Company of Liars (62 page)

‘Osmond, I take it Rodrigo has told you what I said yesterday afternoon about Narigorm?’

He nodded, saying hastily, ‘But no one blames you,
Camelot. Rodrigo was saying that the poisoned mist made you both imagine things.’

I ignored this. ‘Last night we neither heard the wolf nor did he take the reliquary. That's because Narigorm slept all night; you saw her. When she's awake, she controls the Sending; when she sleeps, the wolf is silent.’

I thought it wisest not to mention I had drugged her. They really would think I was mad.

‘But that proves nothing,’ Osmond said. ‘Some nights the wolf howls, sometimes he doesn't. Look, I've been thinking about what you told Rodrigo, but I realized we first heard the wolf that night in the cave, the night Zophiel, Adela and I joined you. Narigorm wasn't with us then.’

‘That night in the cave, it probably was a real wolf. There are wolves still remaining in that wilderness of caves and gorges. Or, as Zophiel said, it could have been one of the outlaws who hide up in those places, but human or animal, whatever we heard that night didn't follow us. We never heard a wolf again until Narigorm joined us, and then only when there were nine of us, which was weeks later. Remember what Narigorm said yesterday: “Nine belong to the wolf”? The day we first saw Cygnus telling stories in the market place, I saw her read the runes and she said, “There is one to come before it can begin,” and only after Cygnus joined us, making the nine, did we start to hear the wolf and think it was following us. I know it doesn't seem possible, but the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that she has somehow been behind every death in our company.’

Rodrigo put his hand on my shoulder. ‘This is not like you. You should rest. These deaths and the long journey have exhausted you. Go back to the camp. We will talk later.’

‘No, you have to listen to me now. When you were in the hollow, Narigorm told me that each of us had heard the wolf because we had each lied. She's used the runes and the wolf howls to play on our fears and guilt to get us to expose our secrets and our lies, and then she drove us to destroy ourselves, just as she tried to do to you the other night, Rodrigo. Narigorm brought out Zophiel's knife deliberately to make you betray the fact that you'd killed Zophiel. Then with her runes she tried to play on your guilt to drive you to your death, just as she had Cygnus. Narigorm failed to kill you, but it won't stop her trying again, and when she has destroyed you she'll turn her attention to Adela and Osmond, even baby Carwyn.’

‘A baby can't lie,’ Osmond said.

‘What if the baby is the lie?’

His eyes widened and he stared at me. Then he flushed and looked away.

Rodrigo was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to register Osmond's discomfort. ‘But why should she want to kill us, Camelot?’ he burst out, then, realizing he was talking to the old and mad, spoke slowly and patiently. ‘Pleasance – she was not driven to her death by hearing the wolf.’

‘But she was driven to betraying herself by him. Why did Pleasance tell us the tale about being midwife to the wolf when she had always wisely kept silent before? Because when we heard the wolf that night, it gave Narigorm the excuse to make her tell the tale of being the wolf's midwife. What if she knew the telling of it would trap Pleasance into revealing she was a Jew? You told me yourself that Pleasance knew she had given herself away by using that word
sheidim.’

Rodrigo shook his head, ‘How could a child know the danger that lay in a word? Pleasance cared for the child when she was abandoned. If Narigorm begged for the tale
again, it was in innocence. It is Zophiel that you should blame for the death of Pleasance. It was his bitter words against the Jews that drove her into such fear.’

‘But if they were companions, Rodrigo, it is even more likely that Narigorm had already discovered she was a Jew and was just looking for a way to trick her into revealing it to us. But it was not just Pleasance. Narigorm used the wolf's howl to convince Zophiel he was being hunted by the Bishop's wolf. She could have easily taken the chalice from the chantry herself to frighten Zophiel or make him turn on Jofre. She had as much opportunity as Jofre to take it. Don't forget, Zophiel said he didn't know it was missing until Narigorm read in the runes that something had been taken from him. Zophiel accusing Jofre of theft was what drove Jofre back to that town and to his death at the hands of Ralph's father's henchmen. And think back to why Jofre went to the town in the first place – because Narigorm insisted on seeing the face of the Madonna, knowing that Jofre would be upset enough to betray his feelings for Osmond. And in case that wasn't enough, she told us Jofre had feelings for Osmond in front of Zophiel, knowing full well that Zophiel would torment Jofre with it.

