by Alys Clare
Her wounds . . .
I quailed. Beside me Hrype hissed, ‘Boots of ice! You will suffer no harm!’
There was no more time. Lord Gilbert nodded to the guards and their captain shouted, ‘Proceed!’
I stepped forward. Edild walked on my right, Hrype on my left, although they were too far away for me to touch them even with my outstretched fingers.
I do not need to touch them, I told myself. They are with me, their strength and their will supports me.
I closed my eyes for an instant, fiercely bolstering my energy until I sensed it flare up bright-hot, white-hot within me. I am made of fire, I told myself. Fire is my element.
Fire will not harm me.
Then I stepped on to the red-hot coals.
Walk quickly but do not run, Hrype had instructed. Keep up a steady pace. Look ahead.
His words echoed loud and strong in my ears. One pace, two, three. The coals were very, very hot and I could feel their threat. But my ice boots protected me. Your feet are pleasantly cool, I heard Edild say calmly inside my head. Take your time for you will not be hurt.
Four steps. Five.
I was still staring straight ahead but out of the corners of my eyes I could see Hrype and Edild. It was odd because although of course I recognized them, sometimes they did not look like themselves. Or, rather, they did but at the same time they looked quite different and I could have sworn that a silver fox paced on my right and a great brown bear padded on silent paws to my left.
I felt so safe, so secure, that I knew it was going to be all right.
Six steps, seven, eight, then, quickly now, nine, ten, eleven and twelve, then one foot was out of the pit and then the other, the fresh grass cool and welcome.
There was a stunned silence – I had been aware as I walked the fire pit that nobody was making a sound – and then a great roar rose up. Edild and Hrype stood panting either side of me, both of them drenched in sweat; Hrype had bluish cords standing out on his temple and neck. I spun my head this way and that, trying to see what was happening, trying to look in every direction at once, but then suddenly I was dumped down on my bottom on the grass and Edild was plunging my feet into very, very cold water that smelt of lavender.
She must have only recently fetched the water from the well, for the chill bit as the fire had not done and I cried, ‘Ouch! That’s cold!’
She did not hear, or if she did she gave no sign. One by one she raised my feet out of the icy water, closely inspecting each one before plunging it back again. She did this three times and I saw a slow smile of satisfaction spread over her face. I was the only one who could see, however, since she was bent over me, her face hidden. Then Hrype was there too, and wordlessly she lifted up my feet once more and showed him.
His smile was wide and triumphant. They looked at each other for a long moment and almost imperceptibly she nodded.
He stood up.
Lord Gilbert was elbowing his way through the throng, pushing open-mouthed, avid-faced villages out of the way in his fervour. ‘Well?’ he cried. ‘Well? Is she all right? Is she burned? What has happened?’
He saw Edild’s tranquil face and a grin twitched at his mouth.
‘See for yourself,’ Edild said. She lifted my feet up to show him and I was tipped over inelegantly on to my back, struggling to hold down my skirt to preserve what was left of my modesty.
He stared, shook his head in disbelief and stared again. The grin now splitting his face like a slice out of an apple, he called out, ‘There is no need for bandages or priestly inspection after the prescribed three days, for Lassair has taken no injury!’ The last words were delivered at the top of his voice. Then, in a far more controlled tone, he said, ‘I declare that, by virtue of the trial by ordeal, Lassair of Aelf Fen has proved that she tells the truth. God has protected her,’ he pronounced gravely.
I felt like throwing back my head and crowing. I felt like getting to my cold but unblemished feet and dancing. I turned to look for Baudouin de la Flèche, already edging his way quickly to the rear of the crowd, and I screamed, ‘Yaaaaa!’
It was pretty meaningless but it seemed to sum up what I was feeling. I saw him scowl at me with furious malice, then he spun round and hurried away.
