The Way Between the Worlds (31 page)

I knew the month was significant, and I was just working out why when Rollo opened his mouth to speak.

But Hrype got there first. ‘Supposing she saw the storm-raiser,’ he said slowly. ‘Supposing she was making her way around the favourite places she had known all her short life, saying goodbye before she went off to her new existence at Chatteris.’

‘He realized she’d seen him,’ Rollo went on, picking up the story, ‘and he knew he had to prevent her telling anyone what she saw. He and his fellow conspirators discovered where she had gone, and they learned that, by sheer good fortune, a new priest was on his way to the abbey where the girl had gone.’

‘Her name was Herleva,’ I said. It was bad enough that she had lost her life, and I did not see why she should also lose her identity.

‘Where Herleva had gone,’ Rollo amended. He gave me a quick look, and I saw from his eyes that he understood. ‘I am sorry,’ he muttered, for my ears only.

‘He consulted with the others,’ he continued, ‘and they selected the most suitable of them for the task of removing Father Clement and replacing him.’ He frowned. ‘How would one of them have managed to impersonate a priest so well that a whole abbey was convinced?’

I’d been wondering the same thing. I had seen how someone like Hrype could change his appearance so thoroughly that even his nearest and dearest wouldn’t recognize him, but we were speaking here of a man pretending to be a priest, which would surely be incredibly risky, full of potential pitfalls at almost every moment of the day  . . .

‘Perhaps he had once been a priest,’ Hrype mused.

‘Or else had been put in a monastery school and thus able to observe the habits and the manners of a priest at close and constant quarters,’ Gurdyman added.

‘Are all priests exactly the same?’ I asked of no one in particular.

Gurdyman glanced at the others, then replied. ‘They are all taught the same things, and of course the entire cannon of dogma is common to all, but no doubt there are small variations in their behaviour.’

‘Nobody at Chatteris knew Father Clement before he arrived,’ I went on, developing the thought as I spoke, ‘and anyway, they are nuns, used to obedience and accepting what their priest said and did without question.’

‘So no one would have remarked on it,’ Rollo finished, ‘if this false Father Clement had not performed every single act in precisely the same way his predecessor had done.’

‘Exactly.’ I gave him a smile.

‘This man, then, killed Father Clement in order to get into Chatteris and silence the nun – Herleva – who saw his colleague raise the storm,’ Hrype said. ‘He also tried to poison Herleva’s best friend, Elfritha, because he suspected that Herleva had revealed the secret to her. Is that what you are saying?’

‘Yes,’ Rollo and I said together.

Hrype looked at Gurdyman, and I could see that neither was convinced.

‘Have you a better suggestion?’ I demanded.

Gurdyman smiled. ‘For my part, no. Hrype?’

With obvious reluctance, slowly Hrype shook his head.

It was too late to set out there and then, for twilight was coming on and Hrype, Rollo and I were all very tired. Gurdyman busied himself preparing more food, and we drank quite a lot more wine. Then Gurdyman set out paillasses

and warm woollen blankets in the courtyard for Hrype and Rollo – I wondered, not without amusement, how the two men would manage to sleep just a few feet from each other with the antagonism crackling between them like lightning – and I climbed the ladder to the peace and comfort of my little room up in the attic. I had not realized how worn out I was, and I started to drift into sleep as soon as I had lain down.

The last thing I was aware of was Gurdyman’s voice. I do not think he was actually speaking to me; I think I heard him only in my mind, for I knew he had gone down into his crypt to sleep.

His words suggested he was giving me a warning.

Very early the next morning, when the eastern sky was just beginning to suffuse with the pink of dawn, Hrype, Rollo and I set out for Chatteris. Gurdyman had woken us and fed us, providing food and drink for the journey. As he bade us farewell, I wondered why he wasn’t coming with us. He read the thought and gave me a totally unexpected hug. ‘I am too old for travelling and would slow you down,’ he murmured, adding, ‘but it’s nice to be wanted.’

I looked back at him as he stood in the open doorway, his lips moving silently. I guessed he was putting his own brand of protection on us.

When we reached the island, I was so full of the need to see my sister that I kept forgetting that was not why we were there. Hrype had assured me again and again that when last he saw her she had been starting to improve, but even he had to admit that virtually anything could have happened in the meantime. Rollo, understanding my anxiety and my fear, kept close beside me, and I took strength from him. I hadn’t needed to tell him how much I loved Elfritha, since he seemed already to know.

