The Outlaw's Tale

by Margaret Frazer

  Frevisse looked across to her with alarm, then asked Magdalen, “Has she taken the medicine yet?"

  Magdalen shook her head. “I offered it a few minutes ago and she refused it. She says she wants her wits about her for a while, she's weary of sleeping." Her voice dropped. “And I haven't been able to see to Evan."

  “Merciful God," Frevisse breathed. They could not have Sister Emma awake for much longer. With seeming casualness she went to her and said, “Do you want to do Prime now?"

  “I think so. I've missed so many of the offices these past few days, it's a scandal."

  “I doubt Father Henry will demand penance for it. You've been ill."

  “I'm still ill," Sister Emma said with a trace of peevishness. She fretted at the covers. “I don't feel good at all."

  “Would you like your medicine?"

  “No. I told you, I'm tired of sleeping."

  She was definitely improving, if return to her usual single-mindedness was any sign.

  “Well, you probably know best," Frevisse said, but with a cast of doubt. She studied Sister Emma's face intently. “You're very pale now that your fever is gone. Are you sure you're better?"

  “I feel much better. Only a little achy. But that could be from so much time abed, don't you think?"

  “Very likely," Frevisse agreed, still allowing doubt to show in her voice. “Shall we do Prime now?"

  “I do think that will help me," Sister Emma said.

  They bowed their heads for the opening hymn, which was less impressive when recited in a swift undertone than when sung by many voices in the choir: “Jam lucis orto sidere, Deum precemur supplices, Ut in diurnis actibus Nos servet a nocentibus." Now in the sun's new dawning ray; Lowly of heart, our God we pray; That he from harm may keep us free; In all the deeds this day shall see.

  Frevisse, all too aware of how much responsibility she bore for what was happening and might happen today, prayed that with edged conscience.

  At the end of the office Emma was still looking very alert. But Frevisse, desperate, leaned over her as if concerned, and said, “You're so pale, as if all your strength has wasted out of you. I'm sure you need more rest than you think you do. Are you sure you don't want your medicine? To help you rest?"

  “Really, I..." Sister Emma began indignantly, but a coughing fit cut off her words and left her lying weakly against her pillows, breathless.

  Given that opportunity, Frevisse simply picked up the cup sitting on the bedside table, lifted Emma with one arm, and held the cup to her lips.

  Helpless from the coughing, Sister Emma drank. When she had finished, Frevisse settled her back against the pillows and patted her shoulder. “You'll feel better than you believe when you wake."

  Sister Emma sighed. “I do hope so. I really feel so foolish, being this ill. It was all that rain in the woods. I hated that. Drip, drip, drip, drip, all wet and cold."

  Her voice drifted on. They waited, and in a while she faded into silence, her eyelids flickering. They waited longer, and her breathing and face evened into sleep.

  “What else could we do?" Magdalen asked. But she was not interested in an answer, was already moving to roll the truckle bed out into the light again.

  Evan was awake, gray with weariness and pain, but he reached to clasp her hand in wordless reassurance that he was still there.

  His wound had not worsened in the night. When Magdalen eased off the bandages it was a clean line, ugly with raw edges but not discolored with infection yet. She washed it with wine, as she had before, and recovered it. “You have to lie as still as may be, to keep from opening it," she said, and kissed his forehead.

  His crooked face eased toward a smile. “Lying still is no trouble at all," he assured her.

  She fed him then, as much as she could persuade him to eat, from her breakfast and Bess'. When that was done and there was nothing left but the waiting, Evan took her hand and drew her down to sit on the floor beside the bed. They did not speak, but stayed there hand in hand. Frevisse, who had kept close to give Magdalen anything she might need, went to sit near the door, on the chance of anyone coming in, and tried to pray, but remained more aware of Magdalen and Evan and of every sound beyond the door.

  Nonetheless she started to her feet when a knock came, even took a step forward, then swung around to be sure Magdalen was having no trouble sliding the truckle bed away. Her hand on the latch to slow anyone trying to enter, she waited until Magdalen stood away from the bed, then composed her face and opened the door.

