by Rosie Lear
Outside in the weak sunshine, they thanked the priest and rejoined Davy.
As they walked back to Lydia’s simple house, Sir Tobias mused aloud.
“So, - Ben Glover lodged in the house of Mistress Fosse. Mistress Fosses’ girl needed to go to the abbey garden following Ben’s death – a place she did not usually frequent, according to Mistress Fosse. Why? Did she go to meet someone? To tell them of Ben’s death, may be? She was killed in much the same way, although only one stab wound. Was there more than one person present? Or two? Did she know them? Or did they come upon her and catch her unaware?”
Davy shuddered. The very thought of walking alone in the isolated abbey garden in the fog…and some known or unknown person stalking up behind Mary and killing her – unshriven, alone and cold – abominated him. Suppose such a thing were to happen to Elizabeth?
“And why was Abbot Bradford so sure it was a town brawl?” Matthias asked.
“Now that’s easy,” Sir Tobias said, wryly, “The abbey and all its occupants have become lazy – and not just Sherborne – many abbeys, convents, monasteries – they’ve become too rich – too secular – they’re more concerned with building wonderful buildings to the glory of God, filling their stomachs with the king’s venison and taking rents and taxes to pay for it all.”
Matthias was surprised by his outspokenness, but he knew it to be true – change had overtaken the monastic life, - and not unfortunately change for the better.
The March light was beginning to fade as they reached Barton Holding.
“I surmise that Ben did not realize that whatever it was he had become involved in, was quite serious. He had no fear of being attacked. He had no idea that whatever information he had might become a killing matter. He was, as you say, Matthias, quite a simple man. Darker secrets would not have occurred to him.”
At the mention of darker secrets a shudder passed through Davy, and he was not surprised to hear Matthias’ words to Sir Tobias.
“The way to Sherborne will soon be dark, Sir Tobias. Would you wish to stay until morning?”
Sir Tobias shook his head.
“If I leave now, ’tis but an hour’s ride. I can be back at The George before full darkness, and I have my scribe lodged there. He will raise the alarm if I linger, - and I am also expecting my squire to return from Oborne. Besides, your wife will not be expecting a stranger to sup.”
“I have no wife,” Matthias told him, shortly. The Coroner raised an eyebrow.
“Through choice, Master Barton?”
“My father, mother and sisters all perished four years ago from the sweating sickness. I travelled to the continent to travel and forget- to plunge myself into an adventure that might help me to follow them. At last I made some sort of peace with God and returned home. I have been home less than a year.”
Sir Tobias made no direct reply. He assimilated this information as if Matthias had merely commented on the weather. Inwardly he felt satisfied as to the cause of the underlying sadness in the younger man’s demeanour.
As Davy brought Sir Tobias’ horse towards him, Matthias turned. He spoke quietly, afraid of embarrassing Davy unduly, but needing to ask Davy when Elizabeth was not within hearing.
“How much did you give Lydia for the coffin, Davy?”
Davy raised troubled eyes to Matthias.
“I gave her nothing, Master Barton. Lydia found some gold coins in Ben’s chest when she looked out his wedding garments. She didn’t know he had them.. She paid for the coffin herself from the purse.”
Sir Tobias was arrested, one foot in the stirrup. His hearing was very sharp, and Matthias hadn’t spoken quietly enough.
“Say that again, Davy?”
“Lydia found gold coins in Ben’s chest. She had no idea they were there.”
Sir Tobias dismounted and faced Matthias and Davy.
“I want you to visit Lydia tomorrow and find out how much – and why did he hide it from her? Ben was being paid handsomely for services or information. I’ll be at the George until I’ve visited the Abbot again.”
As Matthias watched him ride away, he knew he had been right in believing there was reason to investigate further – and he also felt, with a glow of pleasure, that Sir Tobias trusted him to speak with Lydia. It was to mark the beginning of a long association.
