Alys Clare - The Way Between the Worlds

‘He had,’ Gurdyman confirmed.

‘A sacrifice,’ Hrype murmured.

‘You think so?’

‘I do. The signs are unmistakable. Who else would go to all that trouble? It was clear the murderer was easily able to overcome his victim, so why not simply hit him a bit harder on the head, or hold him under the water till he drowned? No; the details of the involved method of killing must surely point to a sacrificial death.’

‘So we are dealing,’ Gurdyman said slowly, ‘with a magician of the Old Ways.’ It was not a question; he knew it as well as Hrype did.

For a moment the sunny little courtyard felt cold, as if a cloud had covered the sun.

‘Why did he need to make a sacrifice?’ Gurdyman said after quite a long silence. ‘What is happening now, to make such a measure necessary? It’s not as if the Normans are a new phenomenon and, although many of us still resent their heavy-footed presence in our land, the time is surely not ripe for another revolt?’

‘I agree,’ Hrype said. ‘There is always dissent, and there always will be as long as people are alive who remember how life used to be. We may be more secure from the lawless ways of thieves and brigands under the new rule, and they tell us our shores have never been safer from attack than they are now, but this is still our land and they are still the invaders. I do not, however, sense that there is a major move at present to rise against them.’

‘So, if the sacrifice was not to appease the gods, and seek their aid and support in an attempt to throw off the new ways and return to the old, then what was it for?’ Gurdyman seemed to be thinking aloud, his voice soft and almost dreamy.

‘Sacrifices are made also in thanks for help already given,’ Hrype pointed out. ‘What if the killer had been required to carry out a mission fraught with danger and, having achieved his purpose, dispatched his victim in the old way in gratitude for his success?’

Gurdyman gave him a sharp look. ‘That is possible,’ he acknowledged. ‘I think, my friend,’ he added perceptively, ‘that you do not merely speculate.’

‘No,’ Hrype agreed. ‘As you surmise, I speak of events that have in fact happened. Or so I believe.’

Gurdyman settled back more comfortably in his chair, his refilled mug in his hand. ‘Tell me,’ he invited.

Hrype paused to gather his thoughts. Was he right? Had the runes led him to the correct conclusion? Or had he allowed emotion to creep in and influence him? Was he guilty of the same weakness that he had just accused Lassair of? Gurdyman was watching him intently; he had no choice but to go on.

‘We have two deaths, both carried out in the same distinctive manner, which, we surmise, makes the man and the young woman the victims of sacrifice,’ he began. ‘We also have the case of Lassair’s sister Elfritha, who was given exactly the same poison, possibly — probably — as a first step in a similar Threefold Death.’

‘How was the poison administered?’ Gurdyman asked. ‘And why did the killer not proceed with the next phases of the death?’

‘We do not yet know,’ Hrype replied. ‘The girl is too weak to speak, and I would guess that it will be some time before Edild risks asking such distressing questions.’

‘And dangerous ones,’ Gurdyman said softly. ‘If the poisoner is still at large and has access to Elfritha, he will not wish her to expose him. He may well try to prevent that by attacking her again.’

Hrype nodded. ‘Yes, yes, I worked that out too,’ he said. ‘Edild has been offered the help of one of the infirmary nuns. If the two of them are always present in the sick room, I do not see how the murderer will be able to do anything to harm their patient.’

Gurdyman looked at him doubtfully. ‘I hope you are right. It appears to me that we have a very clever, devious killer here.’ He waved a hand. ‘Carry on with what you were saying.’

‘We can, I think, safely conclude that all three poison victims were meant to die,’ Hrype said, ‘although it is impossible to say what the killer had in mind for Elfritha, nor why, indeed, he was unable to carry out his scheme. It may be that the girl has some natural resistance to the particular substances that she consumed, and that she was thus able to remain conscious long enough to seek help. Once she was in the infirmary, the murderer had lost his opportunity, and any further plans would have to be abandoned.’

‘Or postponed,’ Gurdyman added darkly.

Hrype frowned. ‘I do not wish to-’

‘Acknowledge the danger, Hrype,’ Gurdyman interrupted quietly. ‘It exists, and you must surely recognize that.’

Hrype bowed his head. ‘I do.’ He straightened up again. ‘We should ask ourselves what the three victims have in common. Lassair found out that Herleva — that’s the name of the dead nun — came from the Lynn area, which is roughly where the boat picked up the corpse of the man in the fen. Whether or not we should view this as significant remains to be seen.’

‘Elfritha has no connections with Lynn,’ Gurdyman said. ‘Or does she?’

‘Not that I know of. Lassair would have mentioned it if it were so.’ He leaned towards Gurdyman. ‘But what if Herleva revealed some secret to Elfritha? Supposing she knew some fact that was dangerous to the murderer, so that he had to kill her before she spread it about? She might not even have shared it with her friend — perhaps she did not appreciate the significance of what she knew — but the murderer had no way of knowing that. He could not take the risk, and so he killed Herleva, taking the opportunity of turning her death into another sacrifice, and then attempted to do the same to Elfritha.’

Gurdyman sat silent for some time, and Hrype guessed he was thinking hard. ‘And the man in the fen? Did he possess this dangerous knowledge as well?’

‘It’s possible,’ Hrype agreed. He paused, taking a few steadying breaths. This was where sound logic stopped and speculation began.

‘Come on, you may as well tell me,’ Gurdyman said mildly.

Hrype smiled briefly. ‘The death of the man in the fen is no great mystery,’ he said, ‘for he was presumably attacked out in the open. But I have been trying to think who had access to the two young nuns. The abbey at Chatteris is secure behind its walls, although the gates frequently stand open to admit visitors and those in need of the nuns’ help, and it is quite a simple matter to climb over the walls, as I know from my own experience. But the two young nuns were — are — both novices, whose comings and goings are strictly monitored. It is difficult to imagine a situation where their attacker would have access to them.’

‘He is, we agreed, a clever and devious man.’

‘Yes.’ Hrype hesitated. Then he said, ‘Lassair had a theory. She wondered if she herself were the cause of the attacks on her sister and Herleva. I told her that Father Clement, the abbey’s priest, is a fanatic who will not tolerate the smallest deviation from his religion. She feared that her conversations with her sister had been overheard and reported to the priest, who would undoubtedly have seen their content as heretical.’

‘Lassair having been unable to resist the temptation of bragging a little, impressing her sister with the extraordinary things that I have been teaching her,’ Gurdyman said. ‘It is understandable, Hrype.’

‘She should keep such matters to herself,’ Hrype grumbled. ‘They are not for the entertainment of outsiders.’

Gurdyman watched him. ‘You are a stern man, my friend,’ he murmured. ‘So,’ he went on before Hrype could comment, ‘Lassair is berating herself because she thinks this fanatical priest learned that an apprentice healer, who also receives tuition from a wizard, had been whispering her secrets to her sister, who probably shared them with her best friend, leading him to the conclusion that both young nuns had to die. And why, then, kill them by the method of the Threefold Death?’