“I must congratulate you, Father Ulfrid. You appear to have wasted no time in bringing this grave matter to our attention.”

“When I learned what had transpired at the house of women, I was naturally appalled. I sent a letter at once to Bishop Salmon.”

“Quite so.” The Commissarius nodded encouragingly.

“When the Bishop sent the warrant for her arrest, I saw to it that it was acted upon immediately. I was… a little surprised though, that His Excellency ordered the girl to be held here. I thought he might wish her to be held at his own jail in Norwich. But now that you are here to take the girl back to Norwich for trial, that will be a great relief to the village. Although…”

I hesitated, not wishing to be seen to offer advice. “Forgive me, Commissarius, I couldn’t help noticing that you have only one lad with you. Naturally I will accompany you to Norwich to testify and of course, a young girl will hardly be able to offer much resistance. We will be able to manage her between us, I’m quite sure. But perhaps… we should take a few other men with us, just as a precaution, in case the foreign women attempt to rescue-”

“Lord D’Acaster’s daughter on trial in Norwich?” The Commissarius pressed his delicate fingers together. “I think not. You must understand that any accusations brought against a noble family have to be handled with great delicacy. His Excellency, Bishop Salmon, has no wish to publicly humiliate one of our leading families.”

For a moment I couldn’t seem to catch my breath; I felt winded, as if he had just kicked me in the stomach. Surely he wasn’t going to dismiss this crime merely because she was D’Acaster’s daughter? I felt as if I had grasped a rope to pull myself out of the mire, only to have it come away in my hands.

“But, Commissarius, she’s a heretic! Countless witnesses will testify to the fact. Surely the Bishop wouldn’t turn a blind eye to such a crime because the girl is highborn?”

“Father Ulfrid, are you suggesting that the Bishop weights his scales of justice in favour of the wealthy or powerful?” The Commissarius’s voice crackled with ice. “Just because he was unduly lenient with you, Father, do not imagine that he allows crime to go unpunished.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean…” We both knew that was exactly what I did mean. “Forgive me, Commissarius, but I don’t understand. You just said the girl would not be brought to trial; then how will justice…” I faltered.

“The girl will not face trial in Norwich, Father. But there will be a trial, make no mistake about that. The Bishop has graciously entrusted me to conduct it myself, here in Ulewic, and if the malefactor is found guilty, the sentence imposed for the crime will also be carried out here.

“His Excellency desires discretion, Father Ulfrid. There is no need to make a public spectacle of such a tragic affair. One does not punish the father for the sins of the child. Lord D’Acaster is a generous benefactor to the Church. One would hardly wish to see such a devout and godly man publicly shamed for the heinous crimes of his wanton and rebellious daughter. The girl has surely heaped misery enough upon her father’s head. But you need have no fear, Father Ulfrid; she will not escape justice.”

The Commissarius shuffled slightly on the stone seat, revealing a little tongue of red flame among the dark figures on the wall at his back.

“If the trial is held in Ulewic,” he continued, “it will make it easier for witnesses to come forward, particularly those who might be a little reluctant to testify. It has been my experience that simple men, who have lived all their lives in a village, are apt to become tongue-tied if paraded before their betters in the splendour of a great Cathedral building. They are inclined to become confused about what they heard. And we don’t want our little fish wriggling from the net because some village idiot muddles his testimony, now do we?”

The Commissarius gave a slight smile. “I am sorry if that disappoints you, Father Ulfrid. No doubt you were looking forward to leaving the village, perhaps renewing old acquaintances in Norwich, or one friend in particular?”

My heart lurched. The band of pain tightened. Had Phillip told him about Hilary coming here? No, if he had I would be sitting in that jail now instead of D’Acaster’s daughter.

“I only wished to serve His Excellency in this matter,” I said hastily, glad that the church was too dark for the Commissarius to see my face.

The Commissarius studied his fingers. “However, Father Ulfrid, I did not bring you here to discuss the conduct of the trial. There is another issue which… concerns me.” He paused before pronouncing the word concern, as if he had devoted much thought to the selection of the word.

“As I said, you are to be commended for your diligence in reporting the matter of the heresy, Father Ulfrid. Which makes it all the more puzzling as to why you did not immediately report the fact that you had excommunicated the house of women in its entirety. If I am to understand your letter correctly, it would appear that you took this step two months ago. And yet you only thought fit to tell us of it now.”

“But, Commissarius,” I protested, “it was you yourself who instructed me to use the penalty of excommunication if the people would not pay their tithes.”

“Quite so. But your letter suggested that you did not impose such sanctions for a failure to tithe. If I have understood you correctly, you excommunicated them for their defiance in refusing to make public penance for a far graver crime, a crime that should have been brought to our attention immediately. Had you done so, the matter might have been resolved long before this girl committed her heinous act, thereby saving Bishop Salmon the embarrassment you have subjected him to and saving me a great deal of trouble.”

The Commissarius shifted on the cold stone again, revealing more of the flames painted on the wall behind his back. It was too dark to see the details, but I didn’t need to; I knew every detail of that painting by heart. The painted fire burned beneath a great caldron in Hell in which the tormented, their limbs hacked off, were being boiled alive.

The Commissarius tapped his mouth with a long thin finger as if he was deep in thought, but I was certain that he had already planned every word he was going to say to me.

“It would appear, Father Ulfrid, that you have knowingly permitted a nest of vermin to breed in your midst, a nest which has been brooding a most evil and wicked heresy, while you have stood by and done nothing. I think, Father Ulfrid, you had better tell me all that has transpired from the beginning concerning these women. And I caution you not to leave anything out, otherwise I may indeed be returning to Norwich with a prisoner for trial, but it will not be the girl.”

eVERY TIME I WENT INTO THE COTE I looked for my little Gudrun, expecting to see her crouching there with a bird nestling in her hair, as if the past days had been nothing but an evil dream. She’d simply wandered away as she often did. She wasn’t dead. My Gudrun wasn’t dead.

Every mother wails to all who will listen that all kinds of disasters have befallen her missing child, only to feel so foolish when the child walks in with a grubby grin, all blithe and innocent, to be startled by her mother’s fierce hug, her slaps and tears, her laughter and her scolding. So, each time I opened that door I expected to be made foolish. I’d shout and cry and she wouldn’t understand. She’d merely lost track of time. She wouldn’t even know I’d been searching for her. She never did.

I had peeled the wet strands from her face with my own fingers. I could still feel them tangled in my hand, but that was not death. The body I touched wasn’t real. It was a trick, a deception contrived by mummers, a doll made to look like the living, stuck with pins or bound with thorns that could not hurt it, for it was made of wax. The lips painted blue, the green eyes carved out to resemble real eyes… that doll, that pretty semblance of a virgin saint, was not my Gudrun. It was not my Gudrun dead.