by C. B. Hanley
‘Well?’ Martin had once told Edwin that the shorter their lord’s sentences, the worse his mood was likely to be, so that wasn’t a good start.
Edwin looked dumbly at Sir Geoffrey, who started for him. ‘As Adam has no doubt told you, my lord, your marshal, Hamo, is dead. I was hoping it might be natural, but Edwin here thinks he was murdered.’
The earl whipped round so fast that Edwin had no time to say anything before those slate-grey eyes were boring into him. ‘Is this true?’
Edwin wanted with all his heart to say that it had all been a mistake, Hamo had just choked and he was sorry, but there was nothing they could do about it, but he simply couldn’t lie to that face. Dear Lord, what would be his punishment for the sin of telling such a huge untruth to his lord and master? Not only in this life, but in the next?
‘Well? Speak, man!’
Edwin couldn’t stop his voice from quavering. ‘W-well, partly, my lord.’ The earl’s brows drew closer together and Edwin rushed to finish the rest of it. ‘W-what I mean to say, my lord, is that he might not have been murdered, but I do think he was poisoned.’ He was gabbling. Why did he feel this need to be so exact? Why couldn’t he just say yes or no? But –
‘Murdered, poisoned, what’s the difference?’ The earl began pacing across the chamber. Edwin noticed that both Martin and Adam were trying to make themselves unobtrusive, and he wished he could do the same. The earl let fly some colourful oaths, and Adam took a step back. ‘I don’t need this! Not today, not now!’
Sir Geoffrey was probably the bravest person Edwin knew, and he proved it now. He stepped forward and interrupted the earl’s rant. ‘But my lord, your duty – ’
‘Don’t lecture me on my duty, damn it!’ The earl’s voice rose in pitch and a candle was knocked flying off the table. Thank the Lord it wasn’t lit. Such was the intensity in the earl’s face that Edwin honestly thought he might strike the knight; Sir Geoffrey didn’t flinch, meeting his lord eye for eye. The earl stopped and locked his gaze on to the older man. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. ‘God’s blood, Geoffrey, did you do this to my father as well? All right, I know my duty.’ He turned again to Edwin. Fortunately Edwin was expecting it this time and he managed not to flinch. ‘This is inconvenient, to say the least, and I’ll be a laughing stock if it spoils the wedding and word of it gets out, but I will not tolerate such a crime on my lands, in my home. You will find out who has done this, and by God we’ll have him hanging at the crossroads before the week is out.’
Edwin gulped. ‘Yes, my lord.’
The earl looked him up and down. ‘You look like a cornered deer, man. Pull yourself together.’ He poked Edwin hard in the chest with one finger. ‘You’ve proved yourself before; you can do it again. Sir Geoffrey will give you any authority you need. You’re acting in my name and none will stop you. Now go.’ He jerked his head towards the door.
Edwin stumbled out of the room, then stopped to wait for Sir Geoffrey, who was following more sedately with his own instructions ringing out behind him. ‘Make sure my household still runs, or my sisters will never let me forget the shame.’
As the door closed behind them, Edwin’s knees sagged with relief. But there was no time to rest: Sir Geoffrey was already starting down the stairs. ‘Come, Edwin, we have much to do.’
Edwin hurried to keep up and slipped, grabbing at the wall to steady himself before scurrying after the old knight, who was continuing. ‘If you don’t need to look at him again, I’ll send some men to take him down to the church, and I’ll have Father Ignatius say a Mass for his soul.’ Edwin realised that he’d been so caught up in his own affairs that he hadn’t even thought to pray for the dead man, and he asked forgiveness for that even as he implored the Lord to take Hamo into His kingdom, even though he presumably couldn’t have been shriven of his sins before his death.
By the time he’d finished his prayer they were outside the keep. Sir Geoffrey was about to stride off when Edwin stopped him. ‘But who will run the household, as my lord wanted? Shall I go down to the village and have William fetched, even though he can’t walk? At least he knows what he’s doing.’
