Blood Moon

by Stephen Wheeler

  ‘What’s this?’ I chided him. ‘Not jealous, surely? That’s not like you.’

  At first he merely shook his head, but pressured by me he pursed his lips then started to sign again, slowly now so that I could follow him. It seemed it was the father, Raoul, who was concerning him. I was surprised that Onethumb knew of him and asked him to elaborate. He did so. He’d seen him, it seemed, in the town taverns.

  I laughed with relief. ‘Is that all? I expect he was celebrating his good fortune at becoming a father. Surely you do not begrudge him that? This child is his firstborn. Celebration is natural, is it not? You were the same when Hal was born, don’t pretend you weren’t. I well remember the dancing - and the drinking.’

  Onethumb merely shrugged, but if I am honest I’m not sure I was entirely convinced by my dismissal either. There was some mystery over this family – my mother’s unusually keen interest in them for one thing. On the surface all seemed perfectly normal – a young couple arrives in a town on a donkey, the wife heavily pregnant. Her waters break after the arduous journey and overnight a child is born. What could be more natural? Indeed, there are precedents. I’m quite sure that had the shepherds and the wise men not visited the Holy Stable when they did Joseph would have been off to the taverns of Bethlehem to wet his baby’s head – a more justified occasion for celebration could hardly be imagined.

  But I am being flippant. There were other similarities between this birth and that of the infant Christ of a more disturbing nature. Others knew of that event, too, people who did not wish to celebrate it but had murder in mind. Not wishing to take the analogy too far, I did wonder why this couple had crept into town unheralded with no baggage to speak of and no help other than that of a single maid. Why travel at all when the girl was so far advanced in her term? Unless like the Holy Family they too had a special reason for doing so.

  Chapter 3

  EE-MA-MUM-MA

  The key to a monk’s life is repetition. Each day is like the one before which is like the one before that which is like the one to come each with its regular round of devotion, prayer and study, always constant, never wavering until that special day dawns when Christ will come again in glory and that will be the end of time. In the course of this journey a monk forswears the world of Man with its trifling concerns seeking instead those higher rewards that come from growing daily ever closer to God.

  So why then am I so bothered by what happens to this family that is lodged in the abbot’s palace? They will be gone in a day or two and I will be able to return to my life of utter predictability with only the occasional gumboil or cracked thumbnail to tax my increasingly atrophying brain. The reason is my mother. Like a worm she has burrowed into the soft flesh of my imagination and planted there the seed of doubt. Yesterday the de Grays were an object of mild curiosity; today they are one of intense intrigue. Even so, I was determined to resist getting involved partly because I had better things to do but also in order to prove that she does not pull my strings like the fairground puppet she thinks I am.

  What changed my mind was that comment of Onethumb’s, for if Raoul de Gray truly has been carousing about the town at night then that would mean the Lady Adelle has been left alone and unattended and that cannot be good for a young mother and her newborn babe. As abbey physician both are nominally in my care whilst here and I do feel a certain proprietary responsibility having been midwife, as it were, to the birth. And then of course there is curiosity, plain and simple. I admit it, I am naturally nosey. The problem is that I have no real reason to visit them again. Childbirth is not an illness. In all probability mother and baby are perfectly healthy and in no further need of my services. But it wouldn’t do any harm just to pop my head round the door just to satisfy myself that all is well - and in so doing I might just learn what has got my mother so interested in them.

  Before I did, however, I thought I’d just clear it with our guest-master since all who stay at the abbey are ultimately his concern. The current holder of that office, Brother Gregor, is a Scotsman who takes the role rather seriously. Exceptionally so. He is also one of Prior Herbert’s appointees and shares his master’s appetite for rules and their adherence. Yes, better get him on board first so as not to tread on too many toes. I managed to catch up with him next morning immediately after terce.

  ‘Good morning, Brother Guest-master,’ I hailed him heartily. ‘How are you today, and how fare our guests?’

