Alys Clare - The Way Between the Worlds

‘You’re safe now,’ Hrype said firmly. ‘We shall not allow anything more to happen.’

She nodded, accepting the assurance. ‘Well, I did as Edild suggested and tried to think why anyone should want me dead. At first I could think of no reason at all. You don’t really make enemies here, and it always feels as if the abbey is full of good emotions, like kindness and love. But then I thought about Herleva, and how someone had killed her , and then I remembered her story about the wild man and the storm.’

I sensed Hrype’s sudden, fierce attention, shooting out at Elfritha like a spear. I wanted to protect her. Even more, I wanted to hear what she would say.

‘The wild man?’ Hrype said. I was amazed — and also full of admiration — at how cool he sounded, as if we were discussing nothing more important than what was for supper.

‘She’d been up on the coast north of Lynn,’ Elfritha said. ‘That’s where she used to live, and, although she didn’t say much, you could tell her life had been dreadful. She was an orphan, and she’d been sent to live with some distant relative who treated her like the lowliest of labourers.’

I remembered how, when news had got out that a Chatteris nun was dead, no one had come rushing to see if it was Herleva. If word had reached them, her kin hadn’t cared enough to find out.

‘She loved the countryside around Lynn,’ Elfritha was saying, ‘and she’d set off to say goodbye to some of her favourite spots. She was up on the coast, looking out across the salt marsh to the distant sea, when a storm blew up, and she realized that it was going to be a bad one. She hurried inland to get to higher ground and the shelter of a thick hedge, and she was so scared that she tried to press herself right in among the branches. She hardly dared look, but something compelled her to. There was a howling wind, a deluge of rain and sleet, and the seas rose up in a great surge that swept right across the marshes and roared off inland.’ She paused, then whispered, ‘There were ships, many ships, and they foundered. There were men, sailors-’ But she could not bring herself to speak of that horror. ‘Herleva was almost borne away,’ she said after a moment, ‘and survived only because she’d tied herself to a tree trunk.

‘Then she saw him. He was dressed in a long, swirling cloak that was the colour of the mist and the sea spray, he had a staff in his hand, his eyes were light and his wild hair and beard were deep auburn. She was so frightened that she couldn’t move, and she had to watch as, slowly and surely, he turned round towards her and saw her, crouched under the bushes, still fastened to the tree.’

‘Why did he not kill her there and then?’ Hrype whispered.

‘She had the sense to turn her eyes from his,’ Elfritha said, ‘and the spell broke. He was some distance away, and she managed to scramble up, untie herself and run. She knew the area, and she guessed that he did not, for she managed to evade him. She spent that night hiding behind a woodshed, then next day she set out for Chatteris.’ Elfritha’s eyes were full of tears. ‘She thought she was safe here,’ she said softly. ‘But she wasn’t.’

I took her hands in mine.

‘We believe the storm-raiser had an accomplice,’ Hrype said gently, ‘and that this man was able to gain access to the abbey.’

‘How?’ Elfritha looked round wildly, as if expecting to see some alien creature slide in through the doorway.

I glanced at Hrype. Was it wise to voice our suspicions? Someone might overhear, and word might reach the very person we did not want to alert. .

Hrype smiled. ‘I will tell you, Elfritha, I promise. We will explain everything to you, in time.’ He got up. ‘But for now, we have to-’

Footsteps sounded in the passage outside. Hrype, Edild and I stared at each other. They looked as horrified as I felt. It was him, it had to be — he had seen us come in, he had rallied his forces, perhaps even sending for the storm-raiser himself, and now they were about to surprise us, take us outside and-

Rollo appeared in the doorway.

Even in that moment of desperate urgency, I had an instant to notice my sister’s appraising look at him. And the quick, mischievous smile she shot at me.

‘He’s here,’ Rollo said, his voice low. ‘He’s just left the church and is on his way out. We must go after him. Come quickly.’

Hrype and I leapt up and followed him. Edild made to join us, but then stepped back. Looking at Hrype with yearning eyes, she said, ‘I will stay here with Elfritha. Don’t worry, Sister Christiana will come back as soon as you’ve gone.’ Then she added something else; it sounded like: take care .

We hurried after Rollo, ran down the long infirmary and out of the door.

The false Father Clement was striding out through the abbey gates. He appeared to be alone. If we were going to confront him, it would be best to do so now, when he was without the support of the storm-raiser or any other of his companions. Hrype and Rollo obviously thought so too; the three of us set off in pursuit.

He did not appear to realize we were following him. It became clear quite soon where he was bound. Although I had not been to the spot myself, I had heard it described. He strode swiftly round the abbey walls and left the settlement behind. He crossed several fields, always heading straight for the places where the hedges were low enough to climb over and the streams and winding little waterways fordable or narrow enough to leap over. He had obviously come this way many times before.

Hrype and Rollo both seemed to know how you followed someone without letting them become aware of your presence, and I just did as they indicated. We trailed the black-clad figure for some time, and he never even suspected we were there.

Or so we thought.

He led us to the far corner of the last field before land gave way to water. There was a rough wooden shelter, very dilapidated, and the pile of dung on the dirty straw suggested the abbey donkey had been there not long ago. He was not there now.

The false priest went right to the edge of the field and stood above the brownish water that lapped at his feet. Then, without turning round, he said mildly, ‘I know you are there. At least one of you is armed.’

Slowly, he spun round to face us, his hands in the air. ‘I have no weapon,’ he added. He smiled, a warm, friendly expression, and I was filled with the dreadful certainty that we were wrong, totally wrong, and this man was exactly what he claimed to be. I reached out to grab Hrype, intent on telling him, on warning him, but Hrype could see with clearer eyes than I.

As, it seemed, could Rollo, for he was drawing a short sword out of the scabbard he wore across his back, concealed beneath his over-tunic.

I had not even realized he bore a weapon. He certainly hadn’t carried it when I stripped his wet clothes from him up on the foreshore. It must have been tucked right down inside his pack, and he had quietly strapped it on before we left Gurdyman’s house.

Father Clement stood watching us, his expression benign and warm. His eyes were watchful, and, as they met mine, I felt a jolt as if someone had nudged me hard in the ribs.

And I began to think we might have been right all the time.

It was as if he had cast a spell on the three of us, and for a while nobody spoke. Then Hrype gave himself a violent shake, like a dog emerging from water, and raised his right arm. I felt a brief crackling force in the air, and the priest stepped back, flashing a sudden grimace at Hrype.

It appeared that whatever Hrype had just done had also released Rollo from the enchantment. He leaned towards Hrype and said quietly, ‘We should be quick. He will not remain alone for long.’