“Certainly not.”

“Oh.” Ethel looked thoughtful, readjusting assumptions. “Then why did you go out with her in the middle of the night?”

“Just to see her on her way.” Edgar did not like lying but, he was beginning to realize, one deception led to another.

Ethel noticed something. “The boat has gone.”

“I’ll tell you the whole story another time,” Edgar said. “Meanwhile, we have to act normally. We say we don’t know where Blod is, we don’t understand her disappearance, but we’re not worried, she’s sure to turn up.”

“All right.”

“For a start, I’ll get you some wood for the fire.”

Ethel went inside. When Edgar reentered with the wood, Dreng and Leaf were awake. Dreng said: “Where’s my dagger?”

“Where you left it last night,” Leaf said tetchily. She was never cheerful in the morning.

“I left it here, in its sheath, attached to my belt. The belt is in my hand now, and the sheath, but there’s no knife.”

“Well, I haven’t got it.”

Edgar dumped the wood and Ethel started to build up the fire.

Dreng looked around. “Where’s that slave?”

No one answered.

Dreng focused on Edgar. “Why are you fetching wood? That’s her job.”

Edgar said: “I expect she went to the churchyard, to visit the grave of her child. She sometimes does that first thing in the morning, when you’re still dead to the world.”

Dreng said indignantly: “She should be here!”

Edgar picked up the bucket. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the water.”

“Fetching the water is her job, not yours.”

Edgar was about to make another conciliatory remark when he realized it would be suspicious if he seemed too emollient, so he let his real feelings show. “You know something, Dreng? Life makes you so unhappy that I wonder you don’t just jump in the godforsaken river and drown your miserable self.”

That got to Dreng. “You insolent puppy!” he shouted.

Edgar went out.

As soon as he was outside he realized he needed to show surprise at the disappearance of the ferry.

He opened the door again. “Where’s the boat?” he said.

Dreng answered. “Where it usually is, you foolish boy.”

“No, it’s not.”

Dreng came to the door and looked out. “Then where has it gone?”

“That’s what I asked you.”

“Well, you should know.”

“It’s your boat.”

“It’s floated off. You didn’t tie it up properly.”

“I tied it up tight. I always do.”

“I suppose the fairies must have untied it,” Dreng sneered. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Them, or Ironface.”

“Why would Ironface want a boat?”

“Why would the fairies?”

A suspicion began to dawn on Dreng. “Where’s that slave?”

“You already said that.”

Dreng was malign, but he was not stupid. “The boat has gone, my dagger has gone, and the slave has gone,” he said.

“What are you saying, Dreng?”

“The slave has escaped on the ferry, you fool. It’s obvious.”

For once Edgar did not mind Dreng’s abuse. He was glad that Dreng had immediately jumped to the conclusion Edgar had planned. He said: “I’ll go and look in the churchyard.”

“Call at every house—it won’t take you long. Tell everyone we have to start the hue and cry unless she’s found in the next few minutes.”

Edgar went through the motions. He walked to the graveyard, looked into the church, then entered the priests’ house. The mothers were feeding the children. He told the men there was probably going to be a hue and cry—unless Blod suddenly turned up. The younger clergy began to lace up their shoes and put on their cloaks. Edgar looked hard at Deorwin, but the old man ignored him, and appeared unaware of anything untoward in the night.

Edgar went to the home of Fat Bebbe, just so that he could say he had looked for Blod there. Bebbe was asleep, and he did not wake her. Women were not obliged to join the hue and cry, and anyway she would be too slow.

The other residents were small families of servants who worked for the minster, doing cooking, cleaning, laundry, and other household chores. He roused Cerdic, who supplied them with firewood from the forest, and Hadwine, called Had, who changed the rushes on their floor.

When he got back to the alehouse the group was already gathering. Degbert and Dreng were on horseback. All the dogs in the hamlet were there, too: they could sniff out a fugitive in hiding. Degbert pointed out that it would be useful to give them some old clothing of Blod’s to sniff, so that they would know what smell they were searching for; but Dreng said Blod was wearing all the clothes she had.

