Chapter Fourteen
By sunrise the following morning the storm was long gone. The only sign of its passing was damp earth and a few puddles, for the sun shone again in a clear sky. However, the stable was a blackened ruin with half the roof burned away and the remaining timbers sagging under the weight of the thatch. The charred and sodden straw stank and everywhere dark ash stained the ground. Elgiva shuddered, hearing in her imagination the screams of the frightened horses once again.
‘We’ll have to rebuild it, all right,’ said Ironfist, surveying the wreck with a critical eye. ‘We couldn’t put a hog in there, never mind a horse.’
Beside him Wulfrum concurred. ‘It’s fortunate the weather is warm. The horses will take no harm from being out at night. In the meantime, we’ll organise a team of men to start clearing away the mess.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
Ironfist was about to depart when Ida appeared from inside the shell of the stable. His face was grim.
‘My lord, I think you’d better take a look at this.’ He paused, throwing a speaking glance at Wulfrum. ‘It might be better if the lady remained here. It is not a sight for her eyes.’
Puzzled, Elgiva watched as the two of them drew closer to the ruin, to a place where part of the wall had crumbled, allowing ingress. She heard the sound of timbers being kicked aside and then the men’s voices, too low to be overheard. After that was silence. When finally they emerged, her husband’s expression was chilling. With a dreadful sense of foreboding, she summoned up the courage to ask.
‘What is it, Wulfrum?’
‘It’s the body of one of the stable-boys. He must have been in the loft and he didn’t get out. Unfortunately, no one knew he was there.’
Elgiva’s eyes filled with tears and she could only stare at him in dumb horror. All around her she heard a buzz of angry voices as the news reached the others.
‘The person responsible will pay dearly for this,’ he went on. ‘Had the boy any family?’
‘Just his mother, I think,’ replied Ironfist. ‘I have seen her hereabouts on occasion.’
Before anyone else could volunteer information Ceolnoth approached, bringing one of the Saxon serfs with him. The latter looked fearfully about, but could not escape the firm hold on his arm.
‘Now what have we here?’
Wulfrum looked round, following Ironfist’s gaze.
‘My lord, this man may be able to shed some light on what happened last night,’ said Ceolnoth.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, lord. It seems one of the other hands did not turn up for his work this morning.’
Wulfrum frowned. ‘What has this man to do with it?’
The serf paled and began to tremble. ‘Nothing, my lord, I swear it. ’Twas I that discovered Drem was missing this morning, that is all.’
Elgiva froze in stunned disbelief. Then her mind threw back the memory of a man at the whipping post and she knew with sick certainty that it had been he whom she had seen.
‘Drem?’ demanded Wulfrum.
‘One of the field hands, my lord,’ said Ceolnoth.
‘I know the man.’ Wulfrum’s gaze never left the serf’s face. ‘Go on.’
‘That is all I know, lord. Drem was there last night and gone this morning.’
‘Have you made a search for him?’
‘Yes, lord. He is nowhere to be found.’
‘What more?’
‘Nothing more, lord.’
‘Well, I think we can guess who fired the stables last night,’ said Ironfist.
Ceolnoth nodded. ‘Belike the rat has slipped away into the forest to join the rebels.’
‘Is that so?’ demanded Wulfrum.
The serf began to shake. ‘It may be so, my lord, but he did not confide in me.’
‘Then who were his friends?’
The man remained silent, crushed by the sombre looks cast upon him, a picture of abject terror.
‘I’ll get it out of him,’ said Ironfist.
Elgiva laid a hand on his arm. ‘Wait, Olaf.’ She turned to the serf. ‘How are you called?’
‘Oswy, my lady.’
‘Then, Oswy, I beg you to say what you know. Those who are innocent have nothing to fear. We must find out who did this. A boy is dead.’
He blinked rapidly. Clearly this was news to him too.
‘A boy, my lady?’
‘Yes, one of the stable lads. He must have been trapped by the flames for he did not get out.’
Oswy was shocked and his face went a shade paler. ‘Elfric and Leofwine knew Drem best, my lady, for he sometimes helped out at the forge. Even so, I think he would not have told them what he planned. They would never have agreed.’
