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Chapter Twelve “Ah. You’re back with us, I see.”
Ailyth’s eyes flickered open and she tried to blink against the harsh light that flamed down at her but, as soon as she did so, her head was filled with such a pain that it made her gag. It felt as though something was crushing her skull and pushing her eyes into her cheeks, and the agony made her want to writhe away from her body, trying to escape the pressure that clouded her thoughts and brought bile to her throat. Yet, despite the force with which she struggled against the pulsing sensation, her body wouldn’t move. All she could manage was a low moan.
Canute watched her contort against the bonds, which tied her down, with interest. “Yes, I suspect you’ve got quite a headache,” he said humourlessly. He looked thoughtfully at the heavy iron candlestick in his hands and smiled. “Mayhaps I hit you a little too harshly. Or mayhap not harshly enough. After all, I didn’t really want you to wake up.”
“You tried to kill me,” Ailyth gasped in a deep, throaty voice, fresh spasms of pain shooting through her head.
“Oh no,” Canute replied quickly, stepping forward into the light. “Oh no, no. What do you take me for, a common murderer? I just tried to knock you out.” He placed the candlestick next to Ailyth’s head and gave her a slick smile. “After all,” he went on, “I don’t want you getting in the way of my task now.”
Ailyth twisted her head to the side, to see that they were alone, and still in the church. Dozens of candles surrounded her, each one of their flames dancing against the painted walls and contorting Canute’s face into shadows. She could feel the heat against her face and she felt sticky, before realising that blood was trickling down her temples. Craning her neck a little, she saw that someone had changed her clothes; now she was wearing a loose white gown, tied at the waist with a golden rope.
“You undressed me?” she asked incredulously, feeling violated and sickened. “How dare you!”
Canute smirked. “I merely changed your clothes, you silly girl. It was a necessary job.”
“But why?” she said.
“Because we need to do this right,” he told her, disappearing into the darkness.
Do what right? Struggling against the ropes that held her down, Ailyth tried desperately to work out what was happening. They were still in the church, that was clear, and it must be night, or why would he have lit so many candles? But where was Granfer, and RiffRaff? Surely they must have become concerned about her, when she failed to reappear.
Canute had tied her down tightly, there was barely any room to move and the ropes cut into her chest, arms, legs and even her neck. If she struggled any more she would be choked, so she lay still and began rubbing the ropes around her hands against the edges of the table.
“Oh, don’t bother,” Canute said, reappearing suddenly. His footsteps were like cats’; calculated and soundless. “You’re not going to get yourself out of this, so why don’t you just lie down and stop causing trouble.”
He too had changed his clothes; he no longer wore the colour that he had when travelling, but instead was dressed from head to toe in a heavy brown sack-cloth habit, his hood resting on his shoulders to reveal, for the first time, a shaven patch in the middle of his greasy, chestnut hair.
“You’re a monk!” Ailyth cried in surprise.
“Well done, little one,” he replied in mock pleasure. “Your eyesight still works, despite that knock I gave you on your head.”
“But this,” she spluttered, “what you’re doing...it’s wrong! No, you can’t be a monk, they’d never do something like this. I’ll tell your Abbot. You’ll be thrown out of the church.”
“I think not,” Canute said grimly. “I rather think I’ll be rewarded for this.” He checked Ailyth’s bonds, to make sure she hadn’t loosened them too much, and motioned to someone standing in the darkness.
As he made his way forward, Ailyth saw the face of Ulfred staring down at her, his eyes wide and his mouth open slightly. He too was dressed in the robes of a monk, and they made him look even younger than before.
“You!” she gasped. “Not you as well. But...we trusted you.”
“A mistake on your part, but I must say it has been a beneficial one. For us, that is,” Canute added, chuckling a little. “It is not one that you will ever make again.”
But Ailyth was staring now at Ulfred, confusion and anger written across her face. How could you? she thought. How could you? Ulfred could not meet her eye.
A dart of silver brought Ailyth’s attention back to Canute, and she stiffened as she saw that he was holding in front of her a large knife; a dagger with a rippling blade that caught the light of the candles and looked bloody in his grip.
