The Rufus Spy

by Alys Clare

  In that moment, all I wanted was to be with him.

  ‘But why can’t I?’ I whispered.

  ‘Lassair, you have suffered a great loss. You’re grieving, and you need somebody to comfort you, to look after you.’ He stopped abruptly. I could almost hear the words he was holding back; sense the effort it was taking him not to say them. Then, his voice colder, he went on, ‘I’m afraid that somebody won’t be me.’

  He straightened up. He crossed to the door, opened it. He said, ‘I’m going out now. When I get back, I’d like you not to be here, please.’

  Then he walked away. Instinctively I leapt up and ran after him … One pace, three, four. Then I stopped.

  I watched as he reached the bend in the alley and disappeared from view. Then, moving far more slowly than he had done, I followed him.

  I went back to Gurdyman.

  Gurdyman gave me the comfort, the sympathy and perhaps the love that I’d gone to Jack for.

  When I knocked on the door, he took me along to the little courtyard at the back of the house. I told him where I’d been and everything that had happened. He let me cry until I’d reduced myself to a hiccupping standstill.

  Then he said, ‘Hrype is here. He’s down in the crypt. Come and talk to him.’

  Hrype was the last person I wanted to see but I let Gurdyman take my hand, lead me along the passage and down the steps. He left me standing at the foot of the steps while he went across to Hrype, who was standing at the workbench, and muttered briefly in his ear. Hrype nodded. He beckoned me over.

  ‘Sibert told me you’d gone off with your Norman,’ he said. It was what he’d always called Rollo. ‘Strange, the way it all worked out.’

  Strange wasn’t the word I’d have used. I just said dully, ‘Yes, it was.’

  There was a wry smile on Hrype’s face. ‘You do have a way of bringing danger to the men with whom you involve yourself, Lassair.’ Gurdyman made a soft protest, but Hrype ignored it. ‘So, bereft of the Norman, you’ve come back to the lawman?’

  ‘He doesn’t want me,’ I muttered.

  ‘Well, from what I hear, you abandoned him without a word once he was on the road to recovery.’

  ‘I—’ I began. But what could I say? It was harsh, but Hrype was quite right. It was exactly what I had done.

  Hrype’s silvery eyes were hard on mine. ‘Does he know about the baby?’

  I gasped. Had Froya broken her word? Had she told Hrype? But she’d promised!

  And then I heard the echo of Hrype’s words: does he know. Not did he know.

  And in a flash of insight I knew that Froya had kept her word and her silence. It hadn’t been her who had told Hrype of my pregnancy, for if it had been she’d also have told him how it ended.

  ‘How did you know?’ I asked. I was pleased at how calm I sounded. But then this was Hrype. It didn’t do to show weakness when talking to Hrype.

  His brows went up briefly. He jerked his head towards Gurdyman. ‘He and I both realized, the day Gaspard Picot died and Jack received his wound.’

  ‘But you couldn’t have done!’ I wasn’t calm now. I was yelling. ‘I didn’t know it myself then, and it was some time before I realized!’

  Hrype gave a slow smile. ‘In some circumstances, it’s not difficult to spot.’ He obviously wasn’t going to say any more, and the last thing I wanted was to demean myself by begging him to.

  I turned away from his scrutiny, for it was making me uncomfortable. ‘Well, if you’re as skilled and perceptive as you claim, I’m surprised you haven’t also spotted that I am no longer pregnant. I lost it.’

  Briefly, before he could control himself, I saw surprise in his eyes. Amid all the pain and distress, I felt a surge of triumph.

  And then Gurdyman was beside me, taking my hands in his, murmuring to me with such kindness that my tears began all over again.

  It was a great relief when Hrype took himself off. Gurdyman and I were back upstairs again – it was gloomy down in the crypt, and he clearly felt it wasn’t the right place for someone as woebegone and full of grief as me – and sitting in the little courtyard. The sun had come out; at long last it seemed to have stopped raining. Gurdyman went inside and prepared hot drinks. Mine was potent, sweet and I knew that, whatever was in it, he’d made it strong.

  I said as I sipped at it, ‘May I come back?’

  He looked at me in surprise. ‘Yes, of course. Your attic room awaits you. But—’

  I didn’t let him finish. ‘Oh, no, please, please don’t say I can’t go on being here either! I can’t bear it if you turn me away too!’

  He frowned. Quickly he said, ‘Lassair, child, I’m not turning you away. You have my word. When I said but, it wasn’t the start of but you can’t stay. There’s an idea I’ve had, though, and I’ll tell you about it presently. I’m very sorry that this someone else has turned you away. Jack Chevestrier is a good man.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was all I could manage, for the dismay and the pain were far too new.

  Gurdyman sighed. ‘I suspected that is what he would do,’ he murmured. He glanced at me. ‘I’m sorry, child, that it hurts so much.’ He waited but I didn’t speak. ‘Do you understand why he can’t have you back?’

  I shook my head.

  There was another silence. Then Gurdyman said, ‘He believes, I would conjecture, that just at present you would be returning to him for the wrong reasons. You have lost Rollo, after what sounds like a very frightening and dreadful time. Prior to that, you were carrying Jack’s child, and you lost it, although I don’t imagine you told him that.’

