Alys Clare - The Way Between the Worlds

‘Fierce words,’ the impostor remarked, the arm hooked around my throat tightening and the point of the knife pushing in just under my ear. ‘But useless, I’m afraid. If he lunges at me, he may indeed kill me, but you will die first. He won’t risk that. The man loves you,’ he added pleasantly. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

He could not see my hands, and I was feeling with my right one for the buckles on my leather satchel. I always carry the items a healer needs for simple treatments, and among them is a short, sharp blade. I use it to open up festering wounds, or to edge further apart the sides of a deep cut so that I can clean it properly. Once I even used it to slice into a lad’s finger and extract a big splinter that had gone right under the skin.

Cuts hurt less when the knife is keen, and I also carry a small whetstone. I always keep my little blade very, very sharp.

I had the satchel open, and I had located the blade. I took firm hold of it and, meeting Rollo’s eyes, made sure he could see what I intended to do.

Then I wrested myself to one side, as far as I could, and swung my blade up. I knew I made contact, for I felt his warm skin under my hand. Instantly, the knife point under my ear drove in, and I felt my own blood flooding out.

I swung my hand again and again, trying to make contact, but with each sweep the arc was less. I saw him above me, fury in his eyes, a long cut on his chin where my flailing blade had caught him.

He had his knife pointing at my heart, and I knew I was about to die. I held my little blade in front of me — if only I could hit a vital place, I might. .

There was a roar from behind the black figure of the impostor. It was Rollo, demanding his attention.

Not knowing what his name was, Rollo had shouted out, ‘ Devil !’

The impostor turned. He and Rollo faced each other, one armed with a knife, one with a short sword. But the one with the lesser weapon had magic in him.

Quite how much, I did not yet appreciate.

He stood looking at Rollo, and he began to laugh. ‘You believe there are two of us, don’t you? I, who with my background can readily impersonate a priest, and my companion, the wild-haired man of magic, the storm-raiser.’ He lifted both arms and, in a language I did not know, screamed out some words to the wide blue sky. From nowhere there was a great rumble of thunder, and I felt the earth shake.

‘You fools!’ cried the black-clad figure. ‘We are one and the same!’ Then he lowered his left arm and pointed it at Rollo.

He might have been full of wild, unnatural power, but Rollo was younger, fitter and a fighter. He was so fast that I did not see the strike, only its result. The dark robes fluttered as the body hit the ground, and the unknown man who had taken the identity of Father Clement fell dead.

I looked up at Rollo.

He had just killed a man, and I knew for sure that the dead impostor was not his first victim. It should have given me pause. But as I stared up at him standing there over the corpse of the false Father Clement, his whole body still alight and glowing with blood lust — killing lust — I knew it made no difference.

I could try to justify myself and remind myself that Rollo had killed to save the lives of the three of us, not to mention taking vengeance on the man who had killed the real Father Clement and Herleva, and who had tried to poison Elfritha too. But that justification would have meant I was being untruthful with myself, and Edild always says that, no matter who else you lie to, you must never lie to yourself.

I loved Rollo. I had loved him since first I met him. I would go on loving him, no matter what. He was my friend, my protector, my responsibility; he had just saved my life, and I had saved his. He would very soon also be my lover; that was already certain. There was no going back.

In that instant I understood something about the man I loved. I understood, too, that I would never change him. If we had a future together, I was going to have to find a way to accept it. Accept him .

I knew it was not going to be easy, for I was a healer and my instinct was to save life, not to take it. But I also knew without a doubt that I would manage it.

Rollo came over and knelt beside me. He put a hand to the cut under my ear, pressing hard. Presently, he said, ‘It’s stopped bleeding. Have you a dressing in your satchel?’

I nodded. He seemed to appreciate that I was temporarily unable to do much for myself, so he took out a pad of linen and the small bottle of lavender oil that I always keep wrapped inside the linen.

‘You should put some of the lavender-’

‘On the pad. Yes, I know. You told me.’ He sounded as if he were smiling. He wound a strip of cloth around the pad to hold it in place, tying it round my neck. Then, with one more look at me, he went to see to Hrype.

I’m the healer , I thought. That’s my job . I tried to get up, found that I could and went to join him. Hrype had a huge bruise on his jaw, but his eyelids were flickering and he was regaining consciousness.

He struggled to sit up and looked around, seeing the dead body of the impostor. He glanced up briefly at Rollo, who nodded. Hrype murmured something, and Rollo smiled. It occurred to me that Hrype had probably said well done .

‘What shall we do with him?’ I asked.

Hrype had staggered over towards the water. I thought he was going to vomit — people often do after they’ve been knocked out — but in fact he was just having a look. He glanced around at the surrounding landscape and nodded. ‘We’ll do what he would have asked for if he could,’ he said.

Then I knew.

They wouldn’t let me help. They were, for once, totally united, and they absolutely forbade it. So I sat on the bank over the fen and watched.

Hrype made the honeysuckle ropes; Rollo cut and trimmed the hazel stakes. Then Hrype made a wound on the body so that it had received three. One from each of us. . They carried the dead man out into the fen, so that I could no longer see clearly what they were doing. I guessed, though. They would have hammered in the hazel stakes and tied him down, under several feet of water.

It was very unlikely that anyone would ever find him.

We left Chatteris Abbey, Edild coming with us, for Elfritha was well on the way to regaining her health. Besides, we — and only we — knew that my beloved sister was no longer in any danger. I don’t know what the nuns thought had become of the man they believed to be Father Clement. I was quite bothered at the thought of those women, one or two of whom I’d met and really liked, abruptly being robbed of their priest, but then I remembered that he wasn’t a priest at all and I didn’t feel so bad.

We went down to the waterside where the boatmen waited, Hrype and Edild walking together ahead, Rollo and I following. They, I guessed, would return to Aelf Fen. Edild had been away from her patients for too long, and, with me absent too, the villagers who’d had the misfortune to fall sick over the past few days would have had to see to themselves. Hrype, I knew, would be anxious about Froya. Even though he must have longed to disappear with Edild somewhere out in the wilds where nobody knew them, it just wasn’t possible.

We asked around and soon found a ferryman who was bound for Ely and then on to Wicken, and he said he was willing to take passengers.

My aunt spoke quietly to me. ‘You’re not coming with us,’ she said.

‘No,’ I agreed.

She smiled, very sweetly. ‘Your sister is very impressed,’ she said, nodding in Rollo’s direction.

I felt myself flush. I just said, ‘Oh.’

Edild gave me a quick, hard hug. ‘Go and enjoy it,’ she whispered.