The knight stopped dead. ‘No.’
Edwin looked at him, not understanding the expression on his face. Sir Geoffrey sighed, his face looking even more lined than usual. ‘Work it out,’ he said and strode off.
Edwin thought through the implications, and felt cold.
Joanna awoke, savouring the few quiet moments in the cool of the morning before she had to rise from her bed and start the day. She prayed, as she always did, for the soul of her brother, whom she remembered with pain, and those of her parents, whom she could hardly remember at all. She added a brief request that her own life might be happy, and then she turned to more practical matters. She threw off her blanket, rose, dressed, tucked the truckle bed neatly away without waking her mistress, and then began to lay out the clothing and toiletries which Lady Isabelle would need. Today was Sunday, so she would want something becoming to wear to Mass. Yes, the russet-coloured linen gown over the light summer shift; no need for wool or for fur-lined sleeves in this weather, and the wimple with the decorative lace around the edge.
As she laid out the garments, the hair-comb, the polished mirror and some scent, she enjoyed the silence and hoped that the day would be a pleasant one. Last night there had been some family friction as everyone gathered together after the evening meal: the Lady Ela had complained that one of the dishes had tasted foul, and she had snipped at her husband when he tried to shush her. Then the Lord Henry had made some comment about his nephew Roger being old enough to be sent away as a page, as he was intending to do with his own son Pierre later in the year, and that had started another argument; even the lovely Lady Maud had been shouted at when she tried to intervene to calm everyone down. Still, that was families for you – the first few hours of being in one another’s company was fine, as everyone caught up on news, but after that the civilities became thinner as everyone remembered that they didn’t really like each other that much, and the enforced proximity became grating. Joanna wondered if married life was always like that. Of course, most people didn’t know each other well or even at all before they married, but there must be some who managed to find a degree of contentment. And there were sometimes a lucky few who had the fortune to be able to marry where their hearts led …
Isabelle was awake. Joanna realised that she’d been pushing the same bottle of rosewater around the table for some time, so she left it and went to help her mistress.
Once Isabelle was dressed she wanted something to break her fast; no formal meal was served early in the morning, but the kitchen was normally able to provide the earl’s sister with something sweet and light. Joanna opened the door of the chamber and called out for a servant, but the hallway and stairwell were strangely empty. She ventured further, to the outside door, but the inner ward of the castle also seemed devoid of people. How odd. But Isabelle wouldn’t want to be kept waiting, so Joanna called back that she would be but a short while, and set out across the yard towards the kitchen.
As she passed the entrance to the great hall she became aware of a crowd inside. As she stopped to look she spotted Adam leaving the building, and beckoned him over. As he came closer she could see that he looked greensick.
‘Are you all right?’
He swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes, mistress.’
She smiled. ‘I’ve told you before, now that we’re in the same household you can call me Joanna. Do you know what’s going on in there?’
Adam looked even more sick. ‘It’s not good news, Mist – I mean, Joanna.’
It’s not good news. He couldn’t have known that those were the exact words which had been spoken to her on the day she had been informed of her brother’s death; an icy hand stole around her heart and began to squeeze. She opened her mouth to question further, but no words could come out. It was then that the crowd spilled out of the door and parted, and four men stepped out carryin
g a shrouded figure on a stretcher. Dear Lord … but no, it couldn’t be him, the body wasn’t big enough. Surely it wasn’t him.
She managed to speak. ‘Who …?’
‘It’s Hamo, the marshal.’
Joanna’s knees started to buckle, but she caught herself and realised it was unworthy to feel such relief when a man was dead. She tried to gather her wits.
‘How did it happen? Did he fall? Or have a seizure?’
Adam shook his head. ‘It was something he’d eaten. We all wondered if it was just mischance, but Edwin thinks he was poisoned.’
