‘Yes. Nobody thought that they would lose, for King Harold had already won an impressive victory against the Viking Hardrada and everyone was saying that he was invincible. My grandfather and my father joined the king’s army as they marched south to Hastings.’ He sighed. ‘But, of course, King Harold lost.’
‘And Drakelow was given to Fulk de la Flèche.’ For the first time, I was beginning to understand just a little of what a devastating, life-changing blow that had been.
‘My grandfather died on the battlefield,’ Sibert said, ‘so he was saved the ignominy of seeing his enemy in his own hall. My father escaped both death and capture, and he sent urgent word to my grandmother Fritha, telling her what was going to happen. She and Hrype made their escape, taking with them everything they could carry, and fled westwards inland to the Black Fens.’
I nodded. ‘As many have done before them,’ I observed. It takes a very determined enemy to chase his quarry into the heart of the Fenland. Many who have tried found only their own deaths. You really have to have been born there to be confident of finding the safe ways, and even then we have been known to make mistakes.
‘My grandmother and Hrype were not caught,’ he went on. ‘In time my father found them, and they made their way to Ely, where they had been told that resistance was gathering. My father fought with Hereward, as you know, although Hrype counselled him against it, saying it would end in death. Not Hereward’s death; my father’s.’
‘Hrype was right,’ I whispered.
‘Yes. He usually is. My father was shot in the thigh and the wound became infected. Hrype did his best for him, even to the extent of amputating the leg. He-’
‘He must be very skilled,’ I interrupted, ‘to attempt such surgery.’
‘He is. He knows how to render his patient insensate, and by so doing he can take his time over the cutting.’
I knew that such powerful magic existed, for I had picked up occasional hints that Edild had let drop. Not that she had elaborated, for quite clearly she deemed that as yet I was far too young to be instructed in this surely most dangerous of skills. To render a man insensate, so that he did not feel the agony of amputation! How would anybody dare to do that and be sure of being able to wake the patient up again when it was all over? I thought that were I not so in awe of him — oh, all right, downright scared — I would have given much to talk with Hrype. Maybe when I was older and had begun to earn myself a reputation as a healer. .
‘He did not work alone,’ Sibert was saying, ‘for by now my father was married to my mother, and at one time she was Hrype’s pupil. Together they patched my father up and prepared him for travel.’
‘It was very risky to move him,’ I protested. Edild had taught me about life-threatening wounds and how a patient must above all else have rest; complete immobility, if at all possible. If the amputation of a limb was not a life-threatening wound, I did not know what was.
‘They had no choice,’ Sibert said grimly. ‘The rebellion had failed and there was a price on the heads of each of the main protagonists, my father included. Hrype had to choose between staying where they were and seeing his brother arrested and probably hanged or else taking him on a difficult journey over uncertain terrain and perhaps watching him bleed to death.’
‘What did the others say? Your mother, your grandmother?’ I did not suppose that poor Edmer would have been up to making a contribution to the discussion.
‘My grandmother was dead. She was never the same woman after the flight from Drakelow to the Fens. According to Hrype, she suffered some sort of a seizure that left her partly paralysed. She gave up on life after Edmer received his wound.’ He paused. ‘She lay down, turned her face to the wall and she died, and there was nothing Hrype could do to save her.’ Poor Hrype. What sorrow his family had endured, I thought, my sympathy making tears form in my eyes. ‘My mother was terrified of moving my father,’ Sibert went on, ‘but she saw the sense of what Hrype was saying and in the end she agreed that flight was better than arrest. Hrype volunteered to remain at Ely, doing all he could to give the impression that he was still tending my father there, and my mother slipped away in the dead of night, leading a docile old mare that bore my father.’
‘She brought him to Aelf Fen,’ I said wonderingly. ‘And then he died.’
‘He did.’ The two curt syllables fell like hard drops of cold rain.
‘Your mother was already pregnant with you,’ I went on, recalling what I had been told, ‘and you were born after your father’s death.’
‘Yes.’
‘You must have-’ I stopped. Something in his tone made it clear that he did not wish to dwell on that, and I understood. I cannot imagine what it must be like not only not to know and love your own father but never even to have had the chance to meet him.
‘Now,’ I said, for a change of subject seemed to be necessary, ‘now you have to face what the Normans have done to your home.’
‘I do,’ he agreed. I sensed a different mood in him suddenly and I felt him straighten up, as if he were lifting his head and squaring his shoulders. ‘This is my people’s home,’ he said slowly, ‘and a knowledge of it is in my blood.’ He turned to look at me. ‘I will succeed,’ he whispered. ‘For all that I cannot see my way, tomorrow it will be better.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ I said encouragingly. I got up and, reaching for his hand, pulled him to his feet. The sudden note of optimism seemed to be a good time to turn in. ‘We should sleep,’ I added. ‘Then you’ll be fresh for the morning.’
‘Lassair,’ he began, ‘I-’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
Side by side, we crept back to our sleeping place and, each going to our separate corners, settled for what remained of the night.
Romain awoke with the same sense of foreboding that had been with him when he went to sleep. The boy, Sibert, was behaving so oddly and, although Romain suspected that he knew why, all the same it was very worrying. Sibert had to achieve his task; this whole mission would fail otherwise and Romain’s future would be-
No. Don’t think about that.
I must tell him what I probably should have warned him of before, Romain decided. It would help, once the boy was over the shock. It had to help, otherwise. .
Again, he reined in his panicky thoughts.
There was little to eat for breakfast. I will purchase good, fresh food today, Romain vowed, whatever it takes. His stomach was grumbling with hunger and he felt light-headed if he got up too quickly.
They packed up their few belongings and the little that remained of the food and drink. Romain looked at the girl and then the boy. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
They both nodded.
‘Very well. We shall go to the sea.’
He led the way back on to the path that wound through the springy grass between the band of woodland and the distant sea. He heard their footsteps behind him but neither spoke. He went on, and the line of the cliff top steadily drew nearer.
Any moment now, he thought.
Suddenly the girl called out to him, ‘Romain, Sibert has stopped!’ There was urgency, perhaps fear, in her voice.
Romain turned round. Sibert’s face was ashen and, as he stared with wide eyes at the scene before him, he was slowly shaking his head. Romain took a few steps towards him. ‘What is it, Sibert?’ he asked quietly. ‘What do you see?’
Sibert raised his arm and, with a hand that shook as if with the ague, pointed. ‘That’s my tree,’ he said in a horrified whisper. ‘When I came here first I used to climb it so that I could watch the comings and goings at Drakelow and not be seen by those within. But — but-’
‘What?’ cried the girl, anxious eyes fixed on Sibert.
Romain watched in deep apprehension as Sibert stared out at the scene before him, the expression on his face like that of a man who has wakened to find himself in a world he does not recognize.