Hangman Blind

by Cassandra Clark

  In a niche below the kitchen stair she found Burthred curled up under a threadbare cloak with the two hounds beside him. About to wake him, she thought better of it. He looked as if he needed a rest, poor mite. There were dark circles under his eyes and one skinny wrist lay protectively over the hounds’ backs. She smiled softly, gave Duchess and Bermonda a pat when they looked at her with expectant eyes, and went on into the hall where the offices for the castle officials were to be found.

  Ulf’s door was open and, as she had guessed, he was still up. He smiled when she appeared and pushed some papers to one side. ‘Can’t you sleep? Nor can I.’

  ‘I’m exhausted after that ride yesterday, then being up all night and—’ She broke off. She couldn’t tell him she had found it painful lying in her bed just now, covered in bruises. There were more important things to discuss.

  ‘That blessed drumming,’ he said, unaware of her thoughts. ‘It’s keeping me awake as well. Still, it’s only for a night or two. They need to let off steam now and then, poor devils.’

  ‘These enemies of Roger’s,’ she began, ‘are there as many as he seems to think?’

  ‘My fire’s gone out.’ Ulf gestured towards the ash in the grate. ‘Let’s turf the chamberlain out of his little den and sit in there so we can talk. He’s always got a blaze going.’ He led the way to the chamber next to his own. On the way he whispered, ‘He’s what you healer women call melancholic. Hardly ever leaves his rooms. It’ll do him good to take a brisk turn round the bailey.’

  They found the chamberlain in a stifling hot chamber surrounded by towers of castle parchments. They gave off a smell of tanned leather. He was meek when Ulf told him to go for a walk.

  ‘There’s no point in sitting uselessly here in the warmth when I can be out and about. The cold will probably do my rheumatics some good.’ His voice was barely audible. ‘You know what’s best, steward, as always.’ The chamberlain’s pale face made him look ill. ‘Your need is obviously greater than mine. I expect you have really important matters to discuss with the sister. Things I know nothing about. What do I know?’ He turned to Hildegard. ‘I can’t imagine why Lord Roger puts up with me.’

  ‘Well, he won’t have to now, so you needn’t worry about that.’ Hildegard was brisk. She hadn’t time to dole out false sympathy.

  The chamberlain dragged on a lush fur that fell to his ankles and, putting on a brave face, went out.

  Ulf was chuckling. ‘That’ll blow a few cobwebs away,’ he said as he gestured towards a comfortable-looking chair by the fire then sat on a bench opposite. Throwing an extra log on the fire until it roared up the back of the chimney, he frowned into the flames. ‘Enemies,’ he murmured. ‘It’s as good an approach as any: name them then whittle them down, one by one, until he falls into our hands like a rotten apple from a tree.’

  ‘He?’ Hildegard interrupted.

  Ulf’s head jerked up. ‘Who have you got in mind?’

  ‘No one in particular. I simply think we shouldn’t limit our search at this stage.’

  ‘I thought you meant Melisen for a minute.’ Ulf seemed to find it difficult to go on, but then he said in an undertone, ‘I don’t meant to be disloyal to Roger but he can be his own worst enemy. I mean, how would you feel if your husband kept joking that you’d be out on your ear if you didn’t produce an heir?’

  ‘You think she might have tried to ensure her future by acting first?’

  ‘Well, as the chamberlain just said, “What do we know?”’ Ulf shrugged.

  ‘Would Melisen automatically inherit Roger’s fortune if he died?’

  ‘Unless he’s secretly made some other provision, yes, I think she would have a good case.’

  ‘Motive enough, then?’

  Ulf frowned. ‘It seems scarcely credible. She’s just a silly young girl. And I believe she does care for Roger in her way.’

  ‘She certainly flirts with him. But it’s not the same thing as love.’

  Ulf reached for a flagon of the chamberlain’s wine and poured them both a beakerful. Hildegard looked at him over the rim. ‘There’s the problem of opportunity,’ she said. ‘His eyes never left her all night. How could she have put anything in his mazer?’

  Just then there was a knock on the door and a servant poked his head round. ‘My lord, the guest-master would like a word.’ Ulf nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Let me deal with this while you sit here, Hildegard, and keep warm. I’ll be back in a trice.’

