Alys Clare - Mist Over the Water

‘We can’t,’ I said. Smiling, trying to look reassuring, I added, ‘You don’t even know that these two men were monks, Morcar. And I’m quite sure they weren’t trying to kill you — they probably just brushed against you and you slipped.’

He closed his eyes briefly, muttering under his breath. Then, opening them again, he fixed me with a furious stare and said coldly, ‘You weren’t there. They tried to kill me, girl. One of them took the gleeve I was using to hold myself up and the other barrelled into me like a charging bull. They thought they’d drowned me. When they find out I’m still alive, they’ll come after me and have another try, and they’ll kill you, too, if you stand in their way.’

He spoke with such certainty that I began to feel afraid. I allowed myself to imagine them, two dark, hooded shapes looming huge in the dim light of dusk, creeping along the alley, slowly opening the door to fall on Morcar, Sibert and me. .

It was a mistake to have let the images into my mind.

Mentally, I gave myself a severe scolding. ‘You cannot be moved and that is an end of it, Morcar,’ I said firmly. He opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand. ‘Tomorrow, if your condition continues to improve, I will send Sibert to find a way of transporting you off the island and away from here. I promise,’ I added, risking my soul because just then I had no idea how I was going to manage it. And where, even if we got him away from Ely, would I take him? Home to his mother? To Aelf Fen and Edild’s care? I thought it best not even to think that far ahead.

Morcar was watching me closely. ‘I have your word?’

‘Yes.’ I’d just promised, hadn’t I? ‘When Sibert comes back you’ll have to try to eat something, Morcar, because if we’re going to move you you’ll need to build up some strength. I will-’

We both heard the footsteps pounding along the alleyway. They were approaching, fast.

Morcar’s eyes widened in terror. I grabbed the blanket off the bed where Sibert had slept and threw it over him, covering him from head to injured, bandaged foot, then I lay down in front of him, so close that I could feel the thumping of his heartbeat pushing against my back. I drew his discarded hooded cloak over me like a cover and, propping myself up on one elbow, prayed to every spirit that might be listening that when they came bursting through the door they would see nothing more than an angry young woman woken violently from her slumber and none too pleased about it. You’re angry , I told myself. You aren’t afraid because you don’t know there is anything to fear. You’re angry. Very, very angry. .

The hurrying footsteps stopped right outside. They must know Morcar was in here. I raised my chin, going over the words I would shout out as soon as they appeared.

The door opened.

‘What do you think you’re doing,’ I cried, ‘bursting in here without my permission? Waking me up with your noise, making me jump out of my-’

One person stood there, tall, slim, looking very upset.

It was Sibert.

I felt myself slump with relief. I leaned down to Morcar, quickly uncovering his head and saying, ‘It’s all right, it’s just Sibert.’

I rolled away from my cousin and stood up, preparing to yell at Sibert for scaring us so badly. But his face was white — almost as pale as Morcar’s. As we stood there face to face, the provisions he had brought back fell out of his hands. A small apple rolled across the floor. ‘What is it?’ I whispered urgently. ‘What’s happened?’

Sibert looked at Morcar and back to me. ‘Someone’s been murdered,’ he said. He was trembling. ‘They’ve found a body, down at the end of a narrow stream where some of the men have been catching eels.’ He shuddered, putting up a hand to wipe his mouth. I smelled vomit.

‘Did you go and look?’ I demanded.

‘Yes.’ He moaned, briefly closing his eyes. ‘It was ghastly. He’d been pinned face forward to the abbey wall with an eel gleeve. It can’t have pierced his heart, for they’re saying it took him most of the night to die. There’s so much blood!’ he exclaimed, and now both of his hands were over his mouth.

I tried not to imagine the victim’s torment. To bleed to death, feeling the blood seep out of you and unable to do anything to save yourself. . Stop it , I ordered myself. This is not helping . ‘Sit down,’ I said to Sibert, ‘and if you feel faint, or sick, put your head between your knees.’ He obeyed. I fetched him a cup of water, standing over him while he sipped it. ‘Better?’

He looked up and I saw that his colour was returning. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

I began collecting up the dropped provisions. ‘When you feel like eating, I’ll prepare something,’ I said, trying to make my voice calm and untroubled. ‘Mmm, this bread smells good. I’m very hungry and-’

Sibert was staring at something on the floor, just in front of where Morcar lay. The shock from Sibert’s announcement was still written all over Morcar’s face. I would have to do something to help him very soon, I thought, for this talk of murder would surely work on his terrified fancies about hooded assassins.

I looked to see what had caught and held Sibert’s attention. He was staring at Morcar’s cloak, which I had thrown off as I stood up.

‘What’s the matter?’ All my efforts to appear unflustered had flown away and I sounded exactly like what I was: a very frightened girl.

‘Whose is that?’ Sibert pointed a shaking finger at the cloak.

‘It’s mine.’ Morcar’s whisper was all but inaudible.

Sibert knelt down right in front of him. ‘Where did you get it? When did you get it?’ he demanded.

Morcar frowned with the effort of trying to penetrate the mist of fever and answer the urgent question. ‘Er. . two, three days ago,’ he said shakily. ‘It had started to rain, and it went on raining. A peddler came out to where we were fishing, and he had a load of cloaks on a barrow. He said they’d keep the wet out, but it’s a useless thing, and what’s more it stinks.’ He must have realized he was rambling and stopped.

Into the silence Sibert whispered, ‘The murdered man wore one just like it.’

I was beginning to understand. As I did so, my fear rapidly escalated. ‘You say the peddler had a load of cloaks?’ Reluctantly, Morcar nodded. ‘And he sold many?’

‘Three or four,’ Morcar managed.

I turned to Sibert and, meeting his eyes, I knew he had reached the same awful conclusion. The men who had attacked Morcar must have found out somehow that they had failed to kill him. They had seen a man in an identical cloak to Morcar’s and, believing it to be their victim, they’d had another go. They can’t have known that men other than Morcar wore similar cloaks; they hadn’t even bothered to check they had the right man by looking at his face.

They had struck him from behind, spearing him to the abbey wall face forward.

My thoughts flew around like a flock of sparrows disturbed by a cat. I forced them still and tried to work out what we should do. It was surely only a matter of time before the murderers realized they had the wrong man — if, that was, Morcar was the intended victim and the dead man had been mistaken for him rather than the other way round. Assuming the worst, that it was Morcar they wanted dead, when they found out they had failed again they would come after him. Sick and injured as he was, with only a youth and a girl to protect him, they would succeed next time. As Morcar had predicted, they would probably kill Sibert and me too.

I was by no means ready to die. I was sure the same applied to Sibert and, as my patient, Morcar was my responsibility.