Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (17 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

BOOK: Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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The fire had been stoked and a kettle put on. Catherine sniffed it. Oat porridge boiled in whey. She wasn’t that hungry. There was no one tending it. Where had the cook and his helpers gone?
From the narrow window, she couldn’t see any signs of activity. Had they all gone fishing? Were they at an early Mass? It was doubtful. Few peasants had the time or inclination for church services, except perhaps at Easter.
“Well, James, it appears we’re on our own,” she said. “There must be a cut round of cheese somewhere.”
The rafters were strung with herbs and fletches of meat and other mysterious bundles. Catherine didn’t feel she could break into what might be a winter store. Where would they keep the fresh cheese?
“There’s a storage room dug into the hill next to the chapel,” she said. “Shall we hunt for the door?”
James looked bored and tried to catch at the dusty sunshine as it hit Catherine’s chest.
The door wasn’t too difficult to find. It was low and set into the corner across from the window. The hinges were well oiled. The cook’s helpers probably used it a dozen times a day. There was a ladder inside. Catherine knelt and peered in.
“No light at all,” she muttered. “Now, how can I get down there with a lamp and you, as well?”
James belched.
“Not helpful,
mon mignot fils,”
she said. “But I can’t leave you in the kitchen. There’s nothing to put you in here.”
She fashioned a sling for him from her scarf and then found an oil lamp and lit it from the fire. Her stomach grumbled as she backed down the ladder. The things one did in the extremes of hunger!
It wasn’t that difficult. She soon felt the earth beneath her feet. She held the lamp up and turned around.
There was a whimper and a frantic scuffling from an arched alcove. Cautiously, Catherine shone the light in that direction.
A white form crouched against the stone wall. Huge dark eyes stared at her. A skeletal hand covered them at once as the thing cringed at the light.
Catherine screamed.
The cellar at Wedderlie; an instant later.
 
 
Fere vero antiqui tales aegros in tenebris habebant, eo quod iis contrarium
esset exterreri, et ad quietum animi tenebras ipsas conferre aliquid
iudicabant. At Asclepiades, tamquam tenebris ipsis terrentibus, in lumine
habendos eos dixit. Neutrem autem perpetummn est … .
 
 
The ancients usually kept such ones [violent madmen] in darkness,
for they judged that it was contrary to their well-being to be terrified
and the darkness itself is calming to the spirit. But Asclepiades said
that they should be in the light for the darkness itself is frightening.
Neither of these is always true … .
 