  He had no sooner gone than there was another knock. This time it was Sir William. He looked surprised to see the nun sitting in the chamberlain’s chair.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘What do you think’s going on?’ she riposted.

  ‘How the devil would I know? You’re the one who listens to everybody’s secrets. All I know is Roger’s dead. Did I bring the Black Death in? No, but I would say that, wouldn’t I? So who the devil brought it in? Nobody else’s dead, are they?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘So why isn’t the chamberlain sitting in his chair?’

  ‘He’s gone for a walk.’

  ‘Sir William snorted. ‘If I were Roger I’d’ve sacked him long ago.’

  ‘If you were Roger you’d be lying in a coffin in the chapel,’ Hildegard reminded him, quickly fingering her beads.

  ‘Quite right, sister,’ said Sir William. ‘Forgive me.’ He did not look contrite. Flinging himself on to the bench on the other side of the fire, he stretched out his long legs and gave her a baleful look. ‘Go on, then, question me.’

  ‘I really have no intention of questioning you. I’m sure you’re not in the mood for questions so soon after your brother-in-law’s—’ Hildegard coughed, to avoid another lie but her mind was beginning to race.

  Why had William come inside when he saw that the chamberlain wasn’t here? Did it mean he had something to tell her? He was looking surprisingly sober after last night’s roistering, but now he was glaring into the fire as if there was something serious on his mind. She stretched out her own legs in their leather buskins to re-establish a little space.

  ‘Is there anything you would like to tell me?’ Hildegard asked in a soft tone when he didn’t speak. She waited the normal length of the confessional pause but William seemed to have lost the use of his tongue. His lips worked but no words came forth. He looked so murderous she had to brace herself to speak again.

  ‘I’m aware of your closeness to your brother-in-law,’ she prompted gently.

  Still nothing.

  She eyed the jug of wine.

  Before she could offer him a drink to loosen his tongue he suddenly jumped to his feet and strode from the chamber. Ulf was just coming in.

  He watched him go. ‘What the devil did you say to him?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He’s flying along the corridor as if the bats of hell are after ’im.’

  ‘I can’t imagine William being afraid of bats.’ Hildegard looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder if he knows I’m not supposed to take confession?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘I have a feeling that’s what he was building up to until his courage failed him. What on earth could be on his mind?’

  They both looked at each other in silence.

  Ulf spoke first. ‘It would never do him any good. There’s no legal way he could get his hands on Roger’s lands.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Not even through Avice? She is Roger’s sister, after all.’

  She gave a start. ‘What about Edwin? He must be the legal heir. I mean, he would be if Roger really were dead.’

  ‘But he’s banished. So it’s up for grabs.’

  ‘I can’t believe Roger would banish his own son.’

  ‘Nor can we. But there it is. Roger’s word is law.’

  ‘When he knows his father’s dead – should the deception continue – surely he’ll come back to claim what’s legally his?’

  ‘Ah, but possession is nine-tenth
s of the law. He’d realise he’d have to bring an army and take it back by force.’

  She gave a sigh. ‘This is speculation, isn’t it? We can count Edwin out as he wasn’t here. We can count William out because, although he had the opportunity to tamper with Roger’s drink, he doesn’t stand to gain anything. And we can count Melisen out because, although she could gain, she couldn’t possibly have had the opportunity. So where does that leave us?’

  ‘Having another beaker of the chamberlain’s wine,’ Ulf said, upending the flagon. ‘I wouldn’t count any of them out just yet. Certainly not William. That was the exit of a guilty man just now – or I’m sitting in Avignon with a crown on my head calling myself pope.’ He gave a hollow laugh.

  ‘And then there’s—’ began Hildegard, but there was a knock at the door.

  Ulf scowled. ‘For God’s sake, it’s like Beverley market in here. How does the chamberlain ever get any work done? No wonder he’s so miserable.’ He called, ‘Come in, then.’

  When the door opened Master Sueno de Schockwynde was standing there. He looked most apologetic. ‘I heard the sister was here, steward, and actually I’d rather like a private word with her.’ He fiddled unhappily with the end of his liripipe.