Shortly after 8.o’clock the next morning, Davy left Barton Holding to attend Ben’s funeral. He called at the house and accompanied Lydia and her mother on the short walk to church.
Matthias stood at the back of the church, wishing to pay his respects, but understanding that Lydia might feel uncomfortable at his presence.
After the burying, Lydia walked the short distance home, leaning heavily on Davy’s arm. Elizabeth walked behind with Lydia’s mother.
“Where did Ben get the gold?” Davy asked her, in a low voice.
“Davy – I don’t know,” Lydia replied desperately. “I only know I found it in a strange purse – even that wasn’t Ben’s. There’s still some gold left.”
Davy thought for a moment. Master Barton had told him what they needed to know, and warned him to question her carefully.
“Had he bought anything special lately? Any trinket for you over the last few months?
“No, he was very careful with money – we had nothing that was out of the ordinary.”
“Lydia, - is it a large amount of money?”
Lydia was silent. She was afraid……..afraid that Ben might have stolen it – afraid of what she might find out now that he was no longer here to defend himself. It was a large amount of money.
“Lydia, I must know. It may help us find who killed Ben and Mary.”
Lydia stopped stock still and stared at Davy with dread in her eyes.
“Mary,” she faltered, “Who is Mary?”
Davy clapped a hand to his head in despair. He wasn’t quick witted like Master Barton – he’d forgotten that they had not told Lydia about the second death.
“The next day a serving girl was found stabbed in the Abbey garden. She was the serving girl of Mistress Fosse.”
A little colour flooded back into Lydia’s face.
“I thought you meant…….” she was unable to put her thoughts into coherent words.
“You thought we’d lied to you and they were found together? No, Lydia – Ben wouldn’t do that to you – he loved you dearly.”
“So dearly that he was doing something dishonest?” Lydia cried, bitterly.
“Hush,” Davy said, for Elizabeth and Lydia’s mother were following closely and they had nearly reached the door of Lydia’s home.
“Lend me the purse and the remainder of the money,” Davy said. “Sir Tobias may be able to help if he sees the purse – Ben was not dishonest. I think he had stumbled on a way to earn money for you and the little one which somehow went very wrong for him.”
Lydia fetched the purse, wrapped it in a clean cloth and handed it reluctantly to Davy.
“If it wasn’t his to bring home, I don’t want it back,” she said, as Davy and Elizabeth left.
The gold glistened dully on Matthias’ wooden table in the light of the tallow candles. The two men stared at it in bewilderment.
“There’s still a lot of coin here,” Matthias stated with a puzzled frown.
“That’s a great deal of riches for Ben to have had – and there must have been more, for Lydia paid for the coffin with some of it.”
The purse in which it was contained was of soft brown leather, quite unremarkable, except the quality of leather and workmanship was excellent. It certainly was not Ben’s own – it was far too good a quality. Davy’s face was serious in the flickering candle-light.
“Ben must have been involved in something dishonest, and rich men are mixed up in this somewhere.”
He couldn’t connect dishonest dealings with Ben somehow, - he’d always been so open and straightforward, - that is, until a short time ago. Davy remembered the occasion in the abbey when he’d found Ben very d
runk. He’d told no-one about that. Where had Ben obtained the money to buy so much rich wine? And with whom had he been drinking?
“We’ll go to the hostel in the morning and take the purse and its contents to Sir Tobias,” Matthias decided, “and you need to think hard, Davy, of all the things you know – even unimportant things about Ben, that might show us how we can make some progress.”
Davy slept badly that night, dreaming of Ben vomiting up his guts on the green outside the Abbey and when Davy finally managed to get him on his feet, Davy had promised to say nothing about the incident. Now Ben was dead, could he break his promise?
Chapter 6
Sir Tobias had completed his written report of the incident, and after a further visit to Abbot Bradford, announced his intentions of returning to his own home, first dispatching his squire to the Sheriff with the report. He wanted to see Matthias Barton again, and he was concerned by the information brought to him by his squire about Mary’s family in Oborne.
