The Scandal of the Skulls

by Cassandra Clark

  ‘I regret causing consternation,’ he replied.

  When he failed to explain she asked sharply, ‘Well, are you going to tell me why you did such an extraordinary thing?’

  ‘I wanted to get a better look at them,’ he replied simply.

  ‘You nearly got a better look than you bargained for!’ she retorted. Why were Hubert’s closest associates always so unpredictable? Gregory looked quite pleased with himself, not at all contrite. ‘And?’ she demanded with asperity, ‘was there an advantage after this better look, brother?’

  ‘We now know more than we did by merely shadowing the grey cloaked fellow from the Cat.’

  ‘Do we? All we seem to know is that some underhand deal is going on between three strangers. They’re probably doing no more than arranging the purchase of stolen venison.’

  ‘I think,’ he said, frowning a little, ‘that we can deduce several facts new to us.’

  ‘Go on.’ She was unconvinced.

  ‘For instance, we now know we’re dealing with an elderly knight whose fighting days, though probably considerable, are in the past.’ He grinned. ‘He was a fiery old devil, wasn’t he? Tough as old oak. Pity he was no good with a sword.’

  ‘Gregory!’

  ‘We can also deduce from his garments and gold chain that he has access to wealth beyond the ordinary. That would suggest participation in the French wars.’

  ‘Guesswork.’

  ‘He is ideally placed, as a local man - which we gleaned from his accent - to take part in the many chevauchees but a short sail across the Narrow Seas where the towns and vills of fair Normandy provide a knight with enough loot to satisfy his heart’s desire - ’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And if this is the case he was probably in the service of the chief of men in this region, the earl of Arundel.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘We saw also that his esquire is an intemperate fool but loyal to his lord. And,’ he added, turning to look steadily into her eyes, ‘we know that the man from the Cat is a dangerous fellow and not to be trusted.’

  ‘We guessed that anyway.’ Hildegard considered his words for a moment. ‘What are your reasons for saying so now?’

  ‘He was willing to stand by and see me cut down in cold blood like a man who has seen much slaughter and is indifferent to it.’

  Hildegard shivered. ‘Are your judgements always so quick?’

  ‘It is mere logic. My premises are unproven.’

  ‘Maybe the stranger from the Cat had assessed the old knight and assumed he was bluffing?’

  ‘That could be true. I wasn’t willing to risk it. He looked mad enough to me to mean it. Although, perhaps, in truth he’s a tender-hearted fellow and we do him wrong by suggesting otherwise.’ He chuckled.

  ‘I think you were hoping for a fight, Gregory. There were three of them to one of you. It was a pointless risk.’

  ‘One of my sins used to be dicing. Sometimes I’m overtaken by the desire to risk everything on one throw.’ He chuckled again. ‘Don’t begrudge me innocent pleasures, Hildegard. I can assure you, the risk was small. The only real danger would have been a stab in the back.’

  ‘By the man in grey?’

  ‘We must find a name for him. Where was he from, do you think? He didn’t sound like a local man, not like the other two.’

  ‘I think he might be from Lincolnshire,’ she replied thoughtfully. Yes, she had heard that accent before, and the memory sent a shudder through her.

  ‘Wherever he has been he is now in Clarendon Palace,’ Gregory continued, unaware of the change in her. ‘I climbed a tree while I was waiting for the knight and the boy to leave - such a fuss over their horses, the youngster being blamed as a slack fool for failing to tether them properly. I’ll owe him an apology if we ever meet again. As I said, I saw the other one enter Clarendon through the gatehouse with little delay - which leads me to suspect that he’s well known there.’ He turned to her. ‘Another interesting point, don’t you think?’

  Hildegard listened to the monk and what he said. She was still angry with him yet aware that he possessed good sense, except in the matter of courting trouble.

  ‘So,’ she summed up when he finished, ‘I should expect to come face to face with this stranger you believe to be dangerous as soon as I reach Clarendon?’

  ‘He expects Mistress York to be a townswoman, not a nun.’