Dreng said: “Edgar, fetch a length of cord from the chest in the house, in case we need to tie the slave up.”

Edgar did as he was told.

When he came out of the alehouse, Dreng raised his voice to address them all. “She stole the ferry, and it’s a heavy vessel for a girl to pole upstream, so it’s certain she went downstream.”

Edgar was glad to see that Dreng was set on following the false trail. However, Degbert was not so credulous. “Might she have untied the boat and let it drift away to set us on the wrong track while she went in a different direction?”

Dreng said: “She’s not that clever.”

There was another flaw in Degbert’s scenario, but Edgar did not dare to point it out, for he was fearful of seeming suspiciously keen on the downstream search. However, Cuthbert said it for him. “The boat wouldn’t go far on its own. The current would have taken it to the beach opposite Leper Island.”

Others nodded: that was where most debris fetched up.

Cerdic said: “There is another boat—the one belonging to the nuns. We could borrow that.”

Cuthbert said: “Mother Agatha wouldn’t lend it willingly. She’s angry with us over the death of the baby. She probably thinks Blod should be let go.”

Cerdic shrugged. “We could just take it.”

Edgar pointed out: “It’s a tiny vessel, with room for only two people. It wouldn’t be much help.”

Dreng said decisively: “I don’t want trouble with Agatha, I’ve got enough to worry about. Let’s move. The slave is getting farther away every minute.”

In fact, Edgar thought, she was probably now hiding somewhere in the forest to the northwest, between here and Trench. She would be in the middle of a dense thicket, out of sight, trying to catch some sleep on the cold ground. Most forest creatures were timid, and would stay away from her. Even an aggressive boar or wolf would not attack a human unprovoked, unless the person was evidently wounded or otherwise incapable of defense. The main danger was outlaws such as Ironface, and Edgar had to hope that no one of that type would spot her.

The men of Dreng’s Ferry set out, heading downstream on the right bank of the river, and Edgar began to feel that his scheme was working. They stopped at the farmhouse, and Erman and Eadbald joined the group. At the last minute Cwenburg decided to come, too. She was almost four months pregnant, but it hardly showed, and she was strong.

The horses turned out to be a hindrance. They were fine where the bank was grassy, but often there was dense forest, and they had to be led through closely entangled shrubs and saplings. Zeal and excitement diminished among men and dogs as the going became more strenuous.

Degbert said: “Are we sure she came this way? Her homeland lies in the opposite direction.”

This made Edgar anxious.

Fortunately Dreng disagreed with his brother. “She’s headed for Combe,” he said. “She thinks she won’t draw attention there. A big town always has strangers. It’s not like a village, where every traveler has to explain himself.”

“I don’t know,” said Degbert.

Nobody knew, fortunately, Edgar thought, so they had to go with their best guess, and this was it.

Soon they came to Theodberht Clubfoot’s place. A slave was minding the sheep with the help of a dog. The dog barked, and Edgar recognized its voice as the one he had heard in the middle of the night. It was a good thing dogs could not talk.

Theodberht came limping out of the house, followed by his wife. He said: “What’s the hue and cry for?”

“My slave escaped last night,” Dreng said.

“I know her,” said Theodberht. “I’ve noticed her in the alehouse. A girl about fourteen.” He seemed about to say more, then glanced at his wife and changed his mind. Edgar guessed he had done more than just notice Blod.

“You haven’t seen her in the last twelve hours?” Dreng asked.

“No, but someone passed here in the night. The dog barked.”

“That will have been her,” Dreng said decisively.

The others agreed enthusiastically, and spirits were lifted. Edgar was pleased. Theodberht’s dog had done him an unexpected favor.

Dreng said: “When your dog barked, was it early in the night, or approaching dawn?”

“No idea.”

Theodberht’s wife said: “It was about the middle of the night. I woke, too.”

Theodberht said: “She could be a long way from here by now.”

“Never mind,” said Dreng. “We’ll catch the little bitch.”

“I’d join you,” said Theodberht, “but I’d only slow you down.”