‘Is it watertight?’ I demanded. It sounded too good to be true.
‘It floats,’ Sibert hedged. ‘But listen, I’ve got some really good news — it’s raining again, very, very hard!’
Morcar, hearing this, groaned aloud. Thinking of him, my poor, sick patient, I said sharply, ‘Why in the Lord’s name is that good news?’
Sibert looked happily at Morcar and me. ‘Because the water’s started to rise once more, very fast. Already, many of the lower-lying areas around the island are flooded.’
I still did not understand. Morcar did. He said kindly, ‘When it floods, Lassair, you don’t need to find a mule or a carter to take you from Ely to Aelf Fen. With a boat and a strong oarsman — ’ he shot a grateful look at Sibert — ‘you can go by water all the way.’
I did my very best for my cousin. I checked the wounds in his foot, which were angry looking, the surrounding flesh red and swollen, but which showed no signs of putrefaction. I dabbed on more comfrey ointment and re-dressed the foot, wrapping a generous amount of linen around it to pad it. The wounds would hurt like fury if Morcar so much as touched his foot to a hard surface, and I knew I must do what I could to soften the impact. Then Sibert and I helped Morcar into his outer garments, wrapping him closely in his woollen cloak and putting the new short, hooded cloak over the top. I prepared a pack of food and medicines — not many of the latter, for with any luck he would be with Edild in a few hours — and Sibert slung it on his back. Then we gathered up Morcar’s blanket and the sack containing his tools, and together Sibert and I got him to his feet.
Sibert checked the alley outside. It was dusk and there was nobody about, which was hardly surprising as it was raining so hard that we could barely see three yards in front of us. I dived back for my own blanket and put it over Morcar’s head. He needed it more than I did.
We set off, keeping under the eaves of the hovels as much as we could, and Sibert led the way down to the isolated spot where the boat lay all but hidden in the rushes. Its bottom held several inches of water, which Sibert baled out as best he could with his cupped hands. Then we helped Morcar down into it, settling him on the thwart that ran across at the stern. The boat had a framework over the stern and the tattered remnants of a cover for it lay folded under the thwart. The cover was made of canvas, hard and brittle with age, full of dusty dried leaves, cobwebs, dust and general dirt; by the time Sibert and I had draped it over the frame we were both filthy as well as soaked. The cloth did a little to keep the worst of the rain off Morcar and as he looked up at me I could just make out his white face.
He must have seen my anxiety. ‘I’ll be all right,’ he said. I could hear his teeth chattering and I leaned out to him, trying to tuck his blanket more tightly around him, rocking the boat dangerously.’
‘Stop it, Lassair!’ Sibert said in a harsh whisper. ‘We’re wet enough without you spilling us into the water!’
I drew back on to the bank. I felt utterly miserable, worried out of my mind for my patient and not at all sure I was doing the right thing. It would do him no good if we got him away from the men who were trying to kill him only to have him die out on the fen in an open boat. .
It was as if he read my thought. ‘I won’t die,’ he said with a grin. ‘Takes more than a drop of rain to see me off.’
His uncomplaining courage all but undid me. ‘Go on, get on your way,’ I called out softly to Sibert. ‘Take him straight to my aunt.’
‘I will.’ Already, Sibert had coiled in the painter, and now he was nudging the little boat away from the shore with an oar. As I watched he slid the other oar into the water and, as soon as he was clear of the bank, he began to row, quickly getting into a rhythm so that the boat gathered speed. The craft and its passengers disappeared into the teeming rain.
‘Goodbye. Good luck,’ I whispered.
They wouldn’t have heard me. Over the deafening sound of the rain on the water, they wouldn’t have heard me even if I’d yelled.
The little hovel seemed lonely and empty without them. I tried not to think about them out there on the fen; there was nothing I could do now to help them and they must take their chance, relying on Sibert’s oarsmanship and knowledge of the area to get them safely to Aelf Fen. It ought not to take long; going straight across the floodwater was much more direct than going the long way round on dry land. Edild would not mind being woken up in the predawn, and she would-
Stop it, I commanded myself.
I tidied the room, sweeping out the straw that Morcar had lain on and stacking it inside the door for disposal in the morning. I shook up the bed where Sibert had slept and spread out his blanket. I no longer had my blanket, having given it to Morcar, so I made up the fire, banked it carefully with ash to make sure it stayed in till morning, then wrapped myself in my shawl, pulled the end of Sibert’s blanket up over my legs and closed my eyes.
I had not realized how exhausted I was. The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to daylight, sunshine was filtering through the cracks around the door and there were sounds of people stirring in the houses either side of me.
The new day was here.
I took advantage of being alone in the room. I heated water, stripped to my skin and washed, then quickly dressed again. I had spread my gown in front of the fire while I slept and now it was more or less dry. I combed out my hair and re-braided it, then I made myself sit down and eat some breakfast. The bread was dry, but I was so hungry that I barely noticed.
As soon as I had finished I set about my self-appointed task. I had remained in Ely to make the killers think Morcar was still there, being looked after by me; it was time to make a start. I tied a clean, white cap over my neatly braided hair and set off.
I knew where the apothecary’s shop was situated; I had spotted it as Sibert and I had searched for Morcar. Now I pretended to be the dullest-witted healer ever to walk the earth, asking again and again for directions and finally, with a flirtatious little smile, forcing a young merchant to walk me right up to the shop door. The more people that got to hear of the silly young healer who could not find her way, the better. From the apothecary I was careful to buy the ingredients I would have required to go on treating Morcar; I needed them in any case, having used up almost all of the supplies I had brought with me. Then I went up to the main gate of the abbey and, very meekly, asked if it were possible to speak to the infirmarer.
The monk at the gate said, ‘We do not permit the entry of lay women into the abbey save with special permission.’ He was a different type from the monk I had seen on my first day, a nicer, more charitable type, for he managed to put regret into the official words, and he looked at me quite kindly.
‘I see,’ I said, eyes cast modestly down. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, brother.’ I gave a sad little sigh.
As I turned to leave he said, ‘Wait.’ I stopped. ‘What did you want with the infirmarer?’ he asked.
I risked a quick look up into his face. ‘I am nursing my sick cousin,’ I said. ‘He fell in the ditch and has a fever, and he also has a deep wound in his foot.’ That ought to be sufficient to describe Morcar, if anybody were interested. ‘I’m doing my best to treat him — ’ quickly, I reeled off the standard remedies for fever and grave wounds — ‘but I wanted to ask someone with much, much more experience than I have if I’m doing right.’ I bit my lip, staring at my boots.
There was a pause. Then the monk said, ‘Wait here. I will send word.’
I waited. I wanted to cheer with jubilation, but I restrained the urge. Presently, my monk returned. ‘He’s on his way,’ he muttered. Then he went back to guarding the gate, glaring out across the street as if pretending to be the very last monk in the abbey to be caught in a simple act of kindness for an anxious young healer.