Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

It was the poppy solution that brings deep sleep and oblivion. As, against her will and choking, she was forced to swallow, she realised that it was strong; very strong. Then her legs buckled and the world went black .

When she woke she was lying in a round hut and the man with the silver eyes was sitting beside her. Her hands were free but there was an iron shackle round her ankle, and a long chain led from it to a bolt set high in the wooden planking of the wall. She was naked but for a loose garment of sacking. Her skin felt foul and itchy where mud from the beaten earth floor had stuck to her drying sweat .

She urgently needed to pass water. He must have realised, for he pointed to a wooden bucket beside the wall and he stepped outside whilst she used it .

He came back inside, closing the door. ‘This is kept barred on the outside,’ he remarked. ‘You will not escape, Iduna, even if by some miracle you manage to remove the shackle.’

‘I will be missed!’ she cried. ‘I am expected at Hawkenlye Abbey and they will look for me when I do not arrive!’

‘But you have arrived,’ he said smoothly. ‘A woman of your family who strongly resembles you has gone to the Abbey in your place.’ And, horrified, Galiena remembered the woman dressed in stolen clothes; stolen, no doubt, by Aebba from Galiena’s room. ‘She will tell the good nuns that she dismissed her groom and her serving woman as she reached the gates and, to everyone there, she will be Galiena Ryemarsh, come to seek the help of the nuns because she wishes to conceive. Nobody there knows what you look like, child, but, as I say, in any event your replacement resembles you sufficiently to convince the casual observer.’

She will not convince Ambrose, Galiena thought, with a stab of optimism. And they do not seem to know that he also is bound for Hawkenlye and will arrive there soon. And I, she resolved, shall not tell them; it is my only hope that my dear lord will instantly see that this woman who passes herself off as his wife is no such thing .

She wondered for a moment why they should have bothered with the deception; why was it necessary to send an impostor to Hawkenlye? She could see no reason why she should not ask the silver-eyed man, so she did .

‘Ah, because your friends Josse d’Acquin and Brice of Rotherbridge both know that you are going there,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Word may spread that you are expected. If by mischance they too arrive at the Abbey, then your replacement will have to be very careful that she does not let them approach too closely until she has modestly covered her face with her veil.’

Then he gave her water, then another draught of the poppy potion. She slept once more .

The next time she woke it was Aelle who stood before her. He was furious .

Crouching before her, he said, ‘Aebba has returned. She has told us something that has surprised us and that you, little sister, knew all along.’ He pushed her shoulder with some force and she fell back on to the floor. ‘You knew full well that Ambrose was going to follow you to Hawkenlye!’ Aelle shouted .

‘And just why should I have told you?’ she shouted back, as furious as he. ‘It was my one hope that Ambrose would recognise the impostor and raise the alarm!’

Aelle gave a cruel laugh. ‘Well, you hope in vain, Iduna. Aebba is cleverer than you think and, predicting that your replacement’s disguise would readily be penetrated by your husband, she took steps to prevent the unmasking of the deception.’

Cold suddenly, Galiena whispered, ‘How? What did she do?’

‘She drugged him,’ Aelle said, an unpleasant smile on his face. ‘She has been caring for her lord in the absence of his wife and she managed to slip a certain potion into his drink. His bad eyesight combined with a sudden severe mental confusion meant that he would have been persuaded that almost any fair-haired young woman was you. But Aebba, cunning Aebba, took an extra precaution. Do you want to know what it was?’

Slowly Galiena nodded. She could not help herself .

Leaning confidingly towards her — she could smell his rank sweat — Aelle said, ‘She told your replacement to visit the doddering old fool. She instructed her to take some of the special ointment that you had just made for the pains in his joints and told her to sit at his side and lovingly rub it into his hands. Had he entertained any doubts that it was his own beloved wife who crouched there, then he certainly forgot them then. It was your very own potion that she used — Aebba gave it to her — and very few others know the recipe.’ He touched Galiena’s hand, rubbing the skin as if he too were massaging sore joints. ‘It has a very distinctive smell, I believe?’

It did. Oh, dear God, he was right. Even if Ambrose had entertained any doubts — which seemed very unlikely, since they had drugged him — then the arrival of a woman who looked like her and bearing her own secret remedy would surely have driven them away entirely .

Aelle was looking at her and then he said softly, ‘No one will look for you here.’

I am lost, she thought .

The next time they came to force the poppy sedative down her, she did not resist .

It was pleasantly cool in the garden and Helewise, who had been sitting on a wooden bench as she went in her mind through Galiena’s tale, got up and began to walk up and down across the short grass. It was a clear night and she could see the quick flit of bats. Somewhere owls were hunting, calling to each other.

The poor girl must have thought there was no hope left, she thought. Which was exactly what Aelle wanted because, had he wished to, he could have told her just why it was that Aebba had come running back to Saltwych in such a fluster. He had kept that knowledge from his sister, though. The moment of despair in the little hut had been the last part of the story to be told by Galiena, for, giving in to the strong sedative, she had known no more until she came to her senses sitting in front of Josse astride Horace.

It had been Brice and Josse, but primarily Isabella who had provided the rest of the tale.

It appeared that Isabella had been a skilful and adept spy, for she had managed to work out the detailed lie of the land around Saltwych and she had hidden herself away where she could watch the comings and goings in the settlement. Helewise was still not sure what Isabella had been doing at Saltwych. Brice and Josse appeared to think that she had joined them there only after their visit to Readingbrooke. Helewise, however, had a suspicion that Isabella knew more about the place and its inhabitants than had been revealed and she wondered if it was possible that Isabella had been there before either Josse or Brice had discovered it. Before Galiena had been imprisoned there. But why? What lay at the root of her interest in the place? That, she decided, was something to be discussed in the morning.

The fact remained — she went back to her recall of the story — that Isabella had witnessed the fury that whatever it was Aebba told him had aroused in Aelle. Although Isabella had not been close enough to overhear what had been said, it was possible now to surmise that Aebba must have come straight from Hawkenlye to tell her chieftain what had just happened there. She must have reported a death: not that of Galiena, as everyone had believed, but of Galiena’s replacement. Perhaps, too, she had told Aelle of the discovery of the groom Dickon’s poor murdered body. As Helewise had been able to verify, Aebba had done her best to keep out of everyone’s way at the Abbey but she had seen the body in the infirmary. Her instinctive reaction — Helewise could still picture Josse’s surprised expression as he had watched the woman — had been fury because all the careful planning had gone so badly wrong.