  Gregor was just leaving the lodge where the de Gray family were staying but stopped abruptly in the doorway blocking my entry and squinting short-sightedly at me.

  ‘Master Walter,’ he replied in his soft Caledonian brogue. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘It is the young couple anon with the wee babby you’ll be referring to, I take it?’

  ‘Do we have any other guests?’ I beamed.

  ‘Aye, we do. Two young roustabouts arrived late last night. I put them in the loft above the stables where they can disturb no-one else.’

  ‘Rowdy pair, are they?’

  He made a snorting noise in his nose and muttered some Gaelic invective. ‘Out till all hours and then hammering on the gates demanding to be let in. If they weren’t pilgrims on their way to visit the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham I’d’ve shown ’em the toe of m’boot. And I’m sorry to say, yon young man was with them.’

  I looked up. ‘You mean Raoul de Gray? He was out in the town as well?’

  ‘Aye, he was.’

  So, Onethumb had been right. A worrying state of affairs considering his wife’s condition.

  ‘What of the Lady Adelle?’

  Gregor’s thin lips widened into something approximating a smile. ‘Ah now, she was quite a different kettle of fish. A very quiet, very respectable young lady I’d say, not at all like her husband. And,’ he added pointedly, ‘no doubt not wishing to be disturbed.’

  ‘By two roustabouts on their way to Walsingham?’ I suggested with a grin.

  He leaned towards me. ‘By anyone.’

  ‘Oh, quite so, quite so,’ I frowned and nodded. ‘I thought as much myself the other night.’

  Gregor looked uncertain. ‘You’ve met the wee couple?’

  I nodded. ‘I delivered the baby. A healthy bonny wee girl,’ I chortled mimicking his accent. ‘Or so she seemed. Mind you, you can never tell with children, can you? They’re prone to so many ailments.’ I frowned, took out my vademecum that I keep hanging from my belt and fingered it absent-mindedly.

  Gregor glanced at the intimidating array of charts and diagrams in my hand. ‘The bairn seemed well enough to me just now,’ he said suspiciously.

  ‘Oh, to be sure. But they always do, don’t they? To begin with. And then we turn our backs for a minute and – poff!’

  ‘Poff?’ frowned Gregor.

  I nodded seriously. ‘I don’t envy you the responsibility, I must say - especially the daughter of such an important family. You know that Raoul is the nephew of the Bishop of Norwich? That would make Bishop John…let me see…the baby’s uncle - no tell a lie, her great uncle. Assuming she lives, of course.’

  ‘Aye, I suppose it would,’ agreed Gregor worriedly. His frown deepened and he bit his lip in thought.

  I squinted up at the window. ‘Well, I’ll get up there while things are quiet,’ I said taking a step forward. Gregor hesitated for an instant but then relented stepping reluctantly to one side and leaving the slightest of gaps between him and the door-jamb for me to squeeze though. I managed to get past with difficulty and was up the stairs before he could object, but as I approached the de Grays’ bedchamber I still had no idea what I was going to say to the lady inside or how to explain my visit. For inspiration I said a silent prayer to Saint Margaret of Antioch, the patron of women in childbirth - and another to Saint Jude, the patron of hopeless causes - before letting my knuckles fall tentatively upon the door.

  It opened at the first knock and before me stood a creature I certainly had not expected to see: A young girl dressed in servants’ attir
e. For a moment her appearance threw me but then I remembered the couple had arrived in the town with their own maid. This must be she. I had not seen her the night of her mistress’s labour - presumably off somewhere organizing the abbey servants. A not unpretty girl, I thought, if a bit young and she did look rather pale and drawn. With just her to provide for all the wants of her mistress and her husband and cope with the new baby, I was not surprised she looked tired. I gave her my most avuncular of smiles:

  ‘Good day to you, my child. Is your mistress awake? I know the hour is early but I…erm…oh…!’

