Rob looked from the former tradesman to the scrip. He smiled. This couldn't be better. "Nay, hold it for me until I call for it," he said, his voice barely audible over the furor. "As for what happens here, I'll explain all to you later, over another sip of that wine."
Colin's eyes widened, and his mouth turned down in disgust. "If you can jest over that now, this cannot be as bad as it seems." With that, he receded to his brothers.
Once again, Lord Meynell leaned down to speak to his men. Two of the soldiers shouldered their shields then drew crossbows out of their back scabbards. As the men strung the cords in their bows as if preparing to fire, the chanting died a sudden death, leaving only an intense and distrustful silence.
"What sort of sinners are you," Abbot Eustace bellowed at them, venting his ire. "How will you face your Maker if it is discovered the man for whom you demand death is not guilty of the crime? This morn, your council did come to me, begging me to be their intermediary. Master Robert says he has evidence of his innocence. Let me look upon what he brings. If it is not enough to convince me, know you I will command he be held for the sheriff and executed, just as you request!"
As folk acknowledged that they must allow for at least the pretense of a trial they stirred in uneasy acceptance. The sound of so many moving in so small a space was loud, indeed.
"Much better," the abbot told them as he reseated himself and looked up at Rob. "Master Robert, where is this proof you say you have."
Rob held out the coffer that he carried. "It lays within this box, my lord abbot, which has come to me from Lynn only this morn. Before I open it, I would have those within the crowd know that the box has not been in my hands since I departed my home, now two weeks past, long before this false charge was levied against me."
"Aye, it is no surprise you call the charge false as it's your neck we'd see stretched," a heckler threw back. "This is naught but mummery, meant to baffle us when we all know it was his man who went about our town offering outmarket grain to regraters."
"Who says it was my agent?" Rob retorted. Many were the calls that attested to this. Rob shook his head. "I'll call you all mistaken. My man never left the abbey walls that day, save for a few moments to aid in quelling the tumult that took place before this house's gates. So the whole monastery will swear."
It was Brother William, the porter, who stepped forward in response to this. "Aye," he called to the crowd. "Hamalin of Lynn passed by gateway but twice that day, once in and once out, all within a quarter hour's time, then not again."
This sent a wave of shock crashing through those who watched, but there was no easing in the animosity that touched their faces. Not enough had been said to change what they held as true. Again, Rob held up the coffer.
"I will repeat, what's stored in here has not been seen by me since my arrival in Stanrudde."
When another murmur of disbelief rumbled through those who watched Lord Meynell stepped forward. "To this fact, I will swear," he called to the crowd in their own tongue, "for it was me who brought the coffer here from Lynn. Master Robert has not opened it since it came into his possession."
From the field's far end a man raised his voice. "That is Temric Alwynason who speaks. I know him as a good man. If he says that this is true, it is."
This testimony from one of their own caused a subtle relaxation in the throng's hostility. Rob shot the nobleman a quick aside at the odd identification, but this was not the time for curiosity. "Brother Herbalist, will you bring me the key?"
Colin came forward, Rob's scrip extended before him. Where before there had been concern in his face, his eyes now gleamed in understanding and appreciation for the show that Rob was staging. It was one tradesman's appreciation for another's ability to sell. Once Rob took the leather sack from him and knelt before the coffer with its key in his hand, Colin turned to face the townsfolk. "You know me, one and all, just as I know you, having given you posset and potion to ease your ills over all my years as apothecary of Stanrudde."
He waited as the crowd shouted out his name. Some among them threw thanks and greetings in his direction. To this Colin nodded and smiled. "Now I would have you heed my word when I affirm that Master Robert has had no access to his key. It has dwelt within these walls"—he pointed to the abbey's gate behind him—"whilst the grossier was locked safely in yon tower. Moreover, I would testify to this man's character, telling you that he is an honest man. This I know, for I raised him at my knee."
