River of Destiny (64 page)

The hall was almost all gone. Everyone who had attended the Lord Egbert’s wake had gone with it. If any had escaped they had no means of telling. All that was left in the village were the mounds of blackened sedge and scorched wattle which had once been the cottages of the wheelwright, the carpenter, the potter, the men who worked the fields, and items that had been made of metal, things not worth stealing, pots and pans, bits of harness for the oxen and the horses. The animals had all been slaughtered or had scattered and disappeared. Eric’s anvil and his tools were lying in the ruins of his forge. The iron figurine which had been used as the murder weapon and had so cruelly killed his wife was lost, buried in the ashes. Part of the forge cottage had failed to catch completely, had scorched and smouldered and gone out. One of the storehouses nearby had all but escaped the flames. The survivors shook their heads and wept and prayed, and where they could they buried what remained of the dead.

Away from the village the air was sharp with the smell of death and fire, and smoke still hung amongst the lofty pines. The burial mound was deserted. The Danish host had paused and skirted it and seen signs that it was recent; one or two had thought of the treasure that might be buried there, but they were fully aware of the curses which would fall on them if they disturbed the rest of the man within. This was no Christian burial site; this was the resting place of a man with a faith much like their own. They had cared nothing for the living Christian inhabitants of the village, but the ghosts of those who had been laid to rest with proper ceremony were different. This place was to be respected and feared and left to the gods.

And those who returned left it alone as well. The family of the Lord Egbert had gone; his wife, his sons had fled or been slaughtered. There was no sign of anyone to tell them how it had happened. As they walked back to the top of the field and stared down at the river they saw the ship had gone.

The sad spectators wandered away one by one. The village would not be rebuilt for decades and when it was they did not restore the church. This part of the kingdom was in the Danelaw now; for the time being, the gods of the Vikings guarded the land.

The mist drifted up again on the tide and enfolded the place where the longship had lain at anchor and there the echoes of its passing would remain for ever, its deathly mission etched into the psyche of the land, its image imprinted in the mist and echoing in the wind.

Zoë found the sword wrapped in its newspaper in one of Leo’s sail bags and pulled it out. ‘You brought it with us.’

He glanced up from the chart he was studying. ‘I couldn’t bear to leave it. Sorry.’

She laid it, on its newspaper, on the chart table and suddenly she shuddered. ‘No, Leo. We mustn’t take it away from the grave. That would be unlucky. That’s why Rosemary is in hospital. We have to get rid of it.’

She ran her finger gently over the hilt and the corroded blade. Flakes of rust came away on her skin and she shivered. Was it rust, or was it the remains of long-ago blood that stained the blade red? Once before, she knew in some distant part of herself, another woman had held this sword and wondered, just as she was, what to do with it. And the decision had been the same.

‘You’re not serious about throwing it overboard?’ Leo was watching her face.

She shook her head. ‘I still want to rebury it. We have to, Leo. To appease the gods and mitigate the curse. I don’t want it on the boat a moment longer. I’m sorry. Let’s do it before we go. Now.’

He stared at her. ‘But the place is crawling with police and archaeologists.’

‘There won’t be anyone there in the dark. Why should there be?’

‘Because looters and metal detectorists will swarm all over the site, that’s why. You told me it had been in the papers. A mention of the word Anglo-Saxon in the press and the whole world will descend on that field.’

She closed her eyes unhappily. ‘Then what shall we do? We can’t keep it, Leo. I have the most awful feeling about it.’ She was rewrapping it. ‘Let’s go back now. We can’t sail with this on the boat, surely you see that? Supposing this is what the ghost ship is all about? Perhaps the guys in the ship are looking for the grave and the treasure that might be buried there. Either the dead man was a friend of theirs, or they were out to despoil the grave. We can’t risk it. We can’t!’

‘OK.’ He put a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘You’re right. That would be best. We’ll do it now. Tonight.’

As he ducked out of the cabin his mobile rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and squinted at the screen. ‘It’s Bill Turtill. I’d better take it in case it’s about the accident.’ He put the phone to his ear.

Zoë climbed out into the cockpit and sat down staring out across the dark water. The
Lady Grace
was tugging gently at her buoy nearby. The chill off the river made her shiver. It was very quiet.

Huddling in her jacket she suddenly heard Leo’s raised voice.

‘He said what? I don’t believe it. You have to be joking!’ He scrambled out into the cockpit and stood near her, the phone clamped to his ear. ‘No of course I haven’t. The very idea. My God! Thanks for letting me know, Bill. I owe you one.’ He switched off the phone and looked at her, his face a mask of anger. ‘Jackson Watts rang Mike Turtill just now. Luckily Bill was in the room when he took the call and overheard it. Apparently Jackson is crowing; he and Jade have told the police that I molested her.’

‘What?’ Zoë felt her stomach clench with horror.

He shook his head. ‘All I wanted was to help that child. I never touched her.’ He looked at Zoë. ‘You do believe me?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘I gather I can expect a visit from the police and social services.’

‘Oh, Leo.’ Zoë felt sick. ‘Do you think that was the police – the car we heard?’

‘Probably. I’ll have to go back. We’ve got to sort this out.’

‘You can’t. They might arrest you!’

‘Well, I can’t stay down here and I’m not going to run away.’