  Adam was standing to one side, irresolutely muttering, “Master said no one's to go in." Mistress Payne, directly in the doorway, ignored him – though there was uncertainty in very line of her face and body as she wrung her hands, fighting the gesture even as she did it – as she said to Frevisse, “Oliver has said we're to leave Magdalen alone until this is all finished, but I have to see Sister Emma, see how she is."

  She sounded as if she expected to be sent away on the instant, but from across the room Magdalen said warmly, “Iseult, come in," and held out her arms.

  Relieved to be welcomed, and with a quelling glance at Adam, Mistress Payne came to her. They embraced and then, still holding Magdalen, she leaned back to look up into her face as Frevisse went to stand quietly out of the way, between Iseult and the bed.

  “I've begged Oliver to show you mercy but there's nothing he wants to hear," Mistress Payne said. “He's furious. You've been meeting this man for a long while, haven't you?"

  “You knew?" Magdalen asked.

  “I... thought there was... someone." Her sister-in-law moved away from her nervously. “I... hoped there was someone. But I never thought... Oh, Magdalen, a peddler? You couldn't find anyone else to love but a peddler? Are you that unhappy here?"

  Magdalen went after her to put her arms around her again. “I've never been unhappy here! That wasn't it. I wasn't looking to be in love. But it happened and there's nothing about him that I'm ashamed of. Nor anything we've done that I would hide from Oliver, except I know he's someone Oliver will never accept."

  Gravely Mistress Payne said, “How can any of us accept him, Magdalen? He's a murderer."

  Magdalen lifted her head defiantly. “That isn't proven, he's only accused, and it isn't true."

  “Then why won't he come out of hiding? Surely he must know he's wanted. The hue and cry has gone all around."

  “What he knows is that Oliver is in a rage against him. No, better he stay free, whatever comes of it. And even if I never see him again, that's enough for me. To know he's safe."

  "Oh, Magdalen!" Mistress Payne cried out as if she were about to weep in distress at so much defiance.

  Magdalen put her arms around her again and said penitantly, “I'm sorry, Iseult. I'm so sorry. For all of this."

  They held each other a little, and then Mistress Payne drew back from her. “But I told Adam I had come to see how Sister Emma did. She's sleeping?"

  “Her fever broke at dawn," Frevisse said. “She drank a little, and has slept and been awake and slept again since then."

  Mistress Payne went to touch Sister Emma's forehead and feel her pulse. “She's cool enough," she agreed. “But her pulse worries me. Her blood seems to be moving sluggardly. Perhaps she should be bled."

  “Perhaps," Frevisse agreed. “But I'd rather wait until this evening to decide. Rather than do it too soon?" She did not know how devoted Mistress Payne was to bleeding, or how much opposition she dared make to the suggestion.

  After a moment's pause Mistress Payne nodded agreement. “But ask for anything you need," she said, and turned back to Magdalen with what was clearly more on her mind. “Please be careful if Oliver sends to talk to you. Don't anger him more. Don't say anything you don't need to. Please."

  Magdalen managed a smile. “I won't do any more than I can help. I don't want Oliver angry, truly."

  Mistress Payne met her smile tremulously, wanting to be comforted, then nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
/>   Magdalen drew a deep breath like a trembling cry and buried her face in her hands. “She may come to hate me for what I'm doing! I said what she needed to hear, but there's nothing I won't do to save Evan!"

  Frevisse, more aware than ever of the tangled ruin they could be making of everyone's lives - and that it would never have gone this far without her help - could find nothing to answer that. And Magdalen was neither child nor fool; she knew as well as Frevisse what could come of all of this. Magdalen raised her head and with no other word went to bring Evan into the light again.

  She had just finished when the door opened. Magdalen straightened with a wordless cry and Frevisse swung around so sharply that Bess froze in the doorway, frightened by both of them.

  “It's only me!" she said; then was aware of Adam at her back and came the rest of the way into the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Frevisse and Magdalen relaxed.

  “Did you do it?" Magdalen demanded.

