| ` | |
|
Chapter Ten Ailyth had been right: the small village was tainted with death. Granfer, who had been out with Canute to check on the wagon, and to make sure it’s valuable contents hadn’t been stolen in the night, brought the news of death first thing in the morning.
“They say the plague’s been here just a few days, four at the most, and already seven people have been taken with fever,” he told Ailyth. “While we slept two people in the same household died, and one more is about to cross over.”
“The same family?” Ailyth asked.
Granfer nodded. “A father, an aunt and a child,” he said. “The child has only hours left in this world.”
They were silent after this, each unsure of what could be said. Ailyth walked to the window and looked out, seeing only small houses and smoke drifting into the cloudless sky. Three people, from one family, she thought. How many more deaths will they have to suffer? She snorted bitterly as she thought of Canute’s suggestion of the previous night, that the plague was a punishment. What did a child have to be punished for? Throwing stones at a wagon? Scrumping apples?
“Do you blame me for this?” she asked Granfer, who was prodding the fire uncertainly.
He glanced up. “What?” he said. “No, no Ailyth, I don’t.”
Ailyth felt RiffRaff climb down her arms, and he licked her hand reassuringly. “What’s done is done,” he whispered, so that Ulfred couldn’t hear. “You’ll put it all right.”
“But will I?” she cried, stroking the rat a little too harshly, making him wince as she rubbed his wound. “How can you know that? I don’t know what to do, you don’t know what to do, and I doubt even Heloise knows. If she did, wouldn’t she have done something herself?”
“Well, perhaps Grethel knows the answers, but needs someone to act for her,” Granfer said thoughtfully.
“Then why didn’t she at least tell me what to do before I left Topsham?”
“She did,” RiffRaff said. “She told you to come home.”
“And all those people who have suffered in the meantime, all those children who have died. I might have been able to do something sooner.”
“Perhaps she didn’t know the answers then. Mayhap she needed time to think herself.”
Ailyth looked from RiffRaff to Granfer, and then back to the rat again.
“Wait a moment,” she said. RiffRaff was speaking openly in front of the old man, and Granfer didn’t seem to be in the least surprised. “What’s going on? How long have you known that Riff’ could talk?”
Granfer smiled ruefully. “Since the day I met him,” he said.
She looked down at RiffRaff in her hands, gazing up innocently at her. “And you!” she said. “You didn’t tell me? I’ve been trying to keep you secret all this time.”
“And quite rightly so,” RiffRaff said, rubbing his nose with a grubby paw. “Can’t imagine Canute and Ulfred taking to a talking rat all that kindly. They’d probably think I was possessed by the devil.”
Ailyth slumped down heavily under the window, and RiffRaff hopped from her, onto the floor. “And you’re not frightened yourself, Granfer?” she questioned doubtfully.
“Certainly not,” he replied. “I’ve met many talking animals in my time, I’ll have you know. Charming creatures usually, although I wouldn’t waste my time talking to rabbits. Pointless little worriers. And weasels! Pedants!”
Ailyth watched him, as though seeing him for the first time. He knew talking animals; several, if he was to be believed. And his knowledge of the faery world was clear. “Who are you?” she asked. A new thought struck her, and she sat up excitedly. “And how do you know about Grethel? I’ve only ever called her Heloise.”
Granfer smiled at her questions in a way that suggested that he’d been waiting for her to ask for a long time. “Grethel is my friend,” he replied. “We belong to the same world.” He moved a little closer to Ailyth, so that she could see the green fire dancing in his eyes. “Can you really say you don’t know me?” he asked. “We have, after all, met before.”
Ailyth took in a deep gasp of air as a memory stirred. She had seen those eyes, smaller then, although she had been desperate not to look. He had been in the forest, that day when it had all begun. He had tried to help her wake Tristran.
“You were the little man in the woods,” she said quietly, feeling altogether faint. “I swatted you away from me with a branch! You were littler then,” she added, as Granfer nodded.
