Chapter Thirty-Five
She crept into the Inspector’s room, lit only by the embers of the dying fire. She could see a small shape on the floor. She lit a candle from the embers and gathered herself for what she would find.
The child was lying on the ground, still. She went to her and began to smooth her tangled hair. Isabelle stirred and pushed herself up, her eyes swollen from crying.
Linnet gave out a small scream.
‘I thought he’d killed you!’
‘He killed Pol. Look.’ She held out the poor, broken bird, which she’d been cradling and weeping over.
‘He tried to beat me an’ Pol attacked him, an’ he just grabbed him an’, and twisted.’ The raven’s neck was hanging at an odd angle, his bright black eyes dimmed.
‘Oh, Isabelle.’ Linnet gathered the child and the bird in her arms, and they sat on the floor for some time.
‘Where is he?’ Isabelle started, looking around suddenly as the bells rang for Prime.
‘He’s dead.’
‘Did you kill him?’
‘I don’t know, but I know he’s dead, so don’t be afraid now.’
Linnet remembered she had work to do. The Prior had given her her orders. The Prior! She had to tell him Isabelle was alive. But he was at prayers, and they had to get rid of the Inspector’s things before the Priory got busy.
‘You have to help me and you mustn’t tell anyone, do you understand?’
‘Yes. I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish I coulda killed him mysel’.’
Linnet kept his coins but they gathered up his clothes and a cross which he’d have to take on a pilgrimage.
The papers, she folded up, they would need them for what they were sending to Durham.
Under the blankets they found the whip he’d used on himself.
Linnet could barely bring herself to touch it but they put it in a bundle with his clothes.
And there were two books, a simple prayer book and one with sketches of death and damnation. He wouldn’t leave them behind but Linnet could never throw a book in the sea. She would take them to the Prior.
It was early and the few people they saw showed no interest in Linnet and Isabelle with their bundles.
They left the papers and books in the parlour and walked out to the far side of the island past the rain-washed fields, cutting across with the Heugh and the granite behind them.
‘Cockle stone,’ Isabelle told Linnet as they passed it.
They had walked for a good forty minutes when Linnet felt they’d gone far enough.
It had stopped raining but the clouds were very low, promising more later.
They stopped at the coast where the water was deep, even when the tide was out.
They tied the clothes into smaller bundles, weighed down with stones, and threw them into the sea, watched only by a small clutch of curious seals.
Pol’s body lay on the rocks next to them while they worked, Isabelle refusing to let him out of her sight.
Once they were done, they went back to the parlour and waited for the Prior. Ann came in to start the morning fire.
‘What are you doing here? Is the Prior expecting you?’
Isabelle opened her mouth to answer and let out a wail, suddenly looking every inch the child she was. She sobbed and sobbed, holding out Pol’s body wordlessly.
‘Oh, pet.’ Ann looked shocked. She took the child into a big hug. ‘There, there, there, there,’ she said, patting her back awkwardly.
Isabelle couldn’t stop crying and Ann led her out of the parlour, taking her to the kitchen.
The noise drew attention and the monks returning from Lauds clustered around.
Despite the commotion Pol often caused, it was horrible to see that lively, strutting bird reduced to a limp handful of feathers.
The Prior caught sight of the howling Isabelle and visibly faltered. He sought Linnet’s gaze and she nodded, gesturing towards the bird Isabelle was still clutching and comprehension flooded his face, his shoulders dropping in relief.
Linnet saw Guy amongst the crowd. What was he doing here and why was he back? He didn’t look at her, he was talking urgently to Godfreyd. Then the Prior called to her and she followed him to his parlour.
Now he knew Isabelle was alive, he was again resolute.
‘Why did you think he’d killed Isabelle?’ he asked as they spread out the Inspector’s papers.
Why had she thought that? She tried to remember his words in the dark tower. ‘He was talking about her black eyes following him. I thought he meant Isabelle but he must have been talking about Pol. I think he was going to kill her but the bird was protecting her.’
‘Well he was enough of a sinner anyway. Thank God the child is all right. Did you throw away his things?’
‘Everything that was there except for the papers – and these prayer books… I didn’t want to throw them away so I brought them to you.’
The Prior examined them. ‘You were right – I shall keep them here.’ He locked them into his book cupboard, it was becoming a tidy collection, she noticed.
They talked about the letter she would scribe.
Linnet asked what to say about the Inspector’s horse.
The Prior thought Cassian could ride it back, or lead it from his horse.
They would say the Inspector was doing extreme penance and would be walking all the way.
The Prior was still talking but Linnet couldn’t hear what he was saying. She was swaying. He stopped.
‘You need rest, we can lay the foundations now and finish after you’ve slept. Come, now.’
Linnet only just had enough strength to get to her room before a welcome blackness overcame her.