Chapter Twenty-seven

Supported by her husband and the mage, Dorelia took faltering steps towards the threshold. Before going into the open she hesitated. Both hands went to her eyes. “The light,” she whispered. “I can’t see! They kept me in the dark—” She began to sob.

“Where is he?” Danby asked gently. He glanced round the clearing as if looking for a mound of freshly dug earth.

“They tied him to the mill wheel.” Dorelia started to tremble. “He was still alive. They put his angel wings on him and found a way to turn the wheel. They made me watch. They tied my arms behind my back and made me watch. Oh, Edric…!”

Leaning heavily on the two men and shaking uncontrollably she allowed them to help her down onto the causeway and there came to a halt. She pointed towards the mill pond.

It was a bright green expanse covered with duckweed. It looked as solid as a clipped lawn. Gilbert got a stick from somewhere and reaching out parted the carpet of weed. They all came to the edge and looked down.

There, under the surface was an angel, feathered wings drifting in the eddies, the tendrils of bright hair furling and unfurling, skin an unearthly greenish gold stippled with shadows. His eyes were open.

The vision rose towards the light then sank again, finally disappearing from sight as the weed drifted back.

Gilbert stood up and let the stick fall from his grasp.

Nobody spoke.

Danby held Dorelia in his arms. The mage looked solemn. No one crossed themselves. In the woodland on the other side of the water, nature continued as joyful as in another country.

Hildegard went back inside the mill.

There were all kinds of broken things scattered around. Shards of pottery. A broken mill stone. Pieces of wood, their purpose long forgotten. What she was looking for was some rope and after a moment she found some. She went over to Baldwin who was lying in fear of his life under the focussed attention of the stag hound. As she was beginning to truss his arms, Gilbert came in. He bent down to help her. Neither of them exchanged a word.

Eventually when they were satisfied Baldwin could do no more harm they went outside. Danby said to them, “We’re trying to work out how to get her home. She can’t walk all that way.”

“Maybe the miller at Low Mill has a cart he can lend us?” Hildegard eyed the man trapped in the swamp. “And what about him?”

“Needs his throat cutting,” said Danby. “He knew all along what they were doing to her.”

“Leave that for the justices,” advised the mage. “You don’t want to bring more trouble on yourself. Dorelia’s going to need you.” He looked grim. “I’ll go back to the other mill and see what I can organise.” He strode off through the trees.

Hildegard and Gilbert sat down on the steps after they’d put the bar across the door just in case Baldwin found a way to untie his bonds. The other man they had trussed up in old rope and returned to the swamp.

Gilbert shook his hair out of its tie and let it fall over his face. Above them, in the oval formed by the tops of the trees, the sky was an ever deepening shade of blue. A shaft of light penetrated the clearing between the boles of two oaks. It lasted only moments and then faded. The sun was going down.

At last Gilbert said in a muffled voice, “He was a bloody useless glazier. And he couldn’t act. Four lines he had to learn and he couldn’t even get them into his thick skull.”

*   *   *

The sound of people in the woods from the direction of Low Mill alerted them. Hildegard stood up. Danby said, “At last. Now we’ll get her home where she belongs.” He stepped forward.

Several men entered the clearing. It was still light enough to see that they had no cart with them. One of them came towards the causeway. It was Gisburne.

For a moment Danby stared at him. Then without a further thought he walked across, drawing his sword, but before he could use it Gisburne’s two henchmen pounced. They grabbed Danby by both arms. His sword fell into the grass.

Gilbert made a move but Hildegard put a hand on his arm. “They’ll strike you down. We’ll think of something else.”

Gisburne was laughing quietly and began to circle Danby. He looked mystified, however, and kept glancing at the mill. From the swamp Baldwin’s man gave a shout. “Get me out of here, Gisburne. I’m drowning in this stinking mud.”

Gisburne gave him a brief glance. “Learn to swim then.” He turned back to Danby. “Come to fetch her home, have you? Where’s Baldwin?”

“You’ll pay for this a thousand times over,” gritted Danby. “Kill me. I don’t care. But let her go. And the others. Only whatever you do, you’ll rot in hell. And that’s a fact.”

“A fact is it? Well, you’ll see how much I care when I slit your throat. But mebbe we’ll have a bit of fun first, eh, lads? What do you say?”

One of his men heard it as an invitation to give Danby a punch in the ribs. Dorelia reached out as if to put a stop to it then slid slowly to the ground. Hildegard bent over her. The girl had fainted.

