Alys Clare - Out of the Dawn Light

Then why, I wondered, was Hrype nodding, smiling even, for all that it was a grim smile?

‘It did happen as we envisage,’ he said, ‘and Romain was not struck on the back of the head.’ He hurried back to where he had been searching and held up a piece of branch, jagged at one end where it had been torn off the tree. I prayed that he would not bring it over to me, for I knew what it was, but he did.

He held it up. I could see dried blood on it, as well as some pale matter which I had spotted before I had the sense to look away.

‘I am sorry, Lassair,’ Hrype said gently. There was a swishing sound. ‘There; I’ve thrown it back in the bracken. It’s gone.’

I swallowed back the threatening nausea and said shakily, ‘What were you going to show me?’

‘When you poleaxe a beast,’ he said, still in those soothing, gentle tones, ‘the weapon may be stained with blood and sometimes, if the blow breaks the skull, with brains.’ Oh! ‘There are invariably a few hairs, and I would expect to find hairs also on a weapon that struck down a man on the back or the top of his head with sufficient force to shatter bone.’

‘Romain had thick hair,’ I murmured faintly. ‘Thick and glossy. . ’

‘There is not a single hair on that branch,’ Hrype said. ‘If it was what the killer used to murder Romain, then the poor man was hit on the brow, on the front of the face, where hair does not grow.’

‘The witness must have been mistaken, then,’ I whispered. ‘Perhaps he did not get as good a view of the murder as he claims.’ I realized something. I said excitedly, ‘So how can he be so sure that Sibert was the murderer?’

‘How indeed,’ muttered Hrype. He was frowning, staring absently out across the clearing.

‘We must ride back to Aelf Fen with all speed and tell Lord Gilbert!’ I said, already gathering up the horses’ reins. He did not move. ‘Come on!’ I urged.

He turned to me as if about to speak. But then, apparently changing his mind, he nodded and together we set out up the track towards the road.

Baudouin had located his witness. He was a smallish man with sparse gingery hair and pale skin flecked with scaly patches. He claimed to be a merchant, although his general appearance gave the impression that if indeed he was, then he was not a very successful one. In the company of a sway-backed mule laden with shabby goods that surely only the desperate would wish to buy, he travelled the roads and the tracks of a wide area of East Anglia between the coastal ports and the inland towns, villages and hamlets and his name was Sagar. Brought forward to repeat his tale, he was sweating with nerves and had clearly taken a drink or two.

Baudouin had found lodgings for him with one of Lord Gilbert’s men. Lord Gilbert, informed that Sagar had evidence which would condemn Sibert for Romain’s murder without any doubt, had instructed his man to present Sagar at the appointed time and meanwhile keep him sober and keep a close eye on him.

The appointed time was the next day.

Tomorrow, Baudouin thought, tense with apprehension. I only have to wait until tomorrow. Sagar’s testimony will confirm what I have already said and Sibert will hang. Lord Gilbert will return my crown to me — who else will step forward to claim it with Sibert dangling on the end of a rope? — and I shall present it to the king. Then Drakelow will be mine once more.

One more day of waiting, and then everything would be all right.

Hrype and I covered the return journey to Aelf Fen even more swiftly than we had ridden out. The horse and my pony were sweating and blown by the time we got home and I wanted to rub them down, allow them to cool off and water them, but Hrype would not let me. He was deeply uneasy now and I guessed it was because he feared someone would see us with our borrowed mounts.

‘They’ll be tended, don’t worry,’ he said abruptly, almost dragging me off my pony’s back.

His face was set in such ferocious lines that I did not dare argue.

I wondered what I ought to do. It was by now twilight, and I did not want to go back to Goda’s house, although I knew I should as no doubt she would be yelling for me, furious at my absence and perhaps even a tiny bit worried about me, although that was unlikely. But then was there any point in walking all the way to Icklingham when I was planning to present my evidence to Lord Gilbert in the morning?

Hrype decided for me. ‘Go home,’ he ordered. ‘Make up a reason. Tell your family you’re worried about Sibert and your sister has allowed you to come back to try to see him. Something of the sort — anyway, don’t tell them you’re going to see Lord Gilbert first thing in the morning.’

‘No, I won’t,’ I agreed. That wouldn’t be difficult as I was trying very hard not even to think about it, never mind speak of it.

He studied me for a moment. ‘You have to make him believe you,’ he said with sudden passion. ‘You must explain how you left Romain lying on his back and-’

‘But nobody believes I was even there! ’ I wailed. ‘Everyone thinks I was at Edild’s house!’

‘She will have to say she said that to protect you,’ he said curtly.

Poor Edild. A healer’s reputation would not be enhanced by the knowledge that she was a liar. And would they believe her any more than they did me? Both of us, after all, were going to have to convince Lord Gilbert that what we had said before was the lie and what we were now saying was the truth. It was not going to be easy.

He took hold of my shoulders, staring into my eyes. For a moment I felt his power, raw and seething within him, then with an almost visible effort he concealed it. ‘There will be a way, Lassair,’ he said, his voice hypnotic. ‘Believe. Believe. ’ He gave me a shake, quite a hard one.

‘I believe!’ I whimpered. Then he let me go and, leading the horses, strode away.

My family welcomed me with love and sympathy, asking no awkward questions despite the late hour. They obviously hadn’t heard that I’d run away from Goda’s house without permission — for once I was thankful for my sister’s indolence — and accepted without question the excuse that anxiety over Sibert’s fate had driven me home.

They settled me comfortably and my mother made me a hot drink and gave me a slab of bread and some slices of dried meat, a luxurious late-night snack. I was very hungry and gulped it down. When I’d finished my father said, ‘You’ve come at the right time, Lassair. We’ll know tomorrow.’

I felt a cold shiver down my back. ‘What do you mean?’

‘They’re taking Sibert before Lord Gilbert. There’s a witness who says he saw him murder Romain.’

A witness! Oh, dear Lord. I was going to have to stand up and accuse this witness of lying. Or, at least, of not being close enough to detect the details of the murder, such as from what direction the blow fell and who had delivered it. I was trembling at the very thought.

I could not tell my family any of this. If I announced my intentions they would certainly try to stop me and probably succeed. I was a child, they would say, nobody was going to listen to me, and it was far, far better for humble people like us to keep well away from matters that did not concern us.

But this did concern me. I was the only person who knew without any doubt that Sibert did not kill Romain.

I did not sleep much that night.

I slipped out of the house when my family were all bustling about and, in the usual confusion made by seven people and a baby in a very small space, nobody noticed.

I went straight to Lord Gilbert’s house and asked to see him. Again, they tried to stop me but this time the man himself was at the door of his hall and he invited me in. From the look on his face, I imagine he thought my antics would amuse him.