Alis (23 page)

“Didn’t you look for him?”

Edge shrugged wearily. “Didn’t know where to look. I waited a bit in case he came back. Nothing else I could do.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“Chance. We’d had a lift on a cart with a couple of farm wives and they were gossiping about how the Minister in Freeborne had married a girl less than half his age. They even knew your name. Jojo was asleep. I told him later but you can’t be sure what he’ll remember. When he disappeared, I thought I’d come and tell you, so you’d know what had happened to us.”

The little clock chimed a half hour. “I’ll go now.” She hesitated, then said pleadingly, “I didn’t mean to. It was bad luck.” She gestured to the room above, where Galin lay. “He’ll be all right if you get help.”

Alis’s stomach heaved at the remembrance of the terrible wound. With an effort she suppressed the thought. Now she must get Edge safely away and then persuade Galin to let her go for the Healers.

“You must keep the shawl over your head,” she said. “You will be noticed otherwise. Hide your knife well, and go as quickly as you can. I hope you will be safe.”

She opened the door and looked out. No one. The moon was low in the sky. On the threshold Edge stopped, saying in a low voice, “You were all right, good to me—you and Jojo. That’s why I came.”

Then she shouldered her little bundle, drew the shawl up over her hair, and began to walk away. From the back she looked like any respectable daughter of the Book. Soon the shadows swallowed her up and there was only the sound of her footsteps dying away in the distance.

Alis went inside and shut the door. She wanted to weep but there was no time. She must look to her husband.

He was leaning back on the pillows with his eyes shut. The lamplight caught the gleam of wet blood on the bandage. As she moved toward him he opened his eyes.

“Is she gone?” His voice was a whisper.

She nodded.

“Good.” He patted the bed feebly with his good hand. “Now come and sit by me. We must give her time to get away.”

“Galin.” She felt her voice tremble. “Surely I must get some help for you?”

He shook his head slightly, as if even that were an effort. “Not yet.”

“But you are still bleeding. And I do not know how to staunch the flow.” She was suddenly terrified. He would die.

He turned his head to look at her and motioned toward the cup of water. She gave him a drink. It seemed to revive him, though when he spoke his voice was very weak.

“We must wait. Even if I speak in her defense, she may hang if she is caught, for this attack will have to be reported to the Great

Council. I have blighted one young life. I will not be guilty a second time. Now listen. We must think what we are to say, when they ask how it happened.”

She had not thought of this but of course there would be questions asked. What could they say? Her mind was empty. Haltingly, with many pauses to catch his breath, Galin outlined a plan. They must keep as close to the truth as possible. That way they would be less likely to make mistakes. He would say—or she must say if he could no longer speak—that he had been attacked by a man whom he had caught trying to open the front door. It would put them off the scent and it was more likely anyway. And she must say she had woken near dawn and come down to look for him, expecting to find him asleep in the chair, having come home late. And then, wondering what had detained him all night, she had gone to the door thinking that perhaps he was, even then, nearing home. The rest was simple. She had found him on the doorstep, brought him in, bandaged the wound, and helped him to bed. Then she had summoned aid.

He was silent for a while; she thought he had fainted or fallen asleep, but after a few moments he spoke again. “Alis.”

His voice was very feeble now. She leaned close to hear him.

“I should not have married you. I am sorry. But we thought we were doing right, your mother and I. When the Book named you, it seemed it must be the Maker’s will. I do not believe that any longer. But you will be free now.”

His voice trailed away; the effort had exhausted him. His skin had a waxen sheen, as if he were dead already. She felt sick with terror. If she did not fetch the Healers, he would surely die, but if she did, the searchers would find Edge on the road and bring her in to be questioned. Respectable girls did not wander about in the dark, and what account could she give of herself? Galin had said she might hang.

“Alis.” He had opened his eyes again and was watching her. “Do not trouble yourself so. Stay by me if you will—I would not be alone—but put your head down and rest a little. There is nothing to be done yet.”

