Music of the Distant Stars

SIXTEEN

Hrype straightened up and said, in a tone that seemed to reject any contradiction, ‘I shall go and tell Sir Alain what has happened.’

Edild and I looked at each other. In her eyes I read compassion, and she waited for me to say what I’m sure both of us were thinking. ‘But we can’t!’ I whispered urgently. ‘If Zarina did this, he’ll take her off to be penned up in some horrible cell and she’ll be tried and they’ll hang her, and Haward really loves her, it’ll break his heart and he’ll never find anyone else!’

The flow of words left me exhausted. I found I was crying, tears rolling steadily down my face.

Hrype said, very gently and kindly, ‘I understand how you feel, Lassair. But listen to what I say: for one thing, it is not at all certain that Zarina had anything to do with her brother’s death. Sir Alain does not strike me as a man to make a hasty judgement, and I-’

‘He fathered Ida’s baby!’ I hissed, trying and failing to whisper and shout at the same time.

‘You don’t know that!’ Hrype flashed back. ‘All we can be certain of is that he visited Lady Claude at Heathlands during the period when Ida became pregnant.’

He was right. I had to admit it, despite my own certainty. Glumly, I said, ‘What was the other thing?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You said, for one thing. That implies there’s something else.’

He gave a swift, bleak smile. ‘Indeed there is, although you, passionate defender of what is right that you are, will not like it.’

‘Tell me anyway.’ I felt so weary, so tired with all the emotion, that I could hardly bring myself to care very much.

He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Lassair, it is impossible for us to dispose of Derman’s body in secret. This is a small village full of people all too ready to discuss and dissect their neighbours’ business, usually making wildly inaccurate and damning assumptions along the way. We were very lucky to bear him back to this house without anyone seeing us, and I do feel very strongly that we should not take that for granted.’ He paused. I had a fair idea of what he was going to say, but did not interrupt. ‘Everyone knows Derman went missing; many of the men of the village have been out searching for him.’ That gave me an idea but, again, I kept silent.

‘We could, I suppose, try to bury Derman’s body by night in some out of the way place and keep up the pretence that he never came back,’ Hrype went on. ‘That way, we would make quite sure that no suspicion will ever fall on Zarina and Haward.’ This time I couldn’t prevent my gasp of horror, but he held my eyes and I did not speak. ‘But think, dear child, think what would happen when our deception was discovered, as it would almost certainly be!’ He grasped me by the shoulders, his face so close to mine that I read the strength of his feelings.

I thought. I saw in my mind the four of us — Hrype, Sibert, Edild and me — sneaking out of the village on a moonless night bearing a large, heavy body in a blanket. I saw us walking for miles, right away from Aelf Fen. I saw us work through the hours of darkness to dig a deep hole and bury the body. I saw us return. Then I saw a band of men out searching for a fugitive, and I saw them discover the recently-disturbed earth. Derman had lived in Aelf Fen, and so they would come here looking for those who had killed and buried him.

I said, although I think I knew it was hopeless, ‘Wouldn’t Sir Alain and his officers assume that some of the village men had killed Derman? Enough of them have been threatening what they’d do to him if he ever turned up, and-’

Slowly, Hrype shook his head. ‘That would not be right, Lassair. We must not point blame where there is no blame.’

I remembered what had suddenly occurred to me a moment ago. ‘But it might be exactly what did happen!’ I protested.

He studied me. ‘Do you really think so?’

I thought. I thought for some time, trying to persuade myself. Eventually, I shook my head. This was, I felt quite sure, an intimate crime; Derman’s killer was far more tightly enmeshed in his life than a handful of angry villagers. Anyway, I had noticed that, as the tally of days since Ida’s death and Derman’s disappearance increased, so the number of voices baying for justice steadily lessened. People are fickle, really, their attention quickly diverted. We in Aelf Fen live hard lives, and it was understandable that private concerns should have slowly and surely overcome the brief excitement of a murder in our midst.