  ‘Be my guest.’ Ulf gestured him inside and, with a covert glance at Hildegard, took himself out.

  Master Sueno was a bundle of nerves and quite unlike his urbane self of the previous evening.

  ‘Please, master, do take a seat,’ she invited. ‘A cup of wine for you?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’ He wouldn’t look at her and once on the bench he stood up again and paced about the room in a fret. ‘It’s this,’ he began at last, but haltingly, his back turned, as if what he had to confess were so shameful he couldn’t be viewed while he said it. ‘I was invited to Castle Hutton…’ He paused again. ‘Oh well, I may as well be blunt. I was invited here to discuss an unlicensed crenellation.’

  He went to perch on the edge of the bench. ‘To be honest,’ he blurted, ‘I thought we’d get away with it. But some swine reported us. Now we’ve got the king’s men on our backs. I came to see Lord Roger in order to discuss our strategy. It looks well.’ He brightened. ‘Quite the best crenellation I’ve done. A pattern for many years to come. But will the king’s council see it that way?’ He sat back in a gloom. ‘They’re barbarians to a man, and most have never stepped foot in a viable building in their lives.’

  ‘Westminster men, are they?’

  ‘All right, I give you Westminster.’ He snorted. ‘I’ve seen the plans. But what is all that timber about? Sixty-seven feet of it! With hammer beams! Please! God forfend they ever build it. Our little crenellated manor, on the other hand, is a gem of contemporary design in local York stone. It lies in a sequestered position, perfectly adapted to the vernacular. Yet they object! Just what is their objection based on, exactly?’

  ‘Roger’s death is most inopportune, then?’

  ‘It’ll be the ruination of me if we’re hauled before the powers. Who’s going to trust me again? I’m a dead man.’

  ‘Metaphorically speaking. As compared to Roger.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he replied irritably, but then, realising his gaffe, corrected himself. ‘Don’t imagine I’m not upset about him. He was as uninformed as most people about the art and science of building but he knew his limitations and left me with a free rein. He was a joy to work for. Now what am I to do?’

  ‘Perhaps in the circumstances the king’s men will wait until a new owner is able to discuss matters?’

  Master Sueno perked up at once. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. If there’s nobody for them to talk to they won’t be able to talk. If they can’t talk then the building stands.’

  ‘For the time being.’

  ‘That’s enough for me. We’re so far off the beaten track they’ll probably forget we’re here at all.’

  ‘I’m sure someone could persuade them to forget.’

  He began to beam. ‘Sister, you understand the ways of the world so well. You’ve been most supportive.’ He got up. ‘I shall come down to Meaux with the cortè ge and then make my way to Swyne.

  You may be sure I shall satisfy my obligations to your prioress most generously.’

  ‘She will no doubt receive you with her customary warmth.’

  With a little bow he left.

  ‘Well, well!’ Hildegard exclaimed when Ulf immediately poked his head round the door. ‘Did you hear all that?’

  ‘Obviously.’ He chuckled. ‘Builders! Masons! What a bunch! Gold solves everything!’

  She frowned. ‘Back to business. We haven’t mentioned Ralph in all this. Surely with Edwin out of the way he has the best claim of anybody?’

  ‘Yes, but you’re forgetting one thing. Roger has just made Ralph’s son his heir, so why go to the trouble of poisoning him and suffering an eternity of hellfire?’

  ‘So Ralph and Sibilla will be guardians until their son comes of age?’ Hildegard gave him a look. ‘I think I’ll go and see them.’ She got up.

  ‘They’re all emerging from their cots with hangovers. I’ll talk to you later. Do you know the way to Sibilla’s apartment?’ he asked.

  Biting her lip, Hildegard nodded. ‘I’ll find it.’ And get over my fear of coming face to face with that fiend from the undercroft, she told herself. As she went out she said, ‘Tell your cook to make a syrup with the juice of a red cabbage. Two spoons of that should cure their heads!’

