Alys Clare - Mist Over the Water

Poor Gewis. He would still be coming to terms with the death of his mother. I did not envy him. I hoped my mother was finding some way to comfort him. He was young still, and he had the look of someone who found the world a hard place.

That thought led me directly to Sibert.

My friend had been told something that devastated him. Yes, he had suspected that there was something odd about the time his parents and his uncle had spent in Ely together, but I was quite convinced that he had got nowhere near the truth, even with his wildest guesses. To learn after nearly nineteen years that his dead, hero father was no such thing — a hero, yes, but not his father — and that his mother had conceived him with her brother-in-law, Sibert’s uncle, must have driven him to the verge of madness. He was, as I have so often thought, not really equipped to deal with too much reality.

I still did not understand why his reaction had been to attempt to kill Hrype. Why? Because for him to impregnate Froya had been a sin? Because it had been the worst possible betrayal of poor, wounded Edmer? Or because — and I thought this the most likely — Sibert had had to find out the truth for himself?

It would have taken a very brave man to say to the young Sibert, There is something you must know. I slept with your mother as her husband lay dying, and you are my son, not his . But Hrype was a brave man. Why had he kept silent?

Because of Froya , came the answer. I suppose I provided it myself, but at the time it sounded as if the words were spoken in another voice that could have been Hrype’s.

I thought about that. Yes, it sounded believable. Froya was delicate, her equanimity readily shattered, and both Hrype and Sibert had to work hard to restore her calm when she got upset. If she had begged Hrype not to tell Sibert the truth, I thought he would have restrained himself, even if he thought it was wrong.

Froya. Oh, dear Lord, her secret was out now. Had Sibert gone to confront her? For a moment I was horrified that he had, but then I was suddenly quite sure he hadn’t. He would not face her on her own. He loved her, I did not doubt it, and deep down that would not change, no matter what she had done. He was probably beside himself with fury at her now, but he would not attack until Hrype was there to protect her. It had, after all, been both of them who had done wrong.

They were his parents. I still found it all but impossible to believe, but Hrype and Froya were Sibert’s parents.

That was something else I was going to have to keep from the inhabitants of Aelf Fen.

I found that my aimless wanderings as I thought about my friends had led me past the row of dwellings and towards where the water lapped at the foot of the track that bordered the lower edge of the meadow. Just along there was the place where Sibert had borrowed the boat. He had taken it three times now, and it was still missing. It was just as well that its rightful owner did not appear to have any use for it at the moment or we would all be in trouble.

I watched the dark water. It was still high, and I could smell rain on the air. The dark, heavy clouds in the west had been building up all day. Ely Island would soon be a little smaller as the water rose and. .

There was a boat approaching. I heard it before I saw it, and as it emerged from the gloom I saw that it was the one Sibert had purloined.

One person rowed it. It looked like a boy, and he wore a worn tunic and a shapeless felt hat pulled well down so that it covered his hair. I thought I recognized that hat. .

Clumsily, the boy shipped his oars and the boat slid alongside. I reached down and grabbed the rope, making it fast. The boy stood up, and I held out my hand to him.

‘It’s holed,’ the boy said apologetically, shaking the water off his boots. ‘I ran over a submerged branch, and I’ve been baling half the way back.’

Then Gewis took my hand and, with a sheepish smile, stepped out of the boat and on to the damp grass.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I hissed furiously. ‘Sibert took you away from here because it’s not safe! Why on earth have you come back again?’

‘They killed my mother!’ he cried. Hastily, I shushed him, and he went on more quietly, ‘I have to tell Lord Edmund I know what he’s done. Then I’m going to get the sheriff and-’

It was a fine and noble idea but quite unrealistic. We were peasants, powerless, bound by invisible but unbreakable fetters. Lord Edmund was so far above us that there was nothing our feeble protests could do to touch him. ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ I interrupted. Poor Gewis. How little he knew about the world. ‘The four guardians will be hunting for you now. If they find you, they’ll take you straight back to Lord Edmund-’

‘That’s what I want!’ Gewis said passionately.

‘ No you don’t! ’ Why wouldn’t he see? ‘If that happens, the outcome will be one of two things. Either they’ll force you into the role they want you to play, which you already say you have refused-’

‘I have! I won’t do it, not for anything in the world!’

‘-Or they’ll kill you because you know about what they are trying to do and therefore you can’t be left alive to tell anyone else.’

He was staring at me with his mouth open. Then, as I watched, slowly the terror left his eyes and he straightened up. When he spoke, there was a new note in his voice, and I knew that the time when I could boss him about had gone.

‘I am going to the house where I was taken before Lord Edmund,’ he said calmly. ‘I do not expect you to come with me, for it is, as you say, perilous.’

I wanted to scream with frustration. I didn’t. Someone would have heard. Instead, I just said, ‘Come on then. Show me where it is.’

We kept in the shadows as we made our way up the dark, silent alley that led to the marketplace. We waited for our eyes to adjust to the sudden light of the torches flaring high up on the abbey walls, then hurried around the square, crouching low and staying right back against the encircling buildings. There was nobody about. Ely, it appeared, had retired for the night.

Gewis ran off along a wider street where the houses were large and prosperous-looking, stopping after only a few paces in front of a grand establishment that showed all the signs of wealth. Some gift of foresight, probably provided by my fear, permitted me to see what he was about to do; I grabbed at his arm, but I was too late. He was already banging on the door.

I didn’t know whether to flee or prepare to fight. My hand closed on the horn hilt of my knife, and I drew it out of its sheath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt sick. Then the terror abated slightly, just enough for me to come to my senses and realize that, despite Gewis’s forceful fist on the wooden door, no lights had come on and no cross servant had poked his head out to demand what we thought we were doing.

The house was empty.

I put my knife away and leaned forward, my hands on my knees, while my heartbeat and my breathing returned to normal. Then I looked up at Gewis and said, ‘Now what?’

His face was thoughtful. ‘Lord Edmund might have left the town,’ he said slowly, ‘but I don’t think so. He wants me as a figurehead for this rebellion he’s plotting, but he was never going to succeed with just me and my four guards. There must be many more supporters waiting for the word.’

He was right. This Lord Edmund probably had a secret network quietly preparing for the moment when their leader would emerge with the new champion, whereupon they were no doubt relying on the optimistic hope that all the malcontents in England would rally round and kick King William and the Normans back to Normandy.