“Well done girl,” he said, pleased with her. “I told Grethel you’d recognise me. Eventually.” He picked RiffRaff up and placed him on his shoulder. “Shape changing is a useful trick to know in the faey world.”
“But why are you here?”
“To protect you, just like I said,” he replied, and Ailyth felt a deep sense of safety wash over her. “We need you to get back to that manor of yours all in one piece.”
For the first time since Tristran was alive, Ailyth truly felt that things would be all right in the end. Standing up and taking RiffRaff back, she drew the old man aside so that Ulfred couldn’t eavesdrop and said, “All right Granfer Grigg, I want some answers.”
“As you wish.”
She thought for a moment, trying to make sense of the jumble of thoughts jostling for attention in her head.
“Ok,” she said carefully. “Why on earth did Heloise give me a rat instead of another animal? Did she even think about the amount of questioning I’ve had to face every time someone sees Riff’ on my shoulder?”
“Hey!” RiffRaff said, deeply hurt.
“Sorry,” Ailyth said, kissing the top of his head affectionately. “It’s just the first question that came to me.”
“He’s been useful, hasn’t he?” Granfer said. “A puppy couldn’t climb through barred windows and fetch you back a key, unseen, could it?”
“All right,” Ailyth said, accepting his answer. “Well secondly, why don’t you blame me for what happened? It’s my fault, I blame myself and I bet if anyone else knew that I had caused this they’d blame me too.”
“But I don’t, and neither does Grethel or Amarett...the squirrel you met,” he explained, seeing Ailyth’s puzzled face, “and a whole host of other creatures. Yes, it is your fault, we accept that, but we don’t blame you. You didn’t mean to do it, you’re not an evil person, and you’re the only person who can make it right...”
“Because it’s my fault!” she shot back.
“Yes, Ailyth. That’s how it works. No one else can do this for you, but we’ll try to help. And we’ll help you because we know you’re a good person. So please, Ailyth, stop feeling so guilty. We can’t change the past. And haven’t you suffered enough?”
A loud sob wracked Ailyth’s body, so painful that even Ulfred looked over to see what the matter was, and she collapsed against Granfer. “I know I have,” she wept, burying her face into his beard. “I’ve lost everything I loved. But when I hear of mothers losing their children, and their husbands, all I can think of is that it’s my fault.”
Granfer wrapped his arm around her and let her cry against him. “Then let’s make it right,” he said. Slowly she gulped back her tears and nodded.
“Ok,” she said.
They sat down against the wall, and RiffRaff curled up on Ailyth’s lap, as he often did. Granfer’s brow furrowed as he muttered possible solutions to himself, rejecting each one in turn.
How could I not have known? Ailyth thought as she watched him working away. He’s just the same as he was then, only bigger. She smiled to herself. Size makes such a difference.
“Granfer,” she said quietly, after a moment’s silence. Granfer looked up, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth, halfway through the act of counting on his fingers. “I’ve got another question.”
The old man rested his hands in his lap and waited to hear what she had to say.
“What did you think of Tristran?”
Granfer cocked his head to the side a little. “I didn’t really meet him,” he said, remembering the blonde-haired boy asleep under the tree.
“But you saw him. What did you think of him?”
Granfer put a hand on her shoulder. “I thought he looked kind, and brave, and loyal,” he said, and Ailyth sighed.
“Yes,” she said. “He was.” So perfect was he in her memory, that even the thought of his betrayal with Meg couldn’t tarnish it. He had been all of those things, and he had loved Ailyth.
She was busy dreaming of her days with Tristran when Granfer suddenly leapt to his feet. “Elzinbraec!” he cried, grabbing hold of her arms.
“Pardon?” RiffRaff said.
“Elzinbraec,” he repeated. “It’s a plant, blue leaves, rancid smelling flowers.”
“Sounds charming,” RiffRaff muttered, but Granfer would not be deterred.
“It grows amongst the peat moss in the faery realm,” he went on. “Mother Goddess, why didn’t I think of this before? Piskies use it in battle against brownies; when it’s burned, its smoke suffocates all poisonous influences for miles around.”
