Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (21 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

BOOK: Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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“I know,” Catherine said. “But it seemed to please them to be doing something.”
Adalisa had left them and gone into the keep, looking for Margaret. Catherine moved closer to Solomon.
“Do you think we should send for Waldeve to return?” she asked.
“I suggested that to Adalisa,” Solomon answered. “She found the idea horrifying. ‘What if he came all the way home and found there was no threat after all?’ she asked me.”
Catherine shivered. “What if there is one?”
Solomon didn’t try to reassure her. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said. “Setting a wolf trap for Robert is the action of someone working alone, or with only a few cohorts. We’re well enough defended against that.”
“But?” Catherine said.
“But, I’d feel better if you came down to the hall to sleep, all of you,” Solomon continued. “Or at least to Adalisa’s room. I think it’s better to stay together.”
“You fear that one person might get in when an army couldn’t?” Catherine asked.
“Exactly,” he said.
“But we don’t even know if whoever it is wants to hurt us,” Catherine argued. “They may only be seeking Waldeve’s sons.”
“I hope so,” Solomon answered. “But you don’t want to wager your son’s life on that, do you?”
The answer to that was self-evident. “Will you sleep in front of the doorway?” Catherine entreated him.
“I won’t sleep at all,” he promised.
 
Solomon kept his word. He stationed himself in front of the door to Adalisa’s room, where Catherine, Willa, Margaret, and James had crowded in. Oswin, the soldier in charge of the guards, insisted angrily that he could keep watch without the assistance of a guest in the keep.
“I hope you can,” Solomon told him. “But I prefer to guard my cousin myself.”
“As you wish,” Oswin said. “If I find you asleep, I’ll be sure to leave a pillow by your head.”
He stomped off to shout reprimands at a couple of village men who were whiling away the time playing at dice.
Night finally came and with it silence.
Comforted by the knowledge that Solomon was watching over them, Catherine fell asleep almost at once, Willa snuggled beside her and James lay in his cradle. It was several hours later when she was wakened by the shouting and by Solomon shaking her.
“Hurry, Catherine!” he cried. “We’ve got to get out at once!”
“What?” She tried to focus on him.
Then from Adalisa’s bed there came a cry.
“Oh dear Lord, save us! We’re on fire!”
Wedderlie, the hour before dawn. Monday, 4 kalends July (June 28), 1143.
Feast of Saint Ireneus, bishop of Lyon and adversary of heretics.
 
 
In ðeos burch breoma geond Breotenrice,
steppa gestaðolad stans ymbutan
wundrum gewœxen. Weor ymbeornad,
ea yðum stronge, and ðer inna wunað
feola fisca kyn on floda gemonge … .
Is in ðere byri eac bearnum gecyðed
ðe arfesta eadig Cudburch …
 
 
At this walled town reknowned throughout Britain
the firm foundations surrounded with stones
wondrously grew. The water rushed around it
With waves strong, and in there were
Fish of many kinds mingled in the flood …
And it was to this place as it is proclaimed
pious ones first came bearing blessed Cuthbert.
 