  I shook my head. ‘No,’ I whispered.

  ‘You are full of pain and grief, Lassair, and sorely in need of someone who loves you, who will hold you up until you can once more do it for yourself.’ I must have made some small sound, for he put down his mug and took my hand again. ‘You probably don’t believe it now, but you will recover, Lassair.’

  He said it with such certainty that I believed him.

  ‘You have, then, very good reasons for wanting to go back to Jack,’ he went on, ‘but they are your reasons, and have little to do with him.’ He paused. ‘I would suggest that Jack’s rejection of you is because he won’t let himself be hurt again.’

  He was right. Oh, he was right. I saw it so clearly, although it didn’t make me feel any better.

  I’d lost Jack.

  I couldn’t bear to think about it.

  I had to distract myself.

  I said, ‘Why does Hrype hate me so much?’

  Gurdyman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Hate you? Oh, I don’t believe he hates you, child.’

  ‘You must admit he doesn’t much like me.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I admit that is how it must appear.’

  ‘But that’s not right either?’ I surprised myself by smiling slightly.

  But Gurdyman was frowning. ‘Lassair, child, I believe he is jealous of you.’

  ‘Jealous?’ Incredulity turned the word into a shrill squeak. ‘What in the dear Lord’s name have I done to make Hrype jealous?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing you have done,’ Gurdyman said, ‘it’s what you have. What you are,’ he corrected himself.

  ‘What am I?’ I whispered.

  He met my eyes. ‘Powerful.’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t feel very powerful now. In fact, I’ve rarely felt so helpless.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I know. We all have our moments of weakness, but it will pass.’

  ‘Powerful.’ I was still wondering at the extraordinary word he’d used.

  ‘Did you not ask yourself, down in the crypt just now, how Hrype and I had known you were carrying a child before even you did?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because of what you are. I do not know whence the power came to you, although I suspect it passed down to you through your father—’

  ‘He’s not in the least powerful!’ I protested. ‘Well, he is, of course he is, he’s strong, and big, and brave, but he’s not �
�� well, you know.’

  ‘Indeed I do.’ Gurdyman was smiling. ‘What I was about to say was that I suspect the power emanates from the extraordinary woman who was your grandmother.’

  ‘Granny Cordeilla? But you never knew her.’

  ‘No, quite right, but I have been told a very great deal about her.’

  It was a moment for confidences, and I knew Gurdyman would never reveal what I was about to entrust to him. ‘My father’s just found out that Granny Cordeilla had a lover, and he’s that man’s son.’

  Gurdyman nodded, apparently taking what to everyone else was a world-shattering piece of news entirely in his stride. ‘Yes, it’s possible that he too contributed.’

  ‘What about my sisters and brothers?’ I demanded. Goda, bossy, discontented, selfish housewife. Haward, working with quiet patience out on the fens catching eels with my father. Elfritha the nun. My younger brothers Squeak and little Leir. ‘If I’ve got this power, why hasn’t it gone to them too? They’re just as much Granny Cordeilla’s grandchildren as I am.’

  But Gurdyman didn’t answer, other than to say enigmatically, ‘And how do you know it hasn’t?’

  But then I remembered what we’d been talking about. A cold little shock ran through me.

  ‘Were you just about to tell me,’ I said cautiously, ‘that you knew I was pregnant because you felt – you sensed—’ I had no idea how to phrase it.

  ‘Because we felt the baby’s power,’ he finished for me. ‘Yes, in general terms, that is what it amounted to, although the detection of a new source is extremely delicate and fine, and also very hard to explain.’

  ‘I lost the baby,’ I said dully.

  He took my hand again.

  I felt his pity wrap around me. It was almost too much. So I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, ‘So Hrype senses I’ve got this power, and he doesn’t like to think there’s someone else who will one day be able to do what he can do?’ It sounded so incredibly presumptuous even to say it. ‘I’m sorry, Gurdyman, but I can’t make myself believe you.’

  He didn’t say a word. He just smiled.

  We sat on out there in the pale sunshine. I felt as if the great, unsettling, painful whirling of the world had slowed down, although I suspected this would only be temporary.

  But I was back in Gurdyman’s house. He’d said he wasn’t going to turn me away. He’d said he had an idea, and he’d tell me about it soon. It clearly concerned me, and I guessed it was some new project he had in mind for his pupil.

  If it was, I would welcome it.

  I wanted to work, harder than I’d ever worked. I wanted to lose myself in whatever task Gurdyman had in mind. I wanted to go into it and give it all my energy, all my emotion, all there was of my skill. My power.

  The word still caused a frisson of chilling excitement.

  We would engage upon this work, Gurdyman and I, for however long it took. When I emerged once more, perhaps the world would seem a happier place. It might even be all right again.

  I could only hope.

  FOOTNOTES

  ONE

  1 See Mist Over the Water.

  TWO

  1 See Land of the Silver Dragon.

  THREE

  1 See The Night Wanderer.

  FIVE

  1 See Mist over the Water.

  TEN

  1 See The Night Wanderer.