  I got no further with my speech before the girl pulled me inside and quickly shut the door behind me. Startled, I turned to admonish her for her forwardness but she had already disappeared back into the shadows. Indeed, I couldn’t see very much at all with the shutters being closed, but a movement to my right caught my eye. As it adjusted to the gloom I could just make out the bed with the Lady Adelle lying upon it and the baby asleep in her arms. There was no sign of the husband, I noted with regret - presumably not yet returned from his revels. Sometimes I despair of the youth of our country. Here was the man’s wife, fragrant, young, delicate, newly delivered of her first child and yet left entirely to her own devices in a strange town with only this slip of a maid for protection while the husband goes off to revel in the town with other young fustians - and no doubt bragging about his achievements as a father into the bargain. I took a tentative step closer to the bed but to avoid any suspicion of impropriety I maintained a respectable distance.

  ‘Forgive the intrusion, madam,’ I began, but once again my words cut short as the lady placed a warning finger to her lips.

  ‘Ah, I see now,’ I said lowering my voice. ‘The baby is asleep. Of course - I should have realised. All is well with her, yes? No colic or indigestion? She suckles well?’

  Inwardly I cringed at my own clumsiness and began again on a less delicate tack:

  ‘May I ask - have you decided on a name yet?’

  ‘Alix.’

  ‘Alix,’ I beamed delightedly. ‘A charming name, charming – and one, if I’m not mistaken, that our dear late Queen gave to one of her own daughters - by the King of France, I hasten to add. Not that that would have been the reason for your choosing it, I am sure, aha…’ My voice faded away. I was beginning to sound ridiculous to my own ears. ‘A family name was it - Alix?’ I blundered on. ‘Your mother’s perhaps? Of course she will have to be churched before you go, but that can wait a day or two yet.’

  I prattled on in this nonsensical fashion not really knowing what I was saying while my eyes roamed round the room searching for anything unusual. But nothing caught my eye. All seemed perfectly normal. But then there was a sudden rush of air as the door behind me opened again and before I knew it I was flat on my back on the floor with Raoul de Gray on top of me and a dagger at my throat. It was as if the Devil himself had entered the room. I yelped which caused the maid to scream which in turn awoke the baby who started to wail. Suddenly all was bedlam.

  ‘I have him!’ barked Raoul de Gray at his wife. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course she’s all right,’ I choked back. ‘It’s me, Brother Walter. Get off me you oaf!’

  We grappled for a few moments more with his arm round my neck, his weight on my chest and that knife perilously close to my nose. He stank of ale which probably explained his behaviour. But through his drunken haze he did seem at last to recognize me.

  ‘You?’ he frowned.

  ‘Yes me!’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘If you’ll let me up I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Tell me now.’

  I tried to push him off but he was too strong. I gave in. ‘I was concerned for the welfare of your wife and your daughter,’ I said and added pointedly, ‘who you seem to have abandoned.’

  He frowned looking about him. ‘Effie. Where’s Effie?’

  ‘You think it sufficient to leave your wife in the care of a mere child?’

  ‘Yes – no.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, will you let me rise?’

  At last he came to his senses and released me. ‘I’m sorry, brother. I thought you were… I’m sorry. Here.’ He put out his hand to help me up.

  I pushed his arm away. ‘You thought I was what? A murderer? Most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of!’

  I got up by myself and dusted myself down feeling as I did so a sharp pain in my shoulder where he collided with me. He was frowning, evidently still trying to make sense of what had happened – alcohol no doubt dulling his already dull brain.

  ‘You came to see Adelle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the baby.’

  ‘Of course. What else?’

  ‘I see,’ he nodded. ‘Well, I’m here now, so there’s no need for you to stay.’

  ‘That, I think, is for your wife to say young man.’

  I looked expectantly at Adelle but to my dismay she seemed to acquiesce in her husband’s boorishness. In fact she seemed quite unperturbed by his behaviour – doubtless used to it. But he was right; there was no longer any need for my presence. Mother and baby were self-evidently well and to satisfy myself of which was my reason for coming – ostensibly at least.

  ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you, brother.’

  Raoul went to the door and opened it for me to leave. But I hadn’t quite finished with him yet.

  ‘Is that all the apology I get? Rest assured, sir, I shall be reporting all I have seen here today.’

  Bold words, but what would I report? That Raoul had been in the taverns, yes - but he had returned to find an uninvited guest in his wife’s bedchamber and proceeded to defend her honour. That was how it would appear. And I could just imagine Prior Herbert’s reaction. No, perhaps I had better leave now before any worse harm was done – to me as much as to anyone. But what of the other thing? At the door I took one last look round. There was nothing here. Whatever it was that had inspired my mother’s concern about these people was invisible to me. I was going to have to leave knowing no more than I did when I arrived.

  But then something did catch my eye. In the commotion I hadn’t really taken much notice of the maid. Her initial behaviour when I arrived had been a bit odd and now that I could see her more clearly she still looked troubled – shock from the violence of a few moments ago perhaps? Her eyes seemed transfixed upon the mother and not in that adoring way of women presented with a newborn baby, but with an intensity that frankly made me uncomfortable.

  ‘Are you all right, child?’ I said to her laying a hand on her shoulder.

  At my touch she jumped and turned to face me seeming to see me fully for the first time. I smiled encouragingly and thought she was about to speak but at that moment the baby cried and drew her attention away again. She clammed her mouth shut. I sensed something was wrong but had no idea what. I would have liked to quiz her more but Raoul was already pushing me out the door and a moment later I found myself out in the passageway with the door firmly shut in my face.

  Frustrated and confused, I stood on the landing outside the door fuming for a few moments trying to decide whether to knock again. I wanted to go back inside and demand to know their secret for I was sure now that they had one. Whatever my mother’s other failings she was no fool. If she took this much interest in something it was for a reason, and after that little performance I was inclined to agree with her. The problem was I knew not what questions to ask or even if I had the right to ask them. I stood staring at that closed door. It was no good. Reluctantly I started to descend the stairs.

  But maybe all was not yet quite lost for as I got to the bottom I heard footsteps behind me and I turned to see Effie rapidly descending the stairs after me:

  ‘Effie, my child,’ I said stepping smartly back to meet her. ‘Thank God! What is it? What’s wrong?’

  She was out of breath from her effort and took a moment to recover. ‘Brother…please…I must tell you…’

  ‘Ye
s yes,’ I encouraged with growing excitement. ‘I’m listening. Take your time.’

  I waited for her to catch her breath, but before she had a chance a voice echoed down the stone stairwell:

  ‘Effie, what are you doing?’

  The girl caught her breath and drew back into a corner.

  ‘Effie please!’ I whispered but she just shook her head, too petrified to speak as Raoul descended to our level still drunk but dangerous.

  Thinking quickly, I tried to make light of the moment. ‘Why thank you my child,’ I said taking a small crucifix from my robe and holding it aloft for Raoul to see. ‘I must have dropped it in the scuffle. Thank you for returning it to me - aha.’

  A weak excuse that fooled no-one, least of all Raoul. He gave a drunken lopsided smile and put his hand on the girl’s elbow. She flinched at his touch and I knew then as I knew nothing else that he would beat the girl as soon as they were behind closed doors again.

  ‘Effie,’ I begged, ‘if there’s something you want to tell me, say it now,’ but, terrified, she just shook her head. She had clammed up tight again just as she had in the bedchamber.

  ‘Very well,’ I said through gritted teeth, ‘but I will be looking out for you. Mark me well, I am a doctor and know my art. I will know if you are…harmed in any way.’ This last I said looking directly at Raoul.

  ‘Harmed?’ he sneered. ‘Why should she be harmed? Come along, Effie,’ he took her by the elbow. ‘Your mistress awaits you.’

  He started to pull her gently but firmly towards him and she went, albeit unwillingly, with him. I could do nothing to help her. I had to step aside and watch them slowly ascend the stairs.