 

 

She woke with a jerk, feeling stiff and cold. There was light in the room. Was it day already? In terror she started up, but it was only the oil lamp, still burning, and smoking a little for the wick needed trimming. Galin lay back against the pillows, his face tense with pain, but his eyes flickered when she stood up and he tried to speak. She gave him some water to drink and he said, very low and hoarse, “Open the shutters. It must be near dawn now.”

She did as she was told and saw that the moon was quite gone. Soon it would grow light. She readied herself to go.

“Remember,” he said with a hint of a smile, though his eyes were sunken as though the flesh had fallen away already, “you must make a great clamor, as if you had just found me. And Alis, when you have fetched the Healers, bring your mother to me. I must speak with her.”

He closed his eyes as if he had no more strength.

She let herself out into the cool morning air and then in terror that he would die before she could return, she began to run. She had no need to pretend when she reached the Healers’ house: she hammered on the door. They must come. They must come. And wide-eyed with shock but ready to ply their craft, they came. When they were safely in the house, Alis went for her mother.

Hannah was already dressed and was lighting the stove in the kitchen when Alis came in. She looked up in surprise and exclaimed when she saw her daughter’s white face. Alis gave her no time for questions.

“Galin is hurt. He has asked for you. You must come at once.” She saw Hannah go pale.

“What has happened?” the older woman asked. “Is he sick?”

“He was attacked, stabbed. He has lost a lot of blood,” Alis replied.

To her amazement she saw her mother’s lips tremble. And then Hannah was flinging on her shawl and there were no more words.

 

 

The Healers had rebandaged his arm but there was nothing more they could do. He had lost much blood, they said. He was very weak. Alis would have tended Galin herself but they sent her away, and her mother went to sit with him. In her room Alis lay down upon the bed, but sleep would not come. If she closed her eyes, images from the night before burned on her sight like visions from a nightmare. She had often wished Galin dead, and now she was afraid that she would get what she had wished for.

Toward nightfall one of the Healers came to fetch her. He had been unconscious most of the day but now he had called her name and was struggling to speak. She went in, but he had slipped beyond reach again.

In the morning he was dead.

W
hile Galin lay sick, searchers on horseback had scoured the surrounding area for traces of his assailant. But neither the outlying farms nor the inns on the highway had anything to report. No one, it seemed, had been robbed or threatened. The man had appeared from nowhere and disappeared without a trace.

Hannah was bitter now—consumed by her grief for Galin, which she must keep in check. Alis pitied her. She could not forget the way her mother’s lips had trembled at the news of the attack, or the look on Hannah’s face as she sat white and still at the bedside, holding Galin’s dead hand in hers. She wondered whether she could contrive—without mentioning Edge—to comfort her mother with the fact that Joel had meant to come home. But it might only be an added sorrow, since he had not appeared, so she said nothing.

After the funeral, her parents would have had her return to live with them but she wanted only to be alone in her own house. In the days that followed, she found herself listening for Galin’s footsteps, or thinking that she heard his voice. She prepared food and saw that she had made enough for two. He had been a quiet man, and at night she had barely heard him turn over in his bed, but now when she lay sleepless, the silence had a new quality and she wept for him. Once she lay down in the marriage bed she had never shared with him. She wished she might speak to him, just once, to tell him that she was sorry to have brought his death upon him, and in so dreadful a way.

But devastated and bewildered though she was by what had happened, Alis knew she must look to the future. Though she longed to know if Luke were still with Ellen’s friends, she did not dare try to get a message to him at first. But the delay preyed on her mind: Ellen might have been driven away, and no one else would know where Luke had gone. In the end she sent a letter to Ellen at the farm, telling her what had happened. She did not mention Luke: the letter might fall into the wrong hands.

 

 

Elzbet’s baby gurgled in Alis’s lap, sticking out its tongue and kicking vigorously. Its mother smiled proudly.