‘If we covered up Derman’s murder and tried to hide his body,’ Hrype said quietly, ‘we would never be sure that we had not been observed. We would wait, all four of us, for the tap on the door that brought the force of the law to us and our loved ones. We would already be guilty of covering up a murder and hiding a body. How quickly, do you think, would other accusations fly to stick to us?’

He was quite right. I thought of Zarina, of Haward. If we did as I wanted and tried to hide what had happened, the suspicion I wanted so badly to divert from the two of them would land square on their heads. They would suffer, my parents would suffer, and so would my siblings. Oh, and what about Froya? If Hrype and Sibert were dragged off in chains, what on earth would happen to her?

I felt myself slump as the fight went out of me. ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Go and find Sir Alain.’

Hrype did not waste another moment. On his feet in the blink of an eye, he paused to rest a hand briefly on Edild’s shoulder and was gone.

Sibert rose, more slowly and reluctantly. ‘I’d better go home to my mother,’ he said wearily. ‘She’ll be worrying.’

That was an understatement. As he passed me I whispered, ‘Good luck,’ and he gave a quick quirk of a smile.

Alone either side of dead Derman, Edild and I looked at each other. She reached out for the blanket and draped it over the body. ‘I will wait with him,’ she said, tucking in the folds of the heavy material as if soothing a sleeping baby. ‘Go where your heart is, Lassair.’

For a moment I thought she was referring to my Norman. My Rollo. He had been much in my mind that morning, and I had wished I had his strength and resourcefulness to help and support me. But quickly I realized that Edild meant my brother.

‘Send for me if you have need of me,’ I said as I, too, got up.

She looked up and smiled. ‘I will.’

The scene into which I entered when I reached my parents’ home was touchingly tender. My father stood just inside the door as if to proclaim his right to defend his loved ones. My two younger brothers sat beside the hearth, Squeak looking belligerent, little Leir puzzled. Zarina sat on Haward’s bed with Haward on one side and my mother on the other. Each held one of her hands, although she had to keep detaching one or other of them to dry her tears.

I stared at Zarina, willing her to meet my eyes. After a moment she raised her head and looked at me. ‘You went to the island before dawn, didn’t you, Zarina?’ She made no response. ‘Haward followed you, searching for you, and he met you coming back. You were weeping.’

Still she did not reply. My mother tightened her hold on Zarina’s hand and glared at me, although I couldn’t help noticing that Haward did not — could not? — meet my eyes. My father, picking up on the sudden tension, came to stand beside me. ‘What are you suggesting, Lassair?’ His tone was guarded. My dear father is a very fair man. He is deeply protective of those he loves, yet always insistent that we must look for the truth. .

I turned to him quickly, trying to reassure him, then back to Zarina. ‘You claim you didn’t see Derman, yet when Haward got to the causeway not long afterwards, he spotted the body straight away. Didn’t you, Haward?’

My brother looked so wretched that I hated myself for what I was doing. But I had to know! He looked at Zarina, then at me. ‘It was only j-just light when I got there,’ he hedged. ‘Zarina could easily have f-f-failed to-’ Honesty fought with loyalty. Loyalty won. ‘She w-wouldn’t have s-s-seen him down in the w-water while it was still dark,’ he said firmly.

Oh, Haward. ‘She had gone specifically to look for him,’ I said. ‘There is starlight and usually moonlight except on a cloudy night, and last night was clear.’

I did not need to say more. I found it inconceivable that Zarina would not have noticed what Haward so clearly saw not long afterwards. Looking at her, I said, ‘Zarina, why did you lie?’

My mother cried out in protest, but Zarina, turning to her, whispered something and gently touched her cheek. Looking back at me, she said simply, ‘Because everyone knows I couldn’t marry Haward all the time there was Derman. Of all people, I had the motive to kill him.’ Her eyes filled with tears again. ‘I cared deeply for him, like I’d have cared for a child wholly dependent on me. He saved my life. I would not have hurt him.’ She turned to Haward. ‘I would have given you up, for all that I love you, rather than harm Derman.’ Then she threw her arms round my brother’s neck, pressed herself to him and sobbed as if her poor heart would never heal.

