Hangman Blind (27 page)

‘She must have made good time down the waterway. She’s bound to reach the lock before Escrick,’ said Thomas softly.

‘Let’s hope so.’

All this time Duchess and Bermonda were moving through the trees beside the path. They would not enter water but were easy about following the riders along its course. Now and then Hildegard gave a low whistle in imitation of a reed warbler to tell them her position. If necessary they could have outstripped any horse and the easy pace of the boat was no hardship for them. Thomas plied the paddle again. Hildegard’s attention was fixed so intently on the water she almost missed a slight splash on the opposite bank. It could have been mistaken for a waterfowl at any other time of year. Now it caused her to hiss for Thomas to stay his oar.

‘There,’ she breathed, aware that the horseman was close. Thomas made no movement but she knew he had seen it too. It was no more than a glimmer in the darkness. They paused with held breath. It seemed as if the presence of living creatures on both sides of the bank filled the air with their being. Each tried to observe the other. The clash of eyes trying to pierce the darkness seemed as if it would bring the men on the bank running with its uproar. Neither side moved. Water continued to gurgle under the keel of the boat, a mere breath of sound, no louder than the ripples over the sedge lying below the waterline.

The horseman urged his mount on to the next bed of reeds. Both sides waited, frozen in place, until he had hacked his way through the brittle winter stalks, found nothing, remounted and moved on. When he was far enough ahead to be out of earshot Thomas turned the bow of their craft towards the opposite bank. There was a more agitated rustling as they approached, for they had obviously been heard if not seen. It was like some animal trying to climb away, frantic but endeavouring to conceal its presence.

Wishing she knew the name of the nursemaid, Hildegard took the risk of whispering a few words of reassurance across the water while Thomas paddled them as quickly as he could to the other side. As they approached she called again.

‘Stay! We are two religious from the abbey at Meaux. We intend no harm.’ It was not until they bumped unexpectedly against a raft of swaying, waterlogged wood that they realised the pale shape they had discerned was indeed a raft. Hildegard reached out to steady both craft. Under her fingers she grasped a clump of coarse russet and felt a blade against her wrist.

‘Don’t move.’ A woman’s voice came out of the darkness.

‘You’re being followed. Put your knife away.’

The knife didn’t shift. ‘Who are you? Who sent you?’ The voice was hoarse. It trembled but held a note of defiance. The blade pressed more firmly against Hildegard’s wrist.

‘No one sent us. We came of our own accord,’ said Thomas in a voice pitched low enough not to be overheard by anyone on the other side of the canal. ‘I’m a novice at the abbey and—’

‘What abbey?’ interrupted the voice. ‘I don’t know nowt about any abbey. Why should I? Leave me be. Can’t a wife do a little night fishing without being stopped?’

‘The river warden might have an opinion,’ said Hildegard, ‘but we’re not concerned with that. Our concern is for the baby and its wet-nurse.’

A brief flurry of movement came from the raft, tipping them about. The knife was withdrawn, to preserve the balance of the one who wielded it rather than in a spirit of goodwill.

‘Shush,’ the nun whispered, ‘Master Escrick is after you. He knows you took the ferry from its chain.’

‘Damn Escrick to hell,’ replied the voice. ‘And how do you know about the baby?’

‘We wanted to talk to you about Brother Nevyl,’ said Thomas. ‘When we came looking you’d gone and so had the child.’

‘Is that poor monk really dead? I’m sorry for him. He was a kind man.’ For the first time there was a weakening in the woman’s voice. ‘But what should I know about it?’ Clearly she did not yet trust them, although the knife seemed gone for good.

‘We think you may have told Brother Nevyl something that others wanted to keep secret.’ Hildegard saw the pale shape on the other craft draw her arms more closely around herself. ‘I’m Sister Hildegard from the priory at Swyne,’ she continued. ‘I think I know you as the Lady Sibilla’s wet-nurse.’

There was a sigh that may have been a sob. ‘Yes, I do work for the Lady Sibilla, damn her, and you do know me as the wet-nurse—’ Her voice faded.