  ‘Maybe. It depends on the accuracy of his information. No-one here, not even my daughter, knows of my alias.’ Remembering the detailed description the man had given to the tavern-keeper she decided that she would definitely keep her eyes lowered if she encountered him again.

  ‘Of course, now I shall have to leave you before we get within sight of the guards,’ Gregory told her. ‘My entry will be as a mendicant. If you need me you’ll know where to find me. I’ll be helping out in the stables to earn my daily dole.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘By the way, how long do you expect to stay here?’

  ‘One night only. I doubt whether I would be expected to stay longer.’

  They entered through the western gate.

  SEVEN

  The countess beckoned to a tall, coltish child with long fair hair, standing beside the window. ‘Beloved damozel, come here to me.’ Putting her arm round the girl’s slim waist she turned to Hildegard. ‘It has been my great joy to foster her, domina. I shall miss her when she marries.’

  ‘That will not be for some time yet, your grace, surely?’ Hildegard was taken aback.

  ‘We must talk about that later, domina. I have a suitable prospect in mind for her, should you approve. But maybe you have a preference? We’ll talk later.’ The countess flicked a hand at another of her damozels. ‘Take me to my chamber, Elise. Ysabella wishes to be alone with her mother.’

  The countess, leaning on an ebony stick, was helped from the audience chamber, and suddenly Hildegard and her daughter were alone. With mutual cries of delight they threw themselves into each other’s arms.

  ‘Are you happy?’ whispered Hildegard.

  ‘As much as I can be without you, my dearest mother. Are you happy living such a dull and cloistered life as a nun? Tell me the truth.’

  ‘The same, my dear. And not so cloistered, praise be. But I miss you every day. It’s been such a long time and you’ve grown. At first I didn’t recognise you. But you’re still my lovely tall Ysabella. Look, already up to my shoulder. How can it be!’

  They hugged again and finally sat on the window seat and exchanged news, talking and listening at the same time, giving each other little hugs as they spoke.

  ‘And so, daughter, what’s this about a betrothed in the offing?’ Hildegard eventually asked.

  Ysabella pulled a face. ‘I fear I have too many thoughts about the world to be easily fobbed off with some dullard on a promise of mere riches.’

  ‘I’d rather you were rich than poor. But do you prefer someone else or is he simply beyond the pale of your opinion?’

  Ysabella lowered her voice. ‘He is a knight in the service of earl Arundel.’ She held her mother’s gaze. ‘I haven’t met him but I know what that means.’

  ‘It means - ?’

  ‘That he is against the king.’ Ysabella impulsively grasped her mother’s hand. ‘I would say this only to you. I will not wed a traitor, no matter what this parliament decides. There, so now you know my firm resolve.’

  ‘Dearest Ysabella.’ Hildegard hugged her again. ‘I pray you’ll hold your tongue.’

  ‘Since you went away to Avignon things have got worse in England. We’re sinking into an abyss. The last few months have troubled me so much that I - ’ She broke off, with a glance towards the doors. Lowering her voice she said, ‘Mother, you must realise I hear talk? When I’m assumed to be just a silly damozel standing by to add prettiness to the scene - ’ she broke off again, distracted by another thought. ‘Am I - ? ’ She bit her lip. ‘Am I vain? But I do think I am quite pretty - ?’

&nbs
p; ‘You’re beautiful, child, don’t fish for compliments from me. I’m your mother.’

  ‘Would you think me pretty if I looked like this?’ She pulled a hideous face and lurched forward with one shoulder raised grotesquely.

  ‘Stop it, stop it, sweeting!’ Hildegard caught her up again. ‘You’ll stay like that if the wind changes and then your dowry will have to be a king’s ransom or no-one will take you.’

  Ysabella became serious. ‘To tell the truth, mother, I’m frightened. I hear too much. I hear too many secrets.’

  ‘From whom?’

  ‘From the guests here. This place teems with visitors. The countess knows everyone. People come from London. From everywhere. From every faction. She is more than she looks. Do not be deceived by her.’

