Not really being used to people asking if I mind things, I was taken aback. Then – for he was clearly waiting for me to answer – I said, ‘No, I don’t. In any case, I’m here because Lord Gilbert sent me with you to try to help you, so whether I mind or not isn’t really important.
I thought he said, It is to me, but I was probably wrong.
We found a lonely, run-down and desolate little monastery, although monastery implies something far grander than the meagre set of ramshackle buildings and the half-dozen monks in residence. Jack’s status as a man of the law guaranteed their cooperation, such as it was, although I’d like to think that they would have honoured their Christian duty to take us in, whoever we were. The guest accommodation was a draughty barn full of old, musty hay, but at least it was dry. The food was indescribably bad, but, happily, we had plenty of Lady Emma’s supplies left. As we wrapped ourselves in our blankets and settled in the hay for the night, I was extremely glad to be safe under cover, and, hopefully, in a place where those haunting, threatening dark eyes could not spy on me.
We set out again at first light. It quickly became clear that the day would follow yesterday’s pattern. Again, we found plenty of folk needing our assistance, but nobody missing our dead woman.
By noon, we were only a few miles south of Lynn. We stopped at the top of a gentle rise whose summit was crowned with pine trees, and as we ate the last of Lady Emma’s food, Jack broke the silence – I guessed he’d been thinking hard – and said, ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’
‘Oh, yes?’ The shiver of excited anticipation took me by surprise.
He finished his mouthful, swallowed and said, ‘We could be in Lynn this afternoon. Since it’s the first settlement of any size we’ve come to, and since it must have suffered the full force of the tidal surge, it’s quite possible that we may at last trace the kin of our dead woman.’
‘True.’ I knew, even before he drew breath to go on, that there was more.
‘We will, of course, do our utmost to do so, since it is why we’re here. But there is something else we could look into.’
‘The Maid of the Marsh came from here,’ I said. He met my eyes, and he was smiling. ‘She left from Lynn to sail down to Cambridge,’ I went on. ‘This was where Lady Rosaria went aboard.’
‘Indeed it was,’ he agreed. ‘Sheriff Picot told me, you’ll recall, to help her, and I suppose finding out how she came to be separated from her companions could be described as simply following orders.’
‘Also,’ I said, ‘Lord Gilbert would be delighted if we find out something that enables him to locate her kinsfolk, so, in a way, we’d be following his orders, too.’ In a burst of confidence, I added, ‘I don’t like Lady Rosaria. I know she’s making an attempt to look after her child, and I do realize she’s probably suffered some bad experience that’s still affecting her, but-’ I didn’t really know how to put it into words. ‘There’s just something about her,’ I finished lamely.
Jack was busy packing away the remains of our food. I heard him repeat softly, ‘Just something about her.’
There wasn’t really any more to say.
The industrious inhabitants of the small settlement of Lynn had set about clearing up with great energy, and already the place was getting back to normal. A great muddy, sandy, salty swathe had cut through on either side of the river, and there was a very distinctive high-water mark all along the seaward-facing side of the town. Everywhere there was bustle and noise, and the endless sound of dozens of brooms energetically sweeping out water, mud and assorted debris.
The prospect of being among a crowd of busy people was more attractive than I liked to admit. Although I’d been trying to tell myself it was all in my imagination, still the sense that unfriendly eyes were on me – on us – persisted. Several times that day, the certainty of somebody behind me, careful to stay out of sight, had become so strong that I’d whipped round, trying to catch him, or, I suppose, her, before they had a chance to slip back into hiding.
I approached Lynn with a relieved smile. But, just as we entered the first of its little streets, it suddenly occurred to me that if this was where the drowned woman came from and if, indeed, she had been murdered, then the killer might easily be a local too. Just biding his time for the right moment to get rid of the inquisitive pair who’d come to investigate her death …
But there was a job to do. Ruthlessly I put my fears aside.
Jack found stabling for the horses, then we split up, each taking a different segment of the settlement. I worked my way to and fro, up the narrow tracks leading away from the water and back down again. People had died, I learned; not many, but one fatality would have been more than enough. A few were missing, but none of their descriptions matched our dead woman. After what seemed hours, I met up with Jack once more. He reported much the same story.
‘We may yet find out that she came from Lynn, although the population is small and most people seem to have been accounted for,’ Jack said. ‘Apparently they’re still getting word of the damage in outlying places, and reports of missing people. I’ll ask around again in the morning. I’ve been told about a place we can put up overnight.’ He smiled briefly. ‘It sounds all right; better, anyway, than the monastery.’
I was barely listening. I was seeing that image again, of the body in the water. Briefly I shut my eyes, and I was suddenly very sure of something I’d previously only suspected. ‘She isn’t from here.’
His voice seemed to reach me from a distance. ‘How do you know?’
‘She was a very long way from home,’ I whispered. ‘She-’
But the strange moment had passed. I opened my eyes, feeling awkward. ‘Sorry,’ I muttered.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you need to be sorry. What happened?’
I sighed. ‘It was nothing – just a strong feeling that we’re not going to succeed.’
‘We still have to try,’ he said. ‘But, for now, I think we should turn our attention to that other matter. Come on – there are still several hours of daylight.’
He spun round and strode away, and I hurried after him. Quite soon, we emerged from a narrow and extremely smelly little alley out on to the quayside. Here, down at the waterfront, the area had received the full force of the encroaching sea. There was damage everywhere, and the air echoed with the sounds of industry as small groups of people went about repairs. Several smaller craft had been hurled up on to the land and as we stood taking in the scene, a gang of some dozen men gave a ragged cheer as one such vessel was finally shoved back into the water.
Larger boats were at moorings along the quay, and, again, it was clear that few had escaped unscathed. There were quite a lot of vessels; no doubt, alerted to approaching danger, their masters had made for the nearest port, many of them ending up here at Lynn. The captain of The Maid of the Marsh had mentioned a boat out of Yarmouth, The Good Shepherd, which had transported Lady Rosaria to Lynn; thinking that it was too much to hope for that her master would have been one of those who had made a run for this particular port, nevertheless I crossed my fingers surreptitiously behind my back as Jack and I set out along the quay.
I’ve never really had any faith in crossed fingers. This time, the ruse worked. The Good Shepherd was second to last in the line.
She was a much bigger vessel than The Maid of the Marsh; she was a seagoing ship, considerably longer and broader in the beam. Few people were visible on her deck. At the stern, a group of five men stood close together, apparently deep in conversation, and a couple of youngsters lounged on the foredeck, close to where a narrow plank ran up to give access from the quay. Her master, it seemed, had already effected whatever repairs might have been necessary, and the ship looked as if she had just received a thorough clean.