After what seemed an age, at last we reached the short track that led up to Lakehall. I wondered if we would encounter Lady Rosaria. I hoped not; I wasn’t eager to see her again. Hurrying to draw level with Jack, I asked, ‘Was Lady Rosaria present in Lord Gilbert’s hall when you left?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I asked after her, and I was told that she’s keeping to her room.’ He turned to Edild. ‘The wet-nurse who you found has brought the baby up to Lakehall, and the three of them have shut themselves away together.’
I was relieved to hear it. It sounded as if Lady Rosaria was starting to act like a mother at last. I should have been more charitable towards her, I thought. I’d suspected from the first that she’d suffered some awful experience, and was still in a state of shock. That could easily account for her apparent indifference towards Leafric. She was safely ensconced now with people of her own station; people who had promised to do their best to help her find her kinsmen. It was only natural she’d begin to feel better. To remember, perhaps, that she had a child who needed her.
Cheered by the thought – I’d become very fond of Leafric – I hurried after Jack and Edild.
We went in through Lakehall’s open gates, and Jack strode on across the yard and up the steps to the great door. Edild’s and my boots, I noticed with horror, were now as muddy as Jack’s, although we’d had the foresight to tuck up our gowns and keep them relatively clean. I turned in dismay to my aunt. ‘We’re going to make the hall filthy!’ I whispered. ‘Should we not take our boots off?’
Jack overheard. Turning, he said, ‘You are here at Lord Gilbert’s request, because he has need of you. Don’t worry about dirtying his floor.’ There was, I reflected, not for the first time, something very fair-minded about Jack Chevestrier. Then, with a grin, he added, ‘Besides, the damage has already been done.’
I followed Edild up the steps.
Lord Gilbert and Lady Emma were waiting for us. There was no sign of their children, and I guessed they’d been packed off somewhere with their nursemaid, well out of earshot. What we were about to discuss wasn’t really fit for young ears.
Lord Gilbert greeted Edild and me, murmuring his thanks for our prompt arrival, and Edild acknowledged him with a graceful inclination of her head. Then he turned to Jack, instantly engaging him in conversation, and, from the way he addressed him, I realized something.
I hadn’t been present the previous day, when the two men first met; Leafric’s abrupt onset of yelling had seen to that. I had therefore missed the chance of observing Lord Gilbert’s reaction to having Jack Chevestrier turn up in his hall. Now, as I could plainly see, it must have been a favourable one. From the way Lord Gilbert was treating him, it was clear he both knew of his reputation and, on meeting him, had liked him. Also, there was little in Lord Gilbert’s manner to suggest Jack was some lowly underling well below his notice. On the contrary, Lord Gilbert was listening to him attentively, giving him the respect that only a senior lawman would warrant.
Lord Gilbert, as I’ve said before, is fat and indolent, content to leave much of the running of his manor to his intelligent and capable wife and his efficient reeve. However, he is still a lord; if he judges a man worthy of respect, then that is something to bear in mind.
‘We have, as you suggested, Jack, dispatched four men with a cart to collect the body,’ Lord Gilbert was saying. He glanced towards the door. ‘They should be back soon, although conditions will probably mean the journey takes longer than normal.’
‘We must prepare a cool place to receive the body,’ Edild said calmly.
‘Cool?’ For a moment Lord Gilbert looked puzzled, then, with a grimace, he nodded. ‘Yes, I see.’ He turned to Lady Emma, his expression suggesting he was at a loss.
‘The undercroft, I think,’ she said, exchanging a glance with Edild. ‘We should be able to avoid going down there for a few days, and the door is stout.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ Edild said. ‘I have brought sweet herbs to burn. Perhaps Lassair and I might make a start now?’
‘Of course.’ I had half-expected Lady Emma to summon a servant, but instead, pausing only to pick up a lighted lantern, she took us herself. We went back down into the yard, then, walking round to the side of the building, she unlocked and opened a low, heavy oak door. Steep steps led down into the ground, and we found ourselves in a low-ceilinged, vaulted space apparently as broad and as wide as the hall above. There was a strong smell of lavender; all to the good, I thought. Perhaps we wouldn’t need our sweet herbs. Lady Emma lit half a dozen rush lamps, and the shadows danced back to the far end of the crypt. Indicating a trestle table set up in the middle of the floor, she said, ‘Only last week I was sitting there preparing lavender to refill the little bags we use in the linen store.’ She sighed, as if the table’s abrupt change of use saddened her.
Edild put down her bag. ‘Thank you, my lady. Lassair and I can manage now.’
It sounded rather like a dismissal, and, risking a quick glance at Lady Emma, I wondered if she thought so too. But, as hurriedly she turned and went back up the steps, the only expression I saw on her face was relief.
Laying out the dead is not to everyone’s taste.
When at last we heard sounds of commotion above, we were ready for the corpse. A length of worn but clean cloth was spread on the trestle, wide enough to wrap around the body, and Edild had set bunches of her herbs smouldering in the corners of the cellar. Combined with Lady Emma’s lavender, the effect was almost overpowering. The tools of our trade had been neatly laid out on an upturned chest: pots of ointment, skins of water for washing out wounds, and Edild’s own leather-wrapped set of sharp knives and probes.
I wasn’t looking forward to witnessing their use, and was hoping fervently that a detailed examination of the body wouldn’t prove necessary. We were, I assumed, here to determine how the dead man had met his end, and, in all probability, he’d drowned.
There was quite a lot of shuffling and one or two muttered curses, and then two men appeared at the foot of the steps, carrying one end of a hazel hurdle. Two more men followed, and the four of them carried their burden over to the trestle and laid it down. The corpse had been covered with a thin, much-mended cloak.
‘Thank you.’ Edild turned to the men. ‘You may go now.’
I’ve rarely seen four people move so fast. Not that you could blame them: despite the herbs and the lavender, I could already smell the corpse. I was used to the smell of death – well, becoming used to it – and even I felt like retching.
‘Come along,’ Edild said briskly. ‘The sooner we complete our task, the sooner we can leave.’
She picked up the cloak at what appeared to be the head end of the body. Just as she began to fold it back, once more we heard feet on the stairs. Jumping the last few steps, as if he couldn’t wait to join us, Jack emerged into the undercroft.
Edild raised her eyebrows in query. He indicated the cloak she held in her hands. ‘I’d like it back, when you’re done,’ he said. ‘The man it belongs to won’t be able to afford another one.’
‘You can take it now and go. I have cloth with which to cover the body.’ She indicated the fabric folded to the side of the trestle.
Jack held her gaze. ‘I’ll stay, if it’s all the same to you.’
She smiled at him. ‘You are welcome, of course, although it will not be pleasant.’
‘Nevertheless, I’ll stay,’ he said shortly.
Edild turned back to the body. She arranged the cloak so that the head and face were exposed, and all three of us stepped forward to take our first look at the victim.
He was young, about my age, which made his death more poignant. I couldn’t help thinking of the years he’d been denied. His hair was worn long, and it was dirty from his immersion in the wild water. Edild picked at the filth, getting a fingernail under a big flake of caked mud, and a strand of bright blond emerged. His face was well-shaped, the cheekbones high and proud, and the wide mouth looked as if it would have readily spread in a smile.