‘Why not? If we get away we can fight it from somewhere where you’re safe.’

‘Zoë, it will only make me look guilty if I run. I have to sort it out.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘I can’t believe Sharon would think I could do such a thing.’

‘I am afraid it might be my fault.’ Zoë turned her back on him miserably. ‘Jade warned me off. She more or less threatened that if I didn’t back off and leave you to her she would make me regret it. And I didn’t.’ She reached over and squeezed his arm. ‘I never ever suspected she would be capable of something like this.’ She stopped abruptly. Manda had. Manda had warned her and she had taken no notice.

Behind them the little cabin looked warm and inviting and safe in the lamplight. She turned and climbed back down the companionway. Leo followed her and sat down opposite her. His face was pale and strained as he stared at her helplessly. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. This is not your fault. Not under any circumstances.’ He rubbed his cheeks wearily with his palms. ‘What a mess.’

‘It’s the sword!’ Zoë stared down at the newspaper parcel with a shudder. ‘It’s bringing bad luck to anyone who touches it. I told you we had to get rid of it. We shouldn’t have brought it with us. It has to go back now. This minute. We have to go now.’ Then she shook her head. ‘No, you can’t go. If the burial site is crawling with police – even if they have just left security guards there you might get arrested.’ She ran her fingers through her hair in despair. ‘Put it back in the bag. I’ll go. You stay here and I will leave it somewhere near the site. If I can I’ll bury it, if not I’ll tuck it in somewhere nearby.’

‘Zoë, wait.’ Leo raised his hands. ‘There is no need for all this. Whatever happens, I have to go and face them.’

‘No.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘What you need is a lawyer. Before you do anything else. Do you know anyone you can call?’

He nodded slowly. ‘I do, as it happens. My friend Max. His firm acted for me in the separation from my wife. He’s retired, but I would trust him with my life.’

‘Ring him.’

He glanced at her, then pulled out his mobile again and she watched as he brought up his contacts list. The phone rang for a long time. ‘No answer and no answer service,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose it is a bit late.’ He put the phone down on the cabin table. ‘And he might be away. He travels a lot. If there is still no reply in the morning, I’ll ring his office.’

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. ‘Do you think the police know about
Curlew
?’ Zoë said softly. ‘I wouldn’t put it past that little cow to have told them.’

‘She’s not a little cow, Zoë,’ he reprimanded gently. ‘She’s a confused kid.’

‘Confused or not, she has dropped you in it and we have to get your name cleared.’ Zoë stood up. ‘Right, first things first. You can’t risk dealing with this, but I can.’ She didn’t dare give herself time to think. ‘Help me with this bag, then you can row me ashore.’

‘You would do that for me?’ He didn’t move. ‘Go off in the dark to a haunted, probably security-guarded burial ground in the middle of nowhere?’

She gave him a quick smile. ‘Not such a middle-class housewife now, eh?’

‘Oh, no.’ He shook his head. ‘Did I call you that? How wrong was I! I am breathless with admiration. You are the bravest person I have ever met. But I am not going to let you do it. Not alone.’

‘So you are going to deprive me of the chance to prove my worth?’ She zipped up her jacket. ‘Leo, think! I know every inch of this place now. There is no danger. I will be very careful. No one will see me.’

She picked up the bag and began to edge along the bunk towards the door, then she sat down again. ‘I’ll be able to suss out the situation at home as well. I can see if the police have gone to The Old Forge and maybe,’ her mind was racing ahead, ‘I could go and see your friend Max first thing. Does he live locally?’

Leo was shaking his head, laughing. ‘Zoë, Zoë, stop.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘I don’t know if you are right about me lying low but you have given me an idea. Yes, Max does live locally and the irony is, he lives down river from here. I could sail there.’

At the Hall, the stables were replenished with two new riding horses to accompany the squire’s cob, though neither was strictly a lady’s horse. A new blacksmith was appointed and moved into the cottage behind the forge with his wife and three children. He was competent and friendly and good with the horses, and soon made himself a part of the community. His black iron work was excellent and he turned his hand to some fancy decoration as well as the usual ironmongery of the estate.

In the servants’ hall there was a conflict of opinion as to what had happened to Emily. Mrs Field and Mrs Davy, the cook, both thought she had run away, unable to bear her own guilt over Dan’s death. The maids preferred a more melodramatic theory, that she had thrown herself in the river. Mayhew claimed there had been gypsies over the other side of the heath the day she had disappeared and reckoned they might have kidnapped her. If they had, he expounded one evening after dinner, licking his lips, she no doubt got a bit of the rough she had so obviously been lusting after. The frowns of Beaton and Mrs Field did nothing to quell his imagination and one of the maids became hysterical with fright at the thought of her mistress’s fate.

Above stairs, Henry sat alone in his study as the evenings drew in and kept his counsel. If he had any theories as to the fate of his wife, no one knew what they were.

The farm workers were equally baffled as to what had happened to her. None of them had seen her, and she hadn’t even bothered to send flowers to Susan’s funeral, something which had been noted with extreme displeasure in the village. If George and Robert discussed it as they worked together in the fields, or supervised the repairs to the three great barns, no one heard them. Betsy and Jessie Turtill voiced the views of everyone for miles. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ they said. ‘If she never comes back, it’ll not be a moment too soon.’