“He can’t have abducted her. Why the hell would he do a thing like that? Is he after a ransom? I’ve had no note. And to keep her at that old mill? I don’t believe it! And what about Jankin?”
He was scathing, yet there was no other option but to check out the facts. His wife was missing. He had to follow every trail however slight. They would go to the mill and lie in wait for Baldwin when he put in an appearance before vespers.
“My own brother?” He gave Gilbert a hard glance. “If this turns out to be a pack of lies I’ll not find it so easy to forgive. Once yes, but twice? Never.”
Hildegard suggested taking some supporters. The guard was armed after all but Danby shook his head. “I’ve made enough of a fool of myself over this. I want to keep it quiet. If I can’t take on my own brother then so be it. But it won’t come to that.”
“What about the guard?” Hildegard insisted.
“I’m not helpless,” said Gilbert.
She decided to take her hounds.
* * *
Hildegard already knew that waiting for the prioress’s letter to arrive would be like waiting for an axe to fall.
And then at last, before they left for the mill, a courier hurried into the yard, confirmed her identity then thrust a sealed letter into her hands, and she knew this was it. She took the letter straight up to her chamber.
After the usual greetings the prioress came to the point:
By now it will be well known that you possess what some desire. My suggestion is that you do not conceal your whereabouts. When they come for it, as they shall, their identity will be revealed. Inform his Grace at once. He can then do as he thinks fit.
There were a few general wishes of a solicitous nature which cut no ice with Hildegard.
The prioress was instructing her to be a decoy.
When they come for it. And what was she to do when they did? Discuss the matter of the cross with them? Ask for payment? With a sword in her ribs?
She gazed in disbelief at the letter and read it twice more.
No word about what she was to tell the canons in Florence who had entrusted her with the cross if it fell into the wrong hands again.
No word about what she was to do if confronted by a band of rebels with nothing to lose and everything to gain by wresting it from her possession.
No word about what to do if it was Bolingbroke who had instigated the theft and was now trying to get the cross back in order to bolster his claim to the throne of England.
No word if it was the Earl of Douglas or even King Robert of Scotland himself who was after it.
No hint, of course, about a knight in black strolling at large round Danby’s yard apparently on the look-out for lead.
The prioress may suspect that it was no parochial theft. That there were people with power involved. But whoever they were they had no qualms about cold-blooded murder. The butchery of the rebel band swam before her eyes.
Placing the letter into the pocket in her sleeve she remained at the window until she saw Danby and Gilbert come out into the yard. There was a suspicious-looking bulge at Danby’s side, poorly concealed under his cloak, and Gilbert had a determined mien though not much else. She couldn’t see Danby wielding a sword and Gilbert wouldn’t frighten a flea.
Putting her own personal predicament to one side for the time being, she went outside to meet them.
* * *
Half an hour later the three of them, accompanied by the two hounds, Duchess and Bermonda, were approaching High Mill through the water meadows.
It had been as busy as ever in the town and as they came out of the passage into the street Hildegard had noticed that the henchman belonging to the smiling, broken-toothed knight had gone. Evidently they had decided it wasn’t worth burgling the glazier’s workshop after all. If, indeed, that had been their intention.
Farther down Stonegate the entertainers were doing brisk business and their assistants were taking the hat round with grinning faces. In among them all a familiar figure was rattling through his patter about love potions, but when he noticed Hildegard in the crowd his eyes widened and, taking in the sight of her two companions and the hounds, he broke off and stepped down from his stage with a nod to a bare-chested young man standing by holding a firebrand and what looked like a bottle of water.
Hildegard threw a glance over her shoulder and the mage read it aright, and from then on kept his distance. Behind him the young fire-eater had taken over his pitch and was already spitting flames into the air to the joy of his audience.
The mage followed all the way to the edge of the woods without being noticed by the two men and now, as they left the heat of the sun and entered the shade, he was still there, slipping along like a fleet shadow behind them.
