The Woodville Connection

by K. E. Martin

  Many of the villagers cried out in horror, aghast to see one of their own lying broken, all signs of life extinguished.

  “Thee’s slain Matthew!” the kennelman exclaimed in a voice ripe with dismay. “That were badly done, John. He were allus a good lad, thee shouldst not’ve done that.”

  All save Flood and Walt Tench nodded their agreement. Mumbling, they threw down their torches and melted away into the darkness. Just before he disappeared from view the kennelman called out to Flood once more.

  “Leave it be now, Jem,” he exhorted. “Let minstrel take the witch and deal wi’ her as he wishes.”

  Then he was gone and I was left alone with a corpse, a badly injured woman and three wild men intent on murder.

  “If thee’d left when I didst say thee should,” Flood snarled at me, “the daft lad’d not be dead. I’m sorry this didst happen but if he’d stayed true to the folk as raised him no harm would’ve come to him.”

  Having neatly salved his conscience by blaming Matthew for his own fate, the self-righteous villain began laying sticks of shattered furniture and bits of brush into a heap inside the ruins of Lynet’s cottage. I realised that he was building a pyre and so did Blanche who, though falling in and out of consciousness, read the man’s intentions all too clearly.

  “Don’t let me burn, Francis” she entreated before slipping once more into oblivion.

  “Keep him busy, lads,” the cook ordered, “while I see t’ witch.”

  As he continued to build his pyre on the floor of the hovel, the blood-crazed Tenches renewed their attack. Though I’d stuck him in the arm Walt seemed ready enough to have another go at me and as for his devil brother, the very air around him seemed charged and noxious with murderous intent. They were formidable foes, there was no doubt, but I fancied scarce a match for a man schooled in fighting by the House of York. It was time to finish this.

  Before the Tenches could advance on me I sprang at them, grasping a thick wedge of coarse beard in each of my fists. Without pause I wrenched down hard, knocking their bovine heads together with an almighty crack. Swiftly I released my hold on their beards and they stumbled backwards a few paces, whereupon I plucked from the ground one of the extinguished torches dropped by the villagers, swinging it hot end first into Walt’s face. He gave a satisfying shriek and fell to the ground, his hands clutching madly at his head.

  John saw his brother’s distress and flew at me, roaring his fury. The roar stuttered, stalled and transformed into a cry of febrile horror as the dead boy’s foot snaked out and tripped him, sending him crashing onto the earth. Then Matthew sprang from the ground and stamped heavily on Tench’s hands.

  “I doosnt kill so easy!” he yelled as he ground his erstwhile attacker’s fingers into the dirt, taking special care to break them so that the brute’s great fists would be rendered useless.

  Unsure what was happening, Walt lumbered recklessly at me, guttural sounds of pain and wrath spewing from his mouth. I suffered him to pass close to me, then reached down and deftly sliced his left hamstring with my dagger. He groaned, staggered and hit the ground like a felled oak. His brother heard the fall and took to his heels, fleeing the scene with loud appeals to God to save him from the hell demon which had returned from death to hound him. Taking his cue, Matthew set off in pursuit, cackling with unholy glee as he ran.

  Knowing what I did of his peculiar talent, I had suspected and indeed hoped that my young friend had been feigning death for his own purpose but the absolute certainty of it brought me an excess of joy. This I was able to savour for a scant few seconds before a scream of unearthly anguish punctuated the darkness, reminding me that Blanche’s life remained in direst peril. As if to reinforce this point the night was at once lit up by menacing tongues of flickering orange flame. Clammy with fear I raced to the hovel, frantic to rescue her from a fiery end.

  At the threshold of the hovel I stood a moment, urgently peering through the rapidly spreading flames in an attempt to locate Blanche. I could not see her at first, my efforts hampered by the heat of the blaze which seemed to scorch my eyes, making it difficult to focus. Yet I persevered and with relief finally located a recumbent figure near the far wall of the cottage. Retrieving her would be no easy task as I would have to dodge my way through the fire but in truth I did not hesitate.