“Oh, devil’s child,” he said softly, moving stealthily towards her. “Oh, doer of evil. Daughter of Satan and bewitcher of man. Did you think that you would be allowed to continue with your immoral plans against the church, against your fellow Christians?”
“What?” Ailyth gurgled, as her throat pressed against the rope that pinned her.
“I have seen you now, doing your terrible work against my church, thou fiend of Beelzebub, helper of the monstrous one.”
“Canute, what are you saying? I’m not the daughter of Satan, how can you say that? I’m just a girl, will you listen to yourself!”
“Oh,” Canute said mildly, “the devil takes on many forms. I knew at once that you had witchcraft in you, from the second I saw you communicating with the dark one, in that inn in Bristol.”
Ailyth didn’t know how to react to this, as his voice, without the false Devonian accent he had used as a disguise, became familiar to her.
“You!” she cried, immediately choking as the rope cut deeper. “You were the hooded man in the tavern?” This didn’t make any sense, none of it. “But you protected me against that terrible man!”
“I did, acting in good Christian faith,” he admitted, stroking the flat of the dagger discreetly. “I thought nothing of you, until I heard you whispering to the master of evil, and until you revealed your plans to me.”
If the situation hadn’t been so perilous, Ailyth would have laughed. RiffRaff, she realised. The master of evil. The monk must be jesting. But she knew that revealing the truth would do her no favours. As RiffRaff had said before, revealing the truth would only whip the man up into a fervour of religious fury.
“I knew straight away that you must be stopped,” Canute said. “In fact, I promptly sped to my Abbot, to tell him of my discovery. Like myself, he was concerned. Most concerned.”
“I don’t understand. Please, let me go,” she pleaded.
“Let you go?” Canute said incredulously. “You think I have tracked you across the countryside, tricked my way into your favour, to let you go now? No, my dear, tonight you die.”
Ailyth began to scream, her terror now confirmed, but Canute quickly pressed down on her throat.
“I wouldn’t spend your energy,” he said.
“Why not?” Ailyth spat, “if you’re going to kill me anyway.”
Canute ran the dagger slowly across her cheek, scratching the skin away but bringing no blood. “Because your ‘father’, the creature of the faey’s world, has been tied up himself and I doubt he’ll be of much use to you.”
“He’ll break through the ropes and kill you!”
Canute chortled and shook his head. “Alas, I think you give the old man too much credit,” he said. “He is out of his own realm now, and subject to the laws of God and man. He cannot use his ‘magical powers’ against me.”
Ailyth glared at him bitterly. “Why are you doing this?” she said.
Canute drew back from her and opened his arms wide. “There was a time,” he said, “when the world was fresh and beautiful, but man spoiled it and turned it into a playground for his own sins. He corrupted and he displeased God, so he was punished by a great flood; a flood that drowned the evil and left the world as a clean slate.”
“Yes,” Ailyth said, “I know. Noah’s Ark. What’s that got to do with me?”
“But,” Canute went on, ignoring her question, “man is a sinner, thanks to Eve, and he continued to destroy God’s earth, despite this new chance. All my life I have seen it; lust, deceit, greed, cheating other people for profit. The world has become Sodom and Gomorrah.”
He leaned forward to Ailyth, so that she could hear each word he said.
“And then,” he whispered, “at our darkest hour, when even the Abbot thought that God had abandoned us, He sent us a gift. A sign that He still wished to save the good from the temptations of the evil. A plague, to strike down sinners and leave the good, the clean to inherit the world. It was a joyous day when first we saw it; we prayed into the night in thanks. This plague would rid England of sin.
“And then you. So clearly working against good, out to put an end to the plague. At first I was unconcerned but then, as I saw you communicating with Satan, I knew that you were a real threat. This couldn’t be, I told myself. After everything we’d prayed for, only to have you come along and destroy it. Well, I couldn’t let that happen. My Abbot wouldn’t let it happen, so we despatched a group of men to track you down and put an end to your machinations before you destroyed the gift that God had granted us.”
“You were one of the men who came into my room at the inn,” Ailyth realised.