Gisburne took out a lethal-looking knife from his belt and waved it in front of Danby’s face. “The eyes? No, not yet. I want you to see what comes next. The ears?” He grabbed one and twisted it. “No, I don’t think so. You’ll want to hear her screams. What about this?” He held Danby by the balls and squeezed. Danby gave an involuntary gasp but refused Gisburne the gratification of hearing him howl.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Gisburne put his face up to Danby’s. “You and that White Hart scum deserve all that’s coming to you.”

“Were you behind that ambush out at the coast?” Danby managed to gasp.

“Not I, said the fly!” Gisburne roared with laughter. “Somebody bigger than me. You sot-witted fool. Do you think you can take on a duke and all his army?”

“Gaunt?”

“You’ll all be singing another tune before long. God save the king! Which king? Not bloody Richard for sure!” He walked about brandishing his knife in front of Danby’s face. “You and de Quixlay. Mayor? Him? I wouldn’t wipe his arse! He might have got his shopkeepers and his tame guildsmen to run me out of town, but I’ll be back! You can count on it, Danby! The only thing is, you won’t be there to see it!”

“Won’t he?”

Everybody turned at an unexpected voice from the trees. Striding across the clearing, his mail-shirt glinting in the fast-fading light, was Ulf followed closely by a band of armed men. “Drop that knife, Gisburne!”

From all around the grove men appeared in the livery of Roger de Hutton. Gisburne took one look then backed off. Danby shook off the slackened grip of his captors and hurried over to Dorelia to cradle her in his arms.

Gisburne started to run but had gone no more than three paces when he was brought down in a tackle by one of the Hutton men and they landed in a noisy skirmish of metal-ware. Gisburne was held flat on his back with a knife at his own throat. It was clear the game was over.

Hildegard walked across the causeway to the other side as in a dream. “How did you manage such good timing?” she asked Ulf.

He adopted a long-suffering expression. “This morning you told me you’d come straight back and tell me what you found here. You said you would come up to tell me. When you didn’t show what was I to think? You always do what you say you’ll do.”

She put a hand to her mouth. “I completely forgot.”

He looked at her in astonishment. “You never forget anything.”

*   *   *

When Hildegard and Gilbert came back later that night after giving their deposition to the bailiff and his serjeant-at-arms, Brother Thomas was lurking at the entrance to the yard. Danby had arrived before them and gone straight into the house with Dorelia. An apothecary had been sent for. The mage, having reached the mill with a cart, later, for reasons best known to himself, disappeared as soon as the law arrived.

The serjeant-at-arms had been a different one to the one who had questioned Hildegard about the fire-bombing of the booths, but he insisted in going over all the ins and outs of the accusation several times before he was satisfied that he had an accurate account. Ulf and his men had been requested to stand guard over the prisoners and it looked as if they were going to be in for a long night. The jail was full of riff-raff drawn to the city for Corpus Christi day, said the constable in charge, and the problem was where to put the accused so they wouldn’t abscond. Hildegard and Gilbert had left when it was clear they could be of no further use.

Thomas looked relieved to see them both. He stepped from the passage with a whispered, “There you are! I’d no sooner got to Meaux than they sent me back here again. I don’t know where I am. Something’s up, isn’t it?” He scanned Hildegard’s expression. “What’s going on, sister?”

She told him about events at the mill. He looked shocked.

“It’s difficult to take in. Such cruelty.” Averting his face, he walked off a few paces and then, having recovered himself, turned back.

“I saw them return to the house.” He frowned. “Dorelia seemed in a bad way. She was lying on a litter. I wondered what was wrong. But it wasn’t because of that I was told to come back.”

“No?” She glanced swiftly at Gilbert. He was listening with interest.

Thomas intercepted her glance. He bit his lip. “It’s just something to do with Brother Alcuin,” he said weakly with another glance at Gilbert. “He came flying out of his chambers saying, ‘I’ve got instructions from the prioress at Swyne that you’re to go back to York at once to attend Sister Hildegard.’ Then he muttered something about women and stormed off. I think the job of trying to fill Abbot de Courcy’s shoes is getting too much for him. So here I am.” He didn’t meet her eye. “For what use I am,” he added in a mutter.

“Thomas,” she took him by the elbow, “you are some use and most welcome. It wasn’t your fault things went wrong at the rebel’s camp.” Gilbert was still listening. “Are you staying at the friary again?”

