A Shadowed Evil Read online

  There was an awkward silence. Somebody cleared their throat.

  Isabelle pushed her chair back and got to her feet, making an exasperated sound. ‘I’d better go and ask her if she wants anything,’ she muttered crossly.

  Helewise watched her stride away. Was she about to confront her daughter-in-law? Was this at last going to be the great, explosive argument they all seemed to be anticipating? She waited. Nobody spoke. The children – the three little girls and Olivar – all seemed very absorbed with what was on their platters, and not one of them spoke or even raised their head.

  The sound of Isabelle’s returning footsteps reached them. ‘She’s not in her room,’ she said as she entered the hall. ‘Where do you imagine she’s gone, Herbert?’

  He stared at her. ‘I – I don’t know,’ he stammered. ‘Out for a walk?’

  Isabelle went on glaring at him for a moment. Then she said resignedly, ‘She’ll no doubt let us know when she wants some food. In the meantime, I suggest we all carry on with our meal, and then proceed with our tasks for the day.’

  The sun’s gentle heat increased as it rose up in the sky. By mid-morning, the mist had all but cleared. In the solar, Helewise strode up and down, trying to tell herself she was enjoying the warmth coming in through the south-facing window, but in reality only there so that she could keep returning to the little north-facing window to see if Josse was approaching.

  Leaning against the wall, staring out over the valley, she noticed how high the water was. The stream had broken its banks, and had turned into a fast-flowing river, full of melted snow and tumbling down the valley towards the Ouse. The water level must have risen even higher during the night, she noted absently, because there was a line of water-borne detritus part of the way up the steep slope in front of the house.

  Suddenly she stiffened. There was something else there, lying on the wet grass.

  Her heart began to beat very fast.

  She raced out of the solar, down the passage and into the Old Hall, calling out as she ran to Jenna, Editha and Emma, busy with some activity at the table, ‘Fetch help! There’s someone out on the stream bank!’

  She flung open the main door and flew down the steps, across the courtyard and out through the gates, turning to her left, running along in front of the wall until she stood at the foot of the high north face of the solar. She paused, not knowing how best to descend, frantically looking for the safest way down. The incline was far too steep to go straight down, so she followed the contours and took a zigzag path, desperately trying to keep her footing and very aware of the rushing waters not far below.

  Was he still alive? She ran on. He’ll be so cold, she thought, and I didn’t think to bring anything to wrap him up in. She risked a quick glance behind her. Isabelle, Herbert, Jenna and some of the servants were coming out through the gates, two of the servants carrying bundled blankets. Good, Helewise thought. The sooner they encouraged a little warmth into him, the greater the chance he would survive.

  She skidded to a halt beside the figure lying on the muddy grass. She bent down, staring into the dead face. It was a dead face: there could be no doubt. The flesh was marble white, the slightly parted lips were blue, the wide eyes did not blink in the bright sunlight and the body lay utterly still.

  Just to be sure, Helewise put her fingers to the throat, feeling under the sodden white linen of the gorget. There was no pulse of life. She put her cheek against the nose and mouth. There was no breath, and the flesh was so cold that it almost hurt.

  Helewise stood up and said a prayer for the soul of Cyrille de Picus.

  SIXTEEN

  It was clear even to Josse’s ever-optimistic eyes that Aeleis would not survive the day. He had been at her side since before dawn, sometimes talking to her of their childhood – lying with her eyes closed, it was nevertheless apparent that she enjoyed listening, for she smiled frequently and sometimes even managed a laugh – and sometimes simply holding her hand while she slept.

  He recognized the approach of death. Aeleis’s face was totally devoid of colour, and her lips had a blue tinge. Her flesh seemed to have shrunk, so that the fine bones of her skull could be traced.

  In the mid-morning, she opened her eyes and asked for a drink. Josse leapt up and summoned one of the nuns, who prepared a warm herbal draught sweetened with honey. Aeleis drank it with evident pleasure.