According to William’s story, the parents had been distraught, and were comforted by the three siblings of Mary, and the young priest from Oborne. However, when William had explained more fully the circumstances of Mary’s death, the younger brother had slipped quietly away, and when William asked for details of Mary’s movements, he was not present. At the time he had thought nothing of it, but as he was leaving Oborne, he glanced back at the house, and saw the boy- a lad of about twelve – slip out from a small copse of trees and run back into the house.
“Strange – we need to speak to him again,” Sir Tobias decided.
Impatient to be home, Sir Tobias was ready to mount and leave when Matthias arrived, bearing the purse containing the gold.
“Ride with me, Matthias,” Sir Tobias instructed, “I think we should look at this more closely.”
Matthias was torn between returning to Milborne Port to continue his scholarly preparations, and falling in with Sir Tobias and observing how he would deal with the purse. Did it have a clue to yield up? He hoped so, after seeing Lydia’s distress, and the youthful face of Mary, no more than fourteen years old, hopes crushed in a single stroke.
“I live at Purse Caundle,” Sir Tobias told him, “Dine with us, and then we’ll to business.”
They rode in companiable silence for some distance, skirting the Bishop’s great forest where deer offered plenty of sport – and good poaching, too.
Sir Tobias and his scribe were well seasoned horsemen, both armed for the journey, but no threats issued, and as they neared Purse Caundle, Matthias became anxious as to his part in this business. He was being drawn further in – and he had planned his life in a different direction. His school was due to open very soon, and he must complete the preparations.
Sir Tobias’ family had held land at Purse Caundle for many years. Now much of it was let out to free men to farm as they wished in return for rent.
In his father’s or grandfather’s day he would have owned the men, who would not have been free to move, or even to marry off the manor, and who would have been obliged to give a certain number of working days each week to farm for him.
Change was rapidly taking place now. Since the fifth Henry had died the wars with France were not going so well, many things had changed. Soldiers were beginning to return to the countryside, starving, lordless, penniless, for wars were costly and the young king’s coffers were empty – and in many cases the wandering men would be wounded as well. Fortunately in this part of rural Dorset, marauding groups of desperate soldiers were not a common sight, but talk was that they were now on the increase, particularly since King Henry V1 had only now become old enough to rule without protectors……. rumour had it that he was unready or unwilling to shed his protectors and had no stomach for war.. It was said that he found decision making difficult and preferred to read and pray. Sir Tobias hoped fervently that he would prove to be a strong king, or else this changing country would become lawless and dangerous with high born nobles struggling for power– and it could well spread even to this peaceful part of Dorset.
As they approached the house, a servant observed them coming, and ran to open the stout wooden gates. They rode into a cobbled courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by buildings in a pleasing golden, mellow stone. The sound of hooves on cobbles drew a stout ostler from the far side of the square to attend at once to the animals. Sir Tobias obviously commanded respect in his own home.
“The Lady Bridget is in the garden, Sir Tobias.” He was told, respectfully.
“Come in, come in, Matthias,” invited Sir Tobias.
Sir Tobias ushered Matthias through a side entrance into a cool parlour, and so on into a further long room, furnished with well hung tapestries, and a carpeted area near a great fireplace where a sweet smelling log fire was burning. This room definitely had the touch of a woman, and Matthias felt a sudden emptiness at his loss. His own home, - smaller of course, - was more austere. It lacked the warmth of colour…….the fire burned in the grate and a huge pottery bowl filled with dried lavender from last year’s harvest was sufficiently near the grate to enable it to scent the room pleasantly. A dog barked in warning, and Sir Tobias called at once,
“Down, Muster!”
The dog, Muster, bounded in through the door which led to the garden. Matthias glimpsed it through the window – a glassed window, with little stained glass edging. The Lady Bridget had taste, - and not a little wealth.
