It was still possible, if unlikely, that Derman had killed Ida, perhaps because she had stopped being kind. But it appeared that neither Derman nor Alberic had fathered her baby.
Then who had?
I sat with Zarina a little longer, then old Berta came hobbling down the path from her cottage, and I could hear the vulgar abuse she was hurling at Zarina when she was still fifty paces away.
‘Go!’ hissed Zarina.
‘I’ll explain to her!’ I cried, leaping up, filled with guilt because I’d got Zarina into trouble.
‘No you won’t, you’ll only make it worse,’ Zarina flashed back. Still I didn’t move. This was the woman I fervently hoped would be my sister-in-law, and I felt I ought to defend her. ‘I know how to deal with Berta,’ Zarina said firmly. She, too, had risen to her feet, and I noticed how much taller she was than the crude, fat old woman for whom she worked. ‘Go on!’ she repeated, and this time she was smiling.
I went.
Edild and I worked hard all afternoon. Midsummer is a busy time for us. Although the warm, dry weather means less serious sickness — for we believe that the all-penetrating damp of the fens is the cause of many of the illnesses that crop up again and again — nevertheless, late June is the time when many plants are at their best, and we dare not waste the opportunity to harvest what we will need for the remainder of the year. The struggle to remember the hundreds of facts with which my aunt daily bombards me often wakes me in the night, when I lie there in the dark telling myself silently hemp nettle for open wounds, use the flowering stems, and woodruff flowers for ulcers, rashes and heart palpitations. I was heavy with fatigue by the time we stopped work, more than ready to eat, drink and, above all, rest. However, when the long day finally ended, we had a visitor: Hrype.
I had the usual dilemma over whether I ought to leave the two of them on their own but, reading my thoughts as easily as if I’d spoken them aloud, Hrype said kindly, ‘Stay, Lassair. The three of us must talk together.’ About what? I wondered, starting to feel anxious, but he read that too and added, ‘I saw Edild while you were with Zarina. We all are puzzled by the same question, and the time has come to share our thoughts with each other.’
Ida’s baby, I thought. I did as he bade and sat down beside the hearth, my aunt beside me and Hrype opposite to us. He said, ‘We do not know who killed Ida and, even if we are not convinced by those in the village who lay the crime at the feet of poor Derman, still it remains true that little progress can be made until either he is found or returns to Aelf Fen of his own accord. You found him close to the island, Lassair — ’ he turned his strange eyes to me — ‘and it seems logical that his distress could well have been caused by having seen something pertaining to the girl’s death, even if we do not go so far as to say he had a hand in it.’ He paused. ‘However, Ida’s death is not the only tragedy: there is also the matter of the young life that was within her when she died. Ida may in some way have brought about her own death; we cannot say until we know more of the circumstances.’ I was about to protest — whatever could a girl of my age have done to deserve being strangled and stuffed in someone else’s grave? — but my aunt caught my eye and silently shook her head, so I stayed quiet.
‘The child, however,’ Hrype continued, ‘was innocent. No sin of its mother could be its fault. It was blameless. The same, though, cannot necessarily be said of the man who fathered it. There are many reasons why a man will not, or cannot, admit to paternity.’
There was a short silence. We were all thinking the same thing, I was quite sure, for Hrype himself had not told his own son of their true relationship until last year, and his reasons for keeping the secret from Sibert had been sound, even if Sibert found that hard to accept.
None of us referred to Hrype’s own history. None of us needed to.
‘It is this perplexing question, of who fathered Ida’s child,’ Hrype went on after a moment, ‘to which we must now address ourselves. You are convinced that neither Derman nor this man, Alberic, was the girl’s lover?’ He looked at Edild, then at me. Both of us nodded our heads. ‘Very well. Ida came to Lakehall about a month ago, in the employ of Lady Claude de Sees, and the reason for her visit was to allow her to spend some time getting to know her future husband, Sir Alain de Villequier, who, as our justiciar, was already resident in this area. As Lady Claude’s treasured seamstress, it was natural for her to accompany her mistress, who was to be working on her trousseau whilst under Lord Gilbert’s roof.’ He paused. ‘You judge, Edild, that the child was conceived at the end of February?’
Edild nodded. ‘Thereabouts, yes.’
‘Then her lover was someone she knew at home, either in the village where she lived or at Lady Claude’s family estate of Heathlands,’ Hrype said.
‘The man whom Sibert and I talked to in Brandon said she didn’t have any followers among the village lads,’ I put in. ‘He said she had a nice way of putting them off and that she treated them like brothers.’
‘I wonder why that was?’ Edild mused. ‘Was she, do you think, aware of Alberic’s devotion and quietly, unobtrusively, returning it?’
‘It would explain why no handsome village boy ever took her fancy,’ Hrype agreed.
But I shook my head. ‘Alberic would not agree,’ I said firmly. ‘According to him, he never let her know he loved her.’
‘Perhaps he did not need to,’ Edild said shrewdly. ‘Perhaps she loved him in total ignorance of his feelings for her and never dared let him know because of this gorgon of a wife you speak of, Lassair.’
‘Mm, I suppose it’s possible,’ I agreed, although reluctantly. ‘If Ida knew Thecla had tried to cut off Alberic’s hand because he’d sung with her, she’d make even more certain no one ever found out what she felt for him. If she felt it,’ I added firmly.
‘You do not believe she did?’ Hrype asked. His eyes on mine were as disconcerting as ever.
But I made myself stare right back. ‘I do not,’ I said.
‘Why?’ he persisted.
‘Because she was young, pretty, lively, she laughed readily, she was kind to people and much beloved,’ I said in a rush. ‘He was married to a dragon, he was much older than her, and she could have done so much better.’
The last observation had flowed out without my intending it. Alberic couldn’t help being almost old enough to be Ida’s father, and it was unkind to diminish his undoubted love for her and say she could have done better. I’d said it now, however. I waited for my aunt or Hrype to comment.
For a while neither of them did. Then Hrype said, more generously that I felt I deserved, ‘For myself, I am prepared to accept what Lassair feels so strongly. Of the three of us, it is she who is closest to Ida in age. Let us propose, then, that Ida met her lover after she had gone to work up at Heathlands. Let us say that he was perhaps a stable boy, a young groom, a household servant-’
‘That’s more reasonable,’ Edild observed. ‘After all, Ida was a seamstress so she would have been more likely to fall for someone else working inside the house.’
I was thinking. ‘You said that Lady Claude’s family needs a grand title and Sir Alain de Villequier needs money, and that’s why they’re marrying,’ I said.
Hrype smiled faintly. ‘In essence, that is so.’
‘Then the manor — Heathlands — is luxurious?’
‘They say so.’
‘A huge staff of indoor servants?’
‘Probably.’
I grinned. ‘Then we shall just have to narrow down the likely boys and young men till we find the one that was Ida’s lover.’
Edild smiled too, but hers was slightly pitying. ‘You intend to march up to Heathlands, demand admittance and start asking highly personal and embarrassing questions of all the male servants?’