“She’s beautiful, don’t you think? And so strong. Martin says she’ll be the first girl blacksmith!”

Alis, grateful for Elzbet’s efforts to raise her spirits, made an effort to smile and agreed that the baby was both beautiful and strong. And indeed the baby was engaging—so long as it did not cry or soil itself. Then it was strong smelling, and very far from beautiful. Elzbet was laughing.

“Come, I will take her. Your face gives you away. What you will do if ever you have one of your own, I cannot think.”

They were making bread and had just taken the loaves from the oven when the prayer-house bell began to ring. They paused to listen, looking at each other in surprise. It was mid-morning: there was no prayer meeting or other activity to be signaled at such a time. But the bell went on and on. Elzbet held the baby close to her and said anxiously, “It is a summons. What can have happened, do you think?”

Alis shook her head. A general summons meant something serious—fire or danger perhaps—and was very rare.

They joined the crowd of people making their way to the prayer house, exchanging subdued greetings with neighbors, all wondering what had happened. Perhaps there was news of the man who had attacked the Minister so brutally.

Elzbet and Alis went inside and found themselves seats on the benches. Thomas and some of her town’s Elders were there watching the people as they entered but there was no sign of Hannah, and the three central places at the table where the Minister, Hannah, and her current deputy usually sat were vacant. Alis looked round for her father. She could not see him either, but he might be out at one of the farms.

When at length the bell ceased to ring and the last stragglers were seated, Thomas raised his hand for silence. Alis felt her heart beat faster. Why was Thomas taking charge? And where was her mother? If there was trouble it should be the Senior Elder who addressed the people. The door behind the Elders’ table opened and three men came in. They were strangers, dressed in dark, formal clothes and bringing with them an air of authority that seemed to subdue even Thomas. Two of them sat down, leaving one empty place in the center of the table, but the third man—not very tall, broad-shouldered, with cropped gray hair and strong, hard features—came forward to stand beside Thomas. He gestured slightly with his hand and Thomas stepped respectfully back. Then the newcomer spoke, his voice clear and rich in the hushed hall.

“People of the Community of Freeborne, the Great Council has heard of your trouble and of the sudden and terrible death of your Minister. It seems that no one has yet been apprehended for the attack, a state of things not satisfactory in so momentous a matter. We are here, therefore, to inquire into the circumstances of the Minister’s death and especially into the part that may have been played in it by a person against whom an accusation has been laid. Where is the woman who was the Minister’s wife? Is she here?”

For a moment Alis did not move. What could they know? What was she to be accused of? She must take care not to give anything away. This was Thomas’s doing, she had no doubt. He hated her because she had sided with Mistress Elizabeth over the whipping in Two Rivers, and she had challenged his beating of Peter, too. Had he somehow found out about Edge? Well, he must be faced down. She would not let him destroy her. Elzbet was gripping her hand and looking up at her in horror. Gently, she disengaged herself and stood up. “I am here.”

The stranger looked at her carefully as if committing her features to memory. “You are Mistress Alis?”

“I am.”

He paused a moment, still observing her closely. “Mistress Alis, I must tell you that an accusation has been laid against you by Master Thomas of Two Rivers, that you yourself made the attack upon your husband that resulted in his death.”

There was a gasp from the crowd. For a moment Alis did not think she could have heard him right. “You think
I
killed Galin?”

He shook his head. “I think nothing, Mistress Alis. I only tell you that an accusation has been made and it must be tested. And because it is so serious a charge, you must be held as a prisoner until the proceedings are complete.”

“A prisoner!” What did he mean? There was no prison in Freeborne.

“Do not fear. You will be well treated and have every means for preparing your defense. But you must see that in such a case it is not fit that the accused person should be free to steal away perhaps, or to suborn the witnesses.”

At once her temper rose. She was to be locked up while Thomas was free to do and say what he pleased. Contempt for them banished her fear briefly. Scornfully she asked, “And is my accuser also to be held as a prisoner, so that he may not suborn the witnesses?”