‘That man was Edulf and that son is Gewis,’ Lord Edmund said. ‘He is the grandson of Alfred Aethling.’
TWENTY-THREE
I tried to prevent Gewis’s great cry, but it was beyond my strength. I had to listen as it tore out of him, bouncing off the vast, soaring walls of the new cathedral and heading out into the night sky.
We had clutched at each other as Lord Edmund told his tale. We had heard them talking as we approached the site of the old Saxon church — my heart had bounced hard as I identified Rollo’s voice — and I wanted to race over to them to let Rollo know we were there and we were with him. But Gewis had stopped me. He shot out an arm and grasped my wrist in a tight grip, pulling hard so that I lurched against him. ‘No!’ he hissed in my ear. ‘Don’t you see? I have to hear this!’
It was only then that I actually took in the words that were being spoken. Then I understood.
As the story went on, and Lord Edmund described what had happened to Alfred Aethling, I could have wept. To be betrayed like that, by a man he had trusted! Then when Lord Edmund spoke of the woman who had born the Aethling’s child, instantly I put myself in her position and my eyes filled with tears. Supposing it had been Rollo and me, I thought. To love someone and then lose them in that unimaginably awful way was bad enough. To discover subsequently that you carried his child — oh, poor, poor woman.
I should have been watching Gewis more closely, for if I had I would surely have noticed that his tension was screwing him up to breaking point, and perhaps I could have comforted him in some way so that he did not react as he did. I don’t know why I was so certain, but as soon as he cried out I knew, sure as the sun rises in the morning, that it was the last thing he should have done.
It was. His great shout distracted Rollo, who spun round to see who had crept up behind him. Lord Edmund took his chance, leaping on Rollo and getting the point of his knife to his throat before I could even blink.
All four of us froze. It was my turn to grasp hold of Gewis. I grabbed his wrist and held on with both hands, for I was terrified that he would rush at Lord Edmund and that the lord would plunge his knife, accidentally or deliberately, into Rollo’s neck.
Lord Edmund stared hungrily at Gewis over Rollo’s shoulder. ‘You have come back, Gewis,’ he breathed. ‘Are you ready now to assume the role to which you were born?’
‘No,’ Gewis said coldly. ‘I don’t believe your story, and, even if I did, I would have no truck with the man who ordered my mother’s death.’
Lord Edmund sighed. ‘Whether you choose to believe it or not, the story is true, Gewis. We who remember and honour the glory days of the House of Wessex preserve our memories closely, and it is well known among us that King Edward and his brother had the distinctive pale colouring that you too possess, as did your father before you.’
‘Many men are fair!’ Gewis protested. I thought he sounded less certain than before.
‘Perhaps,’ Lord Edmund acknowledged, ‘but not to the degree shown by the Wessex men. You are the Aethling’s grandson, Gewis. Believe me.’
Gewis’s mouth opened and closed as if, just for an instant, he had lost the power of speech. Then all at once his eyes shot to the right, to where the last vestige of the ancient church wall still stood, and his whole body went rigid.
I craned round him to see what he was looking at. I saw — or I thought I saw — the shimmering outline of a figure. It was dressed in ragged, pale cloth and down the front, from the level of the crotch, there were rust-coloured stains. More stains discoloured the shoulder and the breast. The face was deathly white, the hair silver in the dim light. There were no eyes; where they should have been were deep, dark sockets.
It is a vision from out of my own imagination! I told myself as I fought panic. It was quite likely, after all, for hadn’t I just heard a tale of horror describing such a figure as this?
It was likely, yes. I might have believed it, except that I had glimpsed it before. And if it existed only in my mind, why, then, could Gewis see it too?
He moaned in dread, and I knew I must act. I had to break the spell and remove us both from whatever enchantment held us in its grip. I took a step back and then launched myself on Gewis, knocking him sideways so that he stumbled and fell.
The apparition vanished. I spared one quick glance at the spot where it had been, and then my head spun round because I had heard Rollo cry out.
In the first dreadful instant I thought Lord Edmund had stabbed him. But immediately my eyes met his I realized it was a shout of warning. I whipped round to look behind me and saw the four burly guardians coming striding across the open ground towards us.
Even with Rollo fighting beside us, the odds against the three of us were tough. Without him, Gewis and I might as well have given up straight away. I launched myself at Lord Edmund, my mouth open in a snarl, and as I leapt at him my teeth closed on the hand that held the knife. I wish I could say that my carefully thought out strategy was a success, but for one thing it wasn’t thought out and for another it wasn’t all that successful. Rollo got away, yes, but not without a deep wound in his shoulder. Lord Edmund’s knife also tore into my cheek, but I barely noticed.
I did not see what happened next but, suddenly, Lord Edmund was on the ground, and Rollo had a bloodstained knife in his hand.
Now the three of us, Rollo, Gewis and I, stood side by side. Rollo had a sword in his right hand and his long knife in his left. Gewis and I both had knives. We backed away from the four guards who were swiftly advancing on us, heading for the maze of passageways that would lead us back to the place where we could climb the wall.
The first two guards came at us. They, too, were armed, and there was a succession of jarring clashes as Rollo’s one sword met their two weapons. Rollo fought with the ferocity of a cornered bear. He was so fast that I had no idea how he did it. One guard fell; the other aimed his weapon at me, and without thinking I ducked the swinging sword and brought up my knife. I found flesh, for something gave under my blade and the guard gave a sort of grunt. He dropped to one knee, but I did not think he was badly wounded.
We were at the start of the first passage. Turning, Rollo sped off down it, Gewis and I flying along behind. From somewhere near I heard the sound of chanting. As a background to what was happening out here, it was so incongruous that I almost laughed.
The remaining two guards were after us. I could hear the thump of their boots, feel it like a percussion in my body. We ran faster, Rollo twisting and turning through the dim passages with such speed that it was all I could do to keep up. He must have doubled back for I was quite sure we passed one place where several cloisters intersected at least once.
Then we were out in the open, flying through the moonlit gardens and heading straight for the wall. Rollo leapt up the compost heap, turned, caught hold of me and threw me up on top of the wall. Gewis scrambled up beside me and, as Rollo followed, all three of us dropped down on the far side.
‘We have to get off the island,’ Rollo panted.
‘The boat is holed!’ wailed Gewis. ‘What shall we do?’
We stood there, and nobody said a word. Then in my head I heard my aunt’s voice: Keep your eyes wide open for the chance that will present itself. She wanted me to see if I could find the secret ways across the fens. I had forgotten all about it till this moment.