The Gallows Curse (23 page)

    
She
holds the baby dangling from her hands, like a dead rabbit. The scarlet blood
from his head is dripping down on to a piece of white cloth. The fat drops of
blood spread out on the cloth, merging into one another, until the white is
lost entirely. Now the cloth is as red as hawthorn berries, as if it had always
been red. Her rage has slowly trickled away with the dripping blood and now she
is staring at the tiny corpse, unable to believe what she has done. Not
believing that she has done it. She knows she must have done it. She knows she
wanted to. She was consumed by hatred, burning up with the desire to smash, to
hurt, to destroy. But she doesn't remember killing him.

    All
she knows is that she is holding the dead infant and she is alone. Her legs give
way and she falls to her knees, the baby drops from her grasp on to the bloody
cloth. She turns and vomits. Shakily she wipes her mouth on the back of her
hand, and when she turns back, the baby is lying there, looking up at her with
wide blue eyes which do not blink. His soft lips are parted as if he has opened
them to suckle, but no breath comes from them.

    She
hadn't meant to hurt him. That's all she can think. She hadn't meant to do it.
She hears a creaking, a door opening behind her. She whirls round
.

    The
iron ring caught her hard across the throat as she moved, jerking her awake
with a cry of pain. Something was creaking open, something was grating towards
her. She heard the sound of rasping breath. Elena sensed something moving beside
her — the wall, the stones, were they being pushed outward? Was Gerard's corpse
. . . ? She screamed.

    'Be
quiet, girl, do you want to wake the whole manor?' a boy's voice whispered from
the dark.

    Then
came the faint glow of a lantern muffled beneath a cloak and she realized the
wooden ladder was sliding down towards her. Minutes later the wood groaned
under the weight of a heavy man descending cautiously into the pit.

    Raffaele
set the lantern down and reached out towards her. She was certain he was going
to hurt her, probably rape her. She kicked and pushed him, struggling away from
his long fingers until she was choking on the iron collar. She tried to scream
again, but his hand clamped hard across her mouth. . 'Stop struggling, you
little idiot,' Raffaele whispered. 'What are you kicking me for? Can't you see
I've come to help you? But there isn't much time. They'll come for you at dawn
and you must be long gone by then. We have to hurry. Now, will you promise to
stay quiet?'

    She
nodded and he slowly withdrew his hand from her mouth and reached for a key in
his scrip. Clumsily he tried to unlock the collar. Cursing her, he thrust the
lantern into her hand. 'Here, hold it up so that I can see, and stay still.'

    Dumbly
she did as she was bid and moments later he was climbing the ladder and
ordering her to follow. He helped her over the edge of the pit, then grabbed
her wrist and dragged her through the darkened undercroft, weaving through the
barrels and past the cart until they reached the archway leading into the
courtyard. There he paused, peering out.

    It
could not be too far off dawn now, for torches intended to illuminate the
courtyard were almost burnt away. Raffaele had timed it well. Crushing her
between himself and the wall, he hurried her round the edge of the courtyard
until they reached the huge bossed gate. The shutter on the window of the tiny
gate lodge lay open, and from inside came the sound of pig-heavy snores.

    Raffaele
bent close to Elena. 'Here, take your scrip and your cloak, you'll need them.
As soon as I open the door, you run. Run for the ditch on the other side of the
track. Hide and wait for me there. Don't move, understand?'

    He
pushed her into position next to the opening of the small wicket gate set into
the large, imposing manor gate. As carefully as he could, he eased up the beam
and pulled the door towards him, but not quietly enough. A hound leapt up,
barking furiously, straining at its chain. There was a grunt and a curse, as
inside the gatehouse old Walter struggled off his cot. All at once every hound
in the manor took up the cry of the guard dogs. Raffaele pushed Elena through
the gate and slammed it behind her.

    Elena
picked up her skirts and ran stumbling and tripping across the grass over the
cart-rutted track and towards the ditch on the other side. She could hear
shouts and barks from behind the manor wall. Desperately she tried to look for
some hiding place, but between the manor and the ditch there was only a line of
slender birch trees and bushes that would not hide a rabbit, never mind a
woman. She crouched behind them praying the darkness would cover what the trees
would not.

    Every
sense was screaming at her to run, but he'd said to wait. She must wait, but
for how long? Why didn't he come? It would soon be dawn and as soon as the
light began to creep over the marshes, she'd have no hope of escape. She must
go now before it was too late.

    She
tensed herself and stepped out from behind the trees, but instantly drew back
again as the huge manor door swung open. Raffaele strode through, but he was
not alone. Four men stumbled out after him, still rubbing the sleep from their
eyes, and hard on their heels came two more who held the leashes of two pairs
of hounds. The dogs were almost choking themselves on their collars as they
strained forward, sniffing excitedly at the ground. The hounds were searching
for her scent. Almost vomiting with fear, Elena looped the leather strap of her
scrip over her neck and scrambled towards the ditch behind her. She dropped
into it, trying to smother a cry as the cold water rose to her thighs. She
crouched down till she was neck-deep in the stinking water and huddled into the
reeds.

    'Over
here!' the gatekeeper shouted.

    Elena
could hear the hounds snuffling and barking above her. A few yards away a duck,
unnerved by the dogs, flapped in fright along the surface of the ditch.

    'Keep
those hounds on the leash, damn you!' Raffaele yelled.

    'But
they've found something,' Walter protested.

