Alys Clare - Out of the Dawn Light

As I entered the hall I’d had the strong sense that there was someone else there but, peering round as well as I could without making it too obvious, I could see nobody. There were some beautiful hangings embroidered in rich red, brown and gold wool at the end of the hall that I guessed concealed the door to the kitchens, so maybe whoever it was had gone out that way.

‘Now, who are you and why do you wish to see me?’ Lord Gilbert asked, kindly enough.

I studied him, trying to obtain a sense of him. I saw a fat man of perhaps twenty-five whose face smiled readily and, to judge from the lines around his hazel eyes, frequently. He slumped rather than sat in his chair and his rich velvet tunic had small greasy stains down the front. He likes his food, I thought, and his girth suggests self-indulgence.

I was probably far too hasty in deciding that I could manage Gilbert de Caudebec, but the sudden confidence gave me the ability to speak.

‘I understand that my friend Sibert is imprisoned here,’ I began. I knew he was; Hrype had told us so last night. ‘He is charged with the theft of a gold crown from a place called Drakelow and the murder of a man called Romain de la Flèche.’ I had to press my lips together for a moment as I said his name. His loss was still very raw. ‘I have come,’ I hurried on, ‘to protest his innocence.’ I hoped that was the right phrase. ‘He did not kill Romain.’

‘Indeed?’ said Lord Gilbert. ‘And how can you be so sure?’

‘Because he was with me,’ I said firmly.

‘I see.’ Lord Gilbert went on looking at me, smiling vaguely, and I sensed he was playing for time while he thought how to respond.

‘He was!’ I insisted when he still did not speak. ‘We went to Drakelow together — well, Romain was the leader, I suppose, since it was all his idea, but we-’ I realized I was entering difficult territory. I had been about to say that Sibert and I had parted company from Romain after we’d found the crown, but since that was a lot to admit straight away and I’d very likely live to regret my frankness, I held back. ‘We came back together, just Sibert and me,’ I finished feebly. ‘But I know he didn’t kill Romain,’ I went on, trying to make my voice sound firm and confident, ‘because Romain was killed six days ago and Sibert was with me then. I will speak for him,’ I finished, in what I hoped was a dignified tone.

‘You will speak for him,’ Lord Gilbert mused. ‘Yes indeed, he said that you would. He too tells this tale of the two of you journeying to Drakelow, finding the crown and returning with it, he to Aelf Fen, you to your sister’s house at Icklingham.’

‘He tells it because that’s exactly what happened!’ My cool, authoritative voice seemed to have flown away and I was screeching like a seagull. But Lord Gilbert was frightening me; I sensed that he did not believe me and I have learned to trust my senses. ‘I was with Sibert all the time and he didn’t kill anybody !’

Lord Gilbert’s suspicious expression softened and I thought for one wonderful moment that I had convinced him. Then he said, quite kindly, ‘But you are lying, aren’t you?’

‘ No! ’ I leapt up, stamping my foot for emphasis.

Lord Gilbert actually chuckled. ‘As I observed, didn’t I? A spirited girl!’ he said over his shoulder.

I knew there had been someone else in the room! I cursed myself for not having tried harder to see if I was right. My skin prickling with apprehension, I stared into the shadows at the back of the hall where I had supposed that the hanging concealed a door. Slowly, as if he was reluctant to show himself, a man walked forward into the light.

I stared at him and his intense dark eyes under their strongly marked brows stared right back. The lines of his face were pronounced and he had deeply etched grey circles under his eyes. His mouth was no more than a thin, hard line. He was, I reminded myself as I tried not to recoil, a man in mourning, for he had just lost his nephew and his heir.

It was Baudouin de la Flèche.

My fear came racing back, multiplied a hundredfold. It had been scary enough nerving myself to face Gilbert de Caudebec, and I knew his reputation as a benevolent lord who did not harry and bully his peasants and his tenants like many Normans did. Baudouin de la Flèche was a very different matter; I had no logical reason to be so frightened of him but I was. I tried to tell myself that his fearsome expression was undoubtedly the result of his grief — some people, especially men, adopt anger as a way of dealing with the pain — but it did little to reassure me. As I stood there forcing my knees to hold firm and stop shaking, commanding myself not to do as I longed to and turn and flee, I knew he brought with him danger. Terrible danger.

He smiled, a ghastly expression that I detected had not a jot of sincerity in it. Then he said — and his light, cheerful tone, like his smile, was so incongruous and so clearly forced that I was amazed Lord Gilbert did not spin round to stare at him — ‘You did indeed, Gilbert, and spirited barely describes our young visitor adequately.’ He moved closer, and I forced myself to stand firm. ‘I would say also that it is very brave, for a little village girl to stride into her lord’s hall and contradict him so forcefully!’ He laughed, a short ha! which sounded unpractised, as if he did not do it very often. ‘But sadly,’ he went on, his face falling in mock sympathy, ‘we already know the truth.’ He turned to Lord Gilbert. ‘Is that not so?’

‘Yes, yes!’ Lord Gilbert beamed. ‘The young man, Sibert, tried to make us believe this highly imaginative tale, of you accompanying him and Romain de la Flèche to Drakelow, and even as he did so we all doubted that he was telling the truth.’ He broke off, looking at me closely. ‘How old are you, child?’

‘Fourteen.’ My midsummer birthday seemed months ago.

‘Fourteen,’ Lord Gilbert echoed. ‘But you look so much younger, like a little girl who has yet to bloom into womanhood and still needs the security and protection of her family.’

I seethed with silent fury. If only he knew, fat, condescending pig that he was!

‘Little village girls do not go on illicit, unauthorized journeys half across the country,’ Lord Gilbert stated flatly, and there was a worrying note of finality in his voice. ‘In addition,’ he added, smiling at me, ‘as soon as Sibert made this claim — that you were with him all the time and would vouch for the fact that he committed no murder — I sent men to find you, as you know, but also to question your kin.’

Oh, no! I had caught myself in my own trap! I had lied so convincingly that everyone had believed me.

‘Your sister and her husband repeated the account you gave of your week of absence from their house,’ Lord Gilbert went on, ‘in such detail that there can be no doubt they were telling a true story. In addition, my men spoke to your aunt, with whom you were staying, and she verified the fact that you never left her house.’ He eyed me with sudden interest. ‘You are skilled as a healer, I am told?’

He stared at me expectantly and I had to answer. ‘I’m learning,’ I admitted grudgingly.

‘Good, good,’ said Lord Gilbert. ‘I must remember that. I have a pretty young wife and an adorable baby son, did you know that?’

‘Er-’

He did not wait for me to answer. ‘They are in fine health at present,’ he said, smiling happily, ‘but my wife will be reassured to know we have a young healer close at hand in case of need.’

He was patronizing me and I hated it. If he or this wife of his had wanted a healer they’d have sent for Edild, not me. He was being kind because he was sorry for me. I’d come on a silly, childish mission to try to save my friend by spinning a ridiculous yarn than nobody in their right minds would credit, and he had dismissed me out of hand. Now he was trying to comfort me. In a minute he’d be offering me a sugar cake, as if I were an infant who had fallen over and banged her head.