The River is the Key

Trying my hand at some fiction as part of a special secret event organised by

Holly A Brown

at Medieval Musings - please check her link for more great stories. It’s just the first few chapters so please let me know if you want me to carry on.

Chapter 1

January 1067

‘I’m sorry, Sophia, the King said no.’ Bishop Scolland looked over at his niece, who glared right back at him.

‘But why? Doesn’t he want to know what happened?’

‘He says it was probably just a random killing. He will send men tonight to pick up the body and give him a proper Christian burial. So at least we can go back down to the river again. And I will say prayers for him this evening.’

Sophia sat there mutinously. Her uncle had never really wanted anything to do with the body at all, she knew that. And the king was busy building up his new court after being crowned only a few weeks earlier. But she’d held out some small hope that someone at court might have been at least a little intrigued – it wasn’t every day that a body got pulled out of the river after all.

And it was obvious that he hadn’t fallen in and drowned either. Sophia had been there when he’d been pulled out of the river, and the stench had been overwhelming. She’d vomited instantly, unable to keep food in her stomach, and part of her had wanted to leave. But the other part, the curious part, the bit that had got her in trouble for her entire life, kept her rooted to the spot and forced her to look.

The view was as bad as she suspected. Grey and pale, the body was rotting and bloated at the same time. His arms were tied together behind him, and linked to a heavy rope – obviously an attempt to hide the body and keep it underwater and free from discovery. Initially pulled out on his stomach, you could see marks on his back from a blade, but it was when they turned him over that the real horror was revealed. There was a loud gasp from all the men, and when Sophia looked at his face, she saw why. The eyes were gone, and in their place were pools of dark blood that felt like they were staring at her soul.

It was more than a little strange, she knew, to feel a connection with a corpse. But she would later swear that she had, that somehow, the dead man was reaching out to her from beyond the grave and asking for her help. And it was this feeling, eventually, that forced her back up to the house, shouting for her uncle. Who, clearly upset at being dragged away from his paperwork, had dashed off a quick note to be sent to court asking for help. And then had been increasingly angry and frustrated with Sophia’s constant questions about when the response would come.

‘Are you still there?’ Sophia realised with a start that her uncle was yelling at her. ‘Get out of here – I have work to do.’ Sophia stood there like a startled fish, her mouth opening and closing as she fought hard to find a response. This couldn’t be the end of it, it just couldn’t. Somehow she needed to find a way to help this man, to find out what had happened to him. Then her uncle turned from his chair and started to rise towards her, and she turned tail and ran.

Chapter 2

Outside the room Sophia stopped, not knowing where to go. Back home in Conversano, she’d have left the castle and gone out into the country, to that little grove of trees where she and her Nona had spent so much time, and where she knew that nobody else would think to look. Where the light danced between the trees, and sparkled off the ocean. Where the sky was a bright azure blue, and the sun warm on the skin. Where the bright white stone of the castle and the green of the trees brought peace to her mind and calmness to her soul.

But she wasn’t in Conversano any more. Since the death of her parents and her beloved Nona, she and her siblings had been left with no surviving relatives in Italy at all. Her uncle Scolland had reluctantly agreed to help them, but as the Bishop of Mont Saint Michel he had insisted that the only option was for them to travel across Europe to join him in Normandy. Which they had done, only to discover that now Duke William was not just a duke but an actual king, that he had demanded her uncle’s presence in London as part of his new court, and so they kept right on travelling, crossing the channel in the depths of winter and finding themselves here in London.

Cold, wet, rainy London. Where everything was grey, from the sky, to the ground, to the river which wound its way from one side of the city to the other. Where it seemed to get dark halfway through the afternoon, not that the sun offered even the smallest bit of warmth when it was light. Where nobody seemed to care about anyone else – least of all Sophia. Her uncle did not want to be there either, and the only thing that made him remotely happy was to be closeted in his own space with his books and papers, praying, drawing and working on whatever mysterious project had brought him to London in the first place. And her brother and sister, who’d be looking forward to being a part of the new court for some reason Sophia couldn’t fathom in herself, found themselves unable to be part of a court that was still little more than an army on campaign.