‘And,’ I rushed on desperately, seeing the disbelieving looks in their faces, ‘why did Zophiel confess to us about the stolen church treasures? Because Narigorm had convinced him he was being pursued by the Bishop's wolf and she told us she had read in the runes that someone would soon get their just deserts for a dark secret they had been hiding. She produced that black marble ball, claiming the runes were meant for Zophiel, knowing that if he had anything to hide, it would terrify him into a confession. You told me yourself, Rodrigo, if you hadn't discovered he was a priest, you would not have killed him. She manipulated
you into that just as she had manipulated Zophiel into accusing Jofre. And even if you hadn't killed him, she was driving Zophiel to such fear and aggression with her wolf howls that sooner or later Osmond would probably have been driven to attack him – that's if he hadn't knifed you or Osmond first.’

‘You think I am so stupid I could be tricked into committing murder by a child?’ Rodrigo said furiously. ‘I killed Zophiel. Narigorm had nothing to do with it.’

Osmond laid a hand on his arm and shook his head as if trying to remind him they were dealing with a lunatic who didn't know what he was saying. ‘Camelot, even if you're right about the others, Narigorm did not force Cygnus to reveal a lie.’

‘But she did. Cygnus told us his stump had grown into a real wing because that is what he honestly believed, but I've been thinking about that. Do you remember the night we found Cygnus hiding in the wagon and brought him into the cottage with old Walter and his son?’

‘Yes,’ Osmond said, ‘and I also remember it was Zophiel who forced him to tell his story.’

‘But think about what happened afterwards. Narigorm pulled a feather out of Cygnus's wing. She said if the wing was real, the feather would grow back. But it didn't, and once that feather had been pulled out, the rest started to fall out. Pulling out the feather exposed a lie, even though it was one Cygnus believed in. And again she used Zophiel to torment him, that and the sound of the swans' wings she made him hear, night after night in his dreams.’

Osmond shook his head. ‘I can see that Narigorm may have caused some trouble between us, but she couldn't have known what would happen. It was all done innocently. It would make more sense if you said it was the Bishop's wolf
who was behind all of these deaths, except that not even a man of his cunning could have planned these things.’

‘That's exactly what I've been trying to tell you; there never was a Bishop's wolf,’ I snapped in exasperation. I took a deep breath. ‘I believe somehow Narigorm used the runes to draw us to her, somehow she assembled us, because she needed us, nine of us, to play her game. But I don't believe she planned the details of the game itself. She has a child's instinct for discovering the fears and weaknesses in others and using them. She plays her game just to see what will happen. Have you never watched children play a game of chess? Adults plan their moves, but children just experiment to see the effect if they move this piece or that, and when they find a weakness they show no mercy, but drive it to checkmate. She has been deliberately pitting us against one another, using us as her chess pieces.’

‘Camelot, what are you saying?’ Osmond ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

‘I'm saying that Narigorm will go on playing her game. She will find a way to destroy each one of us if we don't get away from her. We have to leave her here and go on without her.’

‘Abandon a child?’

‘Not a child, a ruthless and powerful killer. Osmond, you have Adela and Carwyn to think of. You can't risk her turning on them and, believe me, she will if she has the chance. Let's leave her here. She has shelter and she knows how to hunt and fish. She won't starve.’

Osmond backed away. ‘Camelot, you can't mean this. Narigorm is an innocent child. She saved both your lives, remember? Rodrigo is right, if anyone of us is to blame for the deaths of the others, it was Zophiel with his vicious tongue. Rodrigo did us all a favour by killing him.’