She came in now, her dark green cloak edged with coney, worn over a heavier woollen gown. A girdle of light gold chains was round her waist, now thickening with age, and her greying hair showed slightly from under her simple veil. She carried Spring flowers in her hands, bent and muddied from the March winds.
“Well, husband!” she stated, a little breathless from striving to catch Muster, “I expected you last evening! And you, William –“ here she stopped, -“Oh, my apologies, Sir – I thought you were William!”
Sir Tobias smiled.
“My dear, this is Matthias Barton, the son of the late Alexander Barton, of Milborne Port. He was schooled by Thomas Copeland – that admirable man to whom we look in the future for Luke’s education. He has some information to impart to me that may be of help in this Sherborne killing and then I fear I must let him return to his own home.”
Lady Bridget inclined her head, and Matthias bowed, courteously.
“Where is William?” enquired Lady Bridget.
“He has ridden to the sheriff at Dorchester with my report. We expect him tomorrow.”
Lady Bridget left the two men to talk and work in this pleasing room. She was clearly well used to strangers appearing, Matthias thought, for she seemed satisfied with no more detailed explanation of his presence, and shortly afterwards, the steward brought wine and bread and cold meats, and a further log for the fire.
Matthias took the purse out of its cloth and laid it on the table in front of Sir Tobias.
“Lydia found this amongst some clothes of Ben’s,” he told the coroner.
“She’s used some of it to pay for the coffin, - but she has no idea where it came from. She was horrified to think it could have some bearing on Ben’s death.”
He looked at it silently, turned it over and then shook the gold coins out onto the table. He turned the empty purse carefully in his square hands, lips pursed, and breathed out deeply.
“Do you know who owns this?” asked Matthias, as he watched the older man carefully.
Sir Tobias paused before answering.
“No, but When I was in France, several of my men came into possession of purses fashioned from leather as soft and supple as this. I believe the purse itself may come from France. Now this seems to say we are either dealing with a French spy – or we are seeking a soldier who has looted the purse as spoils of war. There is very little to spy out in this part of the country at present, - certainly from the king’s point of view, anyway”.
He turned the purse again, looking at every point of it.
“I thin
k we are looking at something from France – not a looting spoil. The purse looks clean and is fairly new. Quite a common type of purse, but the style of the leather and stitching is not as we have in England. The contents – now, that’s another matter. This is a great deal of money for Ben to have had. What was he doing – or giving – in exchange for it?”
Matthias shook his head. Davy had so far thrown no light on it.
“What connection might there be between Ben and the girl?” he asked. “Surely it is not co-incidence that Ben lodged in the house where she was a servant? And how could she be involved?”
“She knew something,” Sir Tobias surmised, tapping a rhythm on the table, “something which would damage a plot or incriminate another person.”
Matthias frowned, and tried to remember anything Davy might have said, but there was nothing.
“From what William said, there may be something in the family which connects them. The brother did not stay in the house, and was absent for all the time William was there. Go and visit, Matthias. Call at Oborne and look around. Talk to the young priest, - It’s close to Milborne Port. Use some pretext – go and look for pupils, or wood for your fire, or a servant for your house. I think I shall return to the Abbey. There may be more to learn there.”
Matthew fastened his riding cloak and rose to go. Sir Tobias called through a doorway to the ostler for Matthias’ horse.
“When will you be in Sherborne again, Sir Tobias, if I need to contact you?”
“I must speak with the good Abbot again, and possibly his brothers – but I have other work to do as well. You are most welcome to ride over here again if you have anything of importance to add.”
A child of some four years was playing on the grass outside the window where the Lady Bridget had been picking flowers, watched by a young woman of maybe twenty years. Her hooded cloak was pulled up to protect her head from the cold wind, but she turned to wave to Sir Tobias, and Matthias could see without doubt that this was his daughter, and the little boy was the grandson of whom he had spoken.