Something that I did or said? What ails you?”
“Nothing that cannot wait until morning,” she said, snuggling into him and placing an apologetic kiss on his chest. “I am sorry if I was not as welcoming as you have every right to expect.”
“You were miles away, Golde.”
“Was I?”
“Or maybe only five yards or so.”
“Five yards?”
“In the next bedchamber. With Eadgyth.”
Golde sighed. “She is much in my thoughts, Ralph.”
“Can she not move over and leave some room for me?”
“There is always room for you,” she said, rolling on top of him to kiss him on the lips. “Have I not proved that to you time and again?” He rubbed his nose against hers by way of reply. “But I fret about Eadgyth.”
“She has a husband and doctor to look after her.”
“After today, she will not trust them so implicitly. That is one of the sad consequences of Bertha’s death. It has come between husband and wife. Osbern is a devoted husband yet she now views him with suspicion.”
“That will change in time.”
“I hope so. For both their sakes. When we stepped into this house, it was brimming with happiness. Where has it all gone, Ralph?”
“Right here,” he said, hugging her close. “Have you so soon forgotten? Besides,” he continued, “Osbern’s loss has been our gain. When his wife felt betrayed by him, she turned to you and confided things we would never otherwise have known. Bertha did have a lover, after all. We have no name and no occupation for him as yet but we know he exists. My own information supports that.”
“What did you find out at Fordwich?”
“That I could never be a sailor.”
“Why?”
“The very sight of water makes me feel seasick.”
“Even this far inland?”
“Yes,” he said. “I went to Fordwich and was astonished to chance upon Alwin himself, sitting on the quay. He told me little enough and his brothers were even less forthcoming. They had obviously been warned to say nothing.”
“What did you do?”
“I hung around the harbour and spoke to people who were not his kith and kin. My helm and hauberk made them reticent but I coaxed it out of them eventually.”
“‘It’?”
“There was a man in Bertha’s life and Alwin has been hunting him. He was down at the harbour only yesterday, accosting all and sundry and demanding to know if anyone had seen him.”
“Was a name given?”
“No, Golde. Only a description. But it tallies with the one that Eadgyth gave you. A handsome Frenchman in his thirties, who might recently have arrived at Fordwich by boat. Alwin was most anxious to trace him.”
“I can understand why.”
“Nobody had seen him.”
“But he was due to land here this week.”
“He may well have done so,” said Ralph, “and one of those captains may well have ferried him across the Channel on his boat.”
“Why did he not admit as much to Alwin?”
“His passenger probably bribed him into silence. Bertha’s lover-
or killer, or whatever he is-likes to cover his tracks. I will take up the search again tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“In Faversham. With the girl’s aunt.”
“How will you find the way?” she asked.
“Reinbald the Priest is my navigator,” said Ralph with a chuckle.
“You see how desperate I have become, my love? I have to turn for help to the Church!”
He picked his way through the undergrowth with the surefooted confidence of someone who was very familiar with the terrain.
Moonlight gave him some assistance but he did not really need it. When he passed the leper hospital, he did so in a wide arc so that there was no possibility of his being seen by anyone spending a sleepless night outside one of the huts. Leprosy kept different hours from the rest of world.
His route brought him back to a narrow track that meandered down the hill through thickening woodland. The sound of an approaching horse made him step quickly into the bushes nearby.
Crouched in his hiding place, he waited until the rider had cantered past, wondering why anybody should be out so late and why he was going toward Harbledown. The question soon faded from his mind as more immediate and inspiring thoughts rushed to take its place. He allowed himself a smile.
There was not far to go now. After half a mile at a steady jog, he came around the edge of a copse to catch his first glimpse of the light in the distance. He quickened his pace at once. An owl hooted, a wildcat screeched and some other animal darted across his path but he was neither distracted nor dismayed.
Reinbald the Priest ran on toward Faversham.
Osbern the Reeve lay on the straw pallet in extreme discomfort and wondered why the master of the house was occupying one of its meanest rooms. He had done so at the suggestion of Helto the Doctor, who felt that Eadgyth’s condition would become less volatile if she were allowed to spend the night alone. Her husband offered to keep a vigil in a chair at her bedside but he was overruled. Eadgyth refused to take the sleeping draught prescribed for her, and Osbern’s presence, it was felt, might incite rather than soothe. Helto believed that a combination of isolation and fatigue would ensure a restful night for his patient.
That same combination had the opposite effect on her evicted husband.
What had he done wrong? That was what he kept asking himself.
Why did Eadgyth look at him in such accusatory silence? Would they ever recapture the joy which had brought them together and made their home such a haven of peace and love? He was still reflecting on his misfortunes when sleep stole up on him and, taking pity on him at last, claimed him for a couple of short hours.
He came awake with a start. His body was still aching and his pride was still wounded by the fact that he had been relegated to a chamber normally used by the most menial of the servants.
During the trials of childbirth, it was natural for him to vacate the marriage bed for a short duration but this was a very different situation. Eadgyth was unwell and in need of succour. His place was beside her.
A distant bang made him sit up. As he tried to work out if the noise had come from inside or outside the house, a second bang was heard, louder and closer. It sounded like the front door. He swung his legs off the pallet and pulled himself upright, striking his head against the rafter as he did so and almost losing his balance. Groping his way out into the passage, he strained his eyes against the darkness. A board creaked beneath his foot but the rest of the house was in silence.
He crept across to the bedchamber he shared with his wife and put his ear to the door. There was no sound from within. Helto’s advice had been wise. Left alone, Eadgyth was enjoying a deep and untroubled sleep. Osbern could not resist the opportunity to look in upon her and he eased her door open as gently as he could. When the aperture was wide enough, he peered through it to take some comfort from the sight of his slumbering wife.
His blood congealed. Eadgyth was not there. A finger of moonlight came in through the gap between the shutters to point down at an empty bed. Flinging the door open, he lunged into the room to see if she had fallen to the floor but there was no sign of her. Panic deprived him of all consideration for the guests in the household.
“Eadgyth!” he yelled. “Where are you, Eadgyth!”
He went stumbling out into the passage and felt his way down the oaken staircase, creating even more disturbance.
“Eadgyth! Are you downstairs? Answer me, Eadgyth!”
A servant was the first to react, trotting down from the attic room with a lighted candle and confirming Osbern’s worst fear.
The little flame illumined the front door and showed that its bolts had been drawn back. The reeve pulled it open and stepped out into the street.
“Eadgyth! Come back! Please, Eadgyth!”
It was Ralph Delchard who brought him back into the house and rescued him from the protests of his neighbours. Another servant brought a second candle, then Golde came downstairs with a third. Gervase Bret was behind her.