by C. B. Hanley
‘Very well. Men,’ – this to the jury – ‘I put no question of arson to you. The masons are in the service of the lord earl, so his estate will see that food and shelter are provided; some of those of you who owe service will be moved from the fields temporarily and put to the task.’
There was a murmur, which Sir Roger quelled with a look. ‘Next, to the attack on the mason Denis and on Edwin.’
Edwin felt all eyes turning to him.
Sir Roger continued. ‘It was unprovoked. If any man wished to accuse Denis of murder, he should have done it openly. And as for attacking Edwin, a member of the earl’s own household …’ He slapped his hand down on the arm of the chair. ‘I tell you now, violent and lawless behaviour will not be tolerated on my lord the earl’s estate.’
He was becoming angry, but controlled himself. ‘Now, Edwin, Denis. Can you identify any of the men who attacked you?’
Edwin winced as he translated. If he was hoping to get the sympathy of the village once charges were laid against Denis, this was not the right way to go about it.
Denis shook his head and muttered to Edwin, who spoke aloud. ‘It was dark, Sir Roger, and neither of us can say with any certainty.’
Sir Roger was now drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair in a manner reminiscent of the earl, and he didn’t look best pleased. ‘You cannot identify any individuals. Can you then with certainty say that the men who attacked you were not the other masons?’
There was no arguing with that. ‘Yes, Sir Roger.’
‘And I can bear witness that they were not men of the garrison, as we arrived to find the attack already in progress.’
‘Yes, Sir Roger.’
The knight turned to Father Ignatius. ‘Have there been any groups of strangers in Conisbrough in the last couple of days?’
The priest shook his head. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘Thus, the attack must have been carried out by men from the village. If you do not put forward the culprits, you will all be deemed equally responsible and a fine will be levied on the whole village.’
He sat in silence, his gaze sweeping the assembly. Few met his eye. He waited, and the silence grew longer and more awkward.
‘Very well. A fine of four pence to every family. To be paid by next Sunday.’
Edwin heard a gasp of outrage, and he winced again. His chances of any sympathy or leniency for Denis had just evaporated. Not to mention the fact that everyone had been reminded that if they could be held collectively responsible for assault, they could be held collectively responsible for murder, if they didn’t put forward a named culprit.
Sir Roger quelled the unrest once more. ‘The law will be followed here to the letter, in the lord earl’s name. Now, I understand that one or more of you wishes to lay a charge against Denis. Who speaks for you?’
As Edwin had feared, there was now no shortage of men willing to stand and shout and accuse the mason of murder, and Sir Roger actually had to stand up before his calls for everyone to calm down were heeded.
By eventual general agreement, the reeve was delegated to speak. ‘I – we – accuse this man of having murdered Ivo the bailiff. He was known to have argued with him, and Ivo was killed with a mason’s hammer.’
Sir Roger waited until the angry buzz had died down. ‘Very well. A charge has been laid. First things first: who discovered the body?’
With some reluctance, Osmund stepped forward. That surprised Edwin. Why would he have been so near Ivo’s house at that time in the morning?
Sir Roger addressed him directly. ‘Describe for us what happened.’
Osmund looked nervous at being the centre of attention. He spoke, and Edwin translated under his breath for Denis.
‘He was dead, sir, I could see that straight away, so I raised the hue and cry.’
‘He was dead before you got there? You did not see the act being committed?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And did you see anyone else there? Or anyone running away?’
Osmund gulped and hesitated before replying. ‘No, sir. Nobody.’
‘So, you raised the hue and cry, and others came running?’
‘Yes, sir. Reeve came first, and then the others – they were on their way out to work.’ He screwed up his face. ‘Alwin was there, and Robin, and –’
‘All right. We don’t need everyone’s name. The men of the village came running, as they are obliged to do when the hue and cry is raised, yes?’
‘Yes, sir. And then Reeve says we should send for Edwin, so he sent young Hal to fetch him.’
‘And then Edwin sent for me. Good – I understand the sequence of events now.’ Sir Roger turned to speak to the sergeant-at-arms behind him and was handed a bag. ‘Now.’ He brought out the rounded hammer and held it up. ‘Edwin thinks that this was used to strike the blow that killed Ivo. I agree with him. Does any man wish to say differently?’
Nobody did, unsurprisingly, as the weapon fitted their preferred version of events. Sir Roger then held it out to Denis. ‘Take this, and tell me whether it is yours.’
Edwin translated and then watched as Denis stepped forward and stretched out a hand to take the hammer.
His left hand.
Edwin had a sudden memory of the day he had spoken to Denis up in the inner ward, and the mason had demonstrated the use of the hammer and chisel. He could picture the scene quite clearly, and now he saw what he had paid no mind to before: that Denis had been using the hammer in his left hand.
He felt sick. Had he been wrong? Misled? Was he trying to defend a man who really was guilty?
Denis was confirming that the hammer was his, saying that he had lost it before Ivo’s death. Sir Roger understood him, but he had to prompt Edwin out of his reverie to translate for everyone else’s benefit. He now found himself more sympathetic to the cries of ‘A likely story!’ than he had thought he would.
