‘Since the age of ten,’ the maid answered, ‘first as page, then retainer and now, well, as you see—’ The maid clearly had no time for Master Escrick.
Just now he was barking orders that should more correctly have been given by Sir Ralph. The knight, it seemed, was still asleep in his chamber and nobody had thought to rouse him.
Escrick Fitzjohn. The man had power beyond the usual for a master of the household and Hildegard asked herself again why he had been meeting William’s men in the undercroft.
Now he was packing the servants off to bed, and ordering a maid to attend her mistress. Meanwhile, he’d had a couple of hunting dogs brought in and pushed a kerchief belonging to the wet-nurse under their noses. The brutes whined and began to strain at their chains. With proof that the scent was strong, Master Escrick Fitzjohn announced to all and sundry that he was setting off in pursuit of the kidnapper himself.
Hildegard was struck by his manner. He seemed to take it as a personal slight that one of the servants had absconded. His manner was violent but he dissembled like a courtier whenever Sibilla glanced his way, all smiles and courtesy, but not bothering to disguise his bad temper when she wasn’t looking. Hildegard was shocked to see him lash out with his fist at a young page who was slow to jump to a command. She recoiled when he gave a slashing cut of his whip to one of the house dogs which got under his feet. When he strode from the chamber he went with a swagger, chest pushed out, evidently believing he was master of all he surveyed. The maidservant gave Hildegard a knowing glance before bustling back to bed.
Escrick set out with two armed men and the two tracking hounds. With Brother Thomas by her side, Hildegard followed him to the outer gate, even though he gave them black looks. Thomas, however, maintained a benign certainty of purpose, his clever, bony face suffused with an expression that hinted at the abbot he would become in the fullness of time, and there was nothing Escrick Fitzjohn could do against such grace but offer an insolent shoulder and ignore him.
The two henchmen had necks as thick as their jaws, their foreheads concealed under casques with steel nosepieces. They carried bows and clubs as well as short swords and Escrick himself wore a hauberk with a powerful looking broadsword stuck in his belt. Once outside the gates the hounds circled and checked until they picked up the scent again, then, with a single purpose, they set off after the maid.
Hildegard watched them leave with a worried frown. ‘Master Escrick and his men go excessively armed to bring back a poor nursemaid.’
‘I expect they fear outlaws, being unsure where the trail will lead them.’ Thomas caught her glance. ‘But perhaps we might be of assistance, sister, what do you think?’ He glanced after the men. ‘If she left on foot, as it seems from what the stabler told Master Escrick about his complement of horses, then perhaps we might take a short stroll outside the gates ourselves?’
‘I would welcome your company,’ said Hildegard, pleased to find he was quick on the uptake. ‘First let me get my lymer and my running hound.’
The nurse had last been seen after matins, when the crying of the baby resulted in her being thrown out of the servants’ hall. Apparently she had walked up and down the corridor for some time but had then taken the infant out of earshot on to the green. After that nobody knew where she went.
‘She must have been standing in the darkness of the garth when Brother Nevyl was found and the sacristan raised the alarm,’ Hildegard surmised. ‘She would hear all the coming and going and no doubt everything that was said.’
They left the abbey with the hounds and headed off down the road in the direction Escrick and his men had taken. The track led to a wharf on the new canal which ran as far as the next village, where it linked up with the river. It had been built to allow the carters to bring in goods by barge and reload them for the export of staple, corn and honey. On the wharf was a thatched barn for storage, and ahead of them they heard Escrick’s men stop for a moment to check inside it before riding on. Two of them began beating the long grass with sticks on both sides of the track as they rode along. By their casual manner it was clear they did not expect to find the runaway hiding so close to the abbey.
Hildegard and Thomas walked noiselessly with matched steps, for Thomas, at nineteen, was as tall as the nun. He possessed a calm and focused physical energy despite hours bent over parchments in the scriptorium and his gruelling year as a novitiate and in his rope-soled sandals he moved as carefully as Hildegard herself. She was glad he was with her.