    'Water
rats, that's all. I told you, I saw the thief head off towards the village. Now
you take those mangy hounds and track him down. And if you come back without
him, by God's teeth, I'll flay the hide off you myself for leaving that gate
unfastened.'

    'It
was secure. I checked it myself, like always,' poor Walter protested. 'I swear
by my right hand, I didn't leave it unbarred.'

    'Find
him,' Raffaele roared, 'or I'll keep you to your oath and take your hand, and
the same goes for each and every one of you idle bastards.'

    The
men did not need telling twice; pulling their reluctant hounds away from the
ditch, they set off hastily in the direction of the village, with Raffaele's
curses and threats chasing them till they were out of hearing.

    When the
sound of the barking had died away, Raffaele came to the edge of the ditch and
softly called out to Elena.

    She
struggled to clamber out, holding up her hand for him to help her. But instead
of pulling her out, he took off his boots, tied them by the laces around his
neck, and slipped into the ditch beside her. He hauled her towards him, but she
was so numb with cold and fear she could hardly stand.

    'I've
friends waiting for us where the ditch meets the river, but they'll not wait
past first light. We have to hurry,' he added, looking anxiously towards the
marshes. 'Best keep to the ditch. They think the gate was opened by the thief,
but if someone thinks to check the prisoner hole and they find it empty,
they'll send the hounds after you. With luck the water'll throw them off the
scent. Come on, we must be well away before they realize you're gone.'

    Elena
shivered and tried to wade forward, but her feet had sunk deep into thick mud
at the bottom of the ditch and her long skirts were dragging her back. 'I
can't,' she moaned.

    'You'd
rather face the hangman's noose? You'll be a long time dancing on that rope for
I doubt even your own mother would pull on your legs to end your suffering.' He
slipped an arm around her and tugged her forward, saying more gently, 'Just to
the end of the ditch, then you'll be safe.'

    They
waded up through the tar-black water, their feet sucked back at every step by
the mud. Every now and then waterfowl would fly out of the reeds and go
splashing and squawking up the ditch. Something large, soft and wet washed
against Elena's legs, and she clung more tightly to Raffaele, trying to console
herself that whatever creature it was, at least it wasn't moving.

    Suddenly
Raffaele stopped and pulled her down until they were crouching among the reeds.
The wind carried the distant baying of hounds towards them.

    'Damn
them!' Raffaele cursed. 'I think they're doubling back, or else Osborn's sent
out more of his hounds.'

    They
crouched, hardly daring to breathe. Were the dogs getting closer or was it the wind
playing tricks? Elena gave a yelp as something scurried out of the reeds and
across her head, its sharp claws digging into her face; she wildly beat it off
and it fell into the water with a splash. She could hear a heart pounding, but
she wasn't sure if it was her own or Raffaele's.

    He
glanced up at the lightening sky. 'We daren't wait. If the boatmen leave before
we reach them, you and I are both dead.'

    All
caution abandoned, he splashed through the water as fast as the sucking mud
permitted, dragging Elena with him.

    Light
was ghosting across the marshes, pale as buttermilk. Ahead of them they could
hear the river thrashing between its banks. And, as if eager to join its bigger
sister, the water around them in the ditch suddenly quickened its pace and
began to buffet against the backs of their legs.

    Raffaele
pulled Elena towards the bank, almost flinging her against it. 'Out quickly. If
you're tipped into the river, you may be swept away.'

    Elena,
her hands numb with cold, fought to drag her heavy sodden skirts out of the
water and crawl up the bank. Her legs were trembling and she collapsed on to
the top of the bank, trying to gain her breath, but Raffaele would not let her
rest. Hauling her upright, he pulled her, crashing through the bushes and
trees, towards the river. They burst out on to the bank and gazed wildly
around. Light was just touching the far edge of the river. Already a dazzling
orange rind was edging into the pale sky. The river was empty save for three
swans floating serenely towards them on the glittering water.

    'God's
teeth, where's that blasted boat? I told them to meet me here.'

    Elena
caught Raffaele's arm and pointed to the bend upstream in the river, where she
could just make out the shape of a long, flat craft slowly sculling away from
them.

    Raffaele
started forward, and putting his fingers in his mouth gave three shrill
whistles, but the boat had already vanished round the bend of the river. He
groaned. 'I'll kill them if I ever get my hands on them, they swore . . .'

    The
deep, resonant baying of the hounds sounded once more through the silent dawn;
they seemed to be getting closer. Elena glanced fearfully behind her, shivering
in her wet clothes.

    'You
must go back. If you're missing they'll know it was you that released me. I can
run.'

    'By
now Osborn will have ordered you brought up for your execution and they'll have
already discovered you've gone.' Raffaele raked his fingers agitatedly through
his hair. 'He'll send his men out searching for you on horseback. You'll never
outrun them. We must —'

    He
was interrupted by a low whistle and glancing up saw the boat being sculled
back towards them by two men, their faces half hidden under their hoods.

    Raffaele
crossed himself. 'The Holy Virgin be praised.'

    As
soon as the boat pulled alongside, Raffaele bundled Elena on board. He tossed a
small leather purse to the elder of the two men whose face was tanned and as
wrinkled as oak bark.

    'Half
the money you were promised. You deliver her unharmed to the house we agreed
and as soon as word reaches me they've got her safe you'll get the rest.'

    The
man spat into the water and gave a toothless grin. 'They'll keep her snug and
safe all right.'

    There
was something in that mocking tone that frightened Elena. In all her anxiety to
get away, it had not occurred to her to ask Raffaele where he was sending her.