  ‘Is she unkind to you?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m her darling Ysabella. I can do no wrong. She is kindness itself. I mean her guests, who they are, what they say and why she invites them here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This palace used to be a great hub of royal power, she says. The ancient king - Henry, that is - announced his attack on the pope from here - and we are still waiting to free ourselves from papal domination.’

  ‘That’s true. One day, perhaps, the realm will shake off its vassalage to a foreign power with the necessity to pay taxes to Rome and do as Rome says. But that is probably in the far distant future. Why should it worry you now?’

  Ysabella shook her head. ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Is the countess keen to restore Clarendon to its former importance as a power in the realm?’

  ‘May be.’ She gave her mother a darting glance. ‘This parliament, still ongoing...’

  ‘What about it?’ Hildegard leaned forward.

  ‘Some say that Thomas of Woodstock, Gloucester as he now is, wants to establish parliament’s sovereignty over the justices, a view by some considered right and good. But I think otherwise. Consider. If the judges are under the thumb of parliament what happens to impartiality? They will be forced to dance to parliament’s tune.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I hear that parliament has fallen under the control of men ambitious to increase their own fortunes. They’re like dog’s fighting over a bone, I’m told. They’re desperate to oust the king’s supporters because they believe they gain the biggest share of the spoils. They are becoming dangerous because they know the weakness of their accusations against the king’s men. And that’s why they want to control the justices. One man on the King’s Council in particular is avid for the crown.’

  Hildegard stiffened. ‘This is dangerous talk. Who tells you all this?’

  Ysabella ignored the question but Hildegard noticed her cheeks change colour. ‘Listen, mother, in February when parliament was called, when you were away,’ she pointed out, ‘Gloucester and his allies attempted to accuse the king’s men under the civil law.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘That failed, as it had to through lack of evidence, so then they said it didn’t matter because the will of parliament itself was superior to all laws. Civil and Common law alike.’

  ‘You have listened well - ’ Hildegard wondered who had been instructing her daughter so dangerously. ‘Is it the countess who tells you this?’

  ‘Wait, let me finish. The Council, under Gloucester’s thumb, says that if parliament appeals someone for treason their verdict must be final.’

  ‘That seems to be how they hope to control the king.’

  ‘But they only want to control him in order to serve their own interests. That’s not right!’

  ‘It’s certainly how it looks.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with justice, with truth. It’s nothing to do with saving us from the alleged encroachments on our freedom by the king. As if King Richard would ever do such a thing! They mention the Great Charter kept in Salisbury and how the barons at Runnymede ruled that the law should be applied equally in order to control the power of King John - ’

  ‘That even the king is not above the law of the land, yes - ’

  ‘But do you know that Gloucester and his allies, after thinking about it for over a week, have finally decided that it means that they have the power? All they have to do to sentence somebody to death as a traitor is to make a declaration in parliament!’

  ‘That’s not what the Great Charter was intended to do.’

  ‘They’ve decided it should be so without the consent of either the king or the Commons. Even to question their decision is now enough to brand you a traitor and earn you a traitor’s death!’

  ‘It’s as bad as if the king himself had uncontrolled power.’

  ‘Yes. Now it’s the barons themselves who have become the tyrants.’

  ‘We heard only rumours on our journey,’ Hildegard told her. ‘Inevitably our sympathies have been with men like Thomas Usk and John Blake, ordinary young clerks accused of treason when we know they were innocent of any violation of the king’s majesty. The bitter lesson of these executions is difficult to countenance but we must - ’

  ‘Well, this is England now! Parliament - in other words Gloucester and Warwick - run the realm by a mixture of intimidation and bribery. All they have to do is to make a declaration that someone is guilty of treason and then the victim is forced to bear the full penalty. Do you know what that means? It means beheading if they’re exalted enough or hanging if they’re of lesser status, like Usk and Blake. Poor Thomas Usk,’ she broke off. ‘It was horrible what more they did to him. Did you hear about it?’

  ‘A little. Is there more?’

  Ysabella gripped her mother’s hands so hard her nails dug into the flesh. ‘Not content with hanging him at Tyburn they cut off his head afterwards and stuck it above the gatehouse at Newgate prison.’