As they tracked the trackers she whispered, ‘The facts of the matter are as follows: the nurse confesses something to poor Brother Nevyl, shortly afterwards he’s found dead, and then she runs away. Why?’
‘Guilt because she is somehow involved in his murder—?’ Thomas looked as doubtful as his namesake. ‘Or fear of someone perhaps?’ He raised his brows.
‘Of someone who did not want her secret to come out, even in the confessional.’
‘But what could such a secret be?’ wondered Thomas.
Hildegard held her tongue. She had ideas on that score but they seemed too far fetched to mention, even in the otherworldly nature of this night when nightmares themselves seemed to have a life of their own.
They walked on in silence. The horsemen ahead were clearly audible and, having left the abbey, were under no restraint as to their language. Snatches of oaths floated back above the rattle of arms and harness. At one point they clearly heard Escrick call, ‘Have a look and see if that bloody festering nun isn’t after us, will you?’
One of the men gave a loud guffaw. ‘You could soon sort her out, master. You and me, both.’
‘Aye, and the lad,’ said the third voice. There was raucous laughter but nobody came back to check.
Thomas and Hildegard melted into the trees that lined the towpath as the safety of the landing was left behind. The canal ran on ahead straight into open country. Beside them Hildegard’s hounds padded along like fleeting shadows. She and Thomas had thrown dark cloaks over their pale Cistercian habits and this made them almost invisible in the dark of night.
‘You must know this region well. Is there any turning off?’ whispered Hildegard after they had travelled on half a mile or so.
‘There’s a chain-ferry further up.’ It took workers to the grange on the other side of the canal. But before Thomas could say more they both stopped. Escrick’s hounds had started to whine. There was the sound of the horses and hounds milling about on the bank side.
Hildegard put a hand on Thomas’s arm. ‘There’s no sound of a woman’s voice.’
After a moment they heard the rattle of a chain.
‘They must be hauling the ferry over to their own side of the water,’ whispered Thomas. They dropped to the ground to conceal themselves in the tall husked stalks of the rushes that grew along the bank.
‘She’s makin’ for Skella!’ one of the men exclaimed. His words floated over the night air quite clearly.
‘She won’t get far lugging that brat about,’ said the other one. The hounds were whining with frustration at losing their quarry. Escrick’s voice called out. From the sound, he was still sitting astride his horse. ‘Hurry up with that raft then. Put some back into it. We’ll soon catch the bitch out in the open on the other side.’
‘We are putting our backs into it,’ replied one of the men from lower down the bank. ‘But nowt’s happening.’
‘Hey up! What’s this?’ There was a scuffling as the men seemed to scramble further down the bank. ‘God’s teeth!’ came a shout. ‘There’s nowt on t’ other end. Look here!’
‘The crafty mare!’ exclaimed the third voice. ‘She’s gone and cut the rope.’
‘She can’t have.’ They heard a thump as Escrick landed on the path and walked over to the brim of the steep-sided bank. ‘Are you sure?’ he called down.
‘Of course I’m sure. Look!’ Evidently the man held up the rope that normally tied the raft to its chain. Escrick had a flare and Thomas and Hildegard saw its
sudden blaze as it was lifted up.
‘Little cow,’ the other man said. ‘She cut it. Or got the brat to gnaw through it.’
There were renewed heaves on the chain and a rattling as it was drawn up fully on to the bank. ‘Damn her to hell and back,’ Escrick said. A discussion ensued with much cursing. Then Escrick’s voice was heard again above the others. ‘The only way to get across to the other side is to swim and fetch the raft back that way.’ They heard him order one of the men into the water and the muttered oath from lower down the bank that followed. Escrick was cursing and stamping about at the top as the unfortunate volunteer stripped off his ironware. They heard him splash into the black water of the canal with another oath and set off for the other side.
‘I don’t envy him a swim on a night like this,’ whispered Thomas.