“Including sickness?” Ailyth asked doubtfully.
“Mayhaps,” Granfer said, his grin subsiding a little. “I don’t know, we’ve never had something on this scale to defeat before. But I think it might just work. In fact, I’m positive that there’s a strong chance that it will!”
“So, where can I find it?” Ailyth asked.
“Listen when I have wonderful ideas!” Granfer said with frustration. “The faery realm. There’s some growing in the very woods near your manor. Where’s your scrying bowl? I have to speak to Grethel.”
He rummaged through Ailyth’s cloak and picked out the bowl as she said “You really think that this might put an end to the plague?”
“Put an end to the plague?” a voice echoed, and the trio looked up to see Ulfred moving shyly towards them. “What might put an end to the plague?”
Ailyth looked at Granfer, who subtly dropped the bowl back onto Ailyth’s cloak, and kicked the cloth over it so that it couldn’t be seen.
“I...er...well, we were just talking about the plague,” Ailyth improvised, “and...we were talking about how...er...”
“Winter,” RiffRaff hissed.
Ulfred glanced down at the rat, who was now cleaning himself innocently. “Did that just say something?” he asked nervously.
“What?” Ailyth said. “No Ulfred, don’t be silly.”
Ulfred blushed, and pulled his cowl around his ears, so that they wouldn’t see his ears turn pink.
“No, we...er...winter! We were talking about winter, and...er...how it might slow the plague down a little.”
“ Ah,” Ulfred said, sitting down next to them, and shuffling a little away from the girl. “Yes, sickness does seem to slow down in the cold, blessed be to God for giving us such varied seasons.” He gazed at Ailyth shyly.
“Yes,” she agreed hastily. “Blessed be to God.”
Ulfred stared at the window. “In times like this, I always think of the true Christ, who would work with the infectious ill and cure them with a touch. In just a short time, he could cure everyone afflicted. A wonderful man. I pray each night to him, in the hope that he will return from his throne in heaven and save us from this...this awful thing. But alas, perhaps my father’s right. Perhaps it is our punishment.”
“You sound as though you don’t share your father’s views,” Granfer said.
“It is not my place to disagree with him,” Ulfred said quietly.
Granfer felt an enormous wave of sympathy sweep over him as Ulfred shook his head and stood up.
“Afraid of his father,” he said to Ailyth as the boy walked away.
“Hmm?” Ailyth said, but she was looking thoughtfully at her hands, lost in a world of her own making.
As the sun began to make a hazy signal across the sky, they realised it was time to move on. Canute had still not returned from checking on the wagon, and Granfer suggested that they should wait for their hostess to appear before making their way. She had not been seen since they woke up.
They had just begun to grow concern over the whereabouts of their companions when they heard a shriek from outside. Canute was standing by a low wall, apparently on his way back from his impromptu stock-take, and he was waving his arms about in an alarming manner.
“Come quick,” he yelled, as nearby villagers peeked out of their windows before drawing them shut nervously again. “I think she’s dying.”
Ailyth, Granfer and Ulfred rushed over towards him and saw, sprawled on the ground, the old woman who had let them share her house. She was moving in and out of consciousness and, when she saw Ailyth kneeling in front of her, she broke into a sweet and painful smile.
“My dear,” she murmured, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I think I must have fainted, I...can’t quite remember. Please, take me inside.”
Granfer and Ulfred carried her back into her simple hut and placed her gently by the fire, where she writhed and mumbled she was moved again, into the coolest part of her home. There Ailyth knelt by her, and touched her forehead.
“She’s burning,” Ailyth said, concerned. “Granfer, Canute, feel her.”
Granfer did so immediately, although Canute made it perfectly clear that, now he had alerted peoples’ attention to her, he wasn’t prepared to take a step closer.
“If the rest o’ the village weren’t goin’ to risk their necks to lift her off the ground, I ain’t goin’ to risk mine. She’s probably got the plague,” he said, and went to stand outside the hovel.