Lord Gilbert, as if he had suddenly recalled the reason why we were all gathered there, was looking grave. He glanced after Baudouin de la Flèche, a frown creasing the puffy flesh of his forehead, then looked back at me. ‘It has indeed been demonstrated without doubt that you have God’s protection, and therefore we know that you speak true when you say Sibert is no murderer,’ he said. Then, with a sigh, he added, ‘The man Sagar, produced by Baudouin de la Flèche as witness, must be mistaken.’ His frown deepened; clearly he was thinking hard. Then he turned to the captain of his guard and said simply, ‘Go and release Sibert. The charge against him is dropped.’
The guard hurried away. I looked around for Hrype, a happy smile on my face, for surely he would hasten to go with the guards to welcome Sibert back into the world and I wanted to share the moment with him. He wasn’t there; I guessed he had foreseen Sibert’s release and had already gone.
The men who had led me out to the pit had all stepped back as if, out of embarrassment, they were distancing themselves from someone who had been treated like a criminal and had just proved, in quite spectacular fashion, that she was nothing of the sort.
I stood alone, for Edild too had melted away. There was no time to wonder where she’d gone because all at once my mother was pushing her way through the awestruck, chattering villagers, my father, my granny and my siblings hard on her heels, and I leapt up and threw myself into her arms.
‘I’m all right!’ I cried, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I’m all right! I proved I was telling the truth and Sibert’s going to be freed!’
‘I know!’ she sobbed, her hug fierce and strong. Then, shaking me so hard that my teeth clattered together, she cried, ‘Oh, Lassair, Lassair, don’t you ever do anything like that again!’
TWENTY
In a joyful, overwhelmingly relieved band, laughing, chattering, we made our way back to our house. I was skipping along hand in hand with Elfritha and Haward, both of them clutching on to me as if I was about to be wrenched away from them to face an even worse ordeal, when Edild caught up with us.
‘You feel no pain?’ she asked.
‘None!’ I cried jubilantly. ‘I could dance all night!’
She smiled briefly. I realized she looked exhausted. I detached myself from my brother and sister, saying I’d follow along presently, then stopped and faced my aunt.
‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘I don’t know exactly what you and Hrype were doing as I walked the coals, but I do understand that I couldn’t have done it without you.’
Her smile widened. ‘Yes you could, Lassair. You believed in yourself and you did as you were told.’
Slowly I shook my head. ‘You did something,’ I insisted. ‘Something that exhausted the pair of you and made you sweat as if you’d just run a mile over rough country. And,’ I added, lowering my voice as I remembered, ‘it wasn’t just you – I thought I saw your guides. Yours was a silver fox and Hrype’s was a bear.’
For an instant her eyes widened and she muttered something, then her expression cleared and she said mildly, ‘I don’t think so, Lassair. It was probably just the excitement and the stress of the challenge.’
I held her eyes and I thought she sent me a silent message. I thought she said, You are right but these things are not to be spoken of.
I nodded, just once. Then she took my arm and we hurried after the others.
The next joy was when Hrype and Froya arrived, because walking between them, grinning sheepishly, was Sibert. He was still pale but he looked very different from the last time I’d seen him, in Lord Gilbert’s hall. Hrype must have taken him home as soon as he had been released and he’d had a wash – his fair hair was still wet – and changed his clothes. There were neat banda
ges on his wrists and ankles where the iron shackles had bitten into his flesh.
We all gave him a great welcome. My father had tapped a barrel of the best beer and we were rapidly making our way through it, so that already we were tipsy and loud. Sibert accepted congratulations modestly, his head lowered, and in time he made his way to me.
‘I didn’t think you’d have the courage to do it,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I could have done the same thing for you.’
I felt a little hurt. ‘Thank you wouldn’t go amiss,’ I remarked.
‘Oh, Lassair!’ Surprising me greatly, for he was usually so distant, especially in a physical sense, he opened his arms and embraced me in a hard hug. Just as quickly he let me go again. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You saved my life.’
Now I felt embarrassed. ‘You’ll just have to save mine, then,’ I said lightly, ‘then we’ll be even.’