‘But, Osmond, can't you see –’

‘No, Camelot, no, I won't listen to any more of this. Rodrigo, are you coming?’

‘Rodrigo?’ I pleaded.

He regarded me sadly. ‘I am sorry, Camelot, sorry that you should believe such things.’

I watched him walk away and I shivered in the cold, knowing I had offended the one man whose good opinion mattered to me more than anything else. He'd forgive me in time, put it down to the madness of the poison, but only if I never spoke of it again, and I had to. The image of the doll's face flashed into my mind. What if Narigorm already knew about Adela and Osmond? I had to convince them all of the danger they were in.

Above the bare branches of the trees, birds were being punched back and forth by the strengthening wind. I picked up my stave and turned towards the heights.

‘They'll never believe you.’

I wheeled round. Narigorm was standing in the shadow of a tree, a pail in each hand. How long had she been there?

‘You're old and you're mad, that's what they think. They know you make up stories about your relics. They think this is just another one. You can't stop me. Morrigan is too strong for you.’

29. The Last Lie

It took me over three hours to reach the village on the heights. It would have been quicker by boat, but I didn't have one. There was no path and I just kept heading north through the trees, frequently having to cut inland to find ways across the tongues of the marsh which licked into the heights and the streams which flowed down from it. Finally, I saw the smoke from the cottages climbing into the sky.

The village ran round a small harbour on the side of a wide river that cut through the marsh and eventually emptied into the sea. Before the pestilence it must have been a bustling port, but there were no merchants' ships in the harbour now, only a couple of small boats big enough for two or three men to fish from. There was a small, squat church, no bigger than a chapel, dwarfed by its round, flat-topped tower that had a fire beacon set ready on top of it to guide the boats home in bad weather. Many of the cottages were boarded up and marked with the dreaded black crosses, but smoke was rising from some hearths and here and there I saw people busy about their work, mending a net, fetching water or washing clothes. As I descended from the woods I saw the raw bare mounds of earth on the
far side of the village and the blackened circles where fires had burned around mass graves.

There were only four or five customers in the inn on the quayside. The innkeeper's wife was thumping down a steaming bowl in front of one them. She glanced up curiously as I entered, but did not recoil from the sight of me, as many do. An innkeeper's wife who keeps house on the quayside sees worse mutilations than my face among the sailors and fishermen she serves.

‘Fish soup and bread. It's all I've got and there's some who should be thankful to get anything,’ she announced, giving a sour look at the man she'd just served.

‘Take my advice, stay away from the bread. She makes it with sawdust. It's that hard I'm thinking of using it to shoe the horses.’

He was a big man, with a backside as broad as a bear's, but he knew enough to cover his head and duck smartly as she aimed a slap at him.

‘You watch your tongue, William. I'd like to see you make decent bread when all you've got is roots to grind.’

‘You couldn't make decent bread when you'd best wheat,’ chimed in another customer, but he was not as quick at dodging her hand and his friends laughed as he ruefully rubbed the back of his head. The potboy stood grinning inanely, but swiftly wiped the smile off his face as the innkeeper's wife turned on him.

‘You seen to those pigs yet and I don't mean this lot? Get on with it, boy, or Master Alan here won't be the only one with a sore head.’

He hastily backed out again, while the men grinned broadly.

‘What brings you from the old hermit's island? It's a fair step by land.’

I glanced around and saw, sitting on a bench in the corner, the man who had brought us the eels.

‘Heard the fish soup was worth the walk,’ I said, and the innkeeper's wife smiled in spite of herself.

‘Not brought that white-haired girl, have you?’

I was aware of a murmur of interest among the other men. One spat on the back of his fingers. Clearly the eel-man had told them all about her. I took a deep breath. I had no idea if this was going to work. If it didn't, I could be making matters worse for all of us, but it was the only hope I had. ‘It's about her I've come,’ I said, and the men edged a little closer.