Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

Which was this: if Brice and Galiena had not been lovers, then who had fathered her baby?

In the morning, Josse awoke to find that the others were up and about before him. A small fire was burning in the lee of the shelter and Isabella had made some sort of hot drink. Brice stood looking out at the day and eating a heel of bread, which he had softened by dunking it in his drink.

As Josse emerged from the shelter, Isabella handed him a mug and another hunk of bread. ‘It is dry, I fear, and the drink not as tasty as I would like, but better than nothing.’

‘Aye, lady, and I am grateful even for this.’ Josse toasted her with his mug; the drink, on trying it, had a reviving, slightly medicinal taste and he thought he detected rosemary.

Brice said, ‘We should get on the road and be away from here as soon as we can. They do not usually pursue trespassers by day but it is always possible.’

‘Why do they deem us trespassers?’ Josse asked. ‘And why were you so insistent last night that I was in danger?’

Brice frowned, then, after a quick look at Isabella, said, ‘The people of the Saltwych community do not like strangers. They keep themselves to themselves and they foster their own isolation by spreading fearful rumours of ghosts and hauntings that threaten any who wander down there under the inland cliff.’

‘I cannot believe they threaten armed men!’ Josse protested. ‘They have a few gold treasures but I saw nothing to persuade me that they can command a fighting force.’

‘Oh, but they can,’ Brice said. His hand was on his sword hilt as he spoke. ‘They have lived in poverty since the salt workings failed — and that wasn’t a recent calamity, I can tell you — but they retain a sense of their own worth. In full measure.’

‘It is often the way where wealth has evaporated,’ Josse observed. ‘Nothing left but stiff-necked pride.’

‘Exactly,’ Brice said.

A thought occurred to Josse and without thinking he voiced it. ‘Think you that it was for that reason — their poverty — that they gave Galiena up for adoption? Because a baby girl was one more mouth to feed and she would likely enjoy a better life elsewhere?’

‘No,’ Isabella breathed quietly. Both men turned to look at her and, in some confusion, she said, ‘I mean, I don’t think that’s the way Galiena looked at it. She — er — she did not know where she came from but I think she imagined that she was the child of some young girl whose chances of marriage would be badly affected were it known she had borne an illegitimate baby.’

Passing over that — Josse wondered if Brice had also noticed that Isabella’s explanation was given with such a lack of conviction that it seemed she couldn’t make herself believe it either — Josse asked her, ‘How did Raelf know that there was a baby up for adoption at Saltwych? If the people there are so secretive, why should anyone come to know of their business?’

‘I believe it was done through the mediation of a priest,’ Isabella said. ‘Someone of importance among the Saltwych folk put out word and the priest undertook to try to find a family of wealth and influence who would welcome a child and treat her as their own.’

‘A family of wealth and influence?’ Josse repeated. ‘The wealth I can readily understand, for to send her to a poor family would not provide any advantage over staying with her own kin. But why did they specify influence? And influence with whom?’

‘Oh, I don’t know!’ Abruptly Isabella seemed to tire of the discussion. ‘We waste time here. Let us pack up and be on our way.’ And, not waiting for the men to agree or disagree, she ducked back inside the shelter and began packing her few belongings into a soft leather satchel. Josse noticed her pick up her thick gauntlet and he wondered what had become of Isabella’s hawk.

Josse looked at Brice. ‘You have found out much about these strange people,’ he said.

Brice smiled wryly. ‘I have found out nothing. I merely pass on what Isabella told me.’

‘Oh! But I thought she said Galiena knew nothing of her own background, so where has Isabella gained her knowledge?’

Brice looked bemused. ‘I couldn’t say.’ His eyebrows went down in a worried frown. Then, his expression clearing, he said encouragingly, ‘But let us pursue the question when we are safe.’

Josse stood where he was. ‘You, of course, must go if you so wish,’ he said. ‘For my own part, I must return to Saltwych.’

Isabella, overhearing, shot out of the shelter again. ‘You can’t!’ she cried, just as Brice was asking, ‘Why?’

‘I can and I must.’ Josse gave them both what he hoped was a reassuring smile, the look of an old soldier for whom riding alone into a community of hostile strangers holds no fears. ‘You ask why, Brice, and indeed, since you both demonstrate such concern for my safety, you are owed an explanation.’ He paused, searching for the words to deliver his message so that they would understand the urgent need. ‘For one thing, Galiena’s serving woman, Aebba, is down at Saltwych and I believe she may have important information concerning the events leading up to Galiena’s death. For another, there is a girl chained in an outbuilding and I have promised myself that I will help her.’

Neither Isabella nor Brice spoke for some moments. Then Brice said, ‘But I thought that Aebba rode with Galiena to Hawkenlye. Did she not remain there to care for Ambrose?’

‘She cared for him at first, aye,’ Josse agreed. ‘But she is not there now. She is at Saltwych.’

‘You are sure?’

‘Quite sure.’

Again, silence. Then Isabella said, ‘There may be a good reason for the child to be locked up. Perhaps she is being punished, or perhaps being kept apart from the community because she has a fever.’

‘She has no fever,’ Josse said evenly, ‘and, for my part, I can see no crime that a young girl could commit that would deserve being chained in a filthy hut with no light, no warmth at night and nothing to lie on or with which to cover herself.’

But Isabella was not satisfied. ‘Josse,’ she said, her face urgent, ‘we should leave this to the Saltwych kin. It is not for us to say how they should treat their own!’

Josse stared at her, eye to eye, and, after a short time, her glance fell. ‘Isabella,’ he said gently, ‘how do you know so much about them? Why do you defend their deeds?’

‘I’m not defending them! They are cruel, and-’ she began hotly. Then, breathing hard, she said more calmly, ‘I do not think we should risk our own lives to save a child who may not even need saving. That is all.’ And, as if she knew how weak her argument was, she hung her head.

‘We will go down on to the marsh,’ Brice said eventually. ‘We will wait for cover of darkness or, if the mist descends during the day, we will descend under its blanket. I do not see how we can seek out Aebba, Josse, without everyone else seeing us. But we can at least try to release the girl and take her away with us.’

‘She may not want to go!’ Isabella shouted. ‘Even if they are punishing her harshly, the Saltwych folk are her kin! What do you propose that we do with her, Brice?’

He looked at her, and the love in his face softened her harsh, angry expression. ‘I do not know, my sweeting. Perhaps we should ask her what she wants.’

‘She’s drugged,’ Josse said baldly. ‘Or anyway she was last night.’

He was uncertain what they should do. Isabella’s protest was a valid one — what, indeed, would they do with the girl once they had managed to rescue her? — and he was troubled too at the prospect of leading Brice, and possibly Isabella too, into danger.