“Do you think it is the plague?” Ulfred asked apprehensively. “I haven’t seen it before.”
“I don’t know,” Ailyth replied, loosening the woman’s clothes. “I’ve never seen it in it’s early stages before. It might just be a touch of ague.” Except, she thought, I have seen something like this; the stable boy at Castle Cary, collapsing at my feet.
“What can we do for her?” he asked.
“Do?” Canute snorted through the ragged hole in the wall that served as a window. “There ain’t nothin’ we can do. She’m a dead woman, whatever you think you can do.”
No, Ailyth thought. No she isn't. I’m going to save her.
Placing her hands on the woman’s body, she closed her eyes and remembered what Ulfred had said of Christ. He could cure with a touch. Perhaps that was how she was to complete her quest. She had to heal the sick.
“What are you doing?” RiffRaff whispered.
“I’m going to make her well again,” she said. “Ulfred, please could you fetch me some water. And Granfer...any suggestions?”
Granfer looked at her sadly. “Ailyth...” he began.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she cut him off. “I know this might look crazy, but please, I have to try. I have to see if this is how I’m meant to bring things to an end.”
Granfer nodded and disappeared from view, leaving just Ailyth, RiffRaff and the woman in the hut. The girl pressed down a little harder on the woman’s flesh, and began to pray.
“Lord God,” she muttered under her breath, “forgive a frightened girl for the things she has said and done. Please forgive me for having doubted you before, but I need your help. We need your help. Pass your powers through me, and help me heal this woman in your name, and your name only. I only ask for the purpose of good, and no evil will I do. But I beg you, help us now, in our dark hour. Help me heal this woman, your loving child. Amen.”
“What d’you think you be doin’, lass?” Canute’s low voice came rumbling through the window. “Looks to be a dang’rous game you’re playin’ there.” His voice grew harsher. “Blasphemy is the most terrible of sins, you’d best stop now.”
“I’m not blaspheming,” she replied through gritted teeth, but his words sent a chill down her spine.
Focussing all of her energy onto the woman, she tried to clear her mind to let God’s power’s flow through her. You will get better, she thought to her, you will not die. You will get better, you will not die. I will not let you die, God will not let you die. You will beat this plague, you will be strong again.
For hours she knelt by the woman, praying and trying to channel her thoughts into the woman’s body, which writhed under the burning fever of the plague. Every now and then she would stop, to wash the sweat from the woman’s brow and to stand outside with Canute, to escape the sickly sweet smoke of the burning rosemary; a handful of which Granfer had thrown onto the fire to purify the air. But she soon realised that she would have to bear the stench, as Canute hurled angry abuse at her every time that she went near.
“Blaspheming wretch,” he shook, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You dare to assume that you have the power of God. You dare to besmirch His name with your attempts at black magic. You will burn in the eternal fires of hell, child, where Satan and his nasty little minions will stick forks into your tender flesh!”
“That isn’t what I’m trying to do,” Ailyth attempted to explain wearily. “I’m praying to him, mostly.”
“Praying for His powers!” Canute cried, but Ailyth couldn’t feel angry with him. Behind his anger was fear; fear that she was dabbling in the unknown, and fear that God would be filled with wrath. Thinking back to all of those times when she had sat through daily mass, she could understand his concerns, but he didn’t have the burden of her quest, and the knowledge of what she had to do.
“Do you really know what you’re doing?” RiffRaff asked her as she reassumed her position next to the woman.
“No,” she admitted in a low whisper. “I don't. I just want God to show me the way. I need his help.”
As the hours dragged on, and another day threatened to come to a close, Ulfred brought her in some dry bread from the wagon, and placed it next to her. As she kept her head bowed, muttering to herself and screwing her eyes up shut, he watched with curious horror, waiting to see if God would grant her prayers.
Night began to close in, and even Canute begrudgingly re-entered the hut, although he sat with his back to Ailyth. She hadn’t stopped since the morning, praying and keeping a constant vigil by the woman, who was confused as to why the girl was praying over her, and a little distressed. Eventually Granfer took her to one side.