Sir Roger called for quiet. ‘This man is entitled to be heard. Denis, what have you to say for yourself?’
Edwin relayed the mason’s murmured words to the assembly. ‘He says he did have some disputes with Ivo, but it was just about some details of the stonework of his house, as others will testify. He says his bag broke and he dropped his tools; he thought he’d picked them all up but found later that the hammer was missing. He went back to look for it but couldn’t find it. He didn’t see Ivo again, and he didn’t kill him.’
Denis was going to have to do better than that if he was going to prove his innocence, and everyone knew it. More accusations were being thrown, from all around the green. Denis was lying. Why would anyone want to steal his hammer? He had argued with the bailiff but nobody could confirm it was only about minor matters because they had been shouting in French. And Denis was a foreigner. Hadn’t they been fighting the French? It wasn’t right. He couldn’t even speak English, the language of the village.
Sir Roger interrupted with the pointed observation that the lord earl couldn’t speak English, either, and did they want to lay a charge against him? That calmed everyone down very effectively, and Edwin was able to attract the knight’s attention.
‘Edwin? You wish to speak?’
‘Osmund says he found the body – and I’m sure he thinks he was the first finder – but I believe that Barty was there before him.’
‘Barty?’ Sir Roger evidently hadn’t heard the name before. ‘Then why hasn’t this man come forward?’
‘Er …’ Edwin looked around and saw Barty hiding behind his sister. ‘That’s him there.’
‘Ah.’ Sir Roger spoke directly to the boy. ‘Step forward, child, and have no fear.’
Robin the carpenter was on his feet over in the jury benches. ‘You can’t! He’s too little!’
The knight looked at him sternly. ‘He is accused of nothing, but if he has seen something of importance then we must hear it.’ He relented a little in the face of such fatherly concern. ‘You may step forward and stand with him if you wish.’
Robin
did so, casting a look of daggers at Edwin. He placed one hand on his son’s shoulder and spoke, for the benefit of the company as much as the boy. ‘You’re a good lad – just tell the truth.’
Sir Roger started to speak but saw Barty start backwards in fear. He gestured to Edwin. ‘Perhaps you’d better ask him.’
Edwin nodded, but he began by addressing Osmund. ‘Was that hammer on the floor of the cottage when you found the body?’
Osmund made an effort to recall. ‘No. No, that wasn’t what – I mean, no, it wasn’t there.’
Edwin thanked him and turned to the boy. ‘Barty, it’s all right. I’m just going to ask you what happened, and you tell us. Keep looking at me and don’t worry about anyone else; speak loudly and clearly and you shall have an apple with honey afterwards.’
Barty’s eyes widened at the thought of such a treat, and he looked more eager.
‘Good boy. Now, you were up early yesterday, playing?’
‘Yes. Nobody else was up yet.’
‘And you went to Ivo’s house? The stone house that isn’t finished yet?’
‘There’s stones inside to climb on. Like a castle.’
Edwin took that as a yes. ‘And what did you see inside?’
Barty shrugged, too young even to be concerned. ‘A dead man.’
‘And what else? Did you find anything on the floor?’
Barty pointed to the hammer that Sir Roger was still holding.
‘And you took it away to play with?’
Barty looked uncertain, so Edwin added, ‘You’re not in trouble – we just want to know.’
The boy nodded. ‘Wanted to work, like papa. Then you took it away.’
Edwin looked around the green, satisfied that everyone had heard and understood. ‘And many others saw me do that. So now we know what happened to the hammer. And this means that Barty was there before Osmund, though as such a young child he can hardly have been expected to raise the hue and cry. But it narrows the time of Ivo’s death: after midnight, when he was seen leaving the inner ward, and before dawn.’
Nobody raised any argument, but Edwin could see that few people around him were interested in this level of detail. He persevered. ‘Now, Barty, just one more question and you can go. We know that you picked up the hammer, and that’s fine. Did you also touch the body?’
Robin started to protest, presumably thinking this was some kind of attempt to implicate his son, but Edwin held up a hand. ‘It’s important. Did you?’
Barty shook his head.
‘Say it out loud?’
‘No. I didn’t touch it.’
Those around Edwin looked as puzzled as he felt, but for a different reason. They evidently wondered what he could be talking about, while he was thinking about the blood smeared down the side of Ivo’s face. Someone had done that after the man was dead, but who? And why?
He looked down as the hem of his tunic was tugged. ‘Can I have my apple now?’
A laugh swept across the green, breaking some of the tension. Edwin bent down. ‘Once we’re finished here, you go and find my wife, and she’ll get one for you.’
‘With honey?’
Despite the situation, Edwin had to suppress a smile. ‘With honey. Now, off you go, there’s a good lad.’
He straightened. ‘I have one more question, Sir Roger, if I may, for everyone?’ He received a nod and spoke to the company at large. ‘Does anyone know where Ivo went yesterday afternoon?’
There were shakes of the head, and some exasperated noises. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ asked the reeve. ‘You just said yourself that he was killed at night, so he must have come back from wherever it was.’
Edwin opened his mouth to reply, but was drowned out by people who were losing their patience. They were standing around in the cold when there was work to do, and they knew who had killed Ivo – why did they have to listen to all this? They wanted the question to be put to the jury, and now.