—Celsus,
De Medicina,
Book III, part 18
 
 
T
he apparition screamed even louder than Catherine, a horribly high-pitched keening.
James began to cry.
Catherine stopped her noise, but the other two went on. The figure before her shrank away from the light, long white hands over its eyes. It stopped only when it was trapped in the corner and remained there, huddling against the wall.
Since it didn’t seem to be preparing an attack, Catherine took a hesitant step forward, still holding the lamp, all the while patting James with her other hand and muttering wordless soothing sounds.
After a moment, the thing slowly took its hands from over its eyes and stared at her in terror, blinking in the light.
“What are you?” Catherine breathed.
It made no answer.
She swallowed. “By the Father, Son and Holy Spirit tell me,” she said. “Are you flesh or demon?”
The apparition stared at her, then at its hands and finally for answer made a clumsy attempt to bless itself. Catherine felt better. It was at least a Christian demon. She came closer. As she did the thing cringed away from her even more and tried to scramble back into the corner of the celler.
Clearly, it was much more afraid of her than she of it. In wonder and pity Catherine stooped to examine what must be Margaret’s ghost.
What she saw was enough to break her heart. It was human, or had been once. It was probably male, although there was no beard. His hair was long and tangled, as pale a blond as Edgar’s. His skin was also pale, as white as maggots in meat. Catherine had thought she was starving, but this man truly was. Here, with provisions all
around, he looked as though he hadn’t eaten in months. He seemed more a skeleton covered in flesh than a person.
James was calm, now that the tumult had stopped, and was watching the flicker of the lamp with rapt attention. Catherine moved closer to the man and put her hand out to touch him.
“I won’t harm you,” she said as he began to shriek again.
She moved away. He subsided to a whimper.
“Who are you?” she asked gently. “Why are you here? What did you do to be treated like this?”
The only answer was a vacant stare.
Catherine put the lamp on a barrel and knelt beside him. James twisted in the sling to see and reached out for the man’s matted hair.
“No, James.” Catherine took hold of his hand. She wasn’t sure if she were more afraid of James frightening this sad creature or of it somehow hurting him.
At the sight of the baby, the man’s face lost some of its emptiness. He seemed puzzled. Very slowly, a long bony finger reached out to touch the child’s dark curls. Catherine tensed, ready to pull away at the first sign of evil intent. But the touch was soft and swift. The man closed his eyes and Catherine saw tears glittering on his cadaverous cheeks.
What should she do?
She came even closer. There was a shackle about the man’s ankle, and from it a short chain ran to a ring in the wall. She didn’t think she could break it. If only she knew who he was. A felon? A hostage? A captured enemy? Or some poor madman locked away for his own protection?
Whom could she ask? Most of the people at Wedderlie must be aware of the prisoner. The cook and his helpers went down for foodstuffs several times a day. She sniffed. There was only a slight smell of urine through the odor of straw, salted meat and brine. Someone must be taking care of some of his needs, even if they weren’t feeding him. She wondered how long he had been kept here, chained in the darkness.
And then another thought struck her like a blow.
Did Edgar know about this?
She didn’t believe it. She wouldn’t. He’d been away from home most of his life. A thousand things could have happened here that he
would be ignorant of. Edgar would never countenance anyone being treated so cruelly.
Catherine looked at the man. He was simply staring at the light. He no longer seemed afraid. She wasn’t sure if he were even aware of her. He had made no other move since he reached out to James. He had made no sound other than the horrible keening that had greeted her. She wondered if his tongue had been cut out.
She had no idea what to do. Her heart told her to release this poor suffering creature but sense reminded her that he had been put here for a reason. Dared she ask Adalisa?
James wiggled against her, trying to grab at the light. Catherine realized that she had to come to a decision quickly.
“You’ll have to stay here a little longer,” she told the man, not sure whether he understood. “I’ll come back for you soon. I promise.”
She climbed back up the ladder and into the kitchen. This time she found it occupied.
“Lady Catherine!” The cook dropped his carving knife in astonishment. “What are you doing in the storeroom? Here, let me help you.”
He took the lamp and gave her a hand as she climbed out.
“I came down early,” Catherine said. “There was no one here. I was looking for something to eat, but all the cheese was sealed.”
She wondered if that sounded as odd to him as it did to her.
“Of course the food in the storeroom was sealed,” he answered. “There’s a box here for cheese and bread.”
He pointed to a hinged wooden box nailed on the wall to keep it safe from rodents.
“Of course,” Catherine answered. “How silly—” She stopped. “You’re French, too?”
He shook his head.
“Flemish,” he said. “But I apprenticed at the court of the count of Poitou. I came to Scotland with Lady Adalisa.”
Which meant that his allegiance might be to her, rather than Waldeve. Catherine studied him. He didn’t appear concerned that she had been in the storeroom beyond being shocked that a lady and a guest would be somewhere so inappropriate. He must know there was a prisoner down there. Did he think she knew it, too? Or was he hoping that she hadn’t got far enough among the boxes to find him?
