Philippa Gregory - Changeling

‘No need to report anything at all. This is not an inquiry,’ Luca ruled. ‘This is just the life of the road, not part of our work.’

Isolde put Ishraq into the big bed, as if she were an equal, spooned soup into her mouth as if she were her sister, cared for her like her child and sat with her as she slept.

‘How is the pain?’

‘No better,’ Ishraq grimaced. ‘But at least I don’t think I am doomed any more. That ride was like a nightmare, the pain went on and on. I thought I was going to die.’

‘I couldn’t protect you from the roughness of the road nor the stumbles of the horse. It jolted me, it must have been horrible for you.’

‘It was hard to bear.’

‘Ishraq, I have failed you. You could have been killed or murdered or enslaved. And now we are captured again. I have to let you go. You can go now, while I talk to them. Please – save yourself. Go south, get away to your homeland and pray to your god we will meet again one day.’

The girl opened her bruised eyes and gleamed at Isolde. ‘We stay together,’ she ruled. ‘Didn’t your father raise us as sisters of the heart, as companions who were never parted?’

‘He may have done so, but my mother didn’t give it her blessing, she fought against us being together every day of her life,’ Isolde shrewdly reminded her. ‘And we have had nothing but heartache since we lost my father.’

‘Well, my mother blessed our friendship,’ Ishraq replied. ‘She told me: “Isolde is the sister of your heart”. She was happy that I was with you all the day long, that we did our lessons together and played together, and she loved your father.’

‘They taught you languages,’ Isolde reminded her with pretended resentment. ‘And medicine. And fighting skills. While I had nothing to learn but music and embroidery.’

‘They prepared me to be your servant and companion,’ Ishraq said. ‘To serve and protect you. And so I am. I know the things I need to know to serve you. You should be glad of it.’

A quick tap of a finger on her cheek told her that Isolde was glad of it.

‘Well, then,’ Ishraq said. ‘I need to sleep. You go to dinner. See if you can get him to release us. And if he does that, see if you can make him give us some money.’

‘You think very highly of my powers of persuasion,’ Isolde said ruefully.

‘Actually, I do.’ Ishraq nodded as her eyes closed. ‘Especially with him.’

Luca sent for Isolde at dinnertime, planning to question her privately as they ate together, but then he found that both Brother Peter and Freize intended to be in the room with them.

‘I shall serve the food,’ Freize said. ‘Better me than some wench from the inn, listening to everything you say, interrupting as like as not.’

‘While you are notably reticent.’

‘Reticent,’ Freize repeated, committing the word to memory. ‘Reticent. D’you know? I imagine that I am.’

‘And I shall take a note. This is still an inquiry for murder and witchcraft,’ Brother Peter said severely. ‘Just because we found them in yet more trouble, does not prove their innocence. Quite the opposite. Good women stay at home and mind their manners.’

‘We can hardly blame them for being homeless when their abbey was going to burn them for witches,’ Luca said irritably. ‘Or blame her for being expelled by her brother.’

‘Whatever the reason, she and her servant are homeless and uncontrolled,’ Brother Peter insisted. ‘No man rules them and no man protects them. They are certain to get into trouble and to cause trouble.’

‘I thought we had answered the questions of the abbey,’ Luca said, looking from one determined face to the other. ‘I thought we had concluded our inquiry and sent in our report? I thought they were innocent of most of the crimes? I thought we were satisfied as to their innocence?’

‘We were satisfied as to the drugging, the poisoning and the murder,’ Peter said. ‘Satisfied that the great crimes were performed by the Lady Almoner. But what were the two of them doing in the mortuary that night? Don’t you remember them tampering with the corpse, and the Lady Almoner saying they were having a Satanic Mass on the nun’s body?’

Freize nodded. ‘He’s right. They have to explain.’

‘I’ll ask,’ Luca said. ‘I’ll ask about everything. But if you remember her brother coming in, secretly hand in glove with that woman, and his readiness to see his sister burn before him – you can’t help but pity her. And, anyway, if her answers are not satisfactory we can hand them over to the Lord Piccante who is the master here, and he can burn the two of them as the Lord Lucretili would have done. Is that your wish?’ He looked at their glum faces. ‘You want to see them dead? Those two young women?’

‘My wish is to see justice done,’ said Brother Peter. ‘Forgiveness is for God.’

‘Or I suppose we could just turn a blind eye and let them get away in the morning,’ Freize suggested, as he headed out of the room.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Luca exclaimed.

Just then, Isolde came down the stairs for dinner, wearing a gown she had borrowed from the innkeeper’s wife. It was made of some coarse material, dyed a dark blue, and on her head she had a cap like countrywomen wore. It showed the golden fold of her hair where she had it twisted back into a plait. Luca remembered the tumble of gold when he had tackled her in the stable yard and the scent of rosewater when he had held her down. In the simple outfit her beauty was suddenly radiant and Luca and even Brother Peter were tongue-tied.

‘I hope you are recovered,’ Luca muttered as he set a chair for her.

Her eyes were downcast, her smile directed to her feet. ‘I was not injured, I was only frightened. Ishraq is resting and recovering. She will be better in the morning, I am sure.’

Freize entered, banging the door, and started to slap down dishes onto the table. ‘Fricassée of chicken – they killed an old rooster specially. Stew of beef with turnip, a pâté of pork – I wouldn’t touch it myself. Some sausage which looks quite good and a few slices of ham.’ He went back out and came in again with more dishes. ‘Some marchpane from the local market which tastes almost like the real thing, but I wouldn’t swear to its youth; some pastries which the goodwife made herself, I saw them come out of the oven and I tasted them for your safety and approve them. They have no fruit here at all but some apples which are so green that they are certain to half-kill you, and some sugared chestnuts which they have saved for visiting gentry for a good year. So I would not answer for them.’

‘I am sorry,’ Luca said to Isolde.

‘No,’ she said with a smile. ‘He is very engaging and probably truthful, which matters more.’

‘Some very good wine, that I took the liberty of tasting for you in the cellar, which would do my lady no harm at all.’ Freize was encouraged by Isolde’s praise into pouring the wine with a flourish. ‘Some small ale to quench your thirst that they brew here from the mountain water, and is actually rather good. You wouldn’t drink the water in any case, but you probably could here. And if you fancy a couple of eggs I can get them boiled or scrambled up as you wish.’

‘He likes to think he is devoted to my service, and really he is very good to me,’ Luca said in an undertone.

‘And moreover,’ Freize said, bearing down upon Isolde, ‘there is a nice sweet wine for your voider course, and some good bread coming out of the oven now. They don’t have wheat, of course, but the rye bread is sweet and light, being made with some kind of honey – which I established by a long conversation with the cook who is no other than the goodwife, and a very good wife, I would think. She says that the gown becomes you better than her, and so it does.’