Danby was getting cold feet already. “Besides,” he was saying, “we don’t have any reason to think she’s here, do we? Why should she be? We’re going to look right sot wits. It’ll be some deal he’s made. Stored goods, exempt from tax. Always been a bit of a rogue, my brother. I’d be the first to admit it.”
Gilbert said he wasn’t sure whether he hoped she was there or hoped she wasn’t. As for Jankin, where was he, poor devil? Nobody seemed to give a damn what had happened to him.
Danby shot a sidelong glance when they came to a halt to get their bearings in the confusing pathways of the thicket and said, “Don’t think I’m not worried about Jankin. Of course I am. But he’s not my wife. It’s a different thing altogether. And if he’s been taking advantage he deserves all he gets.”
Gilbert said nothing.
“Do we have a plan?” asked Hildegard.
“Yes,” replied Danby. “We lie low until Baldwin appears. When he’s gone inside we enter and demand to know what the hell’s going on. Then when he’s defended himself with an explanation we should have thought of ourselves, we all shake hands, hope he doesn’t bear a grudge and go home.”
He reminded Hildegard of Roger de Hutton. Except for Roger’s immense wealth they had a similar straightforward, some would say, naive belief in human nature and their own power to dictate matters.
They emerged at the edge of the clearing with the mill in front of them and, well-concealed, settled down to wait.
Somewhere in the thicket of hawthorns and flowering ash the mage was watching too. When a cuckoo started up close by it seemed to Hildegard to go on past all belief. The others, however, were intent on the mill and clearly thought nothing of it.
By the time the shadows had lengthened somewhat, casting the clearing into deeper gloom, it began to seem that, maybe, they were going to be disappointed and Baldwin was not going to show up after all. The guard was still sitting outside, however, and both she and Gilbert had to dissuade Danby from bursting forth, hailing him and demanding to know his business.
* * *
Time passed. The scene looked particularly desolate when they knew that outside the dark focus of their attention it was another hot afternoon, the meadow awash with families gathering for the festival, children still playing in the river to their heart’s content, excitement at the impending pageant palpable.
Hildegard contemplated the nature of the miller’s feelings when he lost his livelihood. The location must have added to his despair. The thickness of the trees kept out the sun. Even the hidden nature of the place, with the steep bank on the opposite side covered in rotting, moss-covered trees crumbling into the dark flow of the waters, must have been confirmation of the futility of hope.
Another bird, one Hildegard could not identify, started up a rapid warning note. It was enough to make her freeze. “I think someone’s coming,” she whispered.
The two men peered through the leaves onto the path. Sure enough, with no attempt to conceal his presence, Baldwin emerged from out of the bright greenery and came swaggering purposefully towards the mill. Danby seemed to hold his breath.
They watched in silence as he crossed the causeway. His henchman rose stiffly to his feet.
Baldwin’s voice floated l
oudly across the clearing. “All quiet?”
“Not a murmur.”
“Gisburne’s coming up later.” Baldwin strode over to the door, heaved up the wooden bar and went inside.
The three watchers hesitated for a moment.
Danby’s face was white. Then he muttered, “Let’s go and find out what the devil’s up to.”
He moved stealthily out of the thicket and began to make his way across the clearing. He was halfway over the causeway when the guard happened to glance up and catch sight of him. He stepped forward and drew his sword. Then, changing his mind, he turned back towards the mill.
Danby was surprisingly quick. He was across the causeway and had hurled himself onto the man’s back in a flash. He was a heavy weight and had the element of surprise. There was a brief struggle. Danby got his hand clamped over the man’s mouth to stop him shouting a warning and with his supple craftsman’s fingers managed to claw the guard’s hood over his face, half-suffocating him. Then with a boot in his back he jerked him off the causeway right into the swamp on one side. Dusting his hands he marched up to the door of the mill.
“Come on,” said Hildegard. With the hounds on a tight leash she ran with them towards the causeway. The guard was floundering about, up to his waist in sticky slime, his face covered in it, while he tried to keep his footing.