Edwin tried one last appeal. ‘Sir Roger, I’m sure there is more to this. Please, give me more time to find out.’
The knight shook his head. ‘We must put it to the jury, but –’ he raised his voice so it was clear he was speaking to everyone – ‘whatever the outcome, there will be no action taken today, do you hear? The law says we must wait for the sheriff, and we will.’
As Edwin had expected, it took only a few moments for the men of the jury to cry that Denis was guilty of murder. And many of them also seemed to be angry at him for trying to say otherwise.
Sir Roger stood, causing the men behind him to snap to attention and everyone else to fall silent.
‘This man will be held in a cell in the castle until the sheriff arrives, and nobody – nobody – will seek to harm him. However, Edwin has my permission to continue his investigations.’ He spoke to Edwin. ‘If you can present me with another culprit, or better still a confession, before then, I will release Denis. If not, he will be handed over to face justice.’
Edwin was forced to look Denis in the eye while he translated what had just happened, although the mason had obviously understood the word ‘guilty’ from everyone’s reaction. Then he watched as Denis was taken away, arms pinioned behind him this time, up to the castle, and turned to face the hostile expressions around him.
He had hardly opened his mouth to explain when he felt himself being jostled. He wasn’t allowed to speak. He became almost disorientated: who were these people around him? These faces were not those of the men – and women – he had known all his life. They were distorted, ugly in their hate.
Edwin disentangled himself and hurried off. He was beginning to think that Alys had a point, and he wondered if he should be afraid.
Fortunately, Edwin was the sort of husband who had at least a vague grasp of what was available in the house, for if he’d promised Barty honey and then the boy had arrived to find that there wasn’t any, there would have been tears. As it was, Alys was able to take an apple from the barrel, cut it in half, smear both sides, and send the child on his way with a sticky face wreathed in smiles.
It was another late start to the day’s chores, and the barley for the evening’s pottage would need to soak. She used the last of the clean water in doing so, and set off for the well.
This time the group of women clustered around it called out no greetings. Instead they parted in silence, their expressions hostile, and watched without speaking as she struggled with the heavy bucket. At least she managed not to tip it everywhere this time, and she was glad to be on her way back to the house.
Setting down her burden, Alys sighed as she regarded the almost-empty firewood stack. Hal had gone out to the fields as soon as the court had finished, so if tonight’s meal was going to be cooked, she’d have to fetch some more herself. Still, it would get her out for a while, and at least it wasn’t raining. Taking up a piece of old rope to tie a bundle together, she set off.
To get to the woods she had to pass through the village and around the edge of one of the fields. Again, nobody spoke to her, but she held her head up high, refusing to scuttle through as quickly as possible. She stared boldly at anyone who looked at her, until they averted their gaze, and she also took the opportunity to watch what they were all doing with their hands. Robin the carpenter, for example, was definitely using his tools the normal way round, as were whichever two of his younger sons who were in the open-fronted shop with him. Avice emerged from the house as Alys passed, scattering some corn for their hens with her right hand. In the fields, too, most of the men and boys seemed to be favouring their right hands, as far as she could make out from the way they were using their tools.
The road became muddier and Alys was forced to give all her attention to watching where she was going. Eventually she reached the edge of the wood and stepped in under the trees. Although it hadn’t rained today the branches were wet, and she felt cold drips on her arms as she pushed them aside. One even managed to evade all the layers of her clothing and trickle down the ba
ck of her neck, and she shivered.
There was no point looking for fallen branches here, as the village children would have picked up anything lying so close to the edge of the wood. She knew better than to try and break anything from a living tree – not only would it see her up in front of the manor court, but it would be useless for burning anyway – so the only thing to do was to go deeper.
It was not far off noon, but as the undergrowth grew thicker and the trees closer together, the light faded and soon she found herself peering through a grey-green murk. Here there were some sticks lying on the ground so, looking behind her frequently to make sure she could still locate the path, she began to gather some.
By the time she had a good-sized bundle tied together, Alys had warmed up – and had moved further from the path than she had intended. She stood still for a few moments, trying to get her bearings and unwilling to move another step until she knew it would be one in the right direction. And it was then that she heard the sound of someone else coming through the wood.
She was immediately wary, but the sound of cheerful whistling and the complete lack of stealth with which the person was crashing through the undergrowth reassured her that nobody was trying to sneak up on her. Besides, who would be in this part of the woods except for someone from Conisbrough?
Still without moving, Alys looked in the direction of the noise and soon saw Young Robin making his way through the trees.
He saw her and stopped. ‘Hello. Didn’t think to see you here this afternoon.’
‘I was just collecting some firewood.’ Alys pointed, rather unnecessarily, at the bundle of sticks. She couldn’t help noticing that he wasn’t carrying anything similar.
This was soon explained. ‘I’ve been to find a couple of good trees to fell, to start rebuilding the masons’ camp.’ He scowled. ‘That’s been put on us, hasn’t it – they make their own roof beams for the castle but we must be their servants to rebuild their camp. Even though they no doubt burned it down themselves.’