The Gallows Curse (21 page)

    For
an elder tree may bring forth the fruit of healing and death on the same bough,
but few mortals can tell the fruits apart.

    The
Mandrake's Herbal

    'Bring
her closer.' Lord Osborn gestured impatiently with his gloved fingers.

    He
reached to caress the breast of a peregrine falcon that perched on his left
arm. The bird turned its yellow-ringed eyes towards Elena, glaring at her as
she was dragged towards the dais at the far end of the Great Hall. She
shivered, staring wildly around her like a cornered doe in the hunt.

    It
seemed nearly every woman in Gastmere had crowded into the hall and now they
stood pressed together, murmuring darkly and casting black looks at Elena. How
they had all gathered so quickly was a mystery, but as is often said, 'a
trouble shared is . . . all around the village in an hour'.

    Osborn's
dining table had been removed and he sat in the centre of the dais in a large,
ornately carved chair. A clerk sat on a stool beside him, a slanted writing
table pulled, up in front of him. A shaft of bright afternoon sunshine slanted
down across the polished wood of the dais; tiny fragments of dust swirled and
danced in it. At any other time, Elena would have thought how beautiful it was.
Now she could see nothing but the cold, sea-grey eyes of the man who glared
down at her.

    'This
had better be important enough to keep me from hunting or backs will smart,'
Osborn said sourly.

    Turning
back to the falcon, he slipped a leather hood over its head and gestured for a
servant to remove the bird.

    'Don't
feed her, I want her keen for the hunt. And keep my horse saddled, we'll ride
out as soon as this business is done. So?' he demanded, turning to Raffaele
without drawing breath. 'You are incapable of dealing with a village squabble,
are you?'

    Raffaele
stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. 'The girl stands accused of
murdering her own infant. As you are her lord —'

    'Murder?
Interesting. Who brings such a charge?'

    'The
girl's mother-in-law, Joan. She came to me at first light and said that Elena
had killed her grandson.'

    'Is
this woman present?' Osborn stared at the crowd of women at the far end of the
hall, trying to guess which might be the mother-in-law.

    Raffaele
beckoned and Joan came hurrying up to the dais, throwing a look of loathing at
Elena as she passed.

    'I
came home from the fields last night, my lord . . .' She faltered, realizing
she had neglected to curtsy in her haste to blurt out her story. She made an
awkward half-curtsy, half- bow which nearly pitched her head-first on to the
dais.

    'Are
you drunk?' Osborn demanded. 'Then do stop jiggling about, woman. You came home
from the fields and what? You found your grandchild dead?'

    Joan
shook her head vehemently, then stopped abruptly as if she feared this might be
counted as jiggling.

    'She
said my grandchild was asleep in the cradle. I didn't look for I was afeared of
waking him. Let sleeping babes lie, my mother always said. And I was that worn
out, what with the hay harvest and getting up a dozen times a night to see to
the bairn. It's me that's had the care of him; that wicked girl didn't even
want to suckle him. She would've left the poor bairn to starve to death if I
hadn't been there. I kept telling her —'

    Osborn
drummed his fingers impatiently. 'So you're saying the baby died of neglect and
hunger?'

    'No,
my lord, no, she murdered him in cold blood. Dashed his brains out, poor little
mite. She'd been threatening to do it since afore the baby was born. Said she
dreamed of doing it. Now she's gone and done it, killed my poor innocent little
grandson. She's a wicked evil murderer, that's what she is. I warned my son
about her. I told him she was no good.' Joan sobbed noisily.

    For a
moment or two Osborn stared at her, a look of disgust on his face as she
continued to moan and wail. Several women in the crowd began to weep too, as if
their own babes had been snatched from them.

    Finally
Osborn gestured to Raffaele. 'Fetch the body, Master Raffaele. I've seen enough
men, and children too, killed in war to know if she speaks the truth.'

    'But
there is no body, m'lord,' Raffaele said. 'Joan apparently found the cradle
empty. She claims Elena confessed to having murdered her baby, as she'd
threatened to do, but we've only Joan's word for that. We've searched the
cottage and the toft. There's no sign of a body or of blood come to that.'

    'So
we only have the word of this villein that any crime has been committed,'
Osborn said, pressing his fingers together. 'She wouldn't be the first
mother-in-law to quarrel with her son's wife.' He leaned forward, frowning hard
at Joan. 'But if you've been wasting my time, woman, making malicious
accusations out of spite, I'll make you wish you'd never drawn breath. I'll have
you flogged to the bone and -'

    Terrified,
Joan fell to her knees. 'No, no, my lord. It's the truth, I swear it on the
Blessed Virgin's robe. My . . . my son, he'll tell you. He heard her threaten
the bairn many times afore he was even born, and he heard her confess to the
murder last night.' She swivelled on her knees, pointing at Elena, 'And if she
hasn't done away with my grandson, where is he? Tell her to bring him here and
prove herself innocent.'

    Osborn
nodded. 'She may be a garrulous halfwit, but she has a point.' He stared at
Elena. 'So where is your baby? Did you kill him, like this woman says?'

    Elena's
throat was so swollen from pleading and crying half the night that she wasn't
sure she could speak.

    'I. .
. didn't kill him, I swear,' she whispered.

    'Speak
up, girl,' Osborn barked. 'If you are telling the truth, let's hear it.'

    Elena
longed for just a sip to drink, but she dared not ask for it. She tried to
speak up, but she couldn't seem to make her voice loud enough. Osborn leaned
forward impatiently, straining to hear her.