My mother looked up at me with a curt nod as if to say, There’s your answer!

I wanted to believe Zarina. I knew she loved my brother. In addition, she had sounded very plausible when she had spoken of her own brother. Yet there was something. . I knew we had not got to the bottom of this.

‘You’d better get your story ready,’ I said unkindly. I was angry, with her, with myself, and it spilled over into my speech. ‘Hrype’s gone to inform Sir Alain de Villequier that Derman’s been found dead.’

Nobody protested. Perhaps they were all so much worldlier than me that none of them had even contemplated my silly idea of concealing Derman’s murder and hiding his body.

My father said with dignity, ‘We shall be ready.’ He glanced at Zarina, a worried frown making deep creases in his forehead. ‘I think,’ he went on, ‘we had better tell the truth and say that you did see him in the water.’

Zarina’s head shot up, and the shock made her face go white. ‘No.’ Then, quickly: ‘They will not believe that I didn’t kill him. They’ll say I needed him out of the way and that I-’

I went to kneel in front of her. ‘They won’t believe you if you say you didn’t see him, Zarina,’ I said gently. ‘None of us really did, and we’re on your side.’

She looked wildly round at my father, my brothers, my mother, and finally at Haward. She said in a pathetic little voice, ‘Didn’t you?’ and slowly they all shook their heads.

I thought she’d be furious. Instead, an expression of such intense love spread over her face that I, too, felt like crying. ‘And you still took me in and looked after me, even though I’d lied to you,’ she said wonderingly.

My father said, ‘That’s what families do.’

There didn’t seem anything else to add.

I left them soon after that. I would have to speak privately to Zarina some time soon; the conviction that she was still hiding something just would not go away, and I cared far too deeply for my brother’s happiness to ignore it. With Derman dead, there was no longer any impediment to the marriage. Always assuming, that was, they didn’t come along and arrest Zarina for murder.

Had she killed her brother? No, came the answer, but it was tentative, and I wished I could have been certain.

I wandered back aimlessly through the village towards Edild’s house. As I approached the path up to it, I remembered what I had intended to do today: I had promised to pay another visit to Lady Claude. I had my satchel with me — I rarely go anywhere without it — and so I changed direction and headed on along the track out of the village towards Lakehall.

I was ushered into Lady Emma’s presence with such urgency that my immediate thought was she herself was unwell. Unfastening my satchel even as I hurried towards her, she saw my anxiety in my face and said quickly, ‘No, Lassair! I am well, thank the dear Lord, and — ’ she lowered her voice to a whisper — ‘the baby thrives.’

‘I am relieved to hear it, my lady.’ I tried to catch my breath. Bermund had been standing by the gate as if he had been waiting for me; he had grabbed my arm and made me move so fast that my feet had hardly touched the ground. Now I realized why. ‘You sent for me.’ It was not a question, for I knew she had.

‘I did.’ She frowned, looking puzzled. ‘You arrived very quickly, I must say.’

I smiled. ‘I was on my way here already, Lady Emma. I have another patient here besides you and, when I came to see her three days ago, she was not in her room.’

‘Of course,’ Lady Emma murmured. ‘Well, Lassair, it is indeed on Lady Claude’s behalf that I summoned you.’

‘She is unwell?’ In my head I ran through the symptoms she had complained of when I’d first seen her, recalling the remedies I had suggested and the doses I had prescribed.

Lady Emma put her head close to mine, although the only other people in the hall were a group of servants too far away to overhear. ‘She is anxious about the coming wedding,’ she whispered, ‘and, indeed, she was already tense and nervous on her arrival here a month ago. Then poor dear Ida died, for which Claude blames herself since it was she who brought Ida here.’