  ‘The debtors’ prison. Yes, we heard.’

  ‘That is the level of their humour - they accused him of taking silver from Mayor Brembre for information about a man plotting against the king – somebody called John of Northampton who was already serving out a punishment in Tintagel Castle for bribery and corruption after going through due process of law. Thomas Usk, it was decided, by giving information about Northampton’s activities, therefore owed money to the court, the same amount he was alleged to have received from Mayor Brembre for his information - hence, Newgate, where he goes on paying his alleged debt even after death.’

  Hildegard was silent.

  Her daughter’s face was flushed with indignation. ‘You’ll meet someone here called Favent. He’s always back and forth between Westminster and Clarendon. I don’t know how the countess stands the sight of him. He’ll no doubt want to tell you about Thomas Usk and then you’ll hear the relish in his voice when he describes the flocks of carrion pecking out his eyes.’

  ‘No, don’t weep - ’ Hildegard put her arms round her daughter as Ysabella wiped her sleeve across her eyes.

  ‘Mother, do you understand? You must understand. High treason is being redefined by Gloucester and his cronies. No-one is safe.’

  ‘I understand that.’ If only you knew, she thought, how well I understand it.

  ‘They mete out an even more hideous punishment,’ Ysabella continued in a voice muffled by tears. Gripping her mother’s hands convulsively again she said, ‘The earl of Salisbury, punished for making a peace treaty with the French king, treated so. Imagine it, your intestines ripped from your stomach and dangled before your very eyes as you still live and breathe! This is what the duke of Gloucester decrees - and there is nobody to stop him!’

  Ysabella’s eyes filled with tears again but they were scalding with rage when they dropped onto the back of Hildegard’s hands. ‘Such horror can’t continue. I’m just one girl. What can I do? It’s unimaginable that we should live in such times. Why does nobody do anything about it?’

  Hildegard could find no answer. Her daughter had become her conscience. She took a kerchief from her sleeve and wiped the child’s eyes. ‘We will do something. I promise you. We
will do what we can.’

  ‘The first thing is this,’ said Ysabella. ‘They have had the gall to impeach Sir Simon Burley. You must have heard?’

  Hildegard nodded.

  ‘Don’t you see? We must free him from the Tower of London. People will rally to him. Gloucester is like a cat with a mouse. He brings him into parliament in front of his own chosen and paid-for judges, then returns him to the Tower because even paid judges will not give him the verdict he wants. And then back again. Three times they’ve brought him from the Tower and three times sent him back. Sir Simon is an old man, nearly seventy, he cannot stand much more of this. We must free him from that devil’s clutches or all our freedoms will be lost!’

  Hildegard wondered again who now instructed her child. She knew grievously more than a fourteen year old should. The countess’s household had turned into an unlikely schoolroom for a daughter sent only to learn the etiquette required at the royal court of King Richard.

  EIGHT

  It was a lavish scene. A banquet, not in Hildegard’s honour of course, but to welcome various arrivals from London and the Shires. Down in the mesh came a constant stream of arrivals with their retinues. No sign, however, of the man in grey.

  The countess’s damozels were like exotic little birds in an aviary with much fluttering and twittering to and fro in their silks and satins as they preened about the great chamber. It was a perfect setting for such pretty creatures with one enormous and brilliant stained glass window casting its rainbow colours over them to add to their glamour. The walls of the chamber were a special wonder to every newcomer to Clarendon because they were painted with whitewash containing lapis lazuli imported at extravagant cost from the mysterious mines beyond farthest Outremer. Those who had never seen such splendour before were seen to rub their palms secretly over the surface and then inspect them as if in hope of seeing a covering of blue gems.

  Hildegard, smiling, also noticed that her daughter was exchanging many bright glances with a handsome young cup-bearer who was giving as much discrete attention to her as to the countess’s guests. Hildegard gave him a private look or two and was well pleased with his appearance. He was a fine, courteous young fellow and by all accounts was named Ivo. When Ysabella spoke his name Hildegard was sure she had never heard a name spoken with such warmth.