Free Girl In A Red Tunic by Alys Clare

the clergy have come to know of my wife’s state of mind. Our parish priest has prayed for her and with her and still there is no improvement. He has decided, in his wisdom, that my beloved Rohaise has suffered the misfortune of having a changeling put in the cradle. You understand what that is?’
         Memories of half-forgotten folk tales were surfacing slowly in Josse’s astonished mind. A changeling, he recalled, was the name given to a fairy child substituted for a human baby. Hardly crediting that a priest should believe such superstitious nonsense, he said grimly, ‘I understand, aye.’
         ‘Father Luke tells Rohaise that it is not her fault she cannot be a proper mother – which, as you will imagine, does further damage to her desperate lack of confidence – because the child she tries to care for is not the product of her own womb but an evil spirit, planted in our baby’s cradle for some malicious and secret purpose of the dark world of the spirits.’
         Josse, stunned, noticed that in this alarming Father Luke’s version, the innocent ‘fairy’ had become ‘evil spirit’. Dear God alive! ‘Go on,’ he said.
         ‘He tells us – tells Rohaise especially, for it is she who constantly turns to him for help – that the real Timus is now the captive of the spirits and that only our true and deep penance will make Father Luke’s stern God relent and send our little boy home.’
         There was a silence as Leofgar finished speaking. Then Josse burst out, ‘You cannot believe this rubbish!’
         ‘I, no. I grew up with my mother’s version of what a loving God does and does not do and, besides, I’m too old for fairy stories. But I’m afraid to say that Rohaise, despite her intelligence, is inclined to half-believe what her priest tells her.’ He shot a dark look at Josse. ‘As you will understand, I am sure, the Church and I are not friends at present.’
         Josse put a hand on the young man’s arm. ‘Do not judge them all by this one misguided man,’ he urged. ‘And do not hesitate in telling your mother, who will, I’ve no doubt, share your disgust at your Father Luke’s tactics.’
         Leofgar sighed. ‘I’m afraid that’s not all,’ he said. ‘Father Luke eventually lost patience with us and commanded us to remain in our own home while he made the necessary arrangements. He does not feel we’re trying hard enough in our prayers, by which he means, I guess, that he suspects that I for one disbelieve everything he has told us and am on the point of encouraging Rohaise in rebellion against him.’
         With a chill feeling around his heart, Josse said, ‘For what was he making arrangements?’
         ‘Not what, who. For him,’ Leofgar mouthed, jerking his head at his sleepy son. ‘Father Luke was coming for him. He was going to take our boy and lodge him with the monks, in the hope that their chilly hearts and strict discipline would frighten the changeling into fleeing back to his own kind and allowing the human child to return in his place. We left to come here just in time, shortly before Father Luke was due to arrive to carry out his threat.’
         He watched Josse closely, as if trying to gauge a reaction. Josse, caught off guard, realised that he was scowling ferociously and hurriedly he smoothed out the expression, at the same time clutching Timus more closely as if afraid some lunatic, wild-eyed priest would spring up and try to wrest the child from his arms there and then.
         Observant eyes missing neither response, Leofgar said with a grim smile, ‘I have the feeling, Sir Josse, that I’ve found an ally.’
         ‘You have, lad, you have,’ Josse said fervently.
         Leofgar laughed suddenly, a happy, relieved sound. ‘Then will you please do me one more favour and help me explain to my mother that the holy church is after us and we’re on the run?’

Chapter 5
     
    Time passed.
         To the