The Crooked Spire

by Chris Nickson

‘You’ve always lived in towns and cities?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s where the work is.’

  ‘You’ll find it lonely out there, John.’

  ‘I’ll be so busy that I won’t notice. There are repairs, things to learn, new tenants to find.’ He shrugged and winked. ‘Besides, I’ll be here every Saturday for the market. You won’t be rid of me so easily.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that,’ she told him with a weak smile. ‘I should let you work. The girls will wonder where I am.’

  • • •

  The jobs in the cookhouse took all day. He wished Walter had been there to help, with his eagerness and desire to please and his patience that never seemed to end. Finally he finished, less than happy with a few things, but knowing he’d done some good.

  He was in the hall, ready to take his leave, with the satchel hoisted on his shoulder, when Walter came home. He was frowning, his head down. John hadn’t seen him since the funeral, and he seemed weighed down, bothered by something.

  ‘Hello, lad. It’s good to see you.’ The boy smiled vaguely at the words, but they didn’t seem to touch him. John looked questioningly at Katherine, who shook her head. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Walk with me, you can tell me what you’ve been doing.’ He put his arm around the lad’s shoulders and ushered him out of the door. ‘Something’s troubling you.’

  ‘Yes, John,’ Walter said in surprise. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Is it about your mother?’ The boy shook his head. ‘What is it, then?’

  ‘I was thinking about what you said.’

  ‘Me?’ he asked. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘About how you needed proof against Hugo. I didn’t like Hugo.’

  ‘Neither did I, but proof won’t be easy to find.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been looking and asking. I thought it would help you.’

  ‘Just be careful,’ he warned. ‘If people know you’re doing that, it could be dangerous.’

  ‘I am, John,’ Walter insisted. ‘I’ve been at the churchyard. I listen a lot when people are talking. They don’t notice me.’

  ‘Still, watch yourself.’

  ‘I will,’ the boy promised. ‘They said there’s more wood coming tomorrow.’ That made sense, he thought. They’d seen the trees when they went out to the manor. This would be the last load of the year, most likely, ready to be cut and stored until spring. ‘I know the carter. He’s called Phillip. He always talks to me when he sees me. I can ask him if you like. Do you think he’d know anything, John?’

  ‘He might.’ That was possible, although he doubted a carter could help much; his only job would be to transport the timber. ‘You just make sure there’s no one else around when you speak to him.’

  ‘I will, John.’

  ‘Do you want me to go with you?’

  The lad shook his head adamantly. ‘He knows me. I want to do this by myself.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Be careful, and tell me what you learn.’

  ‘I will,’ Walter answered, smiling fully for the first time.

  ‘God be with you.’

  John watched as the lad loped away, feeling ashamed. The boy had just lost his mother, but he was doing something. Meanwhile, he’d contented himself with working on a house, putting the other problem aside quite prettily as if it no longer mattered. With a heavy heart he completed the short journey back to Knifesmithgate.

  • • •

  All the next day he stirred whenever there was a sound, setting his tools aside to listen in case Walter had returned. He’d explained to Katherine what the boy was doing, trying to calm her fears.

  ‘The odds are that the carter won’t be able to help,’ he assured her. ‘I told him to be careful and take the man aside to talk to him.’

  But he could see the worry creasing her face, and twice he heard her start to shout at the girls, stopping herself short after a word or two. It was late in the afternoon when the lad appeared, his face beaming like a summer sun, all the cares vanished from his face. Katherine held him close for a moment, before she stepped back.

  ‘You look happy,’ John said. ‘Did you see him?’ The boy nodded. ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘He doesn’t like Hugo, either. He says it’s always difficult to make him pay.’

  John laughed. ‘Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. I can see him keeping his purse closed.’ He was eager to hear more, but he could wait and let Walter tell it all in his own time.

  ‘Phillip says he knows about Hugo selling the wood, John.’

  Suddenly he was alert. ‘What does he know?’

  ‘He said …’ The boy pursed his lips, trying to remember. ‘He said he heard Hugo talking to the master carpenter. Not the new one, the one who died. Is that right?’