Again, a wave of sound flowed over the marketplace. The need for blood atonement was rapidly being replaced by frustrated confusion. If they could not blame Rob for what had happened, who then, would pay for the damages that had been done to them?
In full view of all who watched, Rob threw open his chest and pulled his personal book from its depths. This was naught but a stack of sheepskin with holes punched along one side so a cord might be woven through them. Coming to his feet, he handed the thing to the abbot. "My lord abbot, will you tell them what it is you now hold?"
The seated churchman turned leaf after leaf, skimming the many entries scribed upon the skin. In the ensuing moments, the silence in the field grew. Rob could hear the sparrows chittering to each other in the abbey's garden. A man coughed, another cleared his throat. A raven flew overhead, its harsh cry echoing raucously against the abbey's tall stone walls. From a few lanes distant, a woman's voice was raised in song as she did her daily chores.
"I see a man's weekly notes," the abbot said at last, "marking sales he's made, names of men he's met and what business he has done with them. He marks how long his journeys are as he moves about pursuing his own endeavors. This cannot be a concocted piece. There are times when the hand that writes it is strong and clear, while in others exhaustion shows in the forming of the letters."
"Thank you, my lord." Rob reclaimed his book and opened it to the appropriate leaf. "Read aloud this entry," he said, pointing to where he wished the churchman to begin.
The abbot nodded. "On this day, the feast of our Blessed Virgin's assumption into heaven, my agent does report to me that wheat which I last year contracted to buy has, instead, been sold to another. For this the folk in that hamlet are not to be blamed, as the one who purchased it didst pass himself off as mine own man, the thief holding in his possession a facsimile of mine own seal."
Rob turned the leaf and pointed to another entry.
"On this the day of Saint John the Baptist, I have made another sorry discovery, " the abbot read. " Upon arriving at the hamlet where Emond Sparewe is headman I was informed that the one calling himself my new man had arrived before me, purchasing from them what I should have had. This is the second time the wily thief has struck, if it is indeed the same man, since these two events are separated by a great distance."
The quiet in the marketplace was absolute. Once again, Rob turned a leaf and, once again, the abbot read. " On this St. Lazarus's day I have at last made the discovery for which I have so long awaited and am mortified at what I have found. Who would have—by the Virgin!" the abbot cried out, leaving off his reading when he saw the name that Rob had scribed upon the skin.
"Say no more for first I must explain," Rob told him, careful to keep his voice loud enough so that all within the marketplace would hear him.
He stepped forward to the dais's edge and spread his arms. "The grain that was stolen from me is the same seed that was sold illegally the evening before last, the same wheat that caused others to rampage. I tell you now it was not I who sold this grain." His pronouncement was followed by the growing demand that he name the thief. As Rob held his hands up to beg for quiet, a new call pierced the air.
"Make way, make way for Katel le Espicer! Make way!"
Rob's vision blurred, so great was his astonishment. The abbot looked at him. Amazement lived in every line of the churchman's narrow face but in Abbot Eustace's eyes there was the certainty of a Divine Hand at work.
Katel, four men at his back, urged an almost staggering mount into
the crowd. His progress was achingly slow as each person had to shift four others to make room for his horse to pass. The spice merchant wore a thick, fur-lined mantle atop a heavily embroidered traveling tunic done in shades of orange and blue. A thick gold chain lay atop his mantle, and rings gleamed atop his gloved hands. His gaze was caught on Rob, an expression somewhere between triumph and confusion settling onto his thick features.
"Master Robert." This was but a hiss, coming from the forefront of the crowd. Rob glanced down. Leatrice looked up at him. "I would testify as well," she begged him.
Her whispered words were drowned out by Katel's louder call.
"What happens here?" It was the befuddled cry of one who has no other thought in the world than minding his own business.
Rob raised a hand to point at Katel. "There is the one who stole my grain. It is Katel le Espicer who released illegal koren onto your marketplace and caused the destruction of your town."
