coonts
The Story of My Wife by Milan Fust
Chicken Chicken by R. L. Stine