  ‘Now then, Josse,’ she said briskly when the nun had gone, ‘I’ve been thinking, and trying to work out why Parsifal went to Southfire Hall. Don’t tell me it was to inform my family that I was ill, because I made sure he didn’t know I was sick enough to bring the relatives flocking. And don’t pretend either that he’d gone on my behalf to see Father, because, as I told you, we didn’t know he was failing.’

  ‘We thought—’

  ‘Who’s we? You and Isabelle and the family?’

  ‘Well, yes, but mainly Helewise and me.’

  ‘She’s your wife, you said?’

  ‘Er – aye.’

  ‘Is she nice, does she really love you and value you as she should, and would I like her? Would she like me?’ she added as an afterthought.

  He grinned. ‘Aye to all four. Helewise and I reckoned Peter – Parsifal – had come because he wanted to see how your kin felt about you. Whether they’d welcome you if you were to come back.’

  She watched him through narrowed eyes. ‘You all thought he was my son,’ she remarked. ‘No doubt it occurred to at least one of you that he might have turned up looking for his share of the inheritance. As my legitimate son, he would have been entitled to claim his rightful due.’

  ‘Aye, that was pointed out,’ he admitted. ‘Isabelle said it would have ruffled a few feathers, since Young Herbert’s married a woman with a son by a previous marriage, and is in the process of adopting the boy as his son and heir.’

  ‘Herbert’s married? What’s she like?’

  ‘She was the widow of his friend William Crowburgh, and he met her when he went to offer his condolences after William died.’

  Aeleis sank back on her pillows, closing her eyes. Josse wondered if she had fallen asleep – it would hardly be surprising, since all this talk must surely have tired her – and for some moments he studied her face. He could read nothing in it; it was as if she had deliberately wiped away all expression.

  Then she opened her eyes again and said, as if there had been no pause, ‘But would a son of mine have made any difference to that?’ She frowned, clearly thinking hard. ‘Herbert is Isabelle’s son, and she’s older than me, so I’d have thought that the inheritance would have gone down through him.’

  Josse stared at her. Now why didn’t any of us think of that? he wondered.

  ‘It’s irrelevant, anyway,’ Aeleis said dismissively, ‘because Parsifal wouldn’t have gone to Southfire either to see if the family were ready to welcome back their disreputable daughter or to claim his inheritance.’ Her eyes held Josse’s now, the intensity of her gaze almost making him uncomfortable. ‘There is a reason why he would have gone, but it’s nothing any of you could have thought of.’

  And she told him what it was.

  Afterwards, when they had talked for as long as Aeleis’s strength allowed, and she was lying back pale and exhausted, Josse said, ‘I’m so sorry he’s dead. Not only because you’ve lost someone you loved so much, but also because he won’t have been able to achieve what he set out to do, and have the revenge he sought.’

  She looked up at him, a sparkle of the old mischief in her eyes. ‘Don’t you be too sure about that, my dear old Josse,’ she said. Then, giving him an odd look, she murmured, ‘Parsifal was a very unusual man, and he once told me that the most powerful magic happens when you reflect someone’s curse back upon them. They do say,’ she added, her voice dropping to a confiding whisper, ‘that such a spell, if it can be achieved, multiplies the power of the original curse sevenfold, although I dare say that’s an exaggeration.’

  Josse felt a shiver of dread.
Sevenfold. ‘Do you think that’s true?’ he whispered back. She shrugged.

  She slept for a while. When she woke again, he could see she was almost at the end of her strength. Quickly he got up, about to go and fetch a nun – Sister Liese herself perhaps – but she shook her head and said softly, ‘Stay.’

  He sat down again, leaning close so he could hear her. Sensing a movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder. Sister Liese stood there. Caring as she did for those in her charge, able to sense, perhaps, when the moment was approaching, she hadn’t needed to be summoned. She was staring at the dying woman with eyes full of compassion.

  ‘He is waiting for me,’ Aeleis said dreamily, ‘just as I knew he would. Oh, I can see him quite clearly now!’ She gave a little gasp, and it was as if a soft light illuminated her face. ‘Oh, he’s holding out his arms and telling me to hurry up.’ She turned to look at Josse, grasping his hand. ‘Bury us together, Josse,’ she said urgently. ‘We don’t want to be apart.’