  ‘Will. Yes.’

  ‘He said if he didn’t accept the wood, he could expect trouble. But the master carpenter said it wasn’t good enough.’

  ‘What else did he hear?’

  ‘He says that Hugo and the new master carpenter are friends. He’s seen them together at the manor.’

  ‘You’ve done very well,’ John praised him. ‘Very well indeed.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Do you think Phillip would testify against Hugo?’

  ‘I didn’t ask him,’ His face fell. ‘Did you want me to?’

  ‘No, you’ve done more than enough.’

  ‘He’s going to be back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I can ask him then, if you want.’

  ‘You just be careful,’ Katherine warned him, ‘I don’t want anything happening to you.’

  ‘None of us do,’ John agreed. ‘Would you like me to come with you tomorrow?’

  ‘Don’t your trust me, John?’ Walter’s voice was hurt.

  ‘I trust you with my life,’ he answered honestly.

  ‘Let him, Walter,’ Katherine said. ‘He knows what to ask, that’s all. John’s right. No one could have done better than you; he just wants to help you, that’s all.’ The lad’s eyes were wide, his face glowing.

  ‘Do you want to help me, John?’

  ‘I’d be proud to, but I don’t think I’m welcome at the churchyard anymore.’

  ‘We could see Phillip on the road,’ the boy suggested brightly.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed with a nod. ‘That’s a good idea.’

  ‘He said he’d be in early tomorrow.’

  ‘Then we’d better be ready for him.’ He lifted the satchel higher on his shoulder. ‘I’ll call for you a little after dawn.’

  • • •

  ‘You’ve got a sly smile on your face,’ Martha told him, an edge of curiosity in her voice. ‘Something good with Katherine?’

  ‘Maybe something good about Hugo.’

  ‘Oh?’ She sat back on the bench, her blue eyes bright and expectant.

  He explained what little he knew, realising how fragmentary it seemed in the telling. ‘We’re going to talk to the carter tomorrow.’

  ‘You underestimated Walter, didn’t you?’

  ‘Aye,’ he admitted a nod. ‘I did. There’s plenty to him.’

  ‘There is to most people if you look, John,’ she chided him lightly.

  ‘I never thought to ask him to help,’ he said.

  ‘But he did it anyway.’ She looked at him. ‘That lad thinks the world of you.’

  He sighed, shaking his head in bemusement. ‘I don’t know why.’

  ‘I do,’ Martha said. ‘His father …’ She sorted the words in her mind, picturing the man who was long since buried. ‘He was as good a soul as you’d care to meet. Worked hard at his trade, looked after his family. He put money aside, that’s the only reason they still have that house. But he died too young. Walter would only have been four or five. His mother tried to make up for it, but then she had the palsy and she was never the same, God rest her soul. He needs someone and he found you.’ She cocked her head. ‘Like it or not, what with Katherine and Walter, you’re part of that family now.’

  ‘I don’t
want him risking anything for me.’

  ‘It seems to me he’s decided that for himself. Pleasing you is important to him. And he’s done a good job of it.’

  ‘Aye, he has that. I told him so, too.’

  ‘That’s all he needs, John. That’s everything.’

  • • •

  The dew was heavy on the grass as they stood by the mile marker outside Chesterfield on the Bolsover road. He had his hood pulled up over his head, watching his breath steam in the air, his good hand tucked under his sling to keep it warm. He’d need new hose before winter, thicker and better woven, something to keep out the cold. Time passed slowly with nothing to fill his mind. Walter barely seemed to feel the chill, moving from foot to foot, running to the crest of the hill to see if he could spot the carter in the distance.

  Finally he returned, smiling wide. ‘He’s coming, John. I can see him.’

  Even then it took a good half hour for the cart to reach them, drawn by a bullock that paced with aching slowness along the road. The tree trunk had been cut in half but even so it hung far behind the wagon, lashed down with heavy ropes to hold it in place.

  ‘Hello, Phillip,’ Walter said brightly.