  “Easily," Bess said. She went with Frevisse across the room to the bed so she could talk with her voice low before going on, breathless with excitment. “Old Nick wasn't at the Wheatsheaf, but Cullum was."

  “Cullum?" Magdalen asked.

  “He's one of us," Evan said. “One of the better ones. You gave him the letter and all?"

  “Yes. I told him it must reach Nicholas. He said he'd do it. He left when I left."

  “Cullum can be depended on," Evan said. “He'll take it to Nicholas right enough." His hand tightened around Magdalen's. “Maybe by tonight this will be over."

  “By tonight," Magdalen said, as if to make it a promise.

  But Frevisse knew there was much more than Evan’s escape: There was the pardon as well as her own return to the priory still to be arranged and explained. But these troubles she did not share.

  * * * * *

  Dinner came and she went down to it to hear the talk, but there was very little. Oliver, keeping to the house in expectation of the sheriff and crowner, was silent with a tension that had reached out to quell even his younger children now. The servants, aware of their master's mood, ate quickly, to have the meal over with and be away.

  When Frevisse returned to Magdalen's room, Sister Emma was still deeply asleep and Evan was drowsing, eased to it by Magdalen stroking his brow. His fever was still slight, and he woke gently a while later. Magdalen checked the wound then. There was still no sign of infection.

  Now there was only the afternoon to be survived.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nicholas looked at the papers in his lap and then up at Cullem standing over him. “How did you come by these?"

  Cullem, in the slow, definite way he gave to explanations, repeated what he had just said.

  Appreciative laughter spread over Nicholas' face. “My cousin-dear is twice as smart as is good for her. So Evan's slipped into trouble at last, has he? And for a woman, too." Nicholas laughed outright. “Tucked away in Payne's sister's bedroom! He'll be doing all right."

  “He's hurt," Cullum said. “That's what the wench told me. And that you must needs hurry."

  Nicholas looked past him to the rain runneling from the edges of the canvas. “I'd not mind another stint in Payne's parlor. Nor to see the look on his face when I tell him I want my man out of his sister's bedroom and no trouble about it because I can put him in deeper than he can put me." Nicholas grinned.

  “Maybe you'd best hurry then," Cullum said. “There's hue and cry up for Evan, and it won't go well for him if he's taken."

  “Hue and cry for what?"

  “For the franklin's murder."

  “Evan?" Nicholas found that idea amusing, too. “He's been more busy than I thought, wooing Payne's sister, slaughtering franklins."

  “He wouldn't kill anyone," Cullum said disgustedly. “Not Evan. But he's in bad trouble. You'd best help him soon, the wench said."

  Nicholas waved him away with a casual hand. “He's sweetly placed. Let's see what my loving cousin has sent."

  The account roll and letter had suffered in being carried first under Bess' apron and then inside Cullem's shirt but they had stayed dry. Nicholas was somewhat out of practice with his reading. He put the letter aside for the less thickly written and undoubtedly more interesting record of his money. As he worked his way through the first entries, written in Payne's clear hand, he chuckled, remembering one take and another as he read the list.

  Cullum, impatient with standing, asked, “Shall I tell the men to ready? Are we going for Evan?"

  Nicholas, intent on making out Payne’s entries, jerked a hand at him. “In a while. I say when." Though maybe it would be simpler to let Evan be caught and hung for Colfoot’s murder. Then there would be no hunt for anyone else. But that would deny himself the pleasure of confronting Payne over the matter, and there were few pleasures sweeter than having the upper hand. Nicholas doubted he could deny himself the sport of twisting Payne to his own ends.

  Cullum shrugged and went away to where most of the men had built up the fire under a canvas and were trying to roast two small pigeons for their inadequate dinnner.

  Intent on seeing how high his profits had grown by now, Nicholas went to the second page. As he worked his way down it, it gradually came to him that what he was reading did not agree with what Payne had been telling him. There was something wrong and only slowly did he puzzle it out, so that not until the third time through did he realize the words said exactly what they seemed to say. That Payne had been lying to him. That Payne had been losing his money.