Gasps rose from the crowd at this surprising accusation.
Katel threw back his head, his eyes wide in outrage. "Are you mad!" His voice carried to every corner of the field.
Despite his protest, those nearest to him closed around his horse. One man dared to reach up and take hold of the tired mount's bridle. "Leave go," Katel commanded him. "How can you give credence to such a charge? I am a spice merchant. What would I have to do with grain?" The man did not comply.
"What, indeed," Rob retorted. "What Master Katel did, he did for hatred of me. Years ago, he swore to see me hurt for a wrong he'd deemed I'd done him."
"So I would confirm," Arthur called, coming forward to join Rob. "Master Katel made Master Robert's apprenticeship like unto hell with his torments."
Colin stepped to the edge of the dais. "I too, would avow that Master Katel meant Master Robert only harm. Had not Master Walter already betrothed his daughter to you, Katel," the monk eyed his friend's former protégé, "he would have seen your apprenticeship with him ended."
Katel sighed and looked around him, displaying naught but contrition for his observers. "I beg your pardons, Arthur, Master Colin, and, you, as well, Rob, for the sins of my youth. Would that I could return to the past and change what I did, but a misspent youth does not render a man a thief."
"Nay, why lower yourself to steal, when you have Theobald of Peterborough to do it for you?" Rob retorted. "Here upon these parchments did I scribe the saga of your agent's deeds. Those at the hamlets where he struck described him well enough."
He took his book from the abbot and turned to the appropriate entry. "Emond Sparewe says that the one who came was small of stature, delicate of feature, looking child-like despite his grizzled beard and hair. Today, I have learned that Katel le Espicer employs such a man." As some in the crowed called out in confirmation of this description, Rob spoke on. "When I realized it was you who'd done this I saw that the hamlets where your agent went were no farther than a day's ride from the fair you were attending at the time.
"Once you had what was mine you waited for me to discover it was you who'd taken it, knowing I would come to confront you. And when I came, you released the wheat in my name, knowing that folk would riot. You did not care that lives and homes would be destroyed by what you did."
A low thrum of hostility returned to the throng. Every man who stood upon the grassy stretch turned his head to see how their wealthy spice merchant would respond. Katel did not disappoint.
"This is an outrage!" he shouted. "I cannot believe that you think these good folk fools enough to believe what must certainly be crass forgeries. How long did it take some clerk to make those things for you? You are a wealthy man. How much did it cost you to create evidence against me?"
"I think me you are the wealthier," Rob retorted, touching Arthur's borrowed mantle and pin. "You gleam where I am drab."
"They are not forgeries," someone in the crowd shouted out. "We have all heard Father Abbot attest that what he looked upon was genuine enough. Do we not all accept that those skins of Master Robert's came this morn, brought here in a locked box from Lynn by one we all trust to speak the truth?" Rob's new supporter cried out to his fellow townsmen.
A flash of shock danced across Katel's bloated features. The spice merchant had been certain he'd succeeded in ending any threat from Lynn. If worry for Hamalin grew with Katel's reaction, it was in that instant that Rob forgave his mother for making him a bastard. He would not have had his proof to confront Katel if not for his father's other bastard, Lord Meynell.
"From Lynn?" one of Katel's servants cried out in surprise. "Master, I thought you said the council named Theobald to retrieve those ledgers." There was more than confusion in the man's voice, a touch of vindictive triumph lurked in his tone.
From behind the monks Jehan the Wool Merchant limped out. He stood before the crowd, braced on his crutch. "The council set no such mandate," he cried out. "We sent no man anywhere, being content to wait for the sheriff's arrival."
This sent the noise level to a new and far more hostile tone. Folk began to call out that the spice merchant was guilty. One man cried out for hanging, but this time it was Katel he meant to see dangling.
"Papa!" The call pierced the thrum. "You must tell them none of this is true."
