Hrype’s voice broke the spell.
‘Why should someone try to kill Elfritha?’ he asked.
My eyelids had been drooping, and I had been sitting slumped against the warm stone of the wall behind me. Now I sat up, rubbed the drowsiness away and forced myself to think. I’d had a theory, hadn’t I? Last time Hrype and I had visited the abbey, I’d worked it all out. I composed my thoughts and, when I was ready, began to speak.
‘There was one thing that occurred to me,’ I said. Hrype’s sudden intent gaze told me I had his full attention. ‘When we came here the first time, you insisted that we adopt the guises of an old man and his daughter, and I realized you wanted to hide our true identities from somebody. I wondered who it was, and why you didn’t want them to recognize us.’
He went: ‘Hrmph,’ and I knew he was thinking. Then he said, ‘What did you decide?’
‘That you believed the abbey was dangerous to us. To me, especially, because the new fanatical priest you spoke about — Father Clement — might have learned that I’d spoken to Elfritha concerning. . well, concerning my healing, which he probably would regard as pagan, sinful, the devil’s work. Oh, I don’t know,’ I exclaimed in sudden frustration, ‘I don’t really understand.’
‘You are quite right,’ Hrype said, coming to my rescue. ‘A man such as Father Clement believes there is but one true path to salvation. It is very straight, very narrow, the walls on either side are very high and there is no alternative way. He would view you as a sorcerer, a witch, and a practitioner of magic. And, worst of all, you’re also a woman.’ He gave me an ironic smile. ‘Doubly damned, I’m afraid.’
I barely recognized myself from his description, other than the bit about being a woman. ‘I don’t do magic,’ I whispered.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘No? Then the stories I’ve heard about a certain young healer who can dowse for hidden paths and lost objects must be untrue.’
‘That’s different,’ I began. ‘That’s just something I can do. .’ I stopped.
He grinned. ‘There you are, then. It’s magic, to someone as narrow-minded as Father Clement.’
There was a pause while I thought about that. Then I said, ‘Do you think I’m right? Do you think Herleva and Elfritha were poisoned because they’d been whispering about forbidden things?’ My words were hurting me, but I had to finish. ‘Things I’d told Elfritha, that she’d passed on to her best friend?’
Oh, if that were true, if those two innocent young women had been harmed because of something I had done, then how was I going to live with myself? Nevertheless, I was convinced I was right. They’d sat in a corner somewhere, white-veiled heads close together, and Elfritha had told her friend all about the wonderful, thrilling, magical things her little sister got up to. Someone had overheard; somehow the conversation had reached the attention of a powerful figure in the abbey. And this person had killed Herleva, dressing her death up as a sacrifice to the spirits of the place, and then they had tried to poison my sister.
Although I shied away from the thought, I knew who I suspected, and there seemed no room in my mind for any other possibilities. But was I right? Could such evil have been perpetrated by the person I suspected?
I had to ask.
‘Hrype?’ I whispered. He turned to look at me, his face unreadable. ‘Hrype, could Father Clement be so fanatical that he would murder two young nuns, simply because they had spoken of forbidden matters?’ Even as I spoke the words, I found myself denying them. Surely no man of God could have done something so brutal, even a fanatic like Father Clement.
The instant denial that I’d been hoping for did not come. Instead, after a long pause, Hrype said, ‘Father Clement is strict, blinkered and powerful. His own beliefs are so strong that he truly thinks his is the only path to certain redemption. He is, I feel, hard on others because he sincerely wants them to come to his god and, when they die, be permitted to spend eternity in paradise. Everything he does — and, as I told you before, he is as tough on himself as on his flock — is with that aim in mind.’
‘But would he kill?’ I persisted.
Hrype looked at me, smiling. ‘No, Lassair.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘He is the priest of the Chatteris nuns, responsible for their spiritual welfare, and, up to a point, he would be prepared to impose much hardship and even suffering, in the form of penance, if he thought he would thereby bring an errant soul to his god.’ He leaned closer to me, the smile gone. ‘But murder is a sin, a deadly sin, and a priest such as Father Clement would no more consider it than fly off over the fens. He is no killer, Lassair. Be assured of that.’
It was both a relief, because the thought of my sister and her friend being poisoned by a man they trusted was so dreadful, and a disappointment, because if Father Clement wasn’t responsible, who was?
We sat there a little while longer, and then, without speaking a word, at the same moment we stood up and set off back to the infirmary.
It was dark in the little room where my sister lay, the only light coming from a tallow lamp set beside the bed. Edild sat beside her patient, watching her closely, from time to time letting another drop or two of cold water fall on the cracked lips. Hrype wrapped himself up in his cloak and lay down in the corner behind the door. Once more, if I hadn’t known he was there, I’d never have guessed, so thoroughly did he seem to melt into the background.
There was no sound in the room. I felt my eyelids drooping and once or twice had to jerk myself awake from a light doze. I realized how tired I was; it had been such a long day. . Then, as is the way when you’re exhausted, all at once I was deeply asleep, lost in some worrying, muddled dream in which I had to find my way through shivering sands where one wrong footstep would drag me down to a horrible death. The thick, viscous mud was actually flowing into my mouth when once more I was kicked back into wakefulness.
The relief of finding it had only been a dream was short-lived. There were low voices in the infirmary: the soft, whispery tones of a nun, and a man’s rumbling mutter.
There was, as far as I knew, only one man who could be in the abbey infirmary in the middle of the night.
Hrype had clearly realized the same thing. He was already on his feet, a deeper shade in the shadowy corner, and even as I watched, he slipped out through the partly-open door. There was a brief gust of cold night air, and I guessed he had gone out through the door that led on to the cloister.
My aunt sat for a moment staring at the place where he had apparently vanished. Then she turned to me, and I saw the relief in her eyes.
I heard footsteps: Father Clement was completing his rounds with a visit to the sick novice. There was just enough time to pull my shawl up over my head, concealing my face, and lie down with my eyes closed. I made myself take some deep, calming breaths. If I was going to be convincing in my pretence of being asleep, I would have to sound right. I tried out a small snore. It sounded authentic. I did another one, soon getting into a rhythm.
I sensed someone walk into the little room. I opened one eye and, through the fringe of my shawl, I looked at the man who stood not an arm’s length in front of me.
It was the man I’d seen before, although at a greater distance. I studied his slim, broad-shouldered physique as he towered above me. In the dim light, it was hard to make out his features, but the light eyes seemed to glitter with intelligence. Again, I sensed his great power. Again, I feared him.
‘How is she?’ His voice was soft, very deep, and sent shivers through me.
‘She is much the same,’ Edild replied quietly. I noticed that she did not look up at him, but kept her eyes on her patient.
Father Clement murmured something — it could have been a prayer. I risked another quick glance and saw that he was staring down intently at Elfritha’s still body.