  ‘I will,’ he promised.

  She seemed to be looking at something beyond him. She began to smile – a look of such joy, such luminous, serene beauty, that he gasped. She whispered, ‘Parsifal …’ and then her breath stopped.

  A little later, Sister Liese stepped up to the bed, reached down and gently closed her eyes. Aeleis was dead.

  Prayers were said over her, and a sweet, soft chant, sung by four nuns, each with a lighted candle in her hand. Abbess Caliste appeared at Josse’s side, wordlessly supporting him by her calm presence. Time must have passed. He found himself outside, the weak sun of the February morning shining down on the wooden bench he was sitting on, set against the infirmary wall.

  And Abbess Caliste said softly, ‘Sir Josse, someone’s here to see you.’

  He couldn’t think who he could possibly want to talk to just then. For courtesy’s sake, he looked up, trying to force a polite smile.

  Meggie said, ‘Abbess Caliste told me you were at the abbey, Father, that something sad was about to happen and you might appreciate some company.’

  He found he couldn’t speak. Standing up, he took her in his arms and, for quite a while, simply held her. ‘Of all the people I’d have conjured up if I could,’ he muttered in her ear, ‘I’d have asked for you.’

  ‘Here I am,’ she whispered back.

  Letting her go and wiping his eyes, he said, ‘But you’ve got your hands full working on your new dwelling, and the forge, and that’s where you should be. Doesn’t Jehan need you?’

  She grinned. ‘I should hope so, and I’m sure he does, but he can manage without me for a few days and he understands why I want to be with you.’ She reached for his hand. ‘I’m so sorry she’s dead,’ she said, the clear brown eyes looking up into his. ‘I know you cared about her.’

  Slowly he shook his head. ‘Meggie, I hadn’t seen her for twenty years, and even that was a rare meeting. Somehow, though, that wasn’t important. We shared a part of our childhood, and it seems the imprint of such experiences goes deep.’

  She nodded. ‘And she was your cousin, Father. It makes a difference when people are of the same blood.’

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed absently. He was thinking of something she had just said: ‘A few days?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said Jehan can manage without you for a few days.’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, that’s right. I thought I’d ride back to Southfire Hall with you. I’ve packed a few things in a bag and borrowed Auban. He’s Jehan’s horse, as you probably recall, and he’s over in the stables with Arthur.’

  He turned to Abbess Caliste, who had tactfully walked a few paces away to give them privacy. ‘Is it all right if I leave?’

  ‘Of course, Sir Josse. You will naturally wish to give your family news of Aeleis’s death.’

  And I want to be with Helewise, he could have added.

  ‘What about her body?’ he said quietly. ‘She asked to be buried with Parsifal. He was her husband, and he lies dead at Southfire. He—’ But explanations were beyond him.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Abbess Caliste said. ‘We will keep Aeleis with us for now, and she shall lie in the crypt beneath the church, and we shall pray for her. When you and the family are ready, let us know about the burials.’

  He nodded. Then Meggie took his hand again, led him across to the stables, and, very soon afterwards, they were setting off on the track through the forest and heading south.

  At Southfire Hall, Helewise watched as four of the servants, under the command of Isabelle and Herbert, took a hurdle out to the steep slope on the north side of the house and carefully placed the body on it. Isabelle stepped forward with a piece of clean white linen, which she draped over the still form from head to toes. Then the servants carried Cyrille’s body into the house, putting it on the bed in the room she had shared with Herbert.

  Herbert, Helewise observed, was white with shock. As his wife’s corpse was brought back, he had stared at it with wide, unblinking eyes, as if he couldn’t believe she was dead. Did he mourn her? Helewise wondered. Was he heartbroken, or did one small part of him already rejoice because the problems that she brought into his life had died with her?

  Herbert, however, was not her concern. He had his mother, his sister and the rest of his family to support him. Helewise resolved that her responsibility would be to watch over Olivar. The child had lost his mother, and, although she had of late been a distant figure, more likely to seek him out to admonish and punish him than to suggest a game or give him a hug, all the same she was his mother, and the boy must surely be shocked and grieving. Although you did not know it, Olivar, Helewise thought sadly, you were just beginning to learn what your life would become as soon as your little half-brother was born.

