Alys Clare - The Way Between the Worlds

Lassair, then, was out of his reach. He would have to discover what he needed to know from Edild. He wondered how to phrase his question. After a moment, he said, ‘What did the priest want?’

She was drowsy — he could tell by the way she was leaning into him — and apparently did not at first understand what he had said. He repeated the question.

‘Oh, he came to see how Elfritha was,’ she replied, yawning as she spoke.

Hrype thought carefully. ‘Did he look as if he really cared?’ he asked.

Elfritha shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t really see his face, for, as now, we had but the one small light, and it was on the floor beside me. The priest was in the shadows.’

Hrype frowned. That was a blow. . He thought hard and soon understood that there was an alternative. He bent his head to give Edild one more kiss, then straightened up. Looking down at her, his heart overflowing, he wished that he could tell her of his suspicions. But sometimes knowledge could be dangerous, and that was without a doubt the case here. He said softly, ‘I have to go, my love.’

She nodded. She was used to his comings and goings and did not ask questions. ‘Very well.’

He hesitated. He had his own preoccupation, driving him now like a man whipping a tired horse, but he knew that she did too. ‘Will you be all right, nursing Elfritha by yourself?’

‘Yes. It is not demanding.’

That was not what he had meant. He was about to speak, but she forestalled him. ‘I will have the assistance of another pair of watchful eyes to protect her,’ she whispered. ‘Sister Christiana is coming to join me as soon as the office has been said.’

‘Sister Christiana?’

Edild smiled. ‘You would recognize her if you saw her. She is the nun who admitted you yesterday.’

The thin-faced one whose severe expression had melted into kindness when Lassair told her they’d come to see Elfritha; yes, he remembered her. ‘She has a good heart,’ he murmured.

‘Indeed she has,’ Edild agreed. ‘Moreover — ’ her voice dropped to the merest whisper, and he bent down to hear — ‘she understands the danger and will stay with me by Elfritha’s bedside until it has passed. Whenever that may be,’ she added on a sigh.

He was reassured. He had not wanted to leave Edild alone, watching over someone who had just been poisoned and who might very well be attacked in some way again. Knowing she would have a companion — and one of such quality — was a great relief. ‘I will not cease until the danger is no more,’ he said. ‘You have my word, and I do not break it.’

She looked up at him, her face full of love. ‘I know,’ she said.

There was nothing to be gained by staying. If he left now, there was little chance that anyone would see him go. He turned, drew up his hood and, with one last glance at her, he was gone.

I had not relished the idea of making my way on foot from Chatteris all round the west, south and east of the fens until I reached the far shore. But, of course, I did not have to, and fortunately I realized it before I had got very far. I had been standing on the quayside at the point where boats ferried passengers on the short trip across to the mainland to the south, and, reprimanding myself for my dimness, I walked right along the long curve of the waterfront until I was facing north-east. Then I waited.

I had imagined I would be there for some time, but I did not know much about boatmen. Before dawn had even begun to light the eastern sky, there were already people about, preparing their crafts and loading up crates and sacks. It proved a simple task to find someone willing to take me where I wanted to go. He was calling in at March and Lynn first, he told me, but with any luck he would be able to drop me off at my destination by mid-afternoon.

I was his sole passenger. I had no coins with me, but I carried my leather satchel of oils, herbs, potions and remedies, and in exchange for my passage over the fens I offered to provide any medicament, within reason, that he might be in need of. As it turned out, he was a very healthy man, but his old mother suffered terribly from the phlegm-producing cough that is so common in our damp, watery land. As soon as the sun had risen sufficiently to give me light to work by, I set about mixing a bottle of Edild’s finest cough remedy. Once I’d handed over the medicine, I made myself comfortable, propped my back against a sack containing something soft — wool, probably — and snuggled up in my shawl. I had thought I was far too anxious to sleep, but I hadn’t realized how tired I was. The gentle movement of the boat was like a mother rocking a baby in its cradle, and soon I was fast asleep.

I had never before been to the port of Hunstanton, nor, indeed, anywhere near it. I did not intend to change that now by actually going into the town. As far as the lord of my manor knew, I was in Cambridge. I had been to Chatteris — twice — without his knowledge or his permission, and now I was embarking on another unauthorized trip. The fewer people who saw me, the better.

I set out on the track that led northwards out of the port, keeping as close as I could to the sea, over to my left. I had memorized Edild’s directions, but so far I didn’t really need them. I had merely to walk on until the land began to curve away to the east, then begin looking out for the landmarks she had described.

The afternoon slowly faded into evening. The sky was clear, and the light lasted for a long time. The weather was mild; it had been sunny all day, but now a cloud bank was building up out to sea. I was refreshed after my sleep on the boat. I stopped to eat some of my supplies — Edild had managed to scrounge a little food from one of the lay sisters on night duty in the infirmary, and I had filled my water bottle at Hunstanton quay — then walked on some more. I had probably walked eight or ten miles by the time I finally settled under the shelter of a dune to sleep away the rest of the night.

The onslaught began even while I slept.

It was so subtle, to begin with. I was dreaming: uneasy dreams, wherein I was threatened by a vague menace which, while I did not know what it was, I nevertheless knew to be threatening. Dangerous. Then, out of nowhere, the face of a drowned man was before me, empty sockets right above my eyes, gaping jaws open to expose a tongue eaten off by some sea creature. I screamed, and believed I had woken up, but somehow I could not escape from the dream vision. Was I still asleep? I did not know. The first spectre was followed by others, dozens of them, floating up to me and opening their mouths in silent howls of anguish and terror. Their garments were ripped and shredded, and they stank of the dead things that rot at the very bottom of the sea.

I lay and endured. I sensed the presence of many more of them, floating around me like a putrid, nightmare cloud. After a time, they were no longer there, or perhaps it was that they had ceased showing themselves to me. For the magic was still there; whatever malicious enchantment had shown me that vision was still at work. Its message was clear: go away. It is perilous for you here.

I wanted to gather up my satchel and run, back the way I had come. Aelf Fen was somewhere to the south, quite close, and I longed with all my heart and soul to fly to the comfort of my mother’s large, soft bosom, my tall father’s strong, protective arms.

But I had been summoned. The message in my power dream had been unmistakable.

I pulled my shawl up over my head and tried to go back to sleep.

It was the cold that woke me next. The light told me that dawn had broken, although it was a dim and miserable dawn. The cloud bank I had observed the previous evening had swept inshore, and it had thickened as it approached, so that now there was a thick, swirling mass of lowering dark grey above me. There was a wind blowing hard off the sea, bringing with it a fine salt spray which, I soon discovered, had the power to penetrate each and every one of my garments.