He took a Norman arrow in the thigh, and the wound became infected. Hrype did his best, with Froya right beside him fighting for her man, but they had to watch helplessly as Edmer’s life force began to fade. It was too much for his poor mother; Fritha had been gravely traumatized by the defeat and the loss of her home, and in the course of the flight across the fens she had suffered a seizure that left her partly paralysed. Her son’s wound was too much. She turned her face to the wall and quietly died.
Hrype amputated his brother’s leg. As soon as he was well enough to travel, they found a mount and got him away, leaving Hrype behind pretending that he was still nursing his sick brother. Froya fled to Aelf Fen, but the safety of its sanctuary came too late for Edmer; he succumbed to his hurts and died in his wife’s arms. Her son, my friend Sibert, was born a few months later. The only kin he had ever known were his mother and his father’s brother.
It was no surprise, really, that he was so very keen to find out more.
We set out in the early afternoon. Once again Sibert arranged his scarf so that it hid his head and brow. I fastened my white cap over my braided hair and, for good measure, pulled up the hood of my dark cloak to cover it. Without actually saying so, both Sibert and I realized that if we were going to go about asking possibly awkward questions about the recent past, when Saxons had rebelled against the Norman invaders, then it would be best to do so as anonymously as we could. If it were to be discovered that two young people had been too curious, we did not want the trail to lead back to us.
‘Where do you plan to go first?’ I said softly to Sibert as we hurried up the alleyway.
He grinned briefly. ‘Where do the gossips gather?’
‘In the alehouse,’ I answered promptly.
‘Quite so. There’s an alehouse on the marketplace, and it’s usually busy. We’ll start there.’
I was content to follow his lead. It appeared that he had given some thought to his investigation, and I agreed with him that this was a good initial step. As we emerged from the alley into the market square we were all at once in a crowd, and I kept close behind Sibert as he shouldered a way through the throng. The alehouse was over in a far corner, the bundle of branches that marked it out now ragged and almost bare of leaves. It was a long, low building that occupied the entire corner of the square. A wide entrance opened on to a short corridor with rooms opening off on either side. It was clear from the noise which was the tap room.
Sibert got mugs of weak beer for us and then stood looking around, a slight frown making a crease between his eyebrows. Then he nodded over to the left and, following the line of his gaze, I noticed a group of half a dozen old men sitting on crude benches on either side of an upturned barrel. Old they might be but several pairs of keen eyes looked out with lively interest on the comings and goings all around them.
I edged my way over to the group. One of the benches had a little space and, with a smile, I asked its two occupants if they would move up so that I could sit down.
‘Aye, right gladly, my pretty maid,’ said the nearest old man, baring his gums and two remaining teeth in a smile. He shuffled his skinny bottom along the bench and patted the shiny wood in invitation. ‘You perch here beside me and. . oh.’ He had just caught sight of Sibert, a few paces behind me and now preparing to squeeze in beside me.
Sibert’s presence did not deter his flirtatious advances for long. Soon he had his scrawny hand on my knee, only removing it to pinch my cheek as he commented on my ‘rosy little face’. I bore it with a smile. For one thing, if I did not discourage him it might make him and his friends more receptive to Sibert’s questions. For another, I didn’t really mind.
Sibert exchanged a few general comments with the old men by way of an introduction. I joined in, offering an opinion on the weather and the likelihood of more rain. Then there was a short, reflective pause, and I sensed Sibert go tense.
‘It’s a bit of a disruption, that there,’ he offered, jerking his head in the direction of the abbey. ‘Going to be a monster, that new cathedral!’ His eyes popped with wonder, and I was impressed with his yokel-overawed-with-the-sights act.
There was an exchange of rumbling, grumbling remarks among the old men. Then one of them, sitting on the other side of the one clasping my knee, leaned forward and said in a low voice, ‘They’ve knocked down St Etheldreda’s chapel, you know. Her that’s been our beloved saint since time out of mind.’
‘Have they?’ Sibert whispered, wide-eyed.
‘Aye, lad, they have, with no respect for her that we all love nor no more for us that love her. What’s more, they-’ Whatever further sedition he was going to add was abruptly cut off by the old boy next to me, who dug him smartly in the ribs with a muttered, ‘Dangerous talk, Teb. Dangerous talk.’
Silence fell. Then Sibert leaned forward — all six old men mirrored the gesture — and said, so softly that even I barely heard, ‘My father fought with the Wake.’
The old men did not exactly leap up and welcome him like a long-lost grandson — they were too careful for that — but nevertheless you could see they were delighted. One or two of them nodded, and one muttered, ‘So did we, lad.’
We all sat smiling at each other and then, when the initial euphoria had subsided, the old man next to me — Teb — leaned across me and said to Sibert, ‘Is your father with you?’
‘No,’ Sibert replied shortly. ‘He died of his wound.’
There were mutters of God save him and God bless his brave soul. Then Teb said, ‘You’ve come to pay your respects, then, at his grave?’
‘He does not lie here,’ Sibert replied. I prayed he would not reveal the fact that Edmer was buried at Aelf Fen, and he didn’t; he must have known as well as I did that it would not be wise to give away the fact of where we lived, even to our new friends. ‘He received a Norman arrow in the thigh, and those who treated him could not save his leg. After the amputation my. . his friends managed to get him away from the island and away across the fens, but it was no good.’
The old men bowed their heads, and for some time nobody spoke. It was a mark of respect for a fallen warrior, I knew that, but not quite what Sibert must have hoped for. If he had been expecting the tale of amputation and flight to prompt one of the old men to leap up and exclaim, ‘Yes, I remember him!’ then he’d be disappointed.
I thought of something. ‘Where were the houses of healing?’ I asked shyly, as if, being a mere girl, I was hesitant to speak in front of a group of men. ‘Where would my friend’s father have been taken?’
Teb gave my knee a kindly pat. ‘Many were tended by the monks,’ he said. ‘Not that our holy brethren were all in favour of the rebels, oh, no. Still, the healers among them are decent men in the main, and they did not refuse their aid.’
Edmer had not been treated by the monks; his brother and his wife had cared for him. ‘Was there any other place where healers gathered?’ I persisted, giving Teb what I hoped was a sweet and innocent smile.
‘Interested in healing, are you, pretty maid?’ he asked, patting my face.
‘Oh, yes!’ I said with total honesty. ‘I hope that I may make it my life’s work.’
Teb nodded his approval. ‘Well, if you’d been here during the rebellion you’d have learned enough to last a lifetime,’ he said grimly. He glanced around him, then leaned closer to me and whispered right in my ear, ‘There was this man, magic they said he was, and it’s told that he could put a man into a deep, dreamless sleep and whip off a limb without his victim even noticing!’ He leaned back, triumph in his eyes, as if to say, what do you think of that?