“Look at her lips, Ailyth,” he said. The beginnings of blood blisters were clearly starting to form. “You must have realised by now that it isn’t working.”
Ailyth leant against him and nodded, looking very much like a little girl trying to hold back the tears. She was exhausted and weepy, and he hugged her.
“You aren’t Jesus,” he said gently. “You can’t heal the sick with a touch of your hands.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “I just thought that maybe if I prayed hard enough, God would realise that I was trying to do something good, and give me some help.”
“But even if he had, what would you have done? Travelled the length and breadth on the country, seeking all those who had fallen ill and spent days trying to heal them? Ailyth, you could never have done it.”
“I know, I know,” she said, her eyes shining in the dying light. “I know, it was stupid.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” Granfer told her. “It was kind. You tried to help her, and I’m sure that God is as pleased with that as I am. But it hasn’t worked, and now is the time to stop. Tomorrow we’ll go on again, and soon we’ll find that plant and try that, but now you have to sleep.”
Ailyth nodded, too tired to protest, and the second she lay on the ground her strength deserted her.
In the morning the woman seemed to be a little perkier, and Ailyth felt a stirring of hope, but it was only a temporary respite and, as they prepared to leave her, she began to fit.
“We can’t leave her here!” Ailyth cried, as Granfer and Canute forcibly dragged her through the door. “We can’t leave her to her death. No-one will check on her. We have to stay.”
“Child,” Canute said softly, having forgiven her now that she was content to let matters of God be. “If we stay, it’ll only be to watch her die. Now, I want her suffering no more than you do, but we got to be going on now.”
Even so, they had to force Ailyth onto the cart and drive away to stop her from running back to the woman’s side. For the next hour, all she could think about was how the poor dear must be in agony, burning yet cold, and feeling the blisters grow on her body. She couldn’t stop crying; for her, for Elfrida, even for Matthew. She hadn’t saved one of them.
At around mid-morning, Ailyth felt the efforts of the previous day creep over her, and she couldn’t stop yawning. The air was warm and sweet, the road crowded again with more people travelling, and the rhythmic jostling of the carriage served as an aid to sleep. With RiffRaff curled around her neck, she made a nest in the wool and closed her eyes.
She couldn’t tell what it was that woke her, but suddenly she was sitting up, feeling the weakness of night in her bones and her headache warning her that she had woken too soon. It must have been late afternoon, for the sun had warmed her body so much that she could feel sticky beads of sweat layered over it. Worse still, she seemed to be sweating under her skin, and she desperately wanted to go back to sleep.
“Why’ve we stopped?” she asked, her arms trembling.
“We’ve stopped,” Granfer informed her, “because this cretinous oaf is trying to kill us all.”
“What?” Ailyth asked, staggering into a sitting position.
“Now don’t go over the top, old man,” Canute replied, trying to keep control of his temper. “We can tell you haven’t ridden by wagon much before.” He turned around to face Ailyth, who was growing remarkably red in the face. “I jus’ wanted to go a bit faster, consid’ring we los’ so much time yesterday, and I accidentally,” he said, glaring at Granfer, “crashed into another wagon. Sorry to ‘ave woken you up.”
Preparing to have another go at Granfer, Canute puffed his chest up, and Ailyth watched him with some amusement.
“Canute,” she whispered. “You look just like a frog.”
“Eh?” Canute said, staring at her again.
Ailyth nodded and giggled softly, then stood up. Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand she tried desperately to loosen the laces of her chemise, her fingers fumbling over the knot.
“What’s wrong?” RiffRaff asked.
Ailyth swayed slightly. “It’s so hot,” she said. “And the air...doesn’t it smell sweet today? Like roses.” She closed her eyes and smiled.
Canute, Granfer and Ulfred, who realised what she was going to do moments before she did, leapt to their feet and clambered over the wagon with their arms outstretched, just in time to catch her as she fainted.
|
