Mist Over the Water by Alys Clare Read Free Book Online Page A

as jewels aplenty and a beautiful statue of the Virgin and the Holy Child.’ He sighed. ‘Now that – that was a hard loss.’
    We were approaching the island now and, abruptly, the boatman fell silent, his attention on the other craft now bobbing about all around us. I turned away and stared over the side at the water hurrying past. It was so dark, so sinister, and I was overcome with a sense of the unnamed, unnumbered dead down there. I shivered, neither from the cold nor from the boatman’s macabre story.
    It was the place itself that frightened me, and my visit was only just beginning.

FIVE
    S
ibert and I set off from the waterside, jostled by people hurrying to complete the day’s business before the light faded into night. One or two boats were still setting off across the water but it was clear that ferrying operations were winding down. We passed one of the barges, half of its cargo of stone already unloaded. A gang of men were quitting work for the day, laughing and calling out to each other as they set off for their own hearths. Their garments were coated so thickly with stone dust that they looked like moving statues.
    We could see the abbey walls, rising sheer and uncompromising ahead of us. I increased my pace, grabbing hold of Sibert’s sleeve and dragging him with me. The monks must surely be on the point of shutting the gates for the night, if they hadn’t done so already, and if Morcar were inside then I had to get to him before I was shut out. I heard Edild’s voice in my head: if he dies, it will be because you got to him too late . The sensible inner core of me told me that wasn’t exactly what she had said but, all the same, it was the last thing I wanted to think about just then.
    Sibert had moved ahead of me, thrusting a way through the hurrying crowds and, with me a few paces behind, we reached a gatehouse. The gates were still open, but a frowning monk was waiting, tapping a foot in impatience, while an old woman and an even older man shuffled out of the abbey. He had a bunch of huge keys in his hand and he was jangling them against his leg.
    I pushed past Sibert and said, ‘Please, brother, may I speak with you?’
    The monk’s eyes swivelled round to look at me. He did not seem to like what he saw. His face went vinegary and he sniffed, drawing back. ‘No women, not without permission,’ he snapped.
    I could have pointed out that the person hobbling along next to the very old man was a woman but I thought better of it. ‘I understand,’ I said meekly, bowing my head so that I was not staring at him. I have been told (by Edild; who else?) that some men in holy orders take exception to women purely because of their sex, taking the view that the forbidden stirrings they feel in their groins at the sight of a woman are all the woman’s fault simply for existing and nothing to do with their own lustful urges. Surreptitiously, I drew my hood forward, hoping to conceal most of my face. ‘I have come to aid a sick kinsman,’ I went on quickly – the keys were making even more noise now and I knew the monk was just itching to boot Sibert and me out of his gateway and lock up – ‘and I was hoping that you might be able to give me news of him?’
    I risked a glance at the monk. His expression had thawed imperceptibly. Perhaps the fact that I had come on a mission of mercy and wasn’t just a flighty little piece of nonsense after his virtue had affected him. ‘What’s his name?’ he snapped out.
    ‘Morcar,’ I said eagerly. ‘Morcar of the Breckland. He’s a flint knapper,’ I added, ‘but—’
    ‘We’ve no use for flint knappers here,’ the monk said dismissively. ‘ Our abbey’s new cathedral’s being built of Barnack stone, best that money can buy.’
    ‘He was injured,’ I hurried on, ‘and he has a deep wound in his foot. He also has a high fever. I have brought medicaments and I—’ Too late I realized my mistake. This monk, so proud of his abbey, so obviously