‘No blame can attach to her for that!’ I exclaimed. ‘The servant goes where the mistress bids.’ I imagined — although I did not say so — that, while Lady Claude might have been a hard taskmistress, nevertheless Ida would have been the first to appreciate that she could have done a lot worse. In an uncertain age when starvation was always lying in wait for most of us, a good job where the work was not too arduous and, above all, was indoors, was not to be sniffed at.

‘Yes, yes,’ Lady Emma was saying, ‘and both Lord Gilbert and I have repeatedly said as much to Claude.’ Her frown returned, deepening. ‘Now this morning we hear the dreadful news of the death of the simpleton. We tried to keep it from Lady Claude, but unfortunately she was entering the hall as Sir Alain was told the news.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Poor Claude begins to speak of this being an accursed place — ’ she looked slightly indignant, as indeed she might — ‘and I do fear, having listened to her wild talk, that her very reason is threatened by these foul deeds.’

I would not have been at all surprised. My impression of Lady Claude was of a driven woman, fierce in her desire to do her duty, intolerant of sin and of sinners. I sensed that there was something. . not quite right about her, was the best way I could describe it to myself. Well, the poor soul had been thwarted of her vocation. Perhaps this reaction to the horrors she perceived around her was a symptom of a woman in torment.

‘Shall I go to her?’ I suggested. Lady Emma clearly meant well, for hadn’t she just sent for me? However, there was little good I could do for Lady Claude standing there chatting in the hall.

‘Of course, of course!’ She shook her head at her own thoughtlessness and, gathering up her skirts, hurried away, with me on her heels. We left the hall, went along the passage and up the steps to Lady Claude’s room, where Lady Emma tapped gently, listened for a moment and then carefully opened the door.

I followed her into the room. Lady Claude sat straight-backed on a stool, dressed as before in black, the stiff white linen framing her face covered by a long black veil. She looked more nunlike that ever. Her face was deadly pale, her mouth was a small, tight line, and her eyes were dull: the grey semicircles beneath them seemed to extend halfway down her cheeks. There was a young woman attending her — one of Lady Emma’s maidservants — and, with an imperious wave of her hand, Lady Claude dismissed her. ‘Go,’ she said. ‘The healer is here now.’

The maid scuttled out. I caught sight of her face as she passed me. She was young, not much more than twelve or thirteen, and it was clear from her expression that she couldn’t wait to get away.

Studying Lady Claude, I didn’t blame her.

Lady Emma bent over her guest. ‘Would you like me to stay, Claude dear?’ she asked.

Claude shook her head.

Lady Emma followed the maid out of the room, and I sensed it was only her good manners that stopped her relief from being equally visible.

I approached my patient. I knew how much pain she was in, and I was already calculating potions and proportions. ‘I will give you a mixture for your headache,’ I said, keeping my voice low and even. I have often heard skilled grooms soothing restless horses, and I sometimes think a healer speaks in much the same tone.

Lady Claude looked up at me. I read horror in her eyes, and I wondered how I could best reassure her. It was an interesting phenomenon, I thought absently, how her distress at the death of her seamstress and, now, of some man she didn’t even know, had somehow got tangled up with the abrupt end of her hopes of being a nun and her fears concerning her impending marriage, knotting her up so tensely that the searing pain in her head was the result. I realized that her life just then must be all but unendurable. Edild and I often talk all evening about the human mind. All we ever resolve is that its mysteries are so far beyond us that the solution might as well be hidden away on the furthest star.

My present task, however, was not to speculate on the workings of the mind, but to alleviate my patient’s agony. Quickly, I set up the tools of my trade on a small side table placed against the wall, going over in my mind what else I needed. I put my head out of the door and, seeing Bermund hovering in the passage below, asked him to send up both the hot water I would need for mixing certain ingredients and also some very cold water, with which to make a compress for Lady Claude’s head.