A word to Bermonda made the kennet crouch on the edge of the path with a threatening growl, teeth showing, claws stretched as a warning not to climb out.
By now Danby was inside the mill. Hildegard ran to the door. Gilbert came limping up behind her. “Are they here?” he demanded.
There was a shout from inside. Two struggling figures came rolling down a short wooden staircase and landed in a heaving mass of flying fists. First Danby was on top, banging his brother’s head against the wooden floor then Baldwin was uppermost doing likewise.
Gilbert limped forward and there was a flash of silver. Hildegard saw him wave a narrow blade near Baldwin’s face. “Tell me where they are, you bastard, or I’ll use this.”
Danby knelt over his brother, pinning him to the floor. “Is she upstairs?”
“I don’t know who you mean,” snarled Baldwin.
“Let me slit his throat if he’s not going to tell us.” Gilbert gripped Baldwin by the hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. A vein pulsed in his neck.
Danby stayed his hand. “Keep him here. I’m going up.”
Hildegard loosened Duchess’s chain. The lymer knew from long practice what to do. She loped over and opened her muzzle allowing it to close around Baldwin’s throat to keep him still.
Gilbert sat back on one heel with his lame leg twisted to one side but his stiletto still firmly grasped in one hand. He glanced up. A figure had appeared in the doorway.
“Is it to do with Dorelia?” It was the mage.
“Danby’s gone up to look for her,” Hildegard said.
The mage climbed the stairs two at a time on his long legs.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Gilbert.
“He knew Dorelia in Wakefield before she fell into Baldwin’s clutches.”
There was noise from upstairs. A whimpering sound followed. They could hear the two men softly murmuring. Then a cloud of feathers came billowing down from the floor above.
The mage emerged, covered in feathers and walking slowly backwards down the steps to guide someone descending. The hem of a sheet came into view. It was bloodstained, torn, with other stains on it. Then a bare foot appeared, feeling shakily for the treads of the stairs, one step at a time.
Eventually she stood before them. Dorelia.
Danby had followed step by step, scarcely touching her, as if she was too fragile for human contact.
She swayed on the point of collapse with the sheet held closely about her. Still beautiful, her face was paste white, her eyes dark with pain, and her hair fell in tangled tresses to her waist. She had bruises on her mouth and neck and now put out a hand as if she could not see. She took a step forward and stumbled.
The mage put an arm round her waist. “Dorelia. It’s me. John of Berwick. Your uncle’s friend.”
She put out a hand and her fingers searched for something they might recognise. “Berwick? How can it be? Is it really you?”
He took her hand and kissed the palm. “You’re safe now, precious girl. Here’s your husband. We’re all here. All friends. We’ve come to take you home.”
“I tried to run away. I went into the woods.… I got as far as the meadows and saw your little daughter, Edric, but she was frightened and daren’t help me.… Then Baldwin caught me. He … he brought me back.”
Gilbert struggled to his feet. He still held the knife. “Where’s Jankin?”
At his name Dorelia gave a cry and put her hands to her face and began to sob hysterically.
Gilbert took a painful step forward. “Ask her where he is!”
They had no need. She answered his question herself, pointing with a shaking hand towards the door.
“He’s out there!” she cried.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Supported by her husband and the mage, Dorelia took faltering steps towards the threshold. Before going into the open she hesitated. Both hands went to her eyes. “The light,” she whispered. “I can’t see! They kept me in the dark—” She began to sob.
“Where is he?” Danby asked gently. He glanced round the clearing as if looking for a mound of freshly dug earth.
“They tied him to the mill wheel.” Dorelia started to tremble. “He was still alive. They put his angel wings on him and found a way to turn the wheel. They made me watch. They tied my arms behind my back and made me watch. Oh, Edric…!”
Leaning heavily on the two men and shaking uncontrollably she allowed them to help her down onto the causeway and there came to a halt. She pointed towards the mill pond.
It was a bright green expanse covered with duckweed. It looked as solid as a clipped lawn. Gilbert got a stick from somewhere and reaching out parted the carpet of weed. They all came to the edge and looked down.