The one spark of interest, of anything that might provide her with a role, was the body. It had actually turned up on their first morning in London, when Sophia had wandered down the river to see the view that had been ink black the previous evening. (In fact, she wondered if it was the boat bringing them up to the jetty that had itself dislodged the body from its resting place and brought it to the surface, and she shivered a little at the prospect.) And now even that was gone.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Sophia felt the tears rise up into her eyes. ‘Not here’ she thought. She knew that her sister, Emma, had little to no patience with Sophia when she cried, and that her brother, Robert, would tease her mercilessly and call her a baby if her saw her. They wanted to badly to be grown up that they had stamped down hard on all their grief, and they expected Sophia to do the same. She needed to be somewhere that they would never go. Biting her lip furiously, she left the hall and half-walked, half-ran across the yard and into the stables, where she threw herself on to the hay in an empty stall, and cried hot, noisy tears at the unfairness of everything.

Chapter 3

Sophia wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She looked round hesitantly, tensed to jump up quickly if she saw her uncle or her older siblings. But an inward sigh of relief came when she saw that instead, it was the daughter of the servants, a girl around her own age. She might only be a servant, and her plain dress and cloak showed many more signs of wear than Sophia’s own, but there was a softness to her eyes, and her kind gaze felt like it was the first that Sophia had seen in many months.

‘Are you alright, miss?’ The girl said gently in her native English. Sophia gave a weak smile, understanding the spirit of the words if not their actual meaning. The girl looked at her, realising and shook her head, muttering under her breath as she sought for the right words among the few bits of French she had managed to learn.

‘You cry?’ she finally forced out. Sophia smiled again, as much at the girl’s effort to make herself understood as anything.

‘Yes I cry,’ she replied, ‘but I feel better now. Thank you.’ She held out her hand and the girl pulled her up with a surprising strength, almost forcing Sophia to stumble and fall back down into the hay in a heap again. An apologetic look crossed her face, and she started to mumble her towards an apology, but Sophia stopped her.

‘I’m fine. It’s … Gifu, isn’t it.’ Gifu heard her name, and broke out into a broad toothy grin. ‘Yes, Gifu,’ she said, pointing at herself, ‘and you, Sophia?’ She turned a short, plump finger towards Sophia, who nodded, still close to the limit emotionally and struggling to process the kindness of the other girl. Sensing this, Gifu took her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘Gifu help Sophia,’ she said, pulling her closer and directing her to the door of the stables. ‘Now Sophia help Gifu.’ Sophie looked at her in confusion as the girls exited the stables.

‘I’ve been and bought chickens at the market, miss.’ Gifu returned to her original language, defeated by the French for chicken. Sophia figured this one out though, mainly as said chickens were now running here there and everywhere across the yard, looking for food in every corner. One had even taken flight and was perched on the corner of the fence, surveying the scene of chaos that was rapidly unfolding before them. Sophia laughed despite herself, and promptly launched herself at the nearest chicken, who took flight and perched on the corner of the horse trough as Sophia went sprawling in the dust.

Gifu once again hauled Sophia to her feet, and the next hour went swiftly as the girls ran here, there and everywhere ineffectually attempting to capture the birds. Eventually, they were joined by a local stray dog, who bounded into the yard and, sizing up the problem, herded up the chickens and sent them into the pen in the corner, where they sat, alternately pecking at the floor and glaring at the two girls and their canine friend.

Sophia looked down at the dog, a small brown and white creature who was dancing around them, wagging his whole body with pride at being able to help. ‘I shall call him Cosmas,’ she said, rubbing his head affectionately. ‘Uncle Scolland will have to let me keep him – I shall make him.’

‘Cos-mas?’ Gifu rolled the unfamiliar syllables around on her tongue, trying them out for size. ‘I like it.’ She turned to Sophia, suddenly serious. ‘Why cry, Sophia?’

Sophia looked at her, suddenly unsure if the kindness had been an act. But it was still there in Gifu’s eyes, and she relaxed, feeling genuinely safe to talk for the first time in a long while. ‘For my family,’ she forced out, feeling the tears rise again, ‘for my Nona back home. And for the man, because he has no-one else to cry for him.’ And she collapsed into Gifu’s arms, unable to hold it back once more.

The tears subsided much more quickly this time, thanks to the comforting attentions of both Gifu and Cosmas, and once they had done so Gifu looked her in the eyes. ‘You cry for man? She said, pointing down towards the river where the body had been discovered. Sophia nodded, yet to fully trust herself with words. And all of a sudden, both girls were on their feet, and Gifu was half dragging Sophia in the direction of the river. ‘Come now,’ she said ‘show something.’ And Sophia, intrigued despite all the emotion of the afternoon, came willingly.