While I waited, I suggested she lie down on her bed. To my surprise, she agreed. I helped her, for she staggered as she stood up, and took her hands. They were icy-cold and shaking. I supported her while she lay down, then covered her with a soft woollen blanket. As I straightened up from my ministrations, my eye caught something different in the room; something that I knew had not been there on my previous visit.

Behind the wooden bed head a small square of embroidery had been pinned to the wall. I peered closer; Lady Claude had closed her eyes, probably from the relief of lying down, and would, I hoped, not notice my curiosity.

I thought at first that it was another in the Seven Deadly Sins series, for some of the figures were recognizably similar: Lust in her scarlet gown, Wrath with his furious, cruel face. Then I noticed that the intricate, beautifully-worked border was made up of tiny letters. Concentrating hard, I began to make them out, and then I knew the subject of this little piece that Lady Claude had chosen to hang over her bed. She had embroidered the Ten Commandments.

My first reaction was a stab of pity for Sir Alain, who was to take as wife this peculiar, fanatical, devout woman. My second thought was that the pity surely belonged rather to Lady Claude.

The hot and cold water arrived, brought by a manservant under the watchful eye of Bermund. I needed privacy now. I thanked the servant, nodded to Bermund and, as they left, firmly closed the door. Then immediately I bent to my task.

We call the extraordinary substance that leaks out of the white poppy lachrima papaveris, for it does indeed resemble the poppy’s tears. It can be found in our country, although it is rare, with nowhere near the spread of its cousin the red poppy. Only the white poppy will do in cases such as the one I now tackled, and healers generally conserve their supplies of its tears jealously, for it is costly and hard to come by. I mentioned this once to Hrype, and he went off into a sort of trance and told me an extraordinary tale, of traders from the east who brought with them out of the mysterious lands there great blocks of a magical substance that took away pain, brought beautiful dreams and, if taken to excess, brought about a sleep from which you didn’t wake up. Edild, when I told her, sniffed and warned me never to experiment with this miraculous substance, although she refused to say why. Pressed, she merely said that repeated use would give me diarrhoea so badly that I would not dare to venture more than five steps from the jakes.

That was back in my early days as a healer, before I understood that one of our basic rules is that we never use our precious materials for anything but the desire to heal. That was what I was doing now: with careful hands I prepared the raw drug, then mixed it in hot water with a little honey to sweeten it and took the cup to my patient. Hardly aware now — I sensed her pain from two paces away — she obediently swallowed the drink and slumped back on her pillows.

The poppy juice itself induces sleep, but I added one or two other ingredients that take effect more swiftly. Lady Claude needed rest; I fervently hoped I had just given it to her.

I stood by her side for a while, watching the steady rise and fall of her narrow chest. I wondered, looking at her, if she had bound her breasts or was naturally flat. Her waist was insignificant, her hips angular and jutting under the soft, silky folds of her black gown. I eased the veil away from her headdress, careful to stick the pins that had secured it into the little pincushion by the bed. Then, gently turning her head, I undid the ties that held the stiff white wimple in place and removed it. She would sleep more peacefully without it. I noticed how tightly she had fastened it; no wonder the poor woman had a headache.

Her light-brown hair was greasy and smelled slightly unpleasant; the odour was a little like rancid lamb fat. I fetched a bottle of blended lavender and rosemary oils from my satchel and, mixing some in the hot water — still warm — I shook some drops on my hands and spread the liquid through the thin hair. Lady Claude stirred in her sleep, and I thought I saw a fleeting smile on her narrow mouth.

I retreated to the stool and sat down. I would watch over her a little longer, then leave her sleeping. I could soon be back if I was needed; Lady Emma knew where to find me.

A deep peace descended. The chamber was pleasantly cool, and I felt myself drifting into a doze. I shook myself — it would never do for Lady Emma, or even worse, Bermund, to discover the healer as deeply asleep as her patient. I stood up, quietly gathered my bottles, jars and potions together and slipped out of the room.