When at last Hrype was ready, he loosened his tight hold on the leather bag and opened it, drawing out its cords so that it was wide open. Then, with a swift, neat movement, he turned the bag upside down, and his jade rune stones tumbled down on to the linen square.
He sat staring down at the stones. They were beautiful, the translucent green incised with the familiar rune marks, which had been filled in with gold. The gentle firelight caught the precious metal, sparkling off the runes and making them glitter and shine. Hrype looked from rune to rune, forming different combinations, seeing different versions of the same message. He frowned, shook his head to clear it and then looked again at the runes.
He did not understand what the runes were telling him. It was just not possible; he was as sure of that as he was that the moon would soon set and the sun come up. But the runes never lied. Their message might be obscure — in fact, it usually was — but they were incapable of an untruth.
Slowly, Hrype gathered up the stones, muttering a prayer of thanks and a blessing on each one as he put it back in the leather bag. Then he folded up the linen square and put it on top of the stones. Thoughtfully, he reattached the bag to his belt.
He stood up and trod out the small remnants of his fire, cutting a turf from beneath the hedge and neatly tucking it into the black space where the fire had been. After a few moments’ work, nobody would have guessed what had happened there that night.
He set off back up the field towards the abbey, his agile mind trying all sorts of possibilities as he attempted to make sense of what the runes had told him. It was not until he was jumping down off the abbey wall that the solution hit him. He smiled briefly, wondering why on earth he hadn’t thought of it before.
He was now desperate to get back to the room in the infirmary. He needed to speak urgently to Lassair; or even to Edild, he reflected. Nevertheless, he maintained his caution and stood for some time in the cloister, using all his senses to make sure nobody was about. Dawn would come soon, and the nuns would be going to their church for the office. But he thought he had enough time.
He opened the door into the infirmary just a crack, sliding through and closing it again. Then he tiptoed into the little room where Elfritha lay. Edild was beside her, spongeing the girl’s face. She looked up and met his eyes.
‘She is better,’ he said. He knew it.
‘Yes,’ Edild whispered. ‘Yes, I believe she is. She has now taken half a cup of water, and there is no indication that she will bring it up again.’ She smiled, tentatively at first, then, as if she could not control her joy, her whole face lit up.
His heart leapt at the sight of her. He swiftly crossed the room and knelt beside her, taking her in his arms. Their kiss was brief, but he knew — and he hoped she did too — that soon there would be time for a full expression of their love. It had been such a long time since they had been alone. .
He broke the embrace, holding her by her shoulders, his eyes on hers. Then the urgency returned. He looked round the room and, as the realization dawned, said disbelievingly, ‘Where’s Lassair?’
It might be that she had simply crept out to find the latrines, but he knew even before Edild spoke that it was not.
‘She’s gone,’ Edild said.
He bit back a curse. He waited until he knew his voice would be calm, then said, ‘Where?’
‘She had a power dream,’ Edild replied.
It was enough; she did not need to elaborate, especially not to him, of all people. You did not ignore a power dream. The spirits sent them for a reason, and if you did not act upon them, the spirits would decide you were not worthy and never send you another.
‘Where did it summon her to?’
She told him. He nodded; he knew of the wooden circle, although he had never seen it. He wondered what the spirits wanted with Lassair. He was not at all surprised that she had received the call, for in the years that he had watched her mature, he had come to realize that she had a rare gift.
He made himself stop speculating. It was not his place to ask questions. What went on between the spirits and the mortals with whom they chose to communicate was private, and anyone else who tried to intervene — even someone far more experienced in sorcery than the recipient of the dreams — did so at their peril.
Lassair, then, was out of his reach. He would have to discover what he needed to know from Edild. He wondered how to phrase his question. After a moment, he said, ‘What did the priest want?’
She was drowsy — he could tell by the way she was leaning into him — and apparently did not at first understand what he had said. He repeated the question.
‘Oh, he came to see how Elfritha was,’ she replied, yawning as she spoke.
Hrype thought carefully. ‘Did he look as if he really cared?’ he asked.
Elfritha shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t really see his face, for, as now, we had but the one small light, and it was on the floor beside me. The priest was in the shadows.’
Hrype frowned. That was a blow. . He thought hard and soon understood that there was an alternative. He bent his head to give Edild one more kiss, then straightened up. Looking down at her, his heart overflowing, he wished that he could tell her of his suspicions. But sometimes knowledge could be dangerous, and that was without a doubt the case here. He said softly, ‘I have to go, my love.’
She nodded. She was used to his comings and goings and did not ask questions. ‘Very well.’
He hesitated. He had his own preoccupation, driving him now like a man whipping a tired horse, but he knew that she did too. ‘Will you be all right, nursing Elfritha by yourself?’
‘Yes. It is not demanding.’
That was not what he had meant. He was about to speak, but she forestalled him. ‘I will have the assistance of another pair of watchful eyes to protect her,’ she whispered. ‘Sister Christiana is coming to join me as soon as the office has been said.’
‘Sister Christiana?’
Edild smiled. ‘You would recognize her if you saw her. She is the nun who admitted you yesterday.’
The thin-faced one whose severe expression had melted into kindness when Lassair told her they’d come to see Elfritha; yes, he remembered her. ‘She has a good heart,’ he murmured.
‘Indeed she has,’ Edild agreed. ‘Moreover — ’ her voice dropped to the merest whisper, and he bent down to hear — ‘she understands the danger and will stay with me by Elfritha’s bedside until it has passed. Whenever that may be,’ she added on a sigh.
He was reassured. He had not wanted to leave Edild alone, watching over someone who had just been poisoned and who might very well be attacked in some way again. Knowing she would have a companion — and one of such quality — was a great relief. ‘I will not cease until the danger is no more,’ he said. ‘You have my word, and I do not break it.’
She looked up at him, her face full of love. ‘I know,’ she said.
There was nothing to be gained by staying. If he left now, there was little chance that anyone would see him go. He turned, drew up his hood and, with one last glance at her, he was gone.
I had not relished the idea of making my way on foot from Chatteris all round the west, south and east of the fens until I reached the far shore. But, of course, I did not have to, and fortunately I realized it before I had got very far. I had been standing on the quayside at the point where boats ferried passengers on the short trip across to the mainland to the south, and, reprimanding myself for my dimness, I walked right along the long curve of the waterfront until I was facing north-east. Then I waited.