Page 95 of The Evening and the Morning
“It was everything.” She put her arms around him, laid her head on his shoulder, and hugged him hard. She rarely showed emotion, and the passion in her hug surprised him.
She released him and, without speaking again, she walked away along the road. She did not look back.
He watched her until she was out of sight.
He returned down the hill, still treading softly. It seemed no one else was awake. That was good: if he were seen now he could offer no possible excuse. A slave had escaped, and Edgar was up and walking around in the middle of the night: his complicity was undeniable. The consequences of that hardly bore thinking about.
He was tempted to reenter the alehouse and lie down in cozy safety, but he had promised to lay a false trail for Blod.
He went to the riverbank and untied the ferry. Brindle jumped in. Edgar boarded and quietly picked up the pole.
It needed only one thrust to push the ferry out into the current. The flow of water took the vessel around the north side of Leper Island. Edgar deployed the pole to keep away from the banks on both sides.
He floated past the farm. Erman and Eadbald had ploughed the field, and the moon shone on damp furrows. No light showed from the house, not even firelight, for there was no window.
The current was fastest a little to the right of midstream. Brindle stood at attention in the bow, sniffing the air, ears cocked for any sound. They passed through thick woodland interspersed with villages and single-family settlements. An owl hooted, and Brindle growled.
After an hour Edgar began to study the left bank, looking for a suitable place to leave the ferry. He needed a location where the boat might have got tangled in riverside vegetation so badly that a small, thin girl could not extricate it. He had to fake evidence that wouldtell a plain, clear story. If there was the least flaw then suspicion would immediately fall on him. There must be no room for doubt.
The place he chose was a small patch of shingle overhung by drooping trees and bushes. He poled to the bank and jumped. With an effort he hauled the heavy boat partly out of the water and pushed it into the vegetation.
He stepped back to study the picture he had created. It looked exactly as if an inexperienced person had lost control and allowed the boat to become entangled and beach itself.
His work was done. Now he had to walk back.
First he needed to cross the river. He took off his tunic and shoes and made a bundle of them. He stepped into the river, holding his clothes above his head with one hand to keep them dry, and swam across. On the other side he dressed quickly, shivering, while Brindle energetically shook herself dry.
Side by side, Edgar and his dog started to walk home.
The forest was not empty of people. However, even Ironface should be asleep now. If anyone was awake and moving nearby, Brindle would give warning. All the same, Edgar drew his ax from his belt, to be ready for anything.
Would his ruse work? Would Dreng and the other residents of the hamlet make the false deduction Edgar was trying to lead them to? Suddenly he could not judge how plausible the whole deception was. Doubts tortured him: he could hardly bear the thought of Blod being recaptured, after all she had been through.
He passed Theodberht Clubfoot’s sheepfold, and Theodberht’s dog barked. He suffered a moment of anxiety: if Theodberht saw him, the deception would lose all credibility. He hurried on, and the dog quieted. No one came out of the house.
Walking along the bank, occasionally having to fight through vegetation, he found that progress was slower than when on the ferry, and it took him almost two hours to get back. The moon set as he was passing the farm, and the stars were obscured by cloud, so he did the last stretch in thick darkness.
He made his way to the alehouse by memory and feel. Now came the final moment of danger. He paused outside the door, listening. The only sounds from inside were snores. He lifted the latch gently and pulled the door open. The snoring continued undisturbed. He stepped inside. In the firelight he could see three sleeping forms: Dreng, Leaf, and Ethel.
He hung his ax on its hook and lowered himself carefully into the straw. Brindle stretched out beside the fire.
Edgar took off his shoes and belt, closed his eyes, and lay down. After so much tension he thought he would lie awake a long time, but he fell asleep in seconds.
He woke up when someone shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes to daylight. It was Ethel rousing him. A quick look around showed him that Dreng and Leaf were still asleep.
With a jerk of her head Ethel beckoned him, then stepped outside. He followed.
He shut the door behind him and spoke in a low voice. “Thank you for not giving us away.” It was too late for her to do so, because she would have to reveal that she had seen them go and had done nothing. Now she, too, was complicit.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“Blod’s gone.”
“I thought you had run away together!”
“Together? Why would I run away?”
“Aren’t you in love with Blod?”
