D. Wilson - The Traitor’s Mark

Legh agreed. ‘I’ll see that the troops are ready at first light.’

When I went to the gatehouse Belleville looked up anxiously. ‘What did he say?’

‘He said you could prove your loyalty to his majesty by your silence. Go home. Make no contact whatsoever with Black Harry. Leave the rest to us. If we find the birds have flown when we get to Swansford, we’ll know you have warned them.’

The man’s relief was pitiable to behold. ‘I won’t say anything,’ he whined. ‘I swear it!’

‘Be sure you don’t. Your life depends on your doing absolutely nothing for the next twenty-four hours. Now, be off with you.’

The commission’s business for the day was concluded shortly before dusk. I rode wearily home, too tired to think much about what awaited me on the morrow. Any elation I felt at the prospect of arresting Black Harry had long since evaporated. I certainly felt no pride at my day’s work. Not content with becoming a conspirator, I had turned inquisitor.

Such morose thoughts were quickly swept aside when I reached Hemmings. I had scarcely dismounted when Bart came running from the house.

‘Saints be praised that you’re here, Master Thomas. Come quickly. It’s Adie!’

He hurried me upstairs and we entered the chamber Adie shared with Lizzie. The shutters were closed and the bed curtains drawn on two sides. The light of a single lamp illumined the worried features of a dozen or more people who were gathered round the bed. Adie lay there, eyes closed, the bleached pallor of her face accentuated by the dark hair spread out on the pillow. Ned was kneeling close beside her, applying a damp cloth to her brow, which glistened with sweat. There was scarcely any rise and fall of the bedclothes to indicate the breath of life.

‘What’s happened?’ I demanded.

Lizzie turned and silently beckoned me to follow. She led the way to my chamber.

‘She’s very sick.’ Lizzie’s usual composure had deserted her and her cheeks bore the stains of tears.

‘So, what is it, a sudden fever?’

‘Yes, but there is worse. If it weren’t for the boys she’d be dead.’

‘Tell me everything.’

‘’Twas just before noon. Young Carl was looking from the classroom window, bored with his lesson. From there the bridge is just visible. He saw Adie climb on the parapet, then disappear. If he had not acted quickly …’ Lizzie dabbed her eyes with a kerchief. ‘He yelled to your tutor and rushed downstairs, out of the house, shouting to everyone to follow. When they got to the bridge they saw her a few yards downstream. Without any hesitation, the two older boys ran along the bank and waded in. The tutor followed. Between them they got her partly out of the water but the weight of her sodden clothes was almost wrenching her from their grasp. Praise God, they were able to hold her till some of the servants came. When I got there I feared we were too late. Adie looked terrible; wet hair straggled over her face, arms hanging down limply. I couldn’t see her breathing. The men picked her up and ran back here. Then – I suppose it was the jolting – she suddenly coughed up water. We got her into dry clothes and put her to bed and Ned’s been with her ever since. She has a fever and she hasn’t moved or spoken – not a murmur.’

‘What does Ned say about her?’

‘He curses because he doesn’t have all his nostrums with him but he says there’s nothing he can give her at this stage.’

‘That’s right.’ Neither of us had heard Ned come in. He sighed heavily as he sank into a chair. ‘Cool cloths should reduce the fever but we shan’t know till then what else ails her.’

‘Surely, ’twas the fall into the water …’

‘No, Thomas, that was, like the fever, a symptom, not a cause. We must try to discern why her humours are so seriously out of balance.’

‘Might it be the case that she is with child, as she believes, and that against her will?’

‘I think not. She is frantic in mind and half-wishes what she most fears.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Few of us do. Only those who have been to the dark, Godless place where life seems too great a burden to be longer borne can know what it is like. We had a brother at Famfield once who had so great a desire for heaven that he hated this world and everything in it. His confessor tried to make him see that God alone determines our life span and that to wish to shorten it is a sin. His bodily decline and death troubled the community greatly, but, alas, we were unable to prevent him achieving his wish. I still pray for him often. All I can tell you about Adie is that she will recover only when she truly wishes to do so. God be praised, she did not drown, but what matters is that she wanted to. If that desire remains strong within her it will kill her no less assuredly than the water.’

‘That must never happen!’ I cried. ‘We must help her back to her right mind. I’ll have someone sit with her all the time …’

‘I’ve already taken the liberty of organising that,’ Ned said. ‘I will be told as soon as there is any change in her condition. Tomorrow I will send someone into Tonbridge with a list for the apothecary there. He is reasonably competent and should be able to provide the simples I lack here,’

‘And I have already despatched a messenger to bring her brother to Hemmings,’ I said. ‘’Tis even more urgent, now, that he comes to comfort Adie. And to answer certain questions I will have for him about her past. That is where secrets are often locked away.’

Throughout the night I rose several times to visit the sick room but there was never any change in Adie’s condition. This was hardly the best preparation for the task I had to perform the following day but I was up long before dawn and, after a final check on Adie, I set off with my chosen escort. Bart had asked to come with me and I could hardly deny him the pleasure of seeing Black Harry arrested. At Hadbourne I collected six of the guards who were encamped in the grounds of James Dewey’s house. We set out as the first streaks of light appeared in the sky.

The deserted nunnery of Swansford lay in a dish-shaped hollow. As we gazed down from the wooded hills which rimmed it, the buildings lay submerged in an inland sea of mist. We descended into the grey gloom where the only sound was the drip, drip of moisture from overhead branches.

We stopped at the gate, which was locked and hung with a hand-painted sign warning NO ENTRY TRESPASSERS WILL BE PUNISHED. To reinforce the message, for the benefit of the illiterate, a crude image of a man standing in the pillory was drawn below the lettering. The complete ineffectiveness of Belleville’s threat was obvious from the many gaps in the outer wall. It was obvious that locals had helped themselves to supplies of free stone.

The guard captain sent in a couple of his men on foot to spy out the land. They were back after about half an hour.

‘Did you see any of the gang?’ the captain asked.

‘No, Sir,’ one of the scouts replied, ‘but four horses are tethered inside the inner gate. I reckon the villains are in the eastern block. Most of the conventual buildings are semi-derelict and the chapel has lost its roof.’

‘I’ll wager old Belleville has sold off the slate for a comfortable profit,’ Bart muttered.

‘What about escape routes?’ the captain asked.

‘Apart from the main drive, there’s only a track running south to another gate,’ the first trooper replied.

‘Then here’s what we do.’ The captain outlined his tactics with calm professionalism. ‘We go in on foot, as silently as possible. Master Treviot, if you take your men round to the south side and block that route, we will search the buildings. While we’re doing that someone will need to collect the horses and bring them here.’ He eyed Bart’s empty sleeve. ‘Perhaps your friend would like to do that.’