—The poem of Durham
 
 
C
atherine immediately reached for James. She could smell the smoke and hear the cries now. The narrow window faced east but the light was that of the wooden palisade around the keep as it blazed in a dozen places.
“Willa!” The girl was next to her. “Gather up all the covers and clothes you can carry. Don’t overload yourself. And don’t waste time!”
Adalisa was already up. She had thrown a cloak over her
chainse
and had Margaret in her arms.
“Are the stairs aflame?” she asked Solomon.
“Not yet,” he said. “Here, give Margaret to me. She’s too heavy for you. Is there any water in the pitcher?”
Willa checked. “A little.”
“Soak a cloth in it and tear it into six strips, if you can. Each put it over your face to breathe through. Quickly!”
Catherine took the damp cloth and put it over James’s face. He twisted to avoid it but she kept it on him.
“Ready?” Solomon said.
It didn’t matter if they were or not. There was no more time. Following Solomon, they entered the wooden stairwell.
The steps were warm under Catherine’s bare feet but the smoke wasn’t thick. As they descended, the air became more dense. Willa started coughing.
“Hold on to my robe,” Catherine told her. “Close your eyes and feel your way down.”
The steps made a sharp turn before reaching the main hall. The walls below were of stone and earth but everything above was made of wood. One side of the hall was burning. Pieces had fallen out of it and the night air was rushing in, fanning the flames. They raced across the hall to the door out. Solomon lifted the bar.
He looked down into emptiness. The outside staircase had vanished. The fire hadn’t reached this far. There were splintered bits of board at the bottom. He didn’t take time to wonder what had happened.
“Is there a ladder?” he asked Adalisa.
“In the larder, but we can’t reach it from here,” she was pale with terror but remained in control of herself.
“Can we get to the chapel?”
She looked around. “Yes, but then we’ll be trapped down there. It’s below the earth.”
“This isn’t a time for secrets, Adalisa!” he shouted. “There’s no other way out.”
Her immediate terror won over her fear of Waldeve.
“Follow me,” she told him.
She nearly bumped into Catherine as she turned and led them to the passage down to the chapel.
The air became cooler as they descended but Catherine knew it was just a matter of time before the fire caught on the ceiling and burning chunks rained down on them. She shifted James in her arms and kissed him, murmuring wordless comfort.
They reached the little chamber. It was pitch dark, but Adalisa felt her way along the wall to the stand by the altar where the priest washed the instruments of the Mass. She pulled at the stand until it swung open.
“You’ll have to crawl,” she called to the others.
“Go on, Margaret, after your mother.” Solomon put her down. “Willa, after Margaret, Catherine …”
“I can carry James.” She knew where they were going. It was only a brief shuffle through to the storeroom, where they could hear the frightened yips of the prisoner.
Adalisa was already mounting the ladder to the kitchen.
“Wait!” Catherine stopped her. “We can’t leave him to die.”
It was too dark to see faces, but there was despair in Adalisa’s voice. “We have to. I don’t have the key. It’s still upstairs.”
“Go on!” Solomon’s voice came from behind them. “There isn’t time!”
Adalisa pushed open the entrance to the kitchen. “There’s smoke here, but I don’t see any flames. We just need to reach the door to the courtyard.”
“But we can’t …” Catherine began.
The smoke poured into the storeroom. Then Catherine knew she could. It would be on her conscience forever, but saving her son was all that mattered. She followed Adalisa and the girls up the ladder, across the kitchen and out the door into clean air.
The four of them huddled together at the edge of the motte. The bridge across was gone.
“Where are the guards?” Catherine said.
“I don’t know,” Adalisa answered. “They can’t have run away, leaving us to die!”
Catherine looked around. “And where’s Solomon?”
“He was right behind you, wasn’t he? Oh, Saint Janvier! Solomon, what have you done?
No!
”
Adalisa started toward the door they had come through, but Catherine held her back.
“He’s gone for the keys, hasn’t he?” she asked, hoping Adalisa would say no.
“They’re on my belt, hanging from the bedframe,” Adalisa said. “He knows where they are. But there isn’t time!”
Now, above the roar of the fire, Catherine heard the clash of metal against metal. In the bailey below them, a struggle was going on.
“We’re being attacked,” she shouted to Adalisa. “We have to get away before the guards are overpowered. Solomon!”
She screamed his name in a voice already hoarse from the smoke. Finally, there was a movement within the darkness of the doorway and Solomon emerged carrying something wrapped in a blanket.
“Thank God,” Catherine whispered.
“He can’t walk,” Solomon told them as he reached them. He looked over the ditch to the bailey, where five or six guards were fighting off what seemed to be a horde, some with swords, but more carrying pikes and torches.
“Who is it?” Adalisa wailed. “Who is doing this to us!”
“The men are fighting well,” Solomon decided. “But they’re far outnumbered. I’ve got you get you all out of here and someplace safe.”
Someplace safe, Catherine thought.
This
was supposed to be someplace safe.
“Can we make it down the other side to the river?” she asked Adalisa.
“Perhaps.” Adalisa thought. “I don’t know if the girls can.”
“Yes, I can, Mama,” Margaret piped up. “I know the way. I’ve done it lots of times.”
“Margaret!” Adalisa realized that this wasn’t the time to scold. “Show us.”
They looked like a scene from some damnation frieze, the five of them crisscrossing down the side of the motte, outlined and then hidden by the fires. The trail Margaret went down was suitable only for goats and sure-footed children. Catherine did a large part of it by sliding, grateful that the other noise masked James’s howls as he was swung abruptly in her arms. Solomon went down like a hunchbacked bear, the prisoner slung over his back.
They reached the bottom at last. The battle sounds were more remote now. Whoever was attacking them hadn’t thought to set a guard at the rear of the steep motte. The river was across an open field. There was nothing for it but to pray and run.
“Into the woods,” Solomon panted. “Don’t look back!”
They splashed through the shallow water and into the shelter of the trees. Suddenly, Margaret halted.
“We’re heading for the pagan stones,” she wailed. “The ghosts will devour us there.”
They stared at her. She had been so calm up to now. She clung to Adalisa in terror, tears streaming.
“We don’t have to go that way,” Adalisa told them. “We should be heading for the coast and then south. If Robert has escaped this, there’s one place he’ll go to look for us.”
Margaret looked up. “Saint Cuddy’s?”
“Yes, my love.” Adalisa wiped the child’s face. “We should try to reach Holy Island.”
Catherine didn’t know what or where it was, but the name itself was a refuge. She wondered how long it would take for a party such as theirs, barefoot, with no provisions, slowed by children and a man who could neither walk nor speak, to come to this sanctuary. But it was a beacon to follow. She wrapped James more securely in his blankets and prepared to set out.
 