“True, true,” Canute said, before stopping suspiciously. “Witch!” he accused, pointing at her. “There was no-one in that room, you couldn’t have known! Witch!”
Ailyth stared at him in terror. “You’re mad,” she said.
Canute shook his head forcefully. “No,” he said, “I’m not mad. I’ve never felt so peaceful in my life. Today, God’s justice will be done. It will be glorious: a world where people can live without fear, where there is no sin. And now it is time.”
He lifted his knife above Ailyth’s throat and closed his eyes in preparation to prayer.
“You’ve been with me for nearly a week!” Ailyth cried suddenly, desperate to buy herself a little more time. “Both of you have!” Ulfred backed away slightly, as though not wanting to be included in this. “You could have killed me any time that you wanted. Why now? Why not earlier, at the old woman’s house, or when I was sick. And Ulfred, why did you help Granfer nurse me back to health, when all you wanted was to kill me anyway?”
Ulfred shook his head, too afraid to reply and, with a sigh, Canute slowly lowered his knife and turned to her.
“Pestering child,” he muttered. “I told you before that I am not a common murderer. Do you think I would risk being sent to hell for murdering you?”
“But you’re going to kill me now,” Ailyth pointed out.
“Yes,” Canute said slowly. “But in a church, with God’s blessing. I’m not murdering an innocent, Ailyth. I’m going to sacrifice you to my lord. It’s important to perform this ritual properly; the knife, the robes, the candles. Oh yes, I was pleased when you became sick. I thought it was God’s way of showing his power over Satan, and proving us right, but you recovered with the help of your master. But it’s better this way, as a ritual. This way, there’s a chance I might be able to part the wickedness from your body. You may even go to heaven if I do that, Ailyth. You see, I care about your soul. I’m not a bad man.”
“No, of course not,” Ailyth said, but the sarcasm was lost on him. Gripping the sides on the table, she realised that she had in fact been lain on the altar, and a wave of sickness hit her.
A look of irritation passed over Canute’s face, and he let his hand drop to his side. “Benedicte,” he cursed. “The incense. This ritual needs incense.” He glanced over at Ulfred. “Brother,” he said, “watch her for a moment. I will not be long.”
As Canute stepped out of the church, Ailyth seized her chance and hissed at Ulfred to come to her. She had seen doubt in his face, and realised as he hid in the shadows that he might not be as willing a participant as his master. Now she had only moments to act.
“Ulfred,” she whispered, “please. Come here.”
The novice monk hesitated for a moment, before shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I can’t.”
“Please Ulfred,” Ailyth begged. “I’m not going to hurt you, am I? I can hardly move. Please, I just want to talk to you.”
Cautiously, Ulfred moved towards her, and Ailyth smiled at him.
“You’re a good man,” she said. “Thank you.”
“What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.
She smiled at him again. “I want you to untie me,” she said.
Ulfred jumped back as though he’d been stung. “No,” he said. “Trickster. Devil. Witch.”
“Oh Ulfred, I’m none of those things,” Ailyth said, forcing calm into her voice. She didn’t want to panic him. “Do you really think I’m in league with Satan? Would I have come willingly into a church if that were true?”
“It’s a trap,” Ulfred said, but Ailyth saw uncertainty in his face.
“No, it wasn’t,” she said soothingly. “I am a Christian, just like you. I worship God, not the devil. If Canute kills me, he will be a murderer. God will not thank him for sacrificing an innocent, and He will not that you for helping.”
“But the plague,” the boy stammered. “You want to put an end to it!”
“I do,” Ailyth agreed. “But not because I want to defy God. I have seen innocent people killed by the plague. Think of that woman who let us stay with her when no-one else would. Think that she was evil?”
Ulfred shook his head.
“The plague isn’t a gift from God,” she pressed. “It’s not a punishment for sinners. It’s been sent from the devil, to kill good and bad alike. It isn’t taking any sides, or sparing people because they’ve lived good lives. It’s killing everyone.”
“No,” Ulfred said to himself.
“Ulfred, please untie me,” Ailyth said firmly.
The monk shook his head shyly and backed away. “I can’t,” he whispered.
