Alys Clare - Land of the Silver Dragon

Gurdyman and I settled down to a period of intense work. My mind was kept fully occupied during the waking hours, and, exhausted, I slept soundlessly and dreamlessly every night. In consequence, I barely had time to think about the intruder. We had a swift visit from Hrype, who closeted himself with Gurdyman, emerged looking preoccupied, and only in what seemed like an afterthought remembered to tell me that my kin back at Aelf Fen were all safe and well. Morcar, he reported, slowly recovering from his grief and adjusting to the prospect of life without his mother, had gone back to the Breckland.

If Hrype was out and about again, I calculated, and Morcar had left, then presumably the threat to Edild had gone. I breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as if my prayer had been answered, and the big, red-bearded giant who had been terrorizing my family had indeed given up and gone away.

Gurdyman introduced a fresh field of study, concerning the extraordinary substance called quicksilver. I was fascinated by it from the start; by its surprising weight; by its shining, glittering appearance; by its ability to shatter itself into beautiful little silver balls, then, if you put those balls together, form itself back into a smooth whole. My fascination was certainly increased by the fact that Gurdyman treated it with such awe. It was, he told me firmly, toxic. In case I was still in any doubt about what toxic meant, he told me that, too.

Despite its poisonous qualities, Gurdyman told me that quicksilver is used in a particular area of healing; one which, he added, I would no doubt experience myself if I practised my healing craft in the town. Calmly, and without a hint of awkwardness, he explained about the diseases that spread through the act of love. Assuming me to be innocent of such matters, he told me about the sexual hunger of the male sex, whereby a man away from the comforts of his wife’s bed will pay for sex with a town prostitute.

I knew of such things. Edild explained briefly to me, when we treated one of Lord Gilbert’s visitors who had recently returned from a sojourn in London. Gurdyman, however, went into far more detail. By the time he had finished describing the skin lesions and the pus-filled sores, I was feeling quite faint. It was a huge relief when we turned from theory to practice, and he set about teaching me how to make the quicksilver ointment used in treatment.

Gurdyman might have been able to concentrate indefinitely, but I couldn’t. After a gruelling week in which I didn’t see daylight except when I was dispatched to go out and buy food and drink, my teacher finally noticed he had worn me out and announced that I might have a break from my studies.

While we had been closeted in the crypt, full-blossoming spring had at last arrived. We had passed the equinox and April had come in, full of sunny smiles interspersed with soft, warm rain. On my first free day, I hurried out of town and went to stand beside the river. Such was my pleasure in simply breathing in the cool, fragrant air that I might have been ingesting the best French wine.

Spring had enticed even Gurdyman out of his underground lair, and he had set up a small work bench out in the little courtyard. He was busy on his mapping again; a task for which my assistance was more of a hindrance than a help. After a morning in which I succeeded in doing nothing except irritate him, it occurred to me that now might be a good opportunity to slip home and see my family.

Gurdyman was so intent on his work that I had to repeat my request before he realized what I was saying. Looking up at me, a frown on his amiable face, he said, ‘Yes, child, that is an extremely good idea!’

I hurried up to my room to fetch my satchel. I would not take anything else, since I’d only be gone for a couple of days; three at the most. It would make a pleasant change to make the familiar journey without having to carry a heavy bag; having my father to carry it for me had been a rare pleasure the last time I’d made the trip. I went back out to the courtyard to say farewell to Gurdyman, telling him I’d be back soon. He waved a vague hand in acknowledgement.

As I slipped out of the house, my spirits high as the springtime sun in the brilliant blue sky, I was very grateful for Gurdyman’s preoccupation. I’d been worried that, recalling how my father had insisted on escorting me on the way to Cambridge, Gurdyman might similarly stipulate that I wasn’t to make the return journey unless someone went with me. That, I told myself firmly, was quite unnecessary. For one thing, spring had, as it always does, filled people with the need to get out into the good fresh air, and the roads, tracks and paths would be busy with traffic. There was safety in numbers. For another, the fact that Hrype had felt able to leave his beloved Edild unguarded while he came to visit Gurdyman indicated that he no longer sensed a threat. Hrype was one of the wisest people I knew. If he believed the giant had given up and gone away, then that was good enough for me.

They jumped me on a lonely stretch of track where there was nobody about to hear or see.

They must have been observing me for some time, for this part of the journey was a little-used short cut which, I’m sure, few people know about. I knew of it, however, and they knew I used it.

To begin with, I was so frightened that I couldn’t think. I’d been striding along, reflecting happily how pleased my family would be to have a surprise visit from me, and hoping my mother would have something with which to make a special, celebratory meal. I wasn’t aware of danger until it was almost upon me; I heard a faint sound, and was in the very act of spinning round to see if anyone was there when they attacked.

They . Yes, I was sure even then that there was more than one of them. Not that I could tell by looking, or by listening. A heavy sack was thrown over my head, effectively blinding me, and a rope was thrown round me just above my waist, pinning my arms to my sides. I heard scuffling sounds as they tried to suppress my struggles, and a sharp yell of pain as my wildly kicking feet caught someone in a tender spot.

Then I was lifted off the ground, one person supporting my head and shoulders, another, my legs. I yelled as loudly as I could, but the thick cloth bag must have muffled the sound. They can’t have been worried about being overheard, or else they would have gagged me, and after a few moments this fact penetrated through my panic and I stopped shouting.

They did not carry me far. I tried to count their paces, and thought I reached perhaps two or three hundred. Then I heard water. One of my abductors called out something in a language that sounded vaguely familiar; just a few words, softly spoken, sounding like a query. From quite close and below, another voice answered. Then I felt myself being lowered, and I was set down on what felt to my questing hands like a surface of wooden planks.

For a moment, I was left alone. I heard them talking quietly and urgently, and thought I counted at least four voices. There was a splashing sound, then I sensed movement. The splashing settled down into a regular rhythm, like rowing.

Was I on a boat? Yes, I must be. It seemed highly likely, as the place where they had jumped on me was quite near a tributary of one of the main branches of the fenland river system. Were we even now setting out along the winding, twisting, secretive waterways of the fens? Oh, oh , if we were, then we were about to lose ourselves in one of the finest hiding places I knew. If a mist came down, as it frequently did towards the day’s end, whatever craft we were on could glide right past my own village and nobody would be any the wiser.

The fear came back, a hundredfold. Nobody would come looking for me, because nobody knew I was missing . Gurdyman believed I was on my way home to Aelf Fen, where I’d stay for at least a couple of days and probably more. But, in my village, they didn’t even know I was coming.