The town of Durham is built on a rocky peninsula jutting into the river Wear. The cathedral and the castle were intended from the beginning to withstand attack. The custodians of the relics of Saint Cuthbert had been driven across the country by Danish invaders and wanted never to be forced to move again. The land for miles around
had put itself under the protection of the saint and the bishop had become the lord of the county.
It was late in the morning when Edgar and Æthelræd reached the southwest gate. Unlike Urric and Swein, who had arrived on horseback fully armed, they were dressed no better than the farmers around them and came on foot. By preference, Æthelræd still wore only his Scots skirt wrapped around his waist. He had been coerced into putting a short tunic on, as well, but he complained that it itched and told Edgar loudly that he’d be glad when this was all over and he could run naked again.
They didn’t seem to be a threat to anyone and were admitted within the walls without incident.
Edgar knew the way up to the castle well. He had climbed it often enough as a boy. But as they passed through the town, he was horrified at the changes made during the three years that William Cumin had been in control. Houses had been destroyed and left in ruins. The shops were mostly boarded up. Stones had been pried from the main road leaving holes that made riding impossible. What few people they saw in the streets were clearly in a rush to complete their errands and get back home. No children played in the common field at the base of the escarpment. The only people who seemed at home were the soldiers.
One of them approached Edgar and his uncle.
“You there!” he said, in a way that made both men stop and turn around slowly, not with fear, but annoyance.
Æthelræd smiled in amusement.
“We are indeed here,” he told the soldier. “And who might you be?”
The man paused, confused. He wasn’t used to being addressed in this way by peasants.
“That’s no concern of yours,” he blustered finally. “What do you think you’re doing, wandering about the city?”
“We’re not wandering,” Edgar explained. “We’re heading for the bishop’s castle.”
The man gave a snort. “And what business would you be having with his lordship, the bishop?”
Æthelræd was beginning to enjoy himself.
“I don’t want to see the bishop,” he stated. “I’m looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”
The soldier looked him up and down with contempt. “I’ve seen
nothing that looks like you,” he said. “Not since we chased the Gallowegians back over the border at the Battle of the Standard.”
Æthelræd nodded. “I was proud to stand with them,” he said mildly. “My brother was in the rear somewhere, with the king. We were in the front ranks.”
Edgar tugged at him. “Uncle, this could take all day.”
“Listen to the boy, ‘Uncle’,” the soldier sneered. “And be on your way. No, not that way,” he added as they set back up the hill. “The way you came.”
He drew his sword. Æthelræd looked at it as if he’d never seen one before. Then he shook his head sadly and, in one movement, unwrapped his skirt and spun it around the soldier’s arms, pinning them to his sides and causing him to drop the sword. Edgar picked it up.
“Uncle,” he said. “You’re naked from the waist down.”
“Try to keep the women off me until I’ve dealt with this.” Æthelræd grinned. “Now, my boy. I’m not going to kill you just because you’re insolent and don’t know how to speak nicely to your betters. I’m going to kill you because you mocked the Gallowegians.”
The man glared at him and began to shout for help.
“Uncle,” Edgar said wearily, “there are easier ways of finding my father.”
“This one is the most fun.” Æthelræd twisted the cloth more tightly.
There was the sound of boots on the cobblestones as the soldier’s cries were answered.

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