“Then...hit Canute over the head, get him out of the way,” she suggested, seeing Ulfred’s help slip away.
“I can’t hurt him,” he said, making his way nervously to the church door.
“Please Ulfred, help me!” she begged, just as Canute re-entered.
“Nice try,” he said, hanging an incense holder from a fire bracket. “But the boy knew that you would try to trick him.”
Once more, Canute held the dagger a few feet above Ailyth’s throat, and began to pray in Latin. Sweat formed on Ailyth’s forehead, mingling with blood, as she realised that, without the help from Granfer or Ulfred, her time head come. She closed her eyes and prayed that it would be quick.
The abrupt sound of the dagger hitting the floor with a clank made Ailyth’s eyes spring open, and she realised that Canute was no longer standing over her but was, instead, scuffling with Ulfred. The young monk had experienced a change of heart, and was wrestling with Canute across the church floor.
Praise be, she wept, as she watched from the corners of her eyes the two monks tussle on the dirty mosaic, and she began to struggle in earnest against the ropes which held her, somehow hoping that now she could be free.
As Ulfred lifted his hand to strike Canute across the face, the elder monk placed his feet on his novice’s stomach and pushed him with all of his might, so that Ulfred went flying across the floor. Ailyth winced as he struck the wall and struggled, dazed, to get back up.
“Come on Ulfred!” she called. “Get up! He’s coming for you.”
Canute glanced back at her with a look of disgust on his face, and Ailyth was gladdened to see that his nose was bleeding slightly. But that didn’t help her saviour, as he received a blow to the side of his head.
“Traitor,” Canute said to him. “Get up,” but the boy just looked up at him weakly, before gazing sadly at Ailyth, still prostrate on the altar. “I said get up.”
“I can’t,” he wheezed, and Canute struck him once more.
Ulfred was already defeated, and Ailyth smiled at him in dispirited thanks. “You tried,” she mouthed but, once more, Canute was upon her.
“You fool,” he said. “Can’t you see that I’ve already won.” He closed his eyes once more.
Ailyth felt something tugging her gown and, as she lowered her eyes to look down her body she saw RiffRaff on her chest.
“Don’t say a word,” he said in his lowest possible voice. “Granfer’s coming. Ulfred untied us both.”
Ailyth glanced over at where Ulfred had been sprawling, and saw that he was no longer there. He had crawled out of the church without Canute or herself even noticing. She gave a silent prayer of thanks.
RiffRaff crept up and down her body, examining the ropes. “The ropes around your hands and feet are separate from the rope that’s holding you to the altar,” he said. “If I chew through the main one, you’ll be able to slip out,” he said. “But I’ll free your hands and feet first.”
As he began to gnaw through the thick cords, Granfer came crashing into the church, a large log in his hands. Hearing his noisy entrance, Canute spun around and ducked his lumbering blow.
But it wasn’t Canute that Granfer was aiming for, but the dagger again in his hands, and it spun towards a darkened recess in the church. Canute looked desperately after it, but realised that there was no way he could retrieve it without exposing himself to Granfer, so grabbed the nearest candlestick and brandished it at his attacker instead.
Granfer laughed as Canute thrust the burning candle close to his beard, and simply blew it out. Swinging the branch above his head, he brought it down on Canute’s shoulder and sent him shuddering to the ground.
“Hurry, RiffRaff,” Ailyth said, as Canute staggered to his feet. The rat kept his head down and carried on biting through the rope.
Canute was on his feet again, although bent over slightly. Swaying slightly, he swung the weighty candlestick at the old man and caught him a glancing blow to the leg. Mostly, however, his efforts were in vain as he wasn’t a fighter, and nor did he ever anticipate being a man of strength.
“Your hands are free,” RiffRaff said, jumping down to her feet.
“No, untie my body,” she whispered. “I can untie my feet myself.”
Granfer and Canute were locked in battle now and, although it was clear that Canute simply did not have the strength, he fought against Granfer furiously, determined that his task should still be carried out. With the rage of a man watching everything he had ever hoped for fall away from him, his was a desperate struggle, one which he could not even contemplate losing.