As we approached the abbey, he stared intently at its walls and the surrounding terrain. Then, with a brief nod, he called softly to Hrype, who stopped and turned to face him.

‘I will keep watch from up there.’ He indicated a low rise about twenty or thirty paces to the left of the abbey gates, where a stand of trees grew close to the wall. ‘I’ll climb the tree closest to the wall.’ He glanced at me, then turned to Hrype. ‘Lassair told me how the two of you disguised yourselves on the previous occasions you were here, and it’ll cause fewer interested glances if the same pair visit again.’

Hrype nodded curtly. Even he, it seemed, could see nothing to argue with there. Then he and I went through the process of turning ourselves into an old man and his waddling daughter, and we set off for the abbey.

Again, I had the definite impression that our arrival was expected. The nun who had met us the last time we were there was standing in the doorway of the infirmary, her thin, angular face tense with anxiety.

My heart began to thud painfully in my chest. Had she come to forewarn us of what we would find inside? Oh, Elfritha!

Hrype had stepped forward and was speaking urgently to her. ‘Sister Christiana, what has happened?’

But she was smiling now, her face transformed, and as she reached out to take each of our hands, I saw tears in her eyes. ‘Elfritha is much better!’ she said, her expression radiant. ‘Edild has just been feeding her soup, and she has taken a whole cup! Come in, come in, and see for yourselves!’

We hurried in her wake down the length of the infirmary. I had the impression of several pairs of eyes watching us with interest, but I barely noticed. Then we were hurrying up the dark passage and through the open door into the little room, and there was my beloved sister, propped up on pillows, pale and feeble-looking, but smiling so widely that I could not help but respond. ‘Elfritha, you’re – you’re—!’

It was no time for words. I leapt forward and, sinking to my knees, took my sister in my arms and held her so close that I could feel her heartbeat. We stayed like that for some moments – not speaking, not moving – then I felt a light touch on my shoulder and Edild’s quiet voice said, ‘Let her go now, Lassair. She is still very weak.’

I turned to look at her. Sister Christiana had disappeared – presumably out of tact, to give us some quiet time together – and Edild stood within Hrype’s arms. I stared up at my aunt.

Oh, I had so much to tell her  . . . She had predicted that Rollo would come back into my life. How right she had been. I was about to tell her so when Hrype spoke.

‘Lassair’s got her Norman with her,’ he said. ‘It appears he, too, has an involvement in this business.’

Edild flinched at the harsh emphasis he put on the word
Norman
. She turned to look at Hrype. ‘I imagine that Lassair’s life has become entwined with his for reasons and purposes far above political allegiance,’ she replied. Then, her expression softening, she added quietly, ‘Do not judge, Hrype. Lassair is too wise to fall in love with someone unworthy of her.’

I didn’t think I was supposed to have heard that, so I pretended to be busy smoothing over Elfritha’s bedding. She was, however, fizzing with interest. ‘Who is he, Lassair?’ she hissed, her eyes huge. ‘Is he handsome? Are you very much in love?’

I took her sweet, too thin face in my hands and gently kissed her cheek. ‘Wait and see,’ I whispered back.

Edild disengaged herself from Hrype and, taking his hand, drew him forward to kneel beside Elfritha and me, crouching down at his side. She said, very quietly. ‘Elfritha has something to tell you.’ She took my sister’s hand. ‘Are you strong enough to talk?’ she asked.

Elfritha nodded. Her expression grave, she composed herself, then said, ‘Not long before Herleva died, she told me something. I didn’t think any more about it at the time, because she – well, she loved to tell tales, and she often entertained us at night with her ghost stories. She was always getting into trouble for it and—’ She broke off, but quickly recovered. ‘Anyway, I only realized it could be relevant when I started to feel a bit better and Edild told me what had happened: how she thought I’d been poisoned, and that someone had tried to kill me.’ She paused again, and her eyes were full of horror.

‘You’re safe now,’ Hrype said firmly. ‘We shall not allow anything more to happen.’