  “Blanche!” I shouted as loudly as I could. “Hold on Blanche, I’m coming!”

  That was when I heard a soft footstep behind me but before I had time to turn a heavy blow to the head propelled me, insensible, into the burning cottage.

  Chapter 14

  A Grim Awakening

  The resurrected kitchen boy was kneeling by my side when I regained my senses. We were a short space from the house which was by now an inferno, the like of which no mortal creature could survive. Wrenching my gaze from the conflagration to Matthew, I saw that he was urging me to stand as soon as I felt able, for the heat from the fire was making our present location uncomfortable.

  “What happened?” I managed to croak before the ache in my head persuaded me to remain silent a moment longer.

  “I knowst not,” the lad answered. “I didst find thee a-laying here when I didst return from making sport wi’ that bastard John Tench. But he were that frit already to be chased by a corpse, there weren’t no fun to be had in fritting him some more. I didst soon give up the chase and return to thee.”

  Something here made no sense to me.

  “But I was struck and the last thing I recall is pitching forward into the cottage!”

  By the orange glow of the fire I saw Matthew shrug his shoulders in a gesture of vague incomprehension. His impassive manner irritated me but I did not doubt that he was telling me the truth. The lad had been my friend from the moment I arrived at Plaincourt and had risked much on my behalf.

  “So if you didn’t rescue me from the house,” I elucidated, “then who did?

  “Master, I knowst not,” the lad repeated patiently, “but whoever it were, they didst thee a reet good turn, else thee’d’ve bin roasted like a hog on’t spit.”

  I shuddered at the thought, and then remembered with a rush of sick dismay that Blanche had been inside the house when I was struck. I clutched at Matthew’s hand and gestured feebly at the blazing ruin. The youth read my meaning and shook his head sadly.

  “Fire were too far along when I didst return. Weren’t no chance o’ getting in to bring her out. But master, I reckon as she must’ve bin dead afore the flames took hold, for there’s bin no screams since I’ve bin with thee.”

  Too choked with bitterness at my inability to save Blanche, I didn’t at first comprehend his meaning but understanding finally penetrated my misery.

  “So she did not suffer the agonies of fire, at least,” I said, glad to have some solace to cling to. “Then Flood must have finished her before he lit the blaze.”

  “I reckon so,” Matthew agreed. “Seems as old Jem didst show her some mercy at the last.”

  Suddenly it seemed I must believe that Plaincourt was redolent with mercy. The cook had been merciful in killing Blanche before burning her, to spare her an agonising end. She in turn had been merciful in giving Geoffrey a painless death in order to end the suffering caused by his sickness. The latter notion I was almost ready to accept but the former, no, that I could never believe. I had seen the blood lust and hatred in Flood’s eyes when he had accused Blanche of witchcraft. The man was violent and deranged and his particular brand of madness was fuelled by fear of the black arts. He would have shown her no mercy for he longed to see her suffer the torments of a fiery death. Therefore, if she had indeed been dead before the flames took hold, as Matthew suggested, Flood must have killed her accidentally in a struggle, or perhaps she had found a way to end her own life.

  Either way she was dead and the abject failure of my mission tasted thick and sour in my mouth. I must return to Middleham and tell Dickon of all that had passed and he would know Rivers for a blacker villain than he had ever imag
ined. But what would that avail without Blanche to stand witness against him? Fielding would remain a wanted man and Stephen Plaincourt would be free to enjoy the estate he had inherited through murder and deceit. And Blanche would still be dead. I marvelled at the power that fact possessed to distress me. This was a woman I had barely known three days and certainly not loved nor even much liked. Yet her death left me feeling empty and bereft.