He swung the candlestick at Granfer again, this time knocking the man to the floor. Ailyth gasped, and Canute turned to see her pulling away the ropes that had chained her as RiffRaff hopped from the altar. The monk grinned at her, and lifted the candlestick towards her menacingly.
“You’re next,” he warned.
Just as his attention was distracted, Granfer brought his branch around sharply and whacked Canute in the leg. At first Ailyth thought that the snap she heard was the branch giving up but, as Canute let out an animal roar of pain, she realised that it was his leg that had broken, and he collapsed to the floor, holding onto his shin.
“Come on,” Granfer said, stepping over the agonised man and helping Ailyth to her feet. “Are you ok?”
“I think so,” she replied, and he nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Picking RiffRaff up, Granfer and Ailyth fled the church, leaving Canute doubled up in pain. Ulfred was waiting outside for them, having thrown all of the contents of the wagon out onto the ground, so that travelling was swifter.
“Get in,” he cried, holding out to take Ailyth’s hand.
“No, my cloak,” she replied, searching through the pile of discarded wools. Her charms were in the pockets, and she would not leave without them. Finally she found them, and allowed Ulfred to pull her up onto the cart.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as Ulfred spurred on the mule.
“Best not to tell you at the moment,” the young monk said through gritted teeth, motioning towards the church. Canute was crawling to the entrance and watched in horror as his transport sped away.
“This isn’t over yet!” he cried. “I’ll hunt you all down until the end! This isn’t over.”
“It is for you, Canute,” Ulfred said grimly as they drove back onto the open road. “You won’t get far on a broken leg.”
Ailyth clutched RiffRaff to her chest as they moved swiftly across the countryside, until the angry roars of Canute were just a memory. Even Granfer put his arm around her, as she tried to block out what had just happened. His face asked her to tell him what had taken place, but Ailyth could only turn away from him.
They didn’t speak at first. In truth, there wasn’t much that they could say to each other that would ease the fear that they were all now feeling. Canute would not be too far behind, there was no disguising that fact. Dressed in his habit, he would have no problems finding someone who would let him ride with them, sooner or later.
Their only hope was to keep travelling, stopping only when necessary and taking it in turns to sleep, so that they could arrive at Topsham manor before he had a chance to catch up with them, and where Ailyth might at least be safe.
“My father will protect me,” she said after an age of silence. “And Heloise.”
“And my people,” Granfer added. “We’ll be safe.”
But that didn’t stop Ailyth from looking over her shoulder every couple of minutes, convinced that Canute would only be a couple of paces behind. She found it hard to sleep, knowing that there was a chance of that happening.
“We should have killed him,” she said. “He’ll never give up.” No one replied to this, and again they fell into an uneasy silence.
As night fell, Granfer lit a lantern and they continued travelling when everyone else would have stopped. There was no time to waste as long as Canute was still at large, and none of the party could rest for longer than half an hour without waking up, convinced that he was upon them.
At the start of the second day, Ailyth began to feel weak. Granfer hadn’t said anything about her stubborn decision to carry on with their journey so soon after her illness, just as he hadn’t said anything about her misguided faith in Canute, but the truth was she hadn’t recovered. That, coupled with the blow she had received to the head, meant that she could not carry on travelling.
“She needs to rest,” Ulfred told Granfer, who’s turn it was to guide the mule. “She needs somewhere away from the glare of this sun, and a bed that doesn’t move, so that she can get some decent sleep.”
Granfer nodded, but replied “and Canute? She’ll never rest if she thinks there’s a chance he may get at her.”
“I know somewhere we can go,” Ulfred said. “Turn left here.”
Granfer did as he was bade, and they left the road to travel across fields. It was slow progress as, every couple of minutes, they had to stop to open a gate but, by the time night fell again, the had reached the heart of a manor.
Abandoning the wagon by the tithe barn Ulfred and Granfer, carrying RiffRaff and Ailyth, who was too tired to stand, approached the darkened church that appeared all but deserted. Ulfred lifted his fist and banged on the door, the noise causing many of the serfs to stir.
“Sanctuary!” he called into the closed church. “Please, give us sanctuary!” |