‘And?’ prompted Hildegard.

‘And my name is May. I’m wife to John of Hessle.’

‘And the baby?’ Hildegard prompted again. Silence. ‘I believe the baby is your own,’ she said gently.

There was a flurry from the raft.

‘You’re safe with us. I imagine some strong inducement was offered to make you hand over your own son to them.’ She remembered how fiercely May had tended the child, like a mother defending her cub.

May seemed to struggle with some knotted thought of her own but eventually in a low voice she said, ‘There’s something else.’ She paused, then added in a rush, ‘The name of my baby is Marianna.’

Hildegard and Thomas took in the meaning of what she said.

‘And baby Roger, the son and heir of Sir Ralph and Lady Sibilla?’ ventured Thomas just to be sure.

‘Baby Roger!’ the woman scoffed. ‘How long did they expect to get away with that charade, the sot-brained idiots!’

May told them she intended to get as far as the lock then persuade her cousin, the lock-keeper’s boy, to help her safely down to Frismersk, where her husband worked. ‘We know that marsh and its ways. I’ll be as safe as a princess in a stone tower once I get down there.’

‘But the baby,’ Hildegard pointed out, ‘it’s too tender to be dragged about the countryside at this time of year.’ Her fear was Escrick and his long reach into marsh dragon territory, but she did not wish to alarm the woman more than necessary.

May was adamant. ‘I’m not going back to Meaux with Lady Sibilla there. She’ll kill me. And she’ll snatch my baby back. I’ll let her have her gold, what’s left of it. But I’m hanging on to my baby, like it or no.’ She would not be budged.

‘The priory at Swyne isn’t far. You could find sanctuary with the nuns,’ Hildegard urged. ‘They’ll be pleased to take care of you both. At least you’ll be safe.’ Sensing that May was unconvinced, she added, ‘I know Frismersk. It’s a wild, desolate place. When the river’s in spate you’ll be trapped. Some of the sheep-cotes were washed away at the last high tide, weren’t they?’

‘It’s home,’ said May, simply.

‘Don’t you want your baby to be safe?’ She could imagine Escrick doggedly hunting the pair across the salt marsh. When he caught them, as he would, there would be no law to prevent him doing whatever he wanted.

May thought swiftly. ‘If we go to the lock we can borrow horses. Then I can ride to Swyne. The nuns might send a message to my man? I’ll do that if you think the prioress will take us in.’

‘It’s better than lingering in this ditch with Escrick on the prowl,’ urged Thomas.

‘Get into our boat, May. There’s no time to waste. Your baby’s sleeping now but when she wakes Master Escrick will be down like a shot.’

Without further urging May allowed them to help her from the raft into the boat and, though cramped, Thomas managed to scull them quietly into midstream. ‘Keep an eye open,’ he said, ‘and when we get close to the lock be even more careful. Is there any way of getting up the bank before then, May?’

‘Not that I know of. I can’t say I make a habit of boating up and down the abbot’s ditch.’ She laughed. ‘It’s a good job I’m familiar with rafts and the like. I’d just crossed over and was going to set it adrift when it struck me I could get away on it and leave no trail. I heard them hounds coming out of the abbey, putting the fear of God into me, begging your pardon, sister, then I hit on this way of outwitting them.’

Her spirits seemed restored by her unexpected rescue, and now she settled down to pet the little bundle wrapped inside her cloak. ‘As if they could’ve made out you’re a lad!’ she murmured.

The baby slept and Hildegard wondered what sort of draught May had given her to make her so peaceful in the middle of the drama.

While Thomas sculled silently towards the lock gates Hildegard asked her why she had allowed her child to be passed off as someone else’s. Sibilla had approached her after hearing she was pregnant, May explained, and, giving her a story about the sort of life she would bestow on the child by bringing it up as her own, had offered a dazzlingly large sum of money that could have set May and her husband up for life. The thought of their child living in luxury was too much to refuse. The deal was struck.