  The carter nodded at the lad. He was a small man with thick arms, moving the reins to keep the animal moving steadily. His gaze flickered suspiciously around. ‘Who’s he?’

  ‘This is John,’ the boy explained. ‘I told you about him yesterday.’

  ‘God’s blessing on you,’ John said.

  ‘Aye, and on you,’ the man replied. ‘You’re a friend of Walter’s?’

  ‘He is,’ the lad said.

  ‘You want Hugo, Walter said.’

  ‘If there’s evidence against him.’

  ‘I hate that bastard,’ Phillip said flatly.

  ‘What’s he done to you?’ John asked.

  The carter snorted. ‘He’ll pay you when he’s good and ready, and never the amount he first promised. He doesn’t care if your family’s near starving for want of a few coins.’

  ‘Why do you work for him, then?’

  ‘Because even something’s better than nothing out here,’ he answered plainly. ‘I’d rather the promise of a penny than nothing when there are hungry mouths at home.

  ‘If you hate him that much you could see him gone,’ John suggested.

  The carter considered that as the animal plodded on. ‘I can tell you what I know,’ he said finally. ‘You can make of it what you will.’ He glanced at John.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘I saw him up by the church a few weeks back, arguing with the one in charge there, the master carpenter. The old one.’

  ‘Will.’

  ‘That’s him,’ Phillip said. ‘I’d brought a load of wood, like this, and he said he wouldn’t accept it. Said the old stuff had been good but this was useless for building. Hugo was there and told him it had been paid for, but your Will was saying they’d paid for seasoned wood.’ He glanced over questioningly and John nodded. ‘Hugo said if he didn’t take it he would make sure there was trouble and mentioned Henry de Harville’s name – that made your friend stop. A few days later he was dead and there was that new man in charge, that Joseph. There was no problem with the wood after that.’

  ‘You told Walter you’d seen Joseph at the manor?’

  ‘Right enough,’ Phillip nodded. ‘Twice?’ He stopped and corrected himself. ‘Nay, three times now. Laughing together so you’d think they were the best of friends.’

  ‘What were they saying?’ John asked.

  ‘I wasn’t close enough to make anything out. But,’ he added with a dark grin, ‘I did hear one of the other men say we wouldn’t have a problem anymore.’

  Was it enough, he wondered? Probably; it was certainly damning. Then another thought came to him. ‘Do you know anything about a man named Geoffrey? He was murdered on the manor, up in the woods where they were felling the oak.’

  ‘Everyone was talking about that.’ Phillip cleared his throat and spat. ‘First time I can ever recall someone being killed out there. But that’s all. Mind you, Hugo was out the evening before. I saw him walking on the road when I was going back to Bolsover. Thought that fine horse might have thrown him.’

  John remembered when he and Walter had gone to see where Geoffrey had been killed. The woodcutters had said the steward had been out in the woods. ‘Would you testify to what you’ve told me?’ he asked the carter.

  The man was silent for a long time, flicking his whip over the bullock as the cart strained along under the weight of the timber. ‘What’ll happen to the steward?’

  ‘From what you’ve told me, he’ll likely be sent to Derby to stand trial for murder. Come down and talk to the coroner after you’ve delivered this.’ He patted the oak, feeling the age of the wood, the way it could be used in time, made into something beautiful and lasting.

  ‘Not today,’ Phillip said adamantly. ‘I’ve got to go to Wirksworth and back yet. That’s money. Your coroner’s just going to have to wait.’

  ‘When?’ He wanted to shout the word, but he held his voice down, making it into a gentle question.

  ‘Sunday,’ Phillip replied. ‘We come in here for the service. I always stay after to say a prayer for my mother, after everyone’s gone.’ He spoke the sentence quickly, as if it was embarrassing to reveal so much. ‘I’ll meet you in the porch after that and I’ll tell your coroner everything I’ve told you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ John told him.

  ‘You’d better not be lying to me,’ Phillip warned. He turned to Walter. ‘Can I trust his word?’

  ‘John wouldn’t lie,’ the boy said, his jaw set firm. ‘Would you, John?’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth,’ he told the carter, seeing the man nod his acceptance.