He grimaced. “Back with the Franciscans, being enticed into endless dicing, yes.”

“I hope you win. We can’t have a bunch of mendicants running rings round us, can we?”

Her remark brought a tentative smile to his face. “I do win often,” he admitted. “My belief must be stronger than theirs.”

Gilbert went into the house.

When she was sure he was out of earshot Hildegard said, “There is something, Thomas. It’s probably the reason they sent you back to me. I had the most extraordinary letter from Swyne. The prioress wants me to act as a decoy for the men behind the theft of the cross.”

“Decoy?”

She nodded.

“But I don’t understand. It was the White Hart rebels who stole it. Does she expect them to enter the city to re-steal it?”

“They stole it … but who gave them the information?”

“It was a set-up as we surmised?”

“We’ll have to wait and see, but that’s the drift of her thoughts on the matter.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Thus the trail will lead back to the originator of the theft?” He gave a faint smile. “And I’ve been sent … to protect you from him?” He gave a rueful smile. “Let’s hope I can make a better showing next time. But what are we going to do?”

*   *   *

Hildegard was still awake when, a couple of hours later, there was the sound of armed men stealthily entering the yard. With a groan she dragged herself to the window.

By the light of several flickering cressets she was surprised to see Ulf, accompanied by a dozen men, leading Baldwin of all people towards his house at the far end. At least the man was a prisoner and in chains. It was the sound of their rattling on the flagstones that was making the noise.

She watched as he was hustled inside his own cottage by an armed posse. The door slammed shut.

As he left Ulf glanced up at her window. She leaned out. “That was never Baldwin?” she called down, still not quite believing her eyes.

“It was. The jail’s overflowing. He’s under house arrest. He won’t get far with those irons on his arms and legs and my men in charge. He’ll stay here until after the feast when they’ll empty the jails again and put him where he belongs.”

“Is Mistress Julitta in there?”

Ulf raised his eyebrows. “Is she! I’ll say! Baldwin seems to fear her more than the prospect of hanging.” He gave a salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow at Harpham’s?”

*   *   *

Hildegard was still yawning when Brother Thomas returned next morning as they had arranged. She offered him a drink. “I did finally get off to sleep but it feels like only five minutes ago,” she explained, yawning again.

“What’s your plan?”

They hadn’t got far the previous night. “Any ideas yourself?”

“Apart from walking you around the town with the cross on display to lure them out into the open, none.”

“Let’s go outside. It’s another stifling day. What time is it?”

“Near on tierce.”

“And it’s hot already. It’s going to be hellish later on. Are the streets busy?”

“Thronged with early risers. People still drinking from the night before or sleeping in gutters. The peddlers and entertainers out in force.”

“The drunks are probably what Roger’s mason Master Schockwynde refers to as ‘the Saxon element.’” She smiled. “But he always adds, ‘What would we do without them?’ Of course, I’m partly Saxon myself, so I try to defend them. They do drink a lot, don’t they?”

“I thought you were Norse?”

“That as well.”

“That must be where you get your hair colour.”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t managed to keep it covered. Does it offend you?”

“Not at all. It’s most striking. Especially with that coloured headscarf. It’s the colour of sunlight.”

They went outside to sit on Tabitha’s bench. The widow was over at Danby’s. The murmur and fall of voices came from an upper chamber.

Hildegard stretched out her legs and gave a long sigh. Then something caught her eye and she jerked upright. “What’s on earth’s that?”

Thomas followed her glance. “It’s a hat,” he said.

“Yes, but…” She got up and went over to the well. On the parapet was a straw hat. She picked it up. After staring at it she said slowly, “This is the hat I lost when that go-between whipped my pony so unexpectedly as we set off for the camp.”

“Is it?”

“Did you find it?” She came back with it and sat down, turning it between her fingers. It was more battered than when she had last worn it.

“Not me,” said Thomas. “But I saw it fall. Then some servant dashed forward and picked it up. He handed it to his master. I didn’t think it worth getting into an argument over. My only thought at that moment was to get back here, tell Danby what had happened and find out if he knew where they were taking you.”

She picked at the straw with a thoughtful expression. “What livery did the finder wear?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“And his master?”

“Some visiting knight by the look of him. Astride a rather fine-looking horse.”

“And I suppose you wouldn’t have noticed whether they followed you back here or not?”

He paled.

Hildegard dropped the hat onto the ground. “They’ve found me.”