‘When I was near my time I was brought secretly to Castle Hutton to give birth. They weren’t half worried when you sprang from nowhere. Somebody had had the forethought to slip one of Lady Sibilla’s rings on my finger but they were in a right flummox, thinking you saw her as she left the birthing chamber by another door.’

‘The perfume! So that’s what it was. I knew there was something strange but I couldn’t put my finger on it.’ How our senses reveal the truth, Hildegard thought – and betray us too.

‘Everything went according to plan after that. Marianna was born, perfect in every way, except one, according to Lady Sibilla.’

‘But then the plot started to unravel?’

May nodded. ‘Lord Roger was struck by the pestilence and died. That was the first thing. Then Ada was found with her belly slit open and her mouth laced up in that horrible way. We all knew it was a warning to keep our traps shut. I began to live in mortal fear, I can tell you.’ She gave a shudder. ‘I didn’t know what to do. Sir Ralph was raving, he hadn’t reckoned on leaving Castle Hutton so soon, and Lady Sibilla’s a very strong-minded woman. Talk about a shouting match! Sir Ralph was all for telling them she was unfit to travel so they should stay there but she wouldn’t hear of it. “We need to be seen,” she said, “or that bloody brother-in-law of yours will be having himself announced heir in front of everybody.” “All the more reason for staying put, here in the castle,” said Sir Ralph. “Let him try and take it with us in it.” But the Lady Sibilla would not give way. “Tactics, Ralph,” she said. “You know all about those.” And that was that.’

The horsemen had been left far behind, beating vainly at the empty reed beds, apparently unaware that their quarry had gone to earth. Soon the lock appeared against the gradually lightening sky. Dawn would soon be upon them. It was lucky, Hildegard was thinking, that they had almost reached their destination before the canal turned into a ribbon of light. She began to breathe a sigh of relief.

But then they heard a grinding sound like a wheel being turned on a wooden spindle. Their boat was now slipping between the artificial banks where the canal had been most heavily engineered on the approaches to the lock.

‘There must be a craft of some sort inside,’ Hildegard said in alarm as she imagined Escrick pursuing them in a boat he had found.

The sky became lighter by the minute. Then they saw the lock gates ahead of them begin to open. To their horror a man appeared high up on top of the beam above the gate.

It was Escrick Fitzjohn.

He was running towards the second capstan, which opened the upper gates. When he reached it they saw him strain to set it in motion. Behind the gates was a wall of water that would normally empty into the basin thirty feet below where it would be confined by the second gate in order to allow craft to descend to the lower level. With those gates open, a wall of water would surge down the channel in a great wave, carrying everything before it.

‘You can see what he’s doing! We’ve got to get off the water!’ Thomas exclaimed.

Glancing at the banks on both sides they knew there was no escape that way. Horrified, the three of them watched as Escrick exerted his whole strength against the capstan and it began to grind slowly round until it started the process that would allow the upper gates to open and release the pressure.

The sun was emitting its first rays and in the increasing light they could see a trickle of water begin to seep through the wooden gates as they inched open. Then it began to spout in an increasing spate between the gap.

May clutched her baby to her breast, her eyes widening in horror. ‘This is the end! What can we do? O Lord, help us, I beseech you, O Lord, help!’

H
ILDEGARD REACTED SWIFTLY
. ‘Take your child, May. You must climb the bank. We’ll help from below.’ They might be able to hoist May on to their shoulders so she could get a foothold higher up. Even if she didn’t reach the top she and the baby might be safe enough above the worst of the surge.

Thomas gasped. They turned to see a man in yellow running alongside the lock from the direction of the keeper’s cottage. The sun, brighter by the moment, began to light the scene in all its detail. When he reached Escrick he grabbed him and tried to drag him away from the capstan. Escrick staggered but did not fall.

‘That’s the lock-keeper!’ exclaimed May.

Thomas dug hard into the water with the paddle and propelled the boat as fast as he could towards the lock itself. ‘If we can only reach the gates in time,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘we can climb the ladder beside them.’

