My heart gave a lurch, and I could feel its hard, fast pounding right up in my throat. All my terror for Derman, for Zarina, for my own family, came surging back. It was all the more powerful because Sir Alain’s well-meaning defence of Claude’s behaviour back in the hall had allowed it to fade to the back of my mind. My awful suspicion that Derman might be responsible for Ida’s death would surely be visible in my eyes, so I kept them down and surreptitiously eased my kerchief forward over my face.
‘Simpleton?’ Edild echoed the word, making it plain by her tone that she queried its use.
Sir Alain waved an impatient hand. ‘I do not know what you would call him,’ he said tersely. ‘He’s a big lad, shambling gait, large head, loose mouth. Little intelligence, so they say.’
‘He is an unfortunate who was born lacking wits,’ Edild said coolly. ‘He is in the care of his sister, who lodges with a village washerwoman. He helps with some of the heavy work. His name is Derman.’
She did not say, as I’d hoped she would, he is quite harmless. Oh, perhaps she, too, had her suspicions. .
‘Derman,’ Sir Alain repeated. ‘Well, it appears that your Derman fell for Ida. I am told that he saw her out collecting wild flowers and followed her back to Lakehall. That was two or three weeks back, and since then he has appeared regularly at the hall, lurking outside the gates in case Ida should appear. He makes — he used to make little posies for her, clumsy things of a few grass stems woven together with a couple of flowers stuck in. He’d leave them outside the kitchen door, although oddly enough nobody ever saw him there or worked out how he got in without anyone noticing him. Both the courtyard gates and the smaller, rear entrance behind the kitchen are always watched in the daytime, then locked and bolted at night.’ He shot Edild a glance. ‘He is sly, your unfortunate.’ He emphasized the word she had used.
Edild did not speak for some moments. Then she said calmly, ‘If, as you say, Derman had fallen in love with Ida, then surely you cannot be suggesting that he harmed her in any way?’ She managed to make the suggestion sound quite absurd.
Sir Alain had the grace to look abashed. Then, rallying, he said, ‘The man is not like the rest of us. How can anybody say what he would or would not do? If he felt Ida had rejected him, he might well have attacked her.’
Edild shook her head firmly. ‘I think not, Sir Alain.’
He muttered an oath. Then, grabbing both Edild and me by the arm, he urged us on towards the village. I knew where we were going, and my heart started hammering again. I wished there was some way I could rush on ahead and warn them, but, as if he knew my intention, he held me fast.
Inexorably, the distance between us and the humble little house of the washerwoman grew less.
Sir Alain banged on the door — which, it turned out, was ajar and not fastened. It fell open at his pounding, revealing a small room crammed with a disorder of objects, with a narrow bed in one corner and a cot opposite the hearth. Both beds were too small for a big man like Derman, and I guessed that he slept in the lean-to on the side of the house. He would bluster about in this confined space like a maddened bull, knocking over the cooking utensils, the crudely-made stools, the bundles of kindling beside the hearth, the display of personal possessions beside the bed in the corner. The cot was the only orderly space in the room, and I knew instinctively that it was where Zarina slept.
There was another little door at the rear of the room, and it, too, was open, giving on to a narrow path that wound away to the water’s edge. I could see two figures out there: on the bank was the rounded shape of the washerwoman, kneeling down and rubbing hard at whatever item was receiving her attention, her large bottom up in the air. I could hear her humming to herself as she worked. The other figure was slim, straight-backed, graceful, and walking up the path towards the house.
We all stared at Zarina, and she stared right back.
She wore a gown of the coarsest cloth, and over it she had tied a sacking apron. The hems of both gown and apron were soaking wet, and there were splashes all over her front. Her hands were red and raw; in places the flesh had cracked open. I could not see that detail just then, but I knew all about Zarina’s hands. I made the remedy myself.
Her throat rose gracefully from the rough neck of her gown. Zarina always holds herself like a dancer, and just one look at her reminds you of her past, when she lived and worked with the troupe of entertainers. Her luscious hair was wound in a plait and pinned on top of her head; rarely among us, she never covers her head. Her golden eyes and her fine-boned face were illuminated by the sunlight, her firm, pale-oak skin glowing from her exertions.
I thought she looked lovely. Sir Alain’s sudden indrawn breath suggested he thought so too.
Zarina came into the house and deposited the bundle of dry, folded linen she was carrying on to her cot. She greeted me, nodded to Edild and looked enquiringly at Sir Alain. He took a step towards her and said, ‘Your name?’
‘I am called Zarina.’ Her voice was quite deep, her tone assured.
‘You have a brother, Derman?’
She hesitated. Then she nodded.
‘Where is he?’
‘I do not know.’
Sir Alain muttered a curse. ‘But he lives here, or so I am told.’ He looked around.
‘Derman does indeed live here,’ Zarina said. ‘He sleeps in the lean-to.’
‘So where is he?’ Sir Alain repeated. He sounded angry.
Zarina raised her chin. ‘I have not seen him since yesterday evening.’
Was she telling the truth or was she trying to protect her brother? I searched her face, trying to decide.
‘Explain.’ Sir Alain’s single word bit through the tense atmosphere.
‘Derman went to bed as usual yesterday evening after supper. We eat and retire for the night early, for our day’s work is hard. This morning he did not appear for breakfast and so I went to call him, thinking he had overslept. He was not there.’
‘His bed had been slept in?’ Sir Alain demanded.
Zarina shrugged. ‘It is hard to say. Probably, yes.’
‘So he ran away some time during the night. .’
Quick as a flash Zarina pounced. ‘Who says he has run away? All I said was that I had not seen him today.’
He stared at her, after a moment grunting his agreement. ‘Very well. If he comes back, I want to see him. You can find me up at Lakehall. I am Alain de Villequier.’
‘I know who you are, sir,’ Zarina replied levelly. ‘When my brother comes home, I will send word.’
I had to admire her. She had neatly altered if to when and, by saying she would send word, she had subtly implied that she had no intention of presenting either herself or her brother to Sir Alain at the hall.
Sir Alain seemed about to speak. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d issued a harsh reminder of his and Zarina’s relative places in the hierarchy. Apparently thinking better of it, he spun round, ducked under the doorway’s low lintel and strode away.
Zarina maintained her straight-backed pose until he was out of sight. Then she fell into my arms.
Edild watched as carefully I helped Zarina to her cot, sitting down beside her, her hand in mine. Then she said, ‘Where is he, Zarina?’
She shook her head. ‘Truly, I do not know!’
‘But there is something you do know that you did not reveal?’
Zarina met her eyes. ‘Of course!’
Edild smiled faintly. ‘Go on.’
Zarina’s hand was clutching convulsively at mine. Her grip was strong, and it hurt. ‘Lassair brought him home early yesterday,’ she said. Edild shot me an accusing glance, and I recalled that, what with everything that had happened, I’d forgotten to tell her. Or maybe something in me had stopped me, as if the fact of explaining to Edild where I’d found him and what I suspected made what I feared more real. ‘He’d been crying,’ Zarina was saying. ‘I gave him some food, then tried to find out what had upset him. He refused to tell me at first, then he started sobbing and saying something about a dead girl and how she was lying in the grave, and then he began this awful howling, as if he were in pain, and I made him drink some of that stuff you gave me.’ She looked up at Edild, and I guessed she was referring to a sedative of some sort. It would be useful to have a sedative if you had to deal with a big, strong child-man like Derman.