  A drawn out groan from Walt Tench reminded me that the lumbering ox was lying hamstrung nearby. He would never again be able to pummel a man senseless and neither would his brother unless by some miraculous chance he regained the use of his broken fingers. With bitter mirth I realised that the fools had just helped burn the only person at Plaincourt capable of helping them.

  Thinking of the Tench brothers brought to mind once again their ally, the cook Jem Flood. Everything pointed to him being the person who had knocked me senseless. He had seen that I was about to enter the house to rescue Blanche and had attacked me in order to prevent it but had then removed me from the burning cottage so that my blood should not be on his hands. Though it pained me to admit it I could not escape the conclusion that Flood had saved my life. Yet as I mused on all this a vagrant notion nudged my consciousness and refused to be ignored. If, as Matthew supposed, Flood had already slain Blanche, why should he seek to prevent me from entering the cottage since I would be rescuing nothing but a corpse. It was possible that he truly believed the evil in her could only be cleansed by fire and for this it made no difference if she was dead or alive. Yes, it was possible but I knew it more likely that Blanche had still been alive and that Matthew had sought to spare me the knowledge of her agony by saying he had heard no screams.

  My strength was returning and I knew that soon I must stand and turn my thoughts towards home. I lingered a while longer, though, drowning in a fog of desolation until the unbearable stench of charred flesh, destruction and failure prodded me into action.

  Climbing unsteadily to my feet, I asked Matthew to go in search of the rouncey. He located the petrified animal close to where we had first encountered the odious Tench brothers. The smell of burning had unnerved the poor beast and, lacking the skill to settle it, Matthew returned for my counsel. I knew the wisest course was to leave that ill-omened place of blood and fire at once so I put a temporary seal on my wretchedness and followed Matthew to the horse.

  “Thee dost ride for home now, doosn’t thee?” he asked fretfully as we walked and I concurred with a brief nod.

  “But what of I, master?” he enquired. “Where shouldst I go now?”

  The plaintive question brought me up short. I saw at once that by embroiling him in my affairs I had inadvertently rendered the lad homeless, for he could hardly return to Plaincourt now he had publicly taken my side against the villagers. The thought occurred to me that since arriving at the manor I had always taken his help for granted and had never questioned why he had been so ready to assist me. Now was the time to find out.

  “What made you so willing to aid me in this matter, and fight alongside me against the people who brought you up?” I asked him abruptly.

  “I doosn’t rightly know,” he answered lightly. “P’raps I dost know as I’ll better prefer a life away from Plaincourt. I didst allus know I weren’t never one o’ them really, on account of my ma being a foreigner from Mablethorpe an’ all. Only Dulcy didst ever show me kindness and she’ll not live much longer.”

  He had not answered my question properly but I let it pass.

  “Yet in a way you do belong here for you have family, or at least a sister. I mean Cuckoo, of course. What of her, will you not miss her?”

  “Aye, some,” Matthew admitted, “but she were wrong to make trouble for thee and to rouse Jem Flood and all t’others to burn Mistress Blanche. I doosn’t say as I liked the mistress and I didst wish her to pay for what she didst to Master Geoffrey, but thee was seeing to it and that were good enough for me. Daft Cuckoo didst just make a mess o’ things.”

  She certainly did, I thought angrily. The foolish girl had a great deal to answer for. Despite the grimness of her life it bothered me that she would likely never be brought to account for her actions. As for Matthew, I had promised to help him before and now I had the opportunity to do more than I had ever envisaged.

  “You shall come home with me to Middleham,” I told him. “When I tell my lord of Gloucester of the valuable service you have rendered me, he will gladly find a suitable post for you in his household.”

  The lad’s face fell at these words.

  “I thanks thee kindly, master,” he replied, “but I weren’t never that keen on kitchen work.”

  “But of course not the kitchen!” I exclaimed. “There are many more fitting ways in which a bright lad like you can serve my master. I promise you Matthew, he will see your worth just as I did and find you a role to suit your talents. You could go far in service to the Duke.”

  A stubborn gleam stole into the youth’s eyes then.