As they neared the lock Hildegard could just make out the rungs of a rickety wooden ladder fixed to the wall below the keeper’s cottage. It must have been there since the gates were first built, she thought. Heart in her mouth, she urged Thomas on as he propelled the craft forward with the strength of desperation.

The lock-keeper was getting the worst of an exchange of blows but then a sudden swing of his club caught Escrick on the side of the head. He gave a roar of rage and fell back, then he snarled something and drew his sword. The lock-keeper dodged past him and ran out on to the wooden beam that formed the top of the lock gate. Having lured Escrick away from the capstan, he jumped the gap through which the water was beginning to spurt, then turned to face him.

It was an uneven contest. Escrick was a trained fighting man. He was armed with steel. He even wore a hauberk. By contrast the lock-keeper was in a loose tunic and woollen breeches and held only a piece of wood.

With a shout of anger Escrick simply took one stride across the gap and ran his sword straight through the keeper’s chest. But it was not over. Such was the force of his attack he was unable to withdraw the blade. Although he must have been in agony, the lock-keeper grabbed hold of the blade close to the hilt and, aware that he was already a dead man, deliberately plunged backwards over the gate into the lock basin, twenty feet below, dragging Escrick with him.

There was a long silence as the two men fell. Then they hit the water with a crack and broke through as through a pane of glass.

Tearing their eyes away, the three in the boat switched their attention to saving themselves. Already the partly open gates were bulging with the force of the water behind them. At such an angle, inched partly open, they would not be able to resist the pressure for long. As soon as Thomas brought the boat within reach of the ladder, Hildegard leaned out and grasped hold of the nearest rung. ‘Quickly, May, climb up!’

The nursemaid didn’t argue. With her baby tucked firmly in her cloak, she began to climb the ladder. Hildegard followed and the novice came scrambling after. When they were high enough to be out of danger they looked back to see Escrick struggling on the surface of the water and the lock-keeper’s body in a stain of blood sinking and rising, and sinking again. His hands were still clamped round the sword that had killed him.

There was a shout and a boy’s face appeared over the top of the bank. It was as white as a swan’s feather. His mouth worked but no sound emerged.

‘It’s me, Oswin! Give us a help up.’ May had recognised her young cousin. With the baby beginning to whimper, she held a hand out for assistance and was dragged on to the path in front of the cottage to safety.

Back in the canal Escrick, weighted by his armour, struggled wildly to stay afloat. He lost his sword when the lock-keeper sank below the surface for the last time. Still clinging to the ladder, Hildegard and Thomas watched in astonishment as he struggled to cast aside his heavy leather belt and, ignoring the threatened deluge, desperately fought his way out of his hauberk. Then they saw him draw in his breath before diving under the water in pursuit of his sword.

At that moment the great wooden gates, that had resisted the pressure of the water on the other side for so long, burst open with a massive splintering of shattered oak. There was a roar as the pent waters surged through the narrow gap. Shards of wood flew in all directions. Hildegard and Thomas scrambled rapidly the rest of the way up the ladder and reached the bank as the wave surfed past. They could do nothing but watch as it continued to smash down in a deadly blaze of white foam on the spot where Escrick had been. Their own small craft was turned to matchwood in an instant and vanished beneath the flood. After a few moments the water began to find its own level and soon all that remained was the swaying and rustling of grasses at the bottom of the bank as the water streamed past.

Oswin, the lock-keeper’s boy, was in a state of shock. It was May who seemed the calmer of the two. She took him back inside the cottage and kicked the embers in the fire-pit into a blaze. There was already a pot set there with a mess of day-old pottage in it, and she stirred the contents and told him to sit down and stop his teeth chattering as the sound was getting on her nerves. She said further that there was nothing to be achieved by moaning and he should sup up and do as he was told. A flagon of small beer was thrust into his hands.