There, under the surface was an angel, feathered wings drifting in the eddies, the tendrils of bright hair furling and unfurling, skin an unearthly greenish gold stippled with shadows. His eyes were open.
The vision rose towards the light then sank again, finally disappearing from sight as the weed drifted back.
Gilbert stood up and let the stick fall from his grasp.
Nobody spoke.
Danby held Dorelia in his arms. The mage looked solemn. No one crossed themselves. In the woodland on the other side of the water, nature continued as joyful as in another country.
Hildegard went back inside the mill.
There were all kinds of broken things scattered around. Shards of pottery. A broken mill stone. Pieces of wood, their purpose long forgotten. What she was looking for was some rope and after a moment she found some. She went over to Baldwin who was lying in fear of his life under the focussed attention of the stag hound. As she was beginning to truss his arms, Gilbert came in. He bent down to help her. Neither of them exchanged a word.
Eventually when they were satisfied Baldwin could do no more harm they went outside. Danby said to them, “We’re trying to work out how to get her home. She can’t walk all that way.”
“Maybe the miller at Low Mill has a cart he can lend us?” Hildegard eyed the man trapped in the swamp. “And what about him?”
“Needs his throat cutting,” said Danby. “He knew all along what they were doing to her.”
“Leave that for the justices,” advised the mage. “You don’t want to bring more trouble on yourself. Dorelia’s going to need you.” He looked grim. “I’ll go back to the other mill and see what I can organise.” He strode off through the trees.
Hildegard and Gilbert sat down on the steps after they’d put the bar across the door just in case Baldwin found a way to untie his bonds. The other man they had trussed up in old rope and returned to the swamp
.
Gilbert shook his hair out of its tie and let it fall over his face. Above them, in the oval formed by the tops of the trees, the sky was an ever deepening shade of blue. A shaft of light penetrated the clearing between the boles of two oaks. It lasted only moments and then faded. The sun was going down.
At last Gilbert said in a muffled voice, “He was a bloody useless glazier. And he couldn’t act. Four lines he had to learn and he couldn’t even get them into his thick skull.”
* * *
The sound of people in the woods from the direction of Low Mill alerted them. Hildegard stood up. Danby said, “At last. Now we’ll get her home where she belongs.” He stepped forward.
Several men entered the clearing. It was still light enough to see that they had no cart with them. One of them came towards the causeway. It was Gisburne.
For a moment Danby stared at him. Then without a further thought he walked across, drawing his sword, but before he could use it Gisburne’s two henchmen pounced. They grabbed Danby by both arms. His sword fell into the grass.
Gilbert made a move but Hildegard put a hand on his arm. “They’ll strike you down. We’ll think of something else.”
Gisburne was laughing quietly and began to circle Danby. He looked mystified, however, and kept glancing at the mill. From the swamp Baldwin’s man gave a shout. “Get me out of here, Gisburne. I’m drowning in this stinking mud.”
Gisburne gave him a brief glance. “Learn to swim then.” He turned back to Danby. “Come to fetch her home, have you? Where’s Baldwin?”
“You’ll pay for this a thousand times over,” gritted Danby. “Kill me. I don’t care. But let her go. And the others. Only whatever you do, you’ll rot in hell. And that’s a fact.”
“A fact is it? Well, you’ll see how much I care when I slit your throat. But mebbe we’ll have a bit of fun first, eh, lads? What do you say?”
One of his men heard it as an invitation to give Danby a punch in the ribs. Dorelia reached out as if to put a stop to it then slid slowly to the ground. Hildegard bent over her. The girl had fainted.
Gisburne took out a lethal-looking knife from his belt and waved it in front of Danby’s face. “The eyes? No, not yet. I want you to see what comes next. The ears?” He grabbed one and twisted it. “No, I don’t think so. You’ll want to hear her screams. What about this?” He held Danby by the balls and squeezed. Danby gave an involuntary gasp but refused Gisburne the gratification of hearing him howl.
The Law of Angels Page 29