We went on staring at each other. Neither of us seemed to know how to end the awkwardness, but then we heard a commotion and, spinning round, I saw Lord Gilbert standing in the doorway, flanked by several of his men.
We all fell silent. His face was grave and it was obvious he hadn’t come to add his congratulations and accept a mug of ale.
‘What has happened?’ My father’s voice was wary.
‘The gold crown has gone,’ Lord Gilbert said. Somebody gasped. ‘While Lassair walked the fire pit, my hall was left all but unguarded, for my wife and my son were tucked safely away in her chamber and everyone else was outside watching the ordeal. When the guards went to release Sibert, one of them noticed that the chest in which I had locked the crown while its ownership is decided had been broken open.’
‘I did not take it!’ Sibert cried out.
I smiled grimly. It was understandable, I suppose, for him to instantly defend himself, for he had only just been set free from Lord Gilbert’s cell and obviously didn’t want to be thrown back down there. As a general rule, though, it is unwise to protest your innocence before you’ve even been accused.
Lord Gilbert had turned to Sibert, and I heard him say, ‘No, Sibert, I know that. You could not possibly have done, for you were still under lock and key when the theft was discovered.’
‘Whom do you suspect?’ my father asked.
I knew. Before Lord Gilbert answered, I knew what he would say. I had seen Baudouin slip away and, although at the time I had been far too full of my triumph to think about where he might be going, now it was obvious.
‘Baudouin took it,’ I piped up.
‘Hush!’ my mother and my father said together, both turning to glare at me.
‘He must have done!’ I persisted. ‘Now that we all know Sibert didn’t kill Romain, the real murderer will have to be found and brought to justice and that could take ages, and meanwhile Baudouin’s desperate to get his manor back and he needs the crown to persuade the king to be merciful!’
Nobody spoke. Lord Gilbert and the men with him were staring at me. It was all so obvious to me and I couldn’t understand why they were prevaricating. ‘He – Baudouin – must have realized that he’d accused the wrong person when he said Sibert was a murderer,’ I pressed on eagerly. ‘That man Sagar can’t have been close enough to see who the killer was, but Baudouin was so desperate to bring someone to account for Romain’s death that he picked the obvious person, which was Sibert.’
There was a squawk of protest from Sibert and Lord Gilbert said, ‘Why was Sibert the obvious person?’
‘Because he was there!’ Really! ‘Well, he wasn’t there, not in the clearing when the murder was committed, but he’d recently been in the vicinity and Baudouin must have known that. He – Baudouin – was worried about Romain, aware he was planning something reckless to try to help win back Drakelow, and in order to protect him, Baudouin was following him. He probably saw me and Sibert and when Sagar said Sibert killed Romain, there was no reason for Baudouin to disbelieve him.’
‘Hmm.’ Lord Gilbert looked thoughtful. Then, as if suddenly tired of the whole perplexing matter, he said, ‘I do not intend to pursue Baudouin. The crown was, after all, found on his land, or what used to be his land, and I had all but decided to return it to him anyway.’ Lord Gilbert quite often showed a tendency to do the easy thing as opposed to the right thing; we had all noticed it. ‘My involvement in this sorry business,’ he went on grandly, ‘only came about because one of my people was accused of murder; wrongly, as it turns out’ – he flashed me a smile – ‘and now that this has been resolved, I am content to let a matter belonging to the manor of Dunwich find its eventual resolution in Dunwich.’
Did he mean Romain’s murder? He must do, but it hadn’t taken place at Dunwich.
I watched him, filled with the angry realization that he was far more concerned with his own peaceful, indolent, self-indulgent life than with seeing justice done. But he had been kind to me and I couldn’t find it in my heart to hate him for his weakness. Life was so complicated, I thought, quietly fuming, and human beings the most complicated things in it.
Nobody else seemed to find anything to reprove in Lord Gilbert’s decision and when a little later two of his servants showed up with another barrel of even finer beer, he was hailed as the finest lord a peasant ever had.