  ‘I’ll be there on Sunday, then. You just make sure your coroner arrests Hugo.’ He looked ahead. ‘Soon be at the church now.’

  The tower was tall on the horizon, standing at the top of the hill, the first few boards of the spire visible.

  ‘We’ll go,’ John said. ‘It’s probably best if you’re not seen talking to us. God be with you, Phillip.’ And keep you safe, he thought.

  They stood, watching the cart slowly rumble up the road, going no faster than a man’s slow amble.

  ‘I need to see the coroner,’ John said and turned to the boy. ‘You’ve performed a wonder finding Phillip. Thank you.’

  Walter smiled broadly. ‘All I wanted to do was help.’

  ‘You’ve done that, right enough. Maybe more than you’ll ever know. I’ll make sure the coroner knows that, too.’

  • • •

  De Harville was out in the stable, watching the groom prepare the roan. He was wearing a short green riding cloak trimmed with fur, a cote of the deepest burgundy and black hose, his boots polished to a high shine.

  ‘You’d better be quick, carpenter. I’m going hunting. No, not that like,’ he rebuked the groom. ‘Tighten the girth properly. I don’t want to slip off the damn horse.’

  ‘You wanted evidence against the steward,’ John said and watched the coroner turned sharply.

  ‘What have you found?’

  He explained what Phillip was willing to say. De Harville stroked his cheeks thoughtfully. ‘Take the animal out in the yard and wait with him,’ he ordered the groom, ‘I have business here.’ He waited until the door had closed, just a half-light coming through the high windows. ‘He’ll swear to this?’

  ‘In the church.’ He hesitated. ‘Is that enough for you?’

  The coroner gave a wolfish grin. ‘More than enough. You’ve done well, carpenter.’

  ‘Not me,’ he corrected. ‘Walter.’

  ‘The boy again?’ He eyed the lad. ‘I’ll have to look into employing you.’ Walter reddened as he smiled. ‘As soon as I have the testimony I’ll issue the warrant for Hugo.’

  ‘He might not come easily.’

  ‘That’s what the bailiffs are for,’ de Harville said dismissively. ‘You�
��ve seen them, they’re big men.’ He started to walk away, turning at the door. ‘By the way, what’s your Dame Martha done to Brother Robert?’

  ‘Done?’ He didn’t understand the question.

  The coroner laughed. ‘The monk’s happier than I’ve seen him in years. Has she bewitched him?’

  John smiled. ‘I think she’s just been reminding him of a time when they were young together.’

  De Havrille shrugged. ‘Whatever it is, it’s made him happy. I’ll see you at the church on Sunday. God keep your carter until then.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Martha clung tight to his arm as they walked along the flagstone path to the church. There was a chill in the air, a deep breath of autumn on the wind. The leaves were already beginning to change their colours, going from green to gold, some already taking on a deep red lustre. He glanced across, seeing the neat piles of earth marking the graves of Will, Mark, Geoffrey, Katherine’s mother – all the people who’d died since he arrived in Chesterfield.

  ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ Martha asked, her face anxious as she looked at him. ‘Going against that Hugo could be dangerous.’

  He had thought about little else. The nights had passed with desperate slowness, sleep no friend to him. It was a time for dark imaginings, of the worst that might happen, when all manner of thoughts flew through his mind.

  He prayed that Phillip would be there, that he hadn’t changed his mind. In the nave he escorted Martha over to the other women. She squeezed his hand lightly.

  ‘I’ll see you when you come home. God grant you what you need, John.’

  He looked around as he moved to join Katherine and Walter, both of them smiling and moving apart so he could stand between them. Finally he saw the carter with three women, one his age, the others his daughters, both with the look of their father in their faces. The man looked straight ahead, eyes on the altar, his lips moving in prayer.

  ‘Can I be with you after?’ Walter asked.

  ‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘This wouldn’t be happening without you.’ He turned to Katherine and bowed slightly. ‘Good morning, Mistress. You’re well?’

  ‘I’ll be better when this is all done.’ She kept the smile on her mouth but he could see the worry in her eyes.