Rob scanned the crowd. A tall lad in his early teens, his hair a bright golden red, thrust his way through the throng toward the knot of folk around the spice merchant. He breathed in surprise. Johanna's son was Master Walter's image. With recognition came sudden pity and a strange sort of comradeship. Just as Rob's life had been destroyed when Ralph Attegreen refused to claim him, this boy was witnessing the end of the world he knew.
"He cannot, lad," Rob called to Johanna's son then turned to look at the abbot. "My lord, someone should take that boy away from here. He should not have to witness this."
Even before the churchman turned to him Lord Meynell sent a few of his men into the crowd. Folk parted to let them pass. When the soldiers took Katel's son by the arms, the boy thrashed against them. His resistance was futile. He couldn’t prevent them from steadily bearing him toward the dais.
"Nay," the boy screamed, "you have no right to deny me. I will stand with my sire."
"He does not need you to sacrifice yourself for the wrong he has done," the abbot told the lad.
"I have done no wrong," Katel moaned, then continued with exaggerated drama. "Woe be it that a man is forced to reveal his wife's shame before his son!"
As Katel buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as if he sobbed, the crowd grew quiet. It was quite the show Stanrudde's folk were getting this day, and they were enjoying it immensely. Rob glanced at Johanna's son. The boy had gone still between his captors. His face was so pale his freckles stood out as bright, tawny marks against his white skin. "Nay, Papa," he said almost to himself. "Do not do this."
When Katel raised his head, there were tears in his eyes. "It is very difficult for a man to admit that his wife has made him a cuckold, but she has. I accuse the Grossier of Lynn of adultery with my wife. Years ago, they succumbed to their lust for each other. It is they who plot against me, not me against them."
Leatrice did not wait for an invitation. The pregnant maid stepped boldly past the soldiers and clambered onto the platform. "He lies!" she screamed to all those in the field. "His wife is no adulteress. Two years have I served in that household, and not once has Mistress Johanna strayed from her vows to her husband."
Katel wiped away the tears that touched his heavy cheeks. "Leatrice, lass," he said kindly, "I know you love your mistress well, but you can no longer shield her from the wrong she's done."
"She has done no wrong," the maid sneered. "It is you who stole the wheat and you, again, who hid it in the mistress's warehouse." She looked around her. "I vow to you all that this is true, may God strike me dead if it is not." She paused to draw breath and allow the Almighty to do as she dared Him.
More than a few who heard her glanced overhead for their Lord's reaction. When she
continued to live the muttering for Katel's death reawoke, gaining new vigor. A touch of worry appeared on the spice merchant's flaccid face.
"Leatrice," he said, new steel beneath his silken tones, "you know none of this is true. If the council believed any of it they would be accusing me, while the captain of the guard stood by waiting to arrest me."
"What have I to fear?" the pretty maid retorted, holding her hands out. "Every soul here knows that the council has not yet had the chance to arrest you, as they are only now hearing the evidence along with the rest of us."
That said, she scanned the crowd, throwing open her mantle to reveal the bulge Katel's child made within her. "If any man out there asks why or how I should know what I do, I will tell you all it is because I am the one who has shared Master Katel's bed these past two years. I know all his secrets, because he speaks in his sleep!"
"You lie!" Katel roared.
"Master, I can tolerate the sin no longer," called one of Katel's servants from behind him. "The lass speaks the truth about your plot. My pardon to all of you, neighbors," he called to those around him, "but I only discovered what he was about last even. Let me pass. I am for the spice merchant's house where I will gather my belongings and quit his employ."
The muttering folk parted to let him pass then closed around the spice merchant once more. Katel could do no more than wrench himself around in his saddle to stare at the departing servant. Honest shock flowed over his face.
"Nor can we," shouted another manservant. "Better to starve than live in the house of the man who meant for Stanrudde to burn. So do we all feel." Once again, the throng made way for the remainder of Katel's household to pass.
A Love For All Seasons Page 29