  “Master, I’ll gladly come wi’ thee to Middleham,” he said, “but only if thee dost let me come as thy servant.”

  I sighed, much exasperated that the boy could not recognise the advantage being offered him.

  “I have no need of a servant,” I told him testily.

  “Not looked at thy hose of late, has thee Master?” the impudent wretch shot back at me. “I reckon as thee dost need a servant and I reckon as that servant should be me.”

  “I see. And are you practised in caring for raiment?”

  “Nay master, that I beant. In truth I know nowt about owt right now but I dost learn fast, thee may be sure of that. I’ll soon give thee cause to bless the day thee took me on.”

  I could tell that he was set on becoming my personal servant but I truly felt I had no need of one since at Middleham all my needs were seen to by those that served the Duke and Duchess. In any case I was reluctant to squander my stipend on such an unnecessary luxury.

  “You must not allow the fact of my friendship with the Duke to gull you into believing I am a man of wealth,” I warned him. “I live well but at my noble master’s expense. I would be hard pressed to find the wherewithal to pay you a decent wage.”

  At this Matthew chuckled as if I had just told him the drollest jest.

  “As to that, I didst never get no payment from Sir Stephen so I’d not notice its lack if I didst serve thee.”

  By now we had been standing beside the horse for some minutes. I was restless and eager to put distance between myself and this place of misfortune. Matthew must have sensed my mood for his manner swiftly changed from jocund to earnest.

  “Master, I dost wish to work for thee and will count my bed and board payment enough. Mebbe if thee dost ever have the odd copper to spare thee couldst toss it my way. I dost ask no more’n that.”

  Worn down by his persistence and anxious to be on my way, I gruffly agreed that he could come with me to Middleham as my personal servant. Behind my irascibility, however, I felt warmed by the knowledge that the boy had wanted me to be his master. Doubtless in time I would grow accustomed to keeping my own servant and if he should prove to possess musical ability I might even be able to train him in minstrelsy. I said naught of this to him, of course, but bid him sit behind me on the horse so that we may at last leave Plaincourt.

  Riding in near total darkness is ever a tricky business. It was made more difficult still by the rouncey’s displeasure at having to carry two well-made men, one of whom sat astride it with all the grace and agility of a sack of oats. After an hour or so of stumbling progress which greatly jarred my aching head, I decided that neither the beast nor I could endure much more and was thus heartily glad when the ghostly outline of a church appeared on the horizon. I prayed the entrance would not be barred and the prayer was answered, for it took but a small effort to force open the door. Inside was cold enough but at least the roof and walls provided shelter from the freezing wind. Silently begging forgiveness for the impiety, I watered
the rouncey from the font and then tethered it to the reredos before huddling with Matthew beneath my cloak.

  We stole from the church before dawn had broken and rode in haste to the tavern where I had left the palfrey, arriving in time for a dinner of questionable pottage and sour ale. I was relieved to discover the palfrey alive and apparently in good health. Wisely, the oily tavern keeper had heeded my instructions to tend it carefully. By way of reward I struck a bargain with him to buy the rouncey, realising wryly that within the space of twelve hours I had for the first time hired a servant and bought a horse. Dickon would say I was halfway to becoming a man of substance. Yet the rouncey was necessary to carry Matthew to Middleham and the lad’s joy in learning the horse was for him marginally lessened the sting of parting with my coin.

  Chapter 15

  Fat Nell’s Gift

  As we approached Middleham, cold, sore and bone-weary after a gruelling three days on horseback, I could not fail to notice that an unnatural quiet hung about the castle. Alert with misgivings, I was much relieved when the burly guard at the gatehouse hailed us with a cheery Yuletide greeting before admitting us to the inner courtyard. All was well save that I had foolishly forgotten today was Christmas Day. That answered for the absence of bustle, since most of the castle’s populace including the Duke and Duchess would be at Mass in the chapel at this hour.