The hurrying footsteps stopped right outside. They must know Morcar was in here. I raised my chin, going over the words I would shout out as soon as they appeared.
The door opened.
‘What do you think you’re doing,’ I cried, ‘bursting in here without my permission? Waking me up with your noise, making me jump out of my-’
One person stood there, tall, slim, looking very upset.
It was Sibert.
I felt myself slump with relief. I leaned down to Morcar, quickly uncovering his head and saying, ‘It’s all right, it’s just Sibert.’
I rolled away from my cousin and stood up, preparing to yell at Sibert for scaring us so badly. But his face was white — almost as pale as Morcar’s. As we stood there face to face, the provisions he had brought back fell out of his hands. A small apple rolled across the floor. ‘What is it?’ I whispered urgently. ‘What’s happened?’
Sibert looked at Morcar and back to me. ‘Someone’s been murdered,’ he said. He was trembling. ‘They’ve found a body, down at the end of a narrow stream where some of the men have been catching eels.’ He shuddered, putting up a hand to wipe his mouth. I smelled vomit.
‘Did you go and look?’ I demanded.
‘Yes.’ He moaned, briefly closing his eyes. ‘It was ghastly. He’d been pinned face forward to the abbey wall with an eel gleeve. It can’t have pierced his heart, for they’re saying it took him most of the night to die. There’s so much blood!’ he exclaimed, and now both of his hands were over his mouth.
I tried not to imagine the victim’s torment. To bleed to death, feeling the blood seep out of you and unable to do anything to save yourself. . Stop it, I ordered myself. This is not helping. ‘Sit down,’ I said to Sibert, ‘and if you feel faint, or sick, put your head between your knees.’ He obeyed. I fetched him a cup of water, standing over him while he sipped it. ‘Better?’
He looked up and I saw that his colour was returning. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
I began collecting up the dropped provisions. ‘When you feel like eating, I’ll prepare something,’ I said, trying to make my voice calm and untroubled. ‘Mmm, this bread smells good. I’m very hungry and-’
Sibert was staring at something on the floor, just in front of where Morcar lay. The shock from Sibert’s announcement was still written all over Morcar’s face. I would have to do something to help him very soon, I thought, for this talk of murder would surely work on his terrified fancies about hooded assassins.
I looked to see what had caught and held Sibert’s attention. He was staring at Morcar’s cloak, which I had thrown off as I stood up.
‘What’s the matter?’ All my efforts to appear unflustered had flown away and I sounded exactly like what I was: a very frightened girl.
‘Whose is that?’ Sibert pointed a shaking finger at the cloak.
‘It’s mine.’ Morcar’s whisper was all but inaudible.
Sibert knelt down right in front of him. ‘Where did you get it? When did you get it?’ he demanded.
Morcar frowned with the effort of trying to penetrate the mist of fever and answer the urgent question. ‘Er. . two, three days ago,’ he said shakily. ‘It had started to rain, and it went on raining. A peddler came out to where we were fishing, and he had a load of cloaks on a barrow. He said they’d keep the wet out, but it’s a useless thing, and what’s more it stinks.’ He must have realized he was rambling and stopped.
Into the silence Sibert whispered, ‘The murdered man wore one just like it.’
I was beginning to understand. As I did so, my fear rapidly escalated. ‘You say the peddler had a load of cloaks?’ Reluctantly, Morcar nodded. ‘And he sold many?’
‘Three or four,’ Morcar managed.
I turned to Sibert and, meeting his eyes, I knew he had reached the same awful conclusion. The men who had attacked Morcar must have found out somehow that they had failed to kill him. They had seen a man in an identical cloak to Morcar’s and, believing it to be their victim, they’d had another go. They can’t have known that men other than Morcar wore similar cloaks; they hadn’t even bothered to check they had the right man by looking at his face.
They had struck him from behind, spearing him to the abbey wall face forward.
My thoughts flew around like a flock of sparrows disturbed by a cat. I forced them still and tried to work out what we should do. It was surely only a matter of time before the murderers realized they had the wrong man — if, that was, Morcar was the intended victim and the dead man had been mistaken for him rather than the other way round. Assuming the worst, that it was Morcar they wanted dead, when they found out they had failed again they would come after him. Sick and injured as he was, with only a youth and a girl to protect him, they would succeed next time. As Morcar had predicted, they would probably kill Sibert and me too.
I was by no means ready to die. I was sure the same applied to Sibert and, as my patient, Morcar was my responsibility.
I turned to Sibert. ‘We need to get Morcar off the island,’ I said. ‘As soon as it’s getting dark you must slip out and find a boat. If we have to use a boatman, we’ll pay him well because he’ll have to keep his mouth shut. Once you’re over the water, beg, borrow or steal a mule and get Morcar on it, then take him to Edild as fast as you can.’ I stopped, breathing hard.
‘What about you?’ Sibert demanded. Morcar was looking at us in horror. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘No.’ I knew what I must do, and even as I hatched my plan I knew that someone had done it before me; I was repeating the actions in someone else’s tale. It had worked for them, I reminded myself, or anyway this bit of it had. If the spirits were with me, it might work for me.
‘Why not?’ Morcar whispered, although from the expression in his eyes I think he already knew.
I looked down at him. ‘Because the murderers must not know you’ve gone. If we all leave, there will be nobody to keep up the pretence that you’re still here.’ Sibert began to speak, but I knew what he was going to say and didn’t let him finish. ‘It has to be me,’ I said firmly, ‘because I’m the healer and I know what to do. I’ll bustle about asking for various herbs and preparations as if I’m still treating my patient. I’ll even go to your precious monks, Morcar, and ask their advice.’
Both men were staring at me, neither looking very confident. It was depressing, since I’d hoped they might have more faith in me.
‘It’s dangerous,’ Sibert stated flatly, just as Morcar said, ‘I cannot let you do this.’
I sighed. ‘You don’t let me do things, Morcar, you’re my cousin not my father or my husband,’ I said tetchily. ‘As I keep reminding you, I’m a healer. I have a duty, and if I don’t fulfil it I’m in trouble.’ That was not strictly true, but I hoped neither of them would appreciate it. ‘As to danger, Sibert, there’s only danger around Morcar, so if you take him away and leave me here you’ll actually be making it safer for me.’
There had to be a flaw in that argument, but I couldn’t see it. Nor could Sibert; grudgingly, he muttered, ‘Very well then.’
Quickly, I bent down to Morcar. ‘Now, drink, eat if you can and rest. I will check your foot later, and we’ll wrap you warmly. As soon as night falls, you must go.’
It said a lot about the state my poor cousin was in that he didn’t argue any more but instead gave a feeble nod and fell back limply on his bed. I immediately busied myself with preparing food and hot drinks, going through my herbal supplies in my mind and deciding what remedy I should give to Morcar next. Anything, really, to take my mind off the prospect of that night, after they’d gone.