“I see.” She made up her mind. She wouldn’t mention this to
anyone until she talked with Solomon. “Thank you, then. Should I wake up hungry again, I’ll remember where to find food.”
“You should have called one of the servants or sent your girl down,” the cook told her sternly. “This isn’t the place for you.”
“Yes, I know.” Catherine sighed.
This isn’t a place for anyone,
she thought.
If only Edgar would come back and take us home!
She went slowly back up the steps to the Great Hall, nibbling at the hunk of cheese the cook had given her. She couldn’t understand it. There was such beauty here—wildflowers in the nearly perpetual sunshine, fields of oats and barley ripening, a river full of fish—and yet everywhere she went, Catherine felt only sorrow and secrecy.
“This is what enchantment must feel like,” she told James. “I hope this is really cheese and not an illusion.”
She took another bite. It tasted like cheese. She reached the top of the steps, where the sight of Solomon sitting on the edge of his bed and scratching beneath his tunic brought her back to the real world.
“Good morning, Cousin.” She came over and sat next to him. “Do you want some cheese?”
“Not before I’ve had some beer,” he said. “Here, give me the baby. You’re dropping bits on his head.”
He settled James on his lap and bounced him gently. Catherine brushed the crumbled cheese off her tunic.
“Solomon,” she said. “There’s a prisoner shackled in the storeroom. I think he’s insane.”
“I’m not surprised,” Solomon answered. “If we stay here much longer, I think it highly likely that I shall go insane, myself. Is there room for two down there?”
“Solomon, I’m serious!”
“A prisoner.” Solomon stopped bouncing James, who then took an interest in the drawstrings dangling from the neck of his shift. “Does this madman have a name?”
“He couldn’t tell me,” Catherine said. “You wouldn’t laugh if you had seen him.”
“I’m not laughing,” Solomon assured her. “He’s probably some hostage waiting for his ransom to be paid.”
“If so, it’s been delayed a long time. I don’t believe the poor thing has seen sunlight in years.”
“Catherine.” There was a warning in Solomon’s tone. “It’s not our affair. Waldeve has the right to judge and punish his people as
he sees fit. You may grieve for him now, but the man could be a vicious criminal.”
“Then he would have been hanged, or mutilated and released,” Catherine insisted. “And why would Margaret not know about him? She thinks there’s a ghost in the celler.”
“Would you tell a child there was someone chained to a wall in your home?”
Catherine clenched her jaw. Her cousin had an answer to everything. He could be very iritating.
She was trying to think of a rebuttal when the servants came in to take away the bedding and set up the hall for the day.
“Adalisa will be down soon.” Solomon looked nervously at the staircase. “There’s nothing for me to do here today. I think I might ask if I could take Margaret and ride over to Robert’s estate. Perhaps he’s had word from his monks.”
Catherine looked at him sharply.
“There’s a man in chains starving here and you can only think about business?”
He returned her look. There was a hardness in his glance that made her shrink away.
“Catherine,” he said, “there are people in chains and starving everywhere. Some of them deservedly. You can’t free them because they’re pitiable now. If it grieves you so, then ask our hostess why he’s down there. The answer may alter your view of him.”
“I will,” Catherine said. “But I doubt that it will affect my feelings. I can’t bear to think of anyone in chains.”
Solomon shook his head. Sometimes he considered it a minor miracle that Catherine had survived outside the idealized world of the convent. She was soft enough to pity Satan himself.
Catherine continued back up to her chamber, where Willa was now awake and collecting James’s dirty swaddling to take out to the courtyard to boil.
“Willa, has the Lady Adalisa been up to see me yet this morning?” she asked.
Willa shook her head. She was beginning to tan in the sun but this morning her skin had the pallor of fear. “I’ve seen no one today, but a little while ago, I heard a dreadful wailing, like a soul rising from the grave.” She paused, her chin trembling. “I don’t think I like it here.”
Catherine came to her and put her arms around her, James hugged between them.
“It’s all right, Willa, the noise was just me, shrieking at a rat in the kitchen,” she told the girl. “I’m sorry it frightened you. I don’t like it here much, myself. As soon as Edgar returns, we’re going home. Until then, I won’t let any harm come to you. Trust me?”
Willa nodded and tried to smile.
“Now, we have work to do.” Catherine looked dolefully at the bucket. “First I’m going to find Lady Adalisa and ask if we can give all this to her washwoman.”
She left Willa playing with the baby and returned to the hall. Solomon was gone and Adalisa sitting at the table giving orders to the servants for the day. Catherine waited until she had finished.
“Your cousin has gone to Robert’s,” Adalisa began. “He took Margaret to speak for him. I sent a guard with them. It will be all right, don’t you think?”
“Solomon will take good care of her,” Catherine answered. “Adalisa, did you hear a screaming this morning?”
“Yes,” she said. “The cook told me it was you. What was wrong?”
“I went into the storeroom, looking for something to eat,” Catherine said. “No one told me there was a prisoner down there.”
“A what?” Adalisa seemed astonished.
Catherine told her of the man she had encountered.
“That’s nonsense, Catherine,” Adalisa was firm. “You must have been dreaming. There’s no one being held captive here. I would certainly know, especially if he were in the storeroom. I’m often there, checking on the state of supplies.”

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