  She would help him all she could. Allow him to talk as much as he needed to about his mother, or, if it suited him better, let him be quiet. When the news of Cyrille’s death had gently been broken to him by Isabelle, he hadn’t said a word. His eyes had shot briefly to Helewise, and just for an instant she had thought he looked … furtive, was the word that came to mind. She guessed this might very well be because he could not summon the instant storm of grief that he might well suppose was expected of him.

  If he did not love his mother as he might have done, though, she reflected, then that was Cyrille’s fault for not being a more affectionate and attentive parent.

  She sighed. It was very likely that the little boy was still too stunned to react to the news. She would make sure she stayed close for when the time came.

  She turned her mind away from the sad topic of Olivar and on to the dreadful question that the household now faced: did Cyrille somehow fall out of the window, or did she jump?

  The third possibility – that somebody pushed her – was too awful to contemplate.

  Yet.

  After a meal had been put on the board in the Old Hall – a meal that nobody seemed to want – Philomena took Olivar and the three little girls off for a long walk along the top of the downs, remarking to Isabelle that, despite the intermittent drizzle, they were better off out of the tense, brooding atmosphere in the house. As soon as the main door of the house banged shut, Isabelle addressed the family still sitting around the table in the Old Hall.

  ‘Is it possible,’ she asked, ‘to fall by accident out of the north window in the solar?’

  ‘Are we sure that’s the one she fell from?’ Editha asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Isabelle replied shortly. ‘She was found directly beneath it.’

  ‘And she was in the solar yesterday afternoon,’ Jenna added. ‘I saw her busy at her needlework.’

  Isabelle glanced at Herbert, who sat staring down at his hands folded in front of him. Then she said, ‘I’m sorry if this sounds callous or disrespectful, but I think we ought to check.’ Herbert’s head shot up. ‘You can stay here if you like,’ Isabelle said gently. ‘Editha, Emma, you stay with him. It’s no time for any of us to be alone,’ she muttered.

  She sw
ept out of the hall, Helewise and Jenna behind her. Their footsteps echoing, they marched along the passage and into the solar, crossing over to the north window. Its base was a little over waist height, and in shape it was almost square, each side about the length of a forearm and extended hand.

  Helewise tried to force her head and shoulders through the opening. ‘I would have difficulty squeezing out, never mind falling by accident,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, but you’re broad-shouldered, and so am I,’ Isabelle said. ‘Jenna, you’re the smallest. You try.’

  Jenna looked doubtful. ‘Hold on to me, then.’

  Isabelle gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘Naturally.’

  With Isabelle and Helewise clutching very firmly on to her legs, Jenna thrust her upper body out of the window. She managed to get right through the narrow space, and then, with a cry, begged them to pull her back inside.

  ‘You weren’t in any danger!’ Isabelle scolded her as she sank down against the wall. ‘What do you think? Could she have fallen?’

  ‘Not accidentally,’ Jenna said. ‘Although Cyrille’s quite fat, she’s got narrow, sloping shoulders, so she’d have got out through the window more easily than I did, but she’s shorter than me, so, in order to tip over the windowsill and fall out, her feet would have had to leave the ground. She’s broad across the hips, though, although I suppose if she’d already been falling, then the impetus would have carried her on.’ She stared at the window. ‘To overbalance, she’d have to be leaning out a long way,’ she concluded.

  ‘Could she have been trying to see something on the ground below?’ Isabelle suggested.

  ‘Yes, quite possibly,’ Jenna agreed. ‘She was always spying on people, looking out for tasks not being done properly, or for the children getting up to mischief, or anyone coming into the house with muddy feet. Maybe she heard, or saw, something, and leaned out to get a better look.’

  ‘That could have caused her to fall,’ Isabelle agreed, looking pleased that they had come up with a possibility. ‘Couldn’t it?’ Her smile faded. ‘Although somehow I can’t quite see how,’ she went on, frowning as she tried to puzzle it out, ‘since what on earth could have attracted her attention down there, on a day when the weather had kept us all indoors?’