She nodded, accepting the assurance. ‘Well, I did as Edild suggested and tried to think why anyone should want me dead. At first I could think of no reason at all. You don’t really make enemies here, and it always feels as if the abbey is full of good emotions, like kindness and love. But then I thought about Herleva, and how someone had killed
her
, and then I remembered her story about the wild man and the storm.’

I sensed Hrype’s sudden, fierce attention, shooting out at Elfritha like a spear. I wanted to protect her. Even more, I wanted to hear what she would say.

‘The wild man?’ Hrype said. I was amazed – and also full of admiration – at how cool he sounded, as if we were discussing nothing more important than what was for supper.

‘She’d been up on the coast north of Lynn,’ Elfritha said. ‘That’s where she used to live, and, although she didn’t say much, you could tell her life had been dreadful. She was an orphan, and she’d been sent to live with some distant relative who treated her like the lowliest of labourers.’

I remembered how, when news had got out that a Chatteris nun was dead, no one had come rushing to see if it was Herleva. If word had reached them, her kin hadn’t cared enough to find out.

‘She loved the countryside around Lynn,’ Elfritha was saying, ‘and she’d set off to say goodbye to some of her favourite spots. She was up on the coast, looking out across the salt marsh to the distant sea, when a storm blew up, and she realized that it was going to be a bad one. She hurried inland to get to higher ground and the shelter of a thick hedge, and she was so scared that she tried to press herself right in among the branches. She hardly dared look, but something compelled her to. There was a howling wind, a deluge of rain and sleet, and the seas rose up in a great surge that swept right across the marshes and roared off inland.’ She paused, then whispered, ‘There were ships, many ships, and they foundered. There were men, sailors—’ But she could not bring herself to speak of that horror. ‘Herleva was almost borne away,’ she said after a moment, ‘and survived only because she’d tied herself to a tree trunk.

‘Then she saw him. He was dressed in a long, swirling cloak that was the colour of the mist and the sea spray, he had a staff in his hand, his eyes were light and his wild hair and beard were deep auburn. She was so frightened that she couldn’t move, and she had to watch as, slowly and surely, he turned round towards her and saw her, crouched under the bushes, still fastened to the tree.’

‘Why did he not kill her there and then?’ Hrype whispered.

‘She had the sense to turn her eyes from his,’ Elfritha said, ‘and the spell broke. He was some distance away, and she managed to scramble up, untie herself and run. She knew the area, and she guessed that he did not, for she managed to evade him. She spent that night hiding behind a woodshed, then next day she set out for Chatteris.’ Elfritha’s eyes were full of tears. ‘She thought she was safe here,’ she said softly. ‘But she wasn’t.’

I took her hands in mine.

‘We believe the storm-raiser had an accomplice,’ Hrype said gently, ‘and that this man was able to gain access to the abbey.’

‘How?’ Elfritha looked round wildly, as if expecting to see some alien creature slide in through the doorway.

I glanced at Hrype. Was it wise to voice our suspicions? Someone might overhear, and word might reach the very person we did not want to alert  . . .

Hrype smiled. ‘I will tell you, Elfritha, I promise. We will explain everything to you, in time.’ He got up. ‘But for now, we have to—’

Footsteps sounded in the passage outside. Hrype, Edild and I stared at each other. They looked as horrified as I felt. It was him, it had to be – he had seen us come in, he had rallied his forces, perhaps even sending for the storm-raiser himself, and now they were about to surprise us, take us outside and—

Rollo appeared in the doorway.

Even in that moment of desperate urgency, I had an instant to notice my sister’s appraising look at him. And the quick, mischievous smile she shot at me.

‘He’s here,’ Rollo said, his voice low. ‘He’s just left the church and is on his way out. We must go after him. Come quickly.’

Hrype and I leapt up and followed him. Edild made to join us, but then stepped back. Looking at Hrype with yearning eyes, she said, ‘I will stay here with Elfritha. Don’t worry, Sister Christiana will come back as soon as you’ve gone.’ Then she added something else; it sounded like:
take care
.

We hurried after Rollo, ran down the long infirmary and out of the door.

The false Father Clement was striding out through the abbey gates. He appeared to be alone. If we were going to confront him, it would be best to do so now, when he was without the support of the storm-raiser or any other of his companions. Hrype and Rollo obviously thought so too; the three of us set off in pursuit.