Elgiva turned to Wulfrum. ‘What he says is true, my lord. I know these men and they have ever served Ravenswood loyally.’
Even as she spoke, she knew he would recall the incident when they had tried to help Hunfirth and Brekka. Would he hold that against them now?
Wulfrum heard her out impassively. ‘Nevertheless, I would speak with them.’ He turned to Ceolnoth. ‘Bring them here.’
The two men arrived a few minutes later, looking round uneasily at the assembled group of stony-faced warriors. However, they answered readily enough to the questions put to them. Wulfrum heard them without interruption. Beside him Elgiva watched his face, trying to glean any clue from his expression as to what he might do next but, as was usual in these affairs, he gave nothing away. Once, her gaze flicked to the smith and his son and thence to Oswy. They stood in silence, never moving a muscle, but the tension was almost palpable. Behind them stood half a dozen of Wulfrum’s men, all armed to the teeth. If he gave the word, the three would be dead before they hit the ground. He deliberated a moment longer.
‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘You may go.’
The exhalation of breath was audible, but they needed no second bidding.
‘You believed them?’ said Ironfist, watching the retreating figures.
‘Yes. If they knew anything at all, they would be with Drem in the forest,’ replied Wulfrum, ‘which is where we shall find him, I have no doubt.’
‘How are we to do that, in the name of all the gods?’
The earl’s smile was grim. ‘Have the horses saddled, Olaf, and fetch the hounds. If Drem left this morning after the deluge ceased, there is a good chance of picking up his trail. Ceolnoth, find something that has the man’s scent on it. Something from his sleeping place, maybe. ’Tis time to go a-hunting.’
Elgiva saw understanding dawn in the faces of the listening men, and they hastened to do his bidding. Wulfrum turned and strode back to the hall, heading for the stairs. Elgiva had almost to run to keep pace. Presently they reached their chamber and she watched anxiously as he donned chain mail and buckled on his sword belt, settling Dragon Tooth firmly in the scabbard. He checked the dagger in his belt and slid a smaller, slimmer blade into his sleeve before finally taking up the linden-wood shield embossed with iron.
‘Wulfrum, take care, I beg you. These are desperate men and you know not how many there are.’
‘True, but I know how many there will be by the time I return tonight.’
Elgiva shivered. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders drawing her closer.
‘Have no fear, my lady. I will return. But I must smoke out this nest of rats or live in fear of them ever more.’
She nodded unhappily. There would be more killing before the day was done, but she knew he had no other choice. The raiders might have got away with the theft of a sheep or two, but the moment the stable was fired their fate was sealed. Wulfrum would find them, she was certain of it, and he would show no mercy this time.
‘Wulfrum, I fear that Aylwin may be with them.’
He frowned, his expression suddenly intent. ‘Aylwin?’
‘Yes. After he fled Ravenswood, he went into the forest. You trailed him that far yourself. He could be with the rebels there.’
‘Pray he is not.’
‘You intend to slay him.’
‘Can I do anything else?’ He took her by the shoulders and looked down into her face. ‘I know you have had ties of friendship with this man in the past, but you cannot have divided loyalties, Elgiva.’
‘I know it.’
Her heart felt leaden in her breast but she knew he was right. An innocent child had died in the fire. Had Drem been taking his orders from Aylwin? It did not bear thinking about. Reluctantly, she followed her husband out to the waiting horses.
Olaf and Ida had returned with twenty mounted men. Beside them were four great hounds, leashed. Wulfrum swung into Firedrake’s saddle and looked down at his wife. For a moment their eyes met.
‘Until later, my lady.’
Then he turned the horse’s head and rode away at the head of his force.
Elgiva watched until the column was out of sight and then recollected her own duties. Before anything else, she must speak with the mother of the murdered stable lad to offer what poor comfort she might. Accordingly she made her way to the village. She arrived to find that Father Willibald had anticipated her and he looked up thankfully as Elgiva entered the mean dwelling. As she expected, the wretched woman was distraught, for her son was the only surviving member of her family, her husband having died of fever the previous year. Now she wept inconsolably. Elgiva could well understand that terrible outpouring of grief and knew that no words of hers could possibly suffice. Instead she put her arms round the sobbing figure and held her close. It was a long time before the tears abated sufficiently for coherent speech.