Alys Clare - Music of the Distant Stars

Sloth and Envy were, it seemed, still to be embroidered.

I was lost for words. The lady’s skill with her needle was extraordinary, and her artistry was evident in the strong emotions that her designs provoked in me. The subject matter was worthy; our priest regularly regales us with the dangers of yielding to all sin, but the perils of the deadliest seven are a theme to which he returns again and again. In the right place, Claude’s panels would have provided a timely reminder that we should watch our behaviour and not yield to temptation. But these vivid, startling, horrifying panels were to go around her bed. .

I wondered if Sir Alain had any conception of what his future wife was working on. In a flash I knew that he had no idea; she would have coyly said it was to be a wonderful surprise that would be unveiled on their wedding night.

Poor man.

I cast around for some comment that I could make with sincerity. I said, ‘My lady, what outstanding skill you have! These depictions seem almost to live and breathe.’

She nodded. ‘We must ever be on our guard,’ she muttered. She was picking at one of the completed panels: Wrath. ‘The Devil awaits all the time,’ she went on in the same soft, monotonous tone, her eyes burning with fervour. ‘One small slip in our vigilance and there he is, forcing our hand. We-’ Her mouth shut like a trap, and she turned away. Perhaps it was that she had recalled who I was and that such remarks were unsuitable from a lady to a village woman, but I doubted it.

I thought it more likely that the thwarting of her life’s ambition to give herself to God had turned her mind a little and that she might even be slightly mad.

I put out my hand to her, catching her sleeve. ‘My lady, why not do some sewing now?’ I said gently. ‘You are feeling better, and it is peaceful here. If you stay here where it is nice and quiet, you will not run the risk of the noise and the clamour of the hall bringing your headache back.’

She must have seen the sense of that. Nodding — I had noticed that, nunlike, she did not speak unless she had to — she drew up her stool and sat down before the frame. In a gesture that appeared automatic, she reached down for the black velvet bag, putting it on her lap and opening the drawstrings that held it closed. She extracted a thimble, a small pair of sewing scissors, several hanks of different coloured wool and a pincushion in which four or five needles were stuck.

I recalled how I had wondered what was in the velvet bag, that she should clutch at it like a talisman on the dreadful day when Edild and I had come to lay out Ida’s body. Now I had the answer.

Calm now, she threaded her needle and, gazing fiercely at her panel, stabbed it down through the thick canvas. Her other hand was behind the fabric, waiting to receive the needle, and, her fingers moving so swiftly that I could barely follow her movements, she thrust it back up again and started another stitch. I watched her for some moments, listening to the soft grunts of exertion that accompanied her actions; embroidery of this sort was, I observed, quite hard work.

There was, I decided, something of the fanatic about Lady Claude. Uneasy suddenly, I wanted to be gone. I backed away towards the door, murmuring, ‘I will take my leave now, my lady. I have left a potion to help you sleep, but please call me if you need me.’

I very much doubt she even heard.

I needed to be back with Edild, back with my own kind. I hurried away from Lakehall, trying to rid my mind of the image of Lady Claude, hunched over her frame, sewing an image out of hell.

I might have finished with the hall, but the hall had not finished with me. I heard the sound of running feet and a voice called out my name. I turned to see Sir Alain de Villequier hurrying after me. I had no choice but to wait for him.

‘Lassair, Lady Emma says you came to treat Claude,’ he said, panting. ‘How is she? Is she feeling better?’

I wondered that he consulted me instead of going up to ask the lady herself. ‘She is, I believe, sir,’ I replied. Edild stresses that we must not discuss a patient’s symptoms and sickness with anyone else, so I didn’t tell him what had troubled her. ‘I left her in her sewing room.’

‘Her sewing room,’ he echoed tonelessly. ‘Ah. Er, good.’ He flashed a smile at me, and I thought again what an attractive man he was. It wasn’t his looks, which were pleasant but unexceptional; it was the impression he gave of irrepressible good humour and a determination to enjoy life. You just knew he’d be fun to be with and that, I find, is more of a draw in a man than the most perfect features on someone devoid of personality.

He stood there, still smiling, and I said delicately, ‘If that is all, sir, I ought to be on my way. My aunt has work in plenty for me today.’

‘Of course, of course!’ he exclaimed. But instead of turning back to the hall, he nodded towards the village and said, ‘We’ll walk together, shall we?’

I could scarcely have said no.

We paced along in an amiable silence for a while. He might have been a justiciar and a man of wealth and influence, but I felt at ease with him. Drawn to him, in a way, for all that my heart was firmly lodged with another. Perhaps he felt it too; perhaps — far more likely — he just couldn’t resist the appeal of a young woman beside him. Presently, he took my arm, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He said, giving my arm a squeeze, ‘What of this missing man, then, Lassair? This Derman, who may or may not have attacked Ida?’

‘We went out looking for him last night,’ I gabbled, ‘and they set off again at first light this morning. We’re doing our best to find him, sir!’

‘Are you?’ He looked down at me, quirking an eyebrow. ‘Or are you planning to let him slip off into the wilderness and so leave your Haward free to marry the lovely Zarina without her shambling brother coming too?’

How did he know? Who had told him? I tried frantically to work it out, then realized that nobody had told him. He had been appointed to his new position because he was an astute, observant man who didn’t need to be told things because he worked them out for himself.

There seemed little point in lying to a man such as he. ‘It is true that Derman presents an obstacle to my brother marrying Zarina,’ I said quietly. ‘She is unwilling to impose the care of him on anyone else.’

‘A noble sentiment,’ Sir Alain remarked. ‘Although, of course, disappearing into the wilds is not the only way in which the obstacle that is Derman might be removed.’

I believed I knew what he was thinking and, in the same instant, I knew it was up to me to stop him. Praying I was doing the right thing, I said, ‘ If Derman did this terrible thing and is caught and hanged, then yes, the way would be clear for Haward and Zarina to marry.’ I turned to stare up at him, putting my soul into my eyes. ‘I have known my brother all my life,’ I said, ‘and I give you my word that he would rather forsake his chances of happiness with Zarina than watch as she suffers the pain of seeing Derman apprehended, tried, found guilty and put to death.’ Haward’s words of that morning flew into my mind: I hope he runs so far and so fast that we never catch him .

Sir Alain regarded me for some moments. Then he said, ‘I believe you.’

I could have cheered.

‘What will happen now, sir?’ I asked.

‘We’ll have to find Derman,’ he replied. ‘I, too, have sent a search party to look for him.’

My heart filled with dread. We in the village had managed only a handful of people with a limited amount of time. The resources that surely must be at Sir Alain’s disposal would be far, far greater. I doubted if Derman stood a chance.