By nightfall we were all far beyond tipsy and I was starting to feel very tired as the drama and the excitement caught up with me. My mother, noticing, began shooing people away and soon just our family were left, wearily settling for the night.
I went outside to the jakes and on my way back in, heard a hiss from the shadows. Sibert stepped forward.
‘I thought you’d gone home,’ I said.
‘I did. Hrype needs to talk to us.’
‘Very well, then. I’ll just tell my parents where I’m going and—’
‘No, you mustn’t!’ Sibert looked strained. ‘Wait till they’re all asleep, then slip out and come to our house.’
‘But I’m tired and—’
‘Lassair, just do it!’ He sounded both impatient and scared. ‘Please,’ he added.
‘Oh, all right.’ I was excited, despite my protestations. ‘I’ll be along as soon as I can.’
In fact it was not long at all before I deemed it safe to leave. The beer and the festivities had caught up with my family and soon I could detect the familiar sounds of the adults’ snores and my siblings’ soft, deep breathing. I got up, slipped off the leather band that secures the door and crept out into the darkness.
I sprinted across the village and, reaching Sibert and his family’s house, tapped softly on the door. It was opened immediately by Froya and without a word she wrapped me in her arms. We stood for some moments and then, breaking away, she stared into my eyes and said, ‘You saved my son’s life. I am in your debt, Lassair, and if ever I may help you, you have but to ask.’
The emotion that pulsed through the little room slowly ebbed and, with a quick nod, she stepped back and sat down on a stool beside the hearth. Bending down – I could see the blush on her pale face and guessed she was as embarrassed as I was – she poked at the embers of the cooking fire and set some small flames dancing along the charred logs. Hrype, seated on a bench with Sibert beside him, watched her and then turned to me. ‘So, Lassair,’ he said with a smile. ‘You survived unscathed.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. I realized I had not spoken to him since my ordeal. ‘I should have thanked you before, when we were all busy downing the celebratory ale,’ I said, ‘but I did not see you again after you arrived with Sibert and Froya. Were you with the group outside in the yard?’
‘No. I did not stay.’
I remembered his exhausted face, the sweat of great exertion dripping from it and the knotty blue cords that stood out on his temple and snaked up his neck. ‘You’re not unwell?’ I asked anxiously. ‘It wasn’t too much for you? The ordeal, I mean.’
He laughed, but it was a kindly laugh. ‘No, no, I recovered quite quickly.’
‘Why did you not stay to join us in the celebrati
on at our house, then?’
He reached down and picked up something from the floor; something that had been hidden by the folds of his long robe. ‘Because of this.’
He held it up high and the flames of the fire glinted on the smooth surface of the Drakelow crown.
I could barely believe my eyes. ‘You’ve got it!’ I stared at him. ‘How did you manage to take it?’
‘As soon as I knew you had survived the fire pit unhurt I left you in Edild’s care and slipped away to Lord Gilbert’s manor house. There was nobody about; everyone was still standing open-mouthed staring at your pretty feet.’
‘How did you know where it was?’ I demanded.
‘It called to me.’
I did not begin to understand.
‘But I thought – I mean,’ I stammered, ‘when I suggested to Lord Gilbert that Baudouin had taken it, he agreed with me and said he wasn’t going to do anything about it because he’d decided Baudouin ought to have it anyway!’
‘He has not got it and he must never take possession of it!’ Hrype said passionately.
I thought I understood. ‘It’s yours, isn’t it?’ I said eagerly. ‘Your ancestor made it – Sibert said so.’ I looked at Sibert to back me up but he said nothing. ‘You’re going to keep it, which is right as it surely belongs to your family, and—’
‘I will not keep it.’ Hrype’s almost savage hiss cut across my words. He said something else; it sounded like, ‘I do not dare.’
Without my volition I found that my gaze had slid from Hrype’s impassioned face to the crown that he still held up. I became aware of its power. It was humming quietly and the sound was waxing steadily stronger.
I was suddenly very afraid.