  In a rage he did not try to control, Nicholas rose to his feet, crammed the pages into the front of his doublet and, heedless of the rain, went out yelling, “Someone bring me the horse, and bring it now!"

  * * * * *

  Sister Emma slept on. Evan drowsed and wakened through the unending afternoon with Magdalen always beside him. Occasionally they spoke together in low voices but mostly were like Frevisse and Bess, silent in their waiting. Bess tried to sew but it was only pretence. Frevisse sat praying as much as she could, and willing Nicholas to come soon.

  They heard Jack come to replace Adam on watch, and the children at play in the hall downstairs, and once the cook's voice raised in wrath at something in the kitchen. But no one came to the room itself. They were left alone, and as the afternoon went on they sank into a kind of numb enduring, so that none of them were ready for a rush of children's feet on the stairs and a small girl's cheerful scream outside the door and Jack's laughter. Frevisse, Magdalen, and Bess all came to their feet on the instant, but no one was near enough to catch the door as small Kate flung into the room, red-faced with laughter and running. “He's after me!" she shrieked. “He's after me!"

  “Kate!" Bess exclaimed and tried to intercept her. But Kate dodged past her and into Magdalen's arms, crying “Save me!" as Magdalen stepped between her and Evan. Frevisse caught Bartholomew at the door as he charged in, and Magdalen caught Kate up and swung her around, back away toward the door. But Kate craned her head past her aunt's shoulder and exclaimed, “There's a man there!"

  “No!" Magdalen cried.

  “There is!" Kate insisted. And from Frevisse's hold, Bartholomew yelled, without being able to see at all but glad of a new game, “The murderer! The murderer! Aunt Magdalen's caught the murderer!"

  “Out!" Magdalen cried. “Get out!" All her gentleness gone, she set Kate down hard and pushed her at the doorway. “Go away!"

  Confused by the anger breaking over her, Kate retreated. Frevisse grabbed her by the arm, and with Bartholomew in one hand and Kate in the other, swung them both toward the doorway and Jack coming in.

  “Here!" Frevisse ordered, shoving them into his hands. “Take them out of here!"

  Suddenly encumbered with two small children, Jack caught hold of them but was looking past her into the room. “They said..."

  “Out!" Frevisse snapped at him.

  “There's a man over there!" Kate cried excitedly. “I saw him!"

  “I saw h
im, too," Bartholomew joined in.

  “You didn't!" Magdalen cried back at them. But the sob in her voice betrayed what was already lost. Jack, dragging the children backward with him out of the room, was already yelling over his shoulder for help and everyone to come.

  Bess, terror-stricken, retreated to the farthest corner of the room, hands over her face to hide herself. Magdalen moved to shut the door, then knew the hopelessness of that and turned back to Evan. Frevisse stayed where she was, between them and whoever would come.

  Sir Perys first, with Edward and Richard behind him; they must have been at their studies in the next room. “Stay back!" Frevisse warned. There was nothing with which she could threaten them, but Sir Perys went backward a step, taking the boys with him; and then Jack, still yelling down the stairs, pushed the children toward Edward, nearest to him, and Edward took them.

  Richard, neither easily threatened or charged with children, demanded, “What is it? Is there someone in there?"

  “The murderer!" Bartholomew exclaimed, enjoying himself immensely. “He was trying to kill Aunt Magdalen and we stopped him!"

  “Shut up!" Edward said fiercely, shaking him. “Shut up!"

  And then everyone was there, in a rush up the stairs and from the solar. Iseult, caught in the middle of it with Katherine hanging frightened on her skirt, cried out to know what was happening but went unheeded in the babble of her servants and the other children. Only Edward, bundling the children away into someone else's hold, kept his head. He pushed past Sir Perys and blocked the doorway, letting no one past. There he and Frevisse faced each other, with no words now, only their tense realization that neither of them could stop what was happening. In that moment, face to face with him, Frevisse saw the man that he could grow to be: Controlled and strong and understanding more than he would ever say.