Edging cautiously through the rushes, they tried to see what progress he was making. A faint ripple reflected his presence. It was the smallest change in the deep nothingness of the canal, but they saw it reach the other side, followed by the blur of the man’s arm as he reached for the overhanging grasses in order to pull himself on to the bank. His voice came floating back to them. ‘I can’t find it!’ More splashing followed, then his voice again, aggrieved, hoarse with cold. ‘It’s not here. She must have set it adrift.’
‘She’s taken to the water, more like,’ called Escrick. ‘You,’ they heard him say to the man beside him. ‘Get along the bank. Keep an eye out. I’m riding on to the lock gates.’ Both men moved off, leaving their companion to swim back and haul himself unaided up the muddy bank on to the path. His chattering teeth were audible as he thrust himself back inside his woollen tunic and pulled on his boots. They heard him buckle on his sword and say something rough to his horse, then he was riding away to catch up with his companions.
Thomas and Hildegard got to their feet when the coast was clear.
‘We must see this through,’ murmured Thomas. ‘There’s a small boat kept moored somewhere near here. We use it for fishing.’ Briskly he led the way back a little way and then, as if by some sixth sense, plunged off into a sea of rushes. There was a splash as he stepped into shallow water covering a half-submerged wooden platform. ‘Here, sister. Follow my steps exactly.’ Doing so, Hildegard found herself ankle deep in water on a makeshift pontoon, but a hand appeared out of the darkness and with Thomas to guide her she stepped into what she now made out to be a shallow-bottomed craft of withies much like a coracle. It rocked violently until she found her balance.
‘I was brought up on the river,’ Thomas told her, keeping his voice low. ‘I’ll scull us up towards the lock. If she’s on the water we’ll find her more quickly than those louts on the towpath from the height of their horses. Thankfully there’s no moon tonight. The darkness may be her salvation.’ Indeed, low cloud shrouded the opposite bank and was beginning to swirl across the unreflecting surface of the water.
Using the paddle to push the boat through the reeds and on out of the inlet, the young novice soon had them floating down the canal. The water ran slow and deep between the high sides of the artificial banks. In only a few minutes he brought the boat level with the broken ferry chain then paddled across to the other side. Checking more thoroughly than Escrick’s man, they found no sign of any fresh prints in the frozen mud. It must be as Escrick himself had concluded: the nursemaid had kept to the water.
They moved carefully on down the canal and soon heard the sound of a horse brushing through the grasses at the top of the bank. The novice let the craft drift stealthily under the lee, then he steered them on with single deft strokes, scarcely breaking the surface until they passed unnoticed beneath the place where the horseman was still searching through the long grass.
‘Where do you imagine she’s heading?’ whispered Hildegard when they were safely out of earshot. ‘I wonder if she has kin in the locality and is making for them?’
‘I have no knowledge on that score,’ Thomas replied. ‘Would that I had.’
They soon left the horseman behind but their progress was slow. The nursemaid was likely to keep close to the bank and they were determined not to miss her. So far even the baby had not betrayed her presence. ‘Maybe she has managed to escape up the other bank after all?’ Hildegard suggested.
‘It’s too steep. I doubt she could manage it, even without the baby. If it was me,’ Thomas added, ‘I’d stay on the water as far as the lock. I’d get ashore there and seek assistance from the lock-keeper. Master Escrick’s probably reached the same conclusion.’
‘In that case let’s hope she reaches the lock before he does.’
Thomas increased his pace. The mist was beginning to lift. It revealed the ribbon of black silk over which they floated. Hildegard prayed they would find the maid before dawn broke and began to shed its merciless light over the water.
They came upon the second horseman after a short time. He was more thorough, or maybe just in a better temper, than the swimmer. He had dismounted and was laying about the rushes with his club, dredging them with great thoroughness right down to the water’s edge. Thomas held the boat under an overhang from where they could wait unseen until he moved further along.
‘He must have his sword out to make them snap like that,’ said Hildegard. ‘The reed-gatherers are going to be upset.’ Her light tone belied her fear at the picture of the nursemaid’s neck being cropped in similar fashion. There was nothing they could do just now except wait. The mist was thinning and they were able to see that there was no one hiding further along.
‘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’r
e 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.
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