‘But that was my master,’ he kept saying. ‘Run through with a sword. Then drowned. My dear master, doing no harm to anybody all his life long.’ He began to sob quietly until May put the baby into his arms. ‘He saved this one,’ she said. ‘He didn’t die in vain at all.’

Aware that her hounds were loose on the other side of the canal and that there was no easy way of getting over to them, Hildegard gave Thomas a rueful glance. ‘Our short walk has turned into quite a journey.’

‘And Escrick’s men might make it even longer if they find a way over to this side.’ He frowned. ‘I can’t think what Brother Gregory’s going to say when he finds me missing from my studies.’

‘It might be a good idea to get May and Marianna into safe territory first and then consider the problem of getting you back for your lessons.’

May butted in. ‘Oswin will lend me the lock-keeper’s old nag. Then he’s going to accompany me to this priory you mentioned. There’s nothing you could say, sister, that I can’t just as well say for myself,’ she was quick to point out.

‘We’ll return to Meaux, then.’

When Oswin had recovered his wits he went out to saddle the mare. Hildegard took the baby on to her lap, while May herself made short work of a bowl of pottage. She was full of vigour despite having given birth so recently and as soon as she had eaten she took the baby to suckle. Now seemed as good a time as any in which to find out more about the plot hatched by Sir Ralph and Lady Sibilla.

‘How did they feel about Ada’s murder?’ Hildegard began. ‘When I broke the news to Sibilla she pretended not to know who she was.’

‘The liar!’ exclaimed May. She’s been with Lady Sibilla since she was a child. That’s why she was chosen to attend the birth. They trusted her. They were forced to let several in on their stupid plan. Escrick because he did all their dirty work, the midwife, naturally, Sibilla’s personal maid who attended the birth, for what use she was, dabbing away at me with a little perfumed cloth, and Ada, of course, who at least had some idea what to do.’

‘So what went wrong?’ asked Hildegard.

‘Maybe Ada was less easily bribed than the rest of us.’ May looked somewhat shamefaced for a moment, then explained. ‘We were happy enough to go along with things, money in our pockets, debts paid, but I think Lady Sibilla grew worried Ada was about to talk. Escrick must have taken things into his own hands as usual. Vicious bastard.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know.’ May looked down. ‘What I said, him doing what he did.’

‘It was Escrick, then, who murdered Ada? Is that what you’re saying?’ Hildegard felt she must have it unequivocally from the girl’s own lips.

May nodded. In a low voice she said, ‘I was terrified at what he did to her. Of course, we all heard about the stitching up of her lips. It was clear enough what he was trying to tell us, those of us in the know, that is. The midwife couldn’t get out fast enough.’

‘And did someone order him to do that?’

‘Not when I was around. But I did hear Lady Sibilla say to him: ‘Have you impressed on Ada the need for secrecy as I asked?’ and he said: ‘I have, my lady.’ We didn’t know till later what he meant. When they heard she was dead Sir Ralph knew straight away what he’d done.

‘It must have been very frightening,’ said Hildegard gently.

‘It was! But it got worse after I made that confession to the monk.’ May gave a shudder. ‘I went to confession as soon as we got to Meaux. Even though I’ve never had much time for the Church I started having visions of hellfire.’

‘Guilt is a powerful thing,’ said Thomas nodding.

‘It was when I was coming out of the church, Escrick just sprang out at me from behind one of them pillars and he says, ‘You’ve been in there a long time, mistress.’ I say, ‘I’ve had a lot to get off my chest.’ I never thought he’d think twice about me telling a monk. But he says, ‘You seem to have forgotten what happened to Ada and her big gob.’ Then he gives me a black look and walks off. I’m thinking, I’d better keep my head below the battlements now all right. Then I hear that rumpus in the middle of the night when I’m standing out with Marianna in the garth and there’s talk of the monk being killed and I think, oh God, he’s going to do me in next, I’d better get out quick. So I gathered my stuff and ran.’