They stopped eventually at a small hut right next to the jetty. Little more than a wooden shack, it had been built to store supplies immediately after they had been unloaded, so they could be taken up to the house at a later date. Dark, dank and dingy, with a sour and somewhat fetid smell, Sophia couldn’t imagine for a second what that place would have to do with the body they had found, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she noticed some dark patches on the floor, and the darkened remains of a firepit in one corner. Gifu dragged her down towards it, and they both squatted carefully on the uneven floor.

‘I clean here, before you come.’ Gifu spoke slowly and carefully, knowing that she needed to use her limited French for this. ‘I find something.’ Gifu reached out and carefully lifted a stone lying at the edge of the darkened area. She pulled out a scrap of dark folded cloth and handed it to Sophia. ‘Look.’

Sophia’s hands starting shaking, but she carefully started to unfold the cloth. As she did so, she could see a tiny glint of gold between the folds. ‘Can we take it outside?’ she asked Gifu. ‘The light is better there.’ Not a great deal better though, thought Sophia internally as she allowed herself a momentary wish for the bright sunlight of her home, but she pushed the thought away and focused on the task in hand.

Once out into the air, Sophia could see more clearly, and the glint of gold was much more apparent. She hurried to clear the rest of the cloth, and found that she was holding two things. A small scrap of parchment, folded over several times as if to hide whatever message was written there, and with it was a beautiful little gold cross, ornately decorated with tiny markings.

Sophia stared at it, only half taking on board what she was looking at. And yet, the more she looked, the more she felt the connection with the dead man, and with his soul that reached out through the dark holes in place of his eyes. This was his, she decided, she was sure of it. It must have been him that made the fire pit in the hut. (She didn’t want to think about the other dark patches and how they might have been made.) ‘We must show my uncle,’ she announced to an astonished Gifu. And she turned and marched off back towards the house, moving more determinedly than she had done all day.

Chapter 4

Gifu was talking nervously to Sophia as they approached her uncle’s room. ‘What if I am in trouble for hiding this?’ What if I have to leave? My parents…’ Sophia cut her off. ‘I won’t let him blame you I promise. But we need his help.’ And she knocked on the door.

‘Who is it?’ ‘Sophia.’ The door was suddenly thrown open and the tall, angular form of her uncle loomed large in the doorway. ‘Why are you back here? I told you to leave.’ He made to slam the door but Sophia stuck her foot in the way. ‘We need to show you something. We promise to go away if you look.’

The bishop grunted and opened the door wider for them to come in. They entered gingerly, careful to avoid some of the stacks of parchment carefully balanced in all corners. For someone who had only arrived at the house a few days earlier, he seemed to have settled into this room remarkably quickly. Sophia reached out to take a closer look at a drawing she could see,

‘Leave that alone.’ She grabbed her hand back, cowed by the snap in his voice. ‘Didn’t you have something to show me?’ Sophia held out the tiny cross and the parchment, and he took them, turning them both over in his large hands. The cross looked smaller and less sparkly now, and Sophia wondered briefly if she had been wrong to come there. Maybe it was just a trinket after all, left behind for a completely different reason. Maybe she should have kept it and just worn it to church after all.

She was brought back to earth with a bump. ‘Did you find this – where?’ Sophia looked up to see that he had opened the parchment, and was staring at it wide-eyed with shock. His skin, always pale at the best of times, had lost what little colour it had, and his mouth had dropped open.

‘Not me – Gifu.’ Sophia pointed at the other girl, who was currently trying her best to fade into the wall. It wasn’t working, but then her uncle spoke in English. ‘Tell me, child.’ And Gifu told, whilst Sophia sat there. The questions came fast, and Gifu’s answers faster. Sophia looked from one to the other, confusion increasing with every word spoken. Eventually the conversation came to a close, and both the girls were beckoned to the desk where the parchment lay.

‘You really should learn English, girl,’ he said to Sophia, ‘You will need it.’ He pointed to the parchment. It had been folded over and over again, and every fold was still clearly visible, but underneath you could just make out a drawing. Confused, Sophia looked up at her uncle.

‘It’s a swan.’ He slowly traced down the neck of the bird, and across the wings to the feet. ‘And see, here there are two letters.’ He pointed to two marks below the bird. ‘This one is an H, and this a G.’ Gifu gasped and put her hand to the mouth. ‘You mean… ‘ she stammered in French, as Sophia’s confusion only deepened. ‘Yes, my dears,’ replied Scolland gently. ‘Keep this between ourselves, but I think the king might want us to investigate after all. I think this cross, and our dead body, might be linked to the usurper Harold Godwinson.’

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.