    'I
was afraid that I would kill my baby ... I kept having these dreams about
harming him, Joan's right about that, but I didn't hurt him. I didn't. I tried
to protect him, to keep him safe.'

    'Then
I will ask you again, girl, where is the child? It's a simple enough question.
Any fool could understand it, surely. WHERE IS YOUR BABY?' he said with
exaggerated clarity, as if he thought she was deaf or stupid or both. 'Just
tell us where to find him, then all this will be over and you can return to
your sheep or your spinning or whatever it is you do.'

    Elena
tried to moisten her dry lips with her tongue. 'My lord, I didn't harm him, but
I was so afraid I would that I took him to the cunning woman's house near the
forest, to Gytha and her mother. Gytha promised to find a wet nurse in another
village to take care of him until he is older, then she will bring him back to
us when the danger of the dream is past.'

    Fierce
muttering broke out behind her as the crowd of villagers tore apart this new
morsel.

    Osborn
held his hand up for silence. 'Which village? Where was she to take the child?'

    'I
don't know,' Elena wailed. 'She wouldn't tell me in case I was driven to go
there to find him and the dream should in that way come true. She said she'd
known such things to happen and the only way to prevent it was if I didn't know
where to look.'

    The
villagers excitedly debated the truth of this amongst themselves, but
whispering this time, fearing Osborn's anger.

    Osborn
glared at Raffaele. 'Am I the only one who has any wits left in this manor? Why
didn't you go to this woman Gill or whatever her blasted name is, and ask her
to tell you where the child is to be found? It seems plain enough to me that
either she can produce the infant, in which case the girl is innocent, or she
cannot, in which case we may safely assume the baby is dead. It should be a
simple matter to prove, even for you.'

    The
effort of keeping his tone civil showed plainly in Raffaele's face. 'I
did
go to the cunning woman immediately I heard Elena's story. But Gytha and her
mother have gone and taken all their possessions with them, what little they
had, anyway.'

    'When
did they depart?'

    'They
lived out near the forest, well beyond the last crofts in the village, and no
one recalls seeing them for a week, but that signifies nothing for the
villagers only go to them when they have need. Gytha could have left yesterday
or even this morning before we arrived.'

    Several
of the villagers nodded in agreement.

    Elena
broke in. 'I gave my bairn to them yesterday morning. So they must have gone to
take him to the wet nurse. When they come back they'll tell you, I know they
will.'

    Joan,
who had scrambled to her feet, stepped closer to the dais, her fear replaced
with a look of triumph now that she could see things were swinging her way.

    'That's
certain proof she's lying, my lord. Gytha's mother was blind and couldn't even
stir from her bed, hasn't walked for years. What cause would Gytha have to drag
the old woman on such a journey if she was only going to deliver the child and
then return to the village? And why would she take all her pots and stores? No,
they've done a flit, gone for good, left a week ago, which that witch Elena
knows right well. She's an unnatural mother. There's plenty of women in
Gastmere can swear that we had to hold her down and force her to suckle her own
babe when he was born. Even Elena's own mother will tell you that. What kind of
a mother doesn't want to nurse her own child? What manner of woman begs the
faeries to take her child?'

    Several
women in the crowd crossed themselves and hissed their hatred of such
wickedness. Elena's mother was sobbing loudly, in the arms of one of her
neighbours, telling any who would listen that she couldn't understand what had
come over her daughter and that she had tried her best to raise her to be a
good girl. Neighbours sadly shook their heads; the shame of this would surely
send the poor woman to an early grave.

    Joan,
spurred on by the outrage of the crowd, bellowed her words out as if she was a
priest in the pulpit. 'Elena murdered my precious little grandson just to spite
me, and she pretended the bairn was with Gytha, 'cause she knew right well that
Gytha and her mother had already gone from the village days ago, so they
wouldn't be here to gainsay her.'

    Raffaele
opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out and he stared down at
the floor, his face grim with misery.

    Osborn
leaned back in his chair and addressed the assembled company. 'Then, unless
anyone else has proof to the contrary, there can be no doubt the girl is
guilty.'

    Elena
was trembling violently. She stared wildly around the hall, desperately
searching for someone who would say something to defend her, but all she
received in return were cold stares from faces grim with shock and revulsion.

    'Mam,'
she pleaded, 'tell them I wouldn't do such a thing. Tell them I'd never hurt my
own bairn.'

    But
Cecily only sobbed harder, turning her face away from her daughter into the
comforting arms of her friends.

    Elena
took a few steps towards the crowd, who as one drew back from her as if they
feared she was going to attack them.

    'I
didn't hurt him. You have to believe me. I gave him away to keep him safe.
Athan, tell them, please! You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt our son. You
told Joan I couldn't have done it. Tell them, Athan, tell them!'

    Even
beneath his tan, Elena could see the blood draining from Athan's face.

    Osborn
jerked his head in Athan's direction. You, boy, are you the baby's father?'

    Athan
twitched rather than nodded, his face stricken with anguish, but Osborn took
the movement for assent.

    'Have
you anything to say in this girl's defence? Did you give her permission to take
your son to this cunning woman?'

    Athan
stared from his mother to Elena, his mouth working convulsively. Silent tears
began running down his cheeks. He made a desperate gesture, holding out his
arms as if he was reaching for Elena.

    'I'm
sorry, so sorry,' he whispered. 'I love you . . . even if. . . I'll never stop loving
you.'