  Hildegard had much to preoccupy her as she made her way out into the now busy yard. Yawning and pale faced, the survivors of the previous night’s revelries were beginning to emerge. The doors of the Great Hall stood open but she ventured only as far as the entrance, where there was a stairway leading to the upper floors. Coming down the stairs was Philippa. Her eyes were red, her cheeks pale, and she was dressed in unbroken black. Grief for her father had clearly brought her low. Hildegard felt a pang of guilt. Did Roger realise how cruel his trick was on those who loved him? She felt an urge to tell her the truth. She waited until she drew level. To her surprise the girl gripped her by the hand as soon as she came close enough. ‘Please, Sister, a word in private.’

  ‘By all means.’ Hildegard followed her into a small antechamber off the stairwell.

  The girl took a deep breath. ‘I’m told the Lombards have already left. Were they not asked to stay for the funeral?’

  ‘I heard they had a meeting at Rievaulx but intend to ride on afterwards to Meaux.’

  ‘Why was I not told they had left?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I understand you were in church and they were forced to leave at once in order to catch the abbot before he went out on a visitation.’

  Philippa dabbed her eyes. ‘This is a legal question, Sister.’

  ‘I’m really not—’

  ‘Oh, I know you’re not a clerk or anything but you have so much more experience than I have and it occurred to me that with my poor father dead there’s no one to hold me to a betrothal. After all, it was his idea, not mine. That’s right, isn’t it?’ She seemed to fight the tears back as she waited for Hildegard to reply.

  The answer was obvious but clearly needed saying. ‘The betrothed might consider holding you to it perhaps?’

  Philippa’s reply was swift and unequivocal. ‘He’ll do as he’s told. He was simply bullied by father into saying yes. He doesn’t give a damn about marriage. He’d rather be off fighting somewhere and picking up a wench as the fancy takes him.’

  ‘So that leaves you free, you believe?’

  ‘I most fervently hope so.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And it’s not fair. Ever since I was twelve Father’s paraded a string of suitors in front of me, but they were all such a miserable bunch I’d have been better off in a nunnery than marrying any of them. Recently, though, he began to insist. The usual raging. “My patience is at an end!” And there was this one fellow he preferred and there seemed no way out but then, quite unexp
ectedly—’ Biting her lip, she broke off. ‘It was dreadful. He would not listen to reason. Oh, I know you all think he’s a good fellow, but he’s not your father! He can be totally unreasonable. And he starts to shout. And that makes me shout. And then we both say things we regret. Things get thrown. And now, after all that, he’s…he’s…’ Her face crumpled and with a wild look she wailed, ‘I don’t know what to do next, sister! I’m at my wits’ end!’

  ‘You were saying: “but then, quite unexpectedly”. Do you mean something happened?’ asked Hildegard in a soothing tone.

  Philippa nodded. ‘It made me change my mind about the idea of marriage. Though not,’ she added fiercely, ‘about the specimen Father lined up for me.’

  ‘Are you suggesting there’s someone you prefer?’

  Philippa was young enough to blush at the thought. ‘He really is special, sister. Not like any of the louts you find round here. He’s a man of real style, well travelled, a scholar, but witty too and a brilliant swordsman and quite the most handsome man I’ve ever set eyes—’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Hildegard broke into this eulogy, ‘it’s usual for a young woman to seek a period of contemplation before embarking on the duties of married life. Especially in the present unfortunate circumstances. I understand,’ she continued artlessly, ‘that the Abbey of Jervaulx is a perfect place for just such a retreat.’

  Philippa was very quick. ‘Jervaulx?’ she countered, blinking away her tears. ‘But what about Fountains or Rievaulx?’

  ‘You mean the abbeys the Lombards are visiting?’

  She was unable to stop herself from blushing.

  Hildegard weighed up several words that would inhibit Philippa’s headlong escape from her father until the exaggeration of his death could be revealed. ‘I feel,’ she said, ‘it might it be considered rather undignified to appear to be in pursuit of a man, no matter how desirable he is.’

  For a moment the girl was thoughtful. She fiddled with a ring on her right hand. It had a little jewelled boss she could open and close. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said at last, snapping the ring shut. ‘Jervaulx, then. It involves a special journey, being quite hidden in the wilds. That will prove something about the intentions of anyone who chooses to visit, I should think.’ Then she smiled. ‘And of course, they’re expected at Meaux, so maybe I won’t need to go on retreat at all!’