Alys Clare - Mist Over the Water

He was aware of her moving quietly around the room. He shut off the distraction, for he was trying to clarify the quick glimpse he had had into her mind. He had seen a tall, slender figure staring out along the very causeway he had just crossed. The figure was leaning forward, gazing into the mist; he was facing towards the islet, and the image had been from the far end of the causeway. Hrype was all but sure it was Sibert.

He cannot have reached this islet , Hrype told himself. Aetha knows he wants to see her, for her daughter told her so, yet she refused, but if he had come here I would know .

There would be signs for one such as Hrype to read had Sibert achieved his goal. The two were blood kin, and Hrype would have picked up his nephew’s scent, no matter how hard Aetha had tried to disguise it. In addition, he would have read in her mind that she had recently spoken to the young man; the image Hrype had seen of the slender figure suggested strongly that she had only seen him, at the other end of the causeway.

Suggestion, however, was not enough.

‘Have you seen him?’ he asked softly.

She paused in her work. ‘Yes.’

‘He was trying to find you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you did not wish to speak to him?’

‘I. . No.’

Hrype smiled grimly. ‘How did you prevent him crossing the causeway?’

‘He was afraid to,’ she replied. ‘I saw him there, nerving himself to come to me.’ Hrype guessed she did not mean she’d actually seen him, for it was a substantial distance from March to Bearton, and even the most long-sighted old woman would surely struggle to make out any more than the line of the far shore. No; Aetha would have seen him in her mind.

‘Did you place the fear in his head?’

‘He was already anxious, for the water was high and in places the path across the causeway was submerged. There are fell creatures in that black water, Magic Man, as all fen dwellers well know.’ She smiled, revealing strong, yellowing teeth. ‘It was not much of a challenge to work on those fears a little.’

‘You knew who he was?’

‘I did, for hadn’t Yorath just been to tell me he was looking for me?’

Hrype stared at her. ‘You would have recognized him even without her warning, I think,’ he murmured.

She met his eyes for a moment and then her gaze slid away. She sighed. ‘Perhaps.’

He longed to ask her why she would not permit a meeting between herself and Sibert. He had been given a reason — hadn’t Yorath said plainly that her mother had shut her mind to the past and wanted no reminders? Why, Aetha had taken the extreme step of abandoning the place that had always been her home and moving to this desolate islet in the middle of nowhere, cut off from humankind and with no company except her cat, her hens and her bees. Sibert, too, would not be just anybody, linked as he was with the terrible days of Hereward’s rebellion and its aftermath.

It was enough, wasn’t it?

Hrype’s mind was working swiftly. Should he confront her directly, or would that merely serve to arouse her curiosity and send her thoughts flying straight back to the one time and place Hrype did not want her to dwell on? Or should he thankfully accept that she had not spoken to Sibert, had no wish to, and undoubtedly would do whatever was necessary to make sure she didn’t?

He was interrupted by Aetha’s quiet voice as softly she chanted the words of an ancient spell for protection. Then she said, ‘Do not worry. I remember it all, just as well as you do, but some things are best left in the past.’

She set a coarse pottery mug down on the floor beside him, its contents sending up spirals of steam. He smelt the sweet aroma of honey, accompanied by something spicy. He glanced up at her, intending to thank her, and he surprised her in an expression that was the last thing he would have expected.

She was sorry for him.

I was exhausted after my long day, and I slept soundly, despite worrying over the absence of both Sibert and Hrype. In a way, the fact that neither of them had returned eased my anxiety, for I told myself that they must surely be together and therefore much safer than if either had been alone. Well, Hrype was all right whether by himself or in company; he has a sort of infallibility about him, which I assume comes from being a cunning man. Not many men are willing to tangle with someone like Hrype. As for Sibert, he had certainly matured recently but he was still subject to fits of self-doubt when the least little obstacle could rear up like a tall cliff and stop him in his tracks, quaking with fear of what might happen. To think of him under the protective cloak of his uncle Hrype was very comforting.

I stirred once, for I had heard a small sound. I thought it was the door opening and was reassured, imagining that one or both of my companions had just crept in. Then I went straight back to sleep.

In the morning I discovered two things: I was still all alone in the little room, and someone had been inside during the night. I knew that without a doubt, for every night before I sleep I always make sure that everything is packed neatly away in my leather satchel and that the buckles are fastened. This morning, one strap was buckled but one lay loose.

I got up straight away, arranging my clothing and brushing the straw out of my hair, for instinctively I felt that whatever I had to face I would be better prepared for it if I were fully dressed and tidy. Then I made myself eat breakfast and drink a hot infusion, for we all do battle better with food inside us. Then I sat on my neatly made bed and thought about what could have happened.

There were no signs that anyone else had spent the night in the house, for the other mattress was undisturbed. I told myself the most likely event was that Hrype and Sibert — perhaps both of them — had returned briefly to our dwelling to fetch something from my satchel, and perhaps to check that I was safe, and then left again on whatever business he, or they, were pursuing. They would have seen me sleeping deeply and taken care not to wake me. Wouldn’t they? No doubt they would return soon and tell me all about what they’d been up to.

Yes. That must be right.

The alternative — that some stranger with malicious intent had opened the door, stared down at me and gone through my belongings as I slept — was just too frightening to contemplate.

I reached for my satchel and, forcing my shaking hands to work, checked the contents. As far as I could tell, everything that ought to be there was there. Whoever had rooted through my potions, ointments, herbs and dressings had not disturbed them much, and nobody but me would even have noticed that they had even been touched. He — I knew instinctively that the intruder had been a man — had investigated the pieces of folded white cloth at the bottom of the satchel but only to the extent of pulling out a corner to identify the fabric.

It still could have been Hrype or Sibert, I told myself firmly. Both of them knew what I carried in my bag. Both of them would also know that I wouldn’t object if they needed some herb or remedy and came to fetch it, and I tried to convince myself that, finding me so deeply asleep, they would have helped themselves rather than wake me up to ask me for assistance.

The problem with that comforting picture was that, as far as I could tell, nothing was missing from my satchel.

I sat there drowning in my fear for several moments. Then, with a greater effort than I’m prepared to admit, I fought back. I’m still alive , I told myself firmly. Nobody has hurt me. Nothing has been stolen . Although I did not know who had entered the little room, and what they had wanted of me, I was determined to find out. I wished with all my heart that Sibert or Hrype were there to find out with me — but they weren’t, and there was nothing I could do about it. I tidied away my breakfast utensils, picked up my cloak, tied it firmly and set out into the morning.