So it was with disappointment that he viewed his first discussions with Nizam, in spite of the initial excitement of seeing a nodule of what seemed to be gold in the Muslim's palm. In a halting mixture of French and Latin, the Scot tried to elicit a coherent account of Nizarn's theory and methods, but either because of the man's deliberate obfuscation or from genuine ignorance, he could make little sense of the Turk's vague ramblings.
When he asked to see the man manipulate his flasks, retorts and crucibles, he was given a fumbling display accompanied by an unintelligible monologue in the Turk's native tongue, and Alexander was little the wiser after five days than he was at the start.
Raymond de Blois had gone away again, ostensibly to secure more supplies of tin and silver and to meet an emissary from Gloucester at Revelstoke, but Alexander was determined to tackle him as soon as he returned, to get him to lay down the law to Nizam about his lack of useful cooperation. On Friday, with de Blois still absent, the little alchemist felt so frustrated that he decided to make a final effort and demand some decent information from the Mussulman — but after returning from a solitary noon dinner in the hut, he discovered that Nizam had disappeared, along with his two silent retainers and their horses.
'God's tits, where have they gone to this time?' he exploded to Jan, who was raking dung from the stable.
The hulking servant shrugged and made clear gestures, accompanied by guttural throat noises, that the three Asiatics had ridden off up the track to the road. A further pantomime told Alexander that they had been wearing dark cloaks with hoods, and his portrayal of a cross indicated that they had been dressed as monks. For a moment, the alchemist contemplated packing up and riding back to Bristol, but when his quick temper cooled, he decided to wait for Raymond's return.
He had a long wait, as the Frenchman remained away almost until dusk the next evening, eventually trotting in on a tired horse with a story that he had had to put the herald from Gloucester back on the right road to Totnes. He was in no mood to listen to Alexander's tale of woe, but after some food and wine served by the two Saxon guards, he unwound enough to sit by the fire in the crypt and consider what the Scotsman had to say.
'I'm beginning to think that this Nizam knows no more about transmutation than my dumb Fleming,' he began irascibly. 'I can get little sense out of him, and in spite of his having a speck of gold in his pouch, I doubt if he knows one end of a crucible from the other!'
De Blois tried to calm and reassure him. 'It must be the problem with language, magister. He was sent personally by my noble King Philip because of his prowess and reputation in your science. They met in Palestine and the King was so impressed by him that he brought him back to France. I was there myself, by the side of our sovereign, so can vouch for him.'
'But can you vouch for his expertise in alchemy, for there's precious little sign of it so far,' countered Alexander tartly. 'I feel I'm wasting my time here. I could be making more progress in my proper workshop in Bristol. And now the bastards have taken off again. They left yesterday. God knows where they've gone this time!'
Wearily, Raymond agreed to have a showdown with them when they returned. He angrily wondered where they had gone — this was the second time since they had arrived at Bigbury that the three Turks had vanished without explanation, even though he had lectured them on the need to lay low and keep out of sight of any of the local inhabitants. They had all brought monks' habits with them from France, as a necessary disguise to conceal their Moorish dress and features, but even these would not stand too close an inspection in daylight.
Raymond, guide and provider to this secret enterprise, did his best to pacify the indignant little Scotsman.
'We must persevere with this vital task, Alexander,' he cajoled. 'Sir Richard de Revelle has put himself at considerable risk and expense over this endeavour, and the messenger from Gloucester whom I have just left conveyed the concern of the Count of Mortain that success be speedily achieved.'
Reluctantly, the alchemist agreed to stay, but privately decided that he would carry on his researches alone, with little anticipation of help from the Mussulman, unless the latter demonstrated a radical change of attitude.
On Friday of that week, John de Wolfe took himself off to Dawlish with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he looked forward with disturbing enthusiasm to seeing Hilda, yet knowing of Nesta's disconcerting attitude he was almost afraid to mount his horse and commit himself to the visit. He took Gwyn with him, but left Thomas to his newfound delights around the cathedral. They trotted down to Topsham, led their steeds on to the flat-bottomed ferry for the short trip across the muddy estuary to the marshes beyond, then cantered across to the coast road at the foot of the low hills that led down to the sea and became cliffs farther south. Gwyn sensed his master's preoccupation and was well aware of the cause. Close companions though they were, it was not his place to offer advice, but he slipped in a few oblique hints when he had the opportunity.
'A fine woman, that Hilda! She'll have no trouble in getting herself a new husband in double-quick time!'
John scowled across at his lieutenant as they rode along side by side. 'Are you trying to tell me something, you old rogue?'
Gwyn innocently shook his head, his wild hair swaying like a corn stook in a gale. 'Just saying, Crowner, that's all! I'd make a play for her myself, if I wasn't a married man!'
'You mean just like me, don't you? Don't fret, Gwyn, I'm not going to throw a leg over her the minute I get inside her house. I've got Nesta breathing fire down my neck — and Matilda never misses a chance to remind me of my sins in that direction.'
His officer decided that he had better leave the subject alone and subsided into silence as they covered the last few miles to the little harbour. In the village, Gwyn diplomatically took himself to one of the two taverns, where John could pick him up when he had finished his business, innocent or otherwise. The coroner walked Odin down the lane that led from the creek where boats were beached and tied him to a hitching rail outside the solid stone dwelling that Thorgils had built.
Again the young maid was surprised to see him at the door, but with half-concealed giggles, simperingly she led him up the stairs to Hilda's solar. The widow had given up her mourning grey and looked elegant in a long kirtle of blue linen with a shift of white samite visible above the square-cut neckline. As usual indoors, her hair was uncovered and the honey-blonde tresses fell down her back, almost to her waist. John found it hard to remember her as the rosy-faced urchin with whom he had played in Holcombe many years before — and later as a lissom girl when they furtively kissed and coupled in the tithe barn. Looking at her now, serene, beautiful and self-confident, it was also difficult to accept that she was but the daughter of a manor-reeve, an unfree villein in his brother's employ — as she herself had been unfree until she had married Thorgils.
Hilda came towards him, her hands outstretched to take his, a smile of genuine pleasure on her face.
'John, it is so good to see you, no one is more welcome in this house!' She came close and, like iron chippings to a lodestone, his arms automatically came up to embrace her, though somewhere in his head warning chimes pealed as loudly as cathedral bells. Hilda's blue eyes and her full pink lips were inches away from his and he felt her breasts pressing against him as he held her. She stood immobile and he knew she was waiting for him to make the next move — or not make it. He realised that she was giving this old soldier the chance to attack or retreat, not forcing the issue but establishing where the watershed lay between prudence and abandonment. As he felt the heat growing in his loins, he groaned with longing and indecision, but then the vision of another pair of eyes, lips and breasts swam into his fevered mind. With a sudden movement, he pecked at her cheek with his lips and stood back, his hands sliding to hold her upper arms as they looked at each other gravely, the moment of decision reached — for now.