Oswin came in and told them he’d got the cart ready for his cousin and the baby to ride in. Hildegard and Thomas watched them leave with relief. The two men on the other bank would be taken up with the fate that had befallen their master and would have little time to continue the pursuit. All they themselves had to do now was find a way back to the abbey.

As they stooped under the lintel to go out they could hear Escrick’s hounds on the other side, whining with disappointment. It was a pitiful sound that came and went, now near, now far, as they coursed up and down through the wet reeds. Of the horsemen there was no sign. Brother Thomas noticed her glance sweep the opposite bank. ‘Your own two beasts will be safe. Rest assured.’

‘I hope you’re right, Thomas. I do fear they’ll finish up with arrows in their backs and their heads brought in for bounty. But let’s go. The sooner we find a way home the better. If we’re quick we may even be back for prime.’

As it was they had no choice in the matter of how to get back. They were forced to take the one path that linked the lock-keeper’s cottage with the outside world. In one direction it ran on towards the Humber and the port of Wyke, which the old king had renamed Kingstown, but in the other direction it led all the way back towards the road to Beverley. Thomas reminded her of the pack bridge that spanned the canal a short distance from the gatehouse at Meaux. They would be able to cross back to the other side over that.

It was nearly two miles, walking in the ever-brightening day, until they were level with the outer defences of the abbey grounds. They had seen no sign of Escrick’s men on the way. Even his brace of hounds seemed to have run off and joined their cousins in the wilds.

‘Just round the next bend we should find the bridge,’ Thomas said encouragingly. Even before it came into view, however, they heard the noise of an army of men on the other bank. The clank of chain mail and the jangle of arms came closer with every step. At first alarmed, they realised that it could only be the force belonging to Lord Roger de Hutton. ‘Sibilla has not so many men at her command,’ Hildegard remarked with some relief.

Even so they halted on the path behind some trees and waited for the men to come into view. There were maybe a dozen or so, some on foot, others on horseback, the casques of the foremost ones gleaming in the misty light as they ranged among the reeds as if searching for something. As they came nearer they saw that they were fully armed and must have come straight from their march against Sir William.

To Hildegard’s immense relief she recognised the man at their head. It was Ulf. Lathered in mud from head to foot, his arm in a grubby sling, it could only be him with that wild, sun-bleached hair cascading from beneath his helm. They watched as he led a small posse along the narrow path to another part of the bank. Like Escrick’s men, they were beating with the flats of their swords at any tall bulrushes left standing after the flood wave had passed over, thoroughly kicking to pieces every remaining hiding place.

Hildegard stepped from the cover of the trees and shouted across. With an exclamation of joy she saw her own hounds emerge from the trees at the sound of her voice. They pointed their muzzles towards her in silent greeting and, as if echoing her feelings, began to weave patterns of joy around the forelegs of Ulf’s steed. The steward lifted his sword as a sign to the men in the vanguard. The whole party came to a halt in a disorderly throng.

‘How the blazes did you get over there?’ he called. He wore a delighted grin under his mask of mud.

‘It’s a long story. But I see you’re safe and sound. And you have an escort.’

‘They came to find me,’ he said, gesturing to the hounds. ‘I guessed there was something up when they showed their faces without you in attendance. You had me worried. I thought you’d drowned in that wave that’s just swept down. Come over the bridge and we’ll catch up.’

‘We’ve got a lot to say to each other,’ observed Ulf when he greeted her on the bridge. He gave Thomas an assessing glance. ‘A challenging part of your novitiate, son, to accompany this particular Cistercian on her daily round?’

Thomas laughed nervously. He seemed overwhelmed by the roughness of the riders as they milled about, battle-stained and ferocious, with their swords rattling in their scabbards. The hearty greetings they gave Hildegard obviously shocked him. Clearly he had only ever met the sort of nun who prayed and embroidered and rarely left the confines of her priory. Giving her a sidelong glance, as if to make sure she was real, he followed the group as far as the gatehouse. ‘I ought to attend to my duties, sister,’ he told her when they entered the garth. He seemed nervous about missing the daily office as well as his lessons.