Dear Lord. Another murder. Had the Lord not visited enough strife and worry on them in the last few weeks? But at least this time Martin would be well out of it – there could be no reason for him to become involved in any danger. She hurried to the kitchen to fetch some wafers, sure that the Lady Isabelle would want to hear the news, but sure also that her mistress wouldn’t let it spoil her breakfast.
Up in the earl’s chamber, Martin was trying his best powers of persuasion.
‘Please, my lord.’
The earl gave him a smile which Martin recognised as tolerant but edging towards impatient. ‘No, Martin. There’s simply no need for you to get involved in something which will no doubt turn out to be a household matter.’
‘But my lord – ’
‘I said no. No doubt this will turn out to be something very mundane – Hamo has obviously upset someone and they’ve decided to take revenge, albeit in a cowardly, underhand way. I’m angry that this should have happened under my roof, but I won’t let it get in the way of more important matters.’
‘But – ’
‘Enough!’ The smile had disappeared completely. Martin wasn’t stupid.
‘Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord.’
The earl sighed. ‘Good. Now, let’s hear no more about it. I can’t and won’t release you from your duties while there’s so much to do.’ He took a few paces and became more cheerful again. ‘Besides, that Weaver’s a clever young fellow and he’ll no doubt sort it all out without needing armed help.’
Martin had to agree with that. Why would Edwin need help from someone as unintelligent as him? It wasn’t as though brute force would be necessary. He was better off sticking to what he was best at.
The earl had moved on. ‘Now, go and fetch my new clerk for me. He and I have much to catch up on, and I have matters of importance to attend to.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ Martin left the room.
Edwin knelt on the floor of the church and prayed. He was surrounded by the other villagers, some also praying, some staring into space, and some ignoring the priest altogether and chatting among themselves. As it wasn’t a feast day there was no requirement to participate in the Mass or partake of Holy Communion, only to listen; however, as most of the villagers understood no Latin, and Father Ignatius was in any case gabbling even more than usual, there wasn’t exactly an air of peace or spirituality about the place. Edwin did understand the words being spoken, but he was praying for guidance more than anything else, some help with the task which had been laid upon him. But he couldn’t concentrate with Godleva kneeling so close, almost leaning in to him, so he gave up and went back to worrying. As he’d walked from the castle back down to the village, he’d realised that he didn’t have the slightest clue how to go about finding out who had killed Hamo, and in his heart of hearts he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, for it would almost certainly be someone he knew.
Edwin escaped from Godleva as soon as Mass was finished, wishing he could get away from everything else as well. But he needed to get started. He tried to speak with Father Ignatius, who might know something more about Hamo or where he came from, but the priest barely had time to mention that he had to go up to the castle to say a private Mass in the chapel for the earl and his family before he was puffing his way up the hill with Edwin watching him go.
‘Edwin. Are you all right? I wondered what had happened to you when you left so suddenly this morning.’
Edwin turned and smiled at his mother, who was arm-in-arm with her sister. ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t good – there’s been a death up at the castle.’ He outlined some bare facts, unsure of how much to say, but certain that news of Hamo’s death would have reached the village by now anyway. In fact four men were approaching the church now, carrying a covered form. The villagers stepped back to allow them to pass, the men removing their hats as the body was carried into the church and laid down.
Cecily crossed herself. ‘You must come, Edwin, and tell William the news. He was in a foul temper when he returned yesterday, swearing terribly at the men who carried him in, and I couldn’t get out of him what had happened. If Hamo is dead, he’ll want to hear it from you, not from village gossip and jangling.’
Edwin felt trapped. He’d known that he would have to go and talk to William sometime soon, but he had been hoping to spend a bit more time in thought first, to consider how best to approach the conversation. He needed a delaying tactic.
‘I’ll come directly, aunt, but first I hope you’ll allow me to pray at my father’s grave for a few moments.’
‘Oh – yes, of course.’
Edwin’s mother smiled at him wanly. ‘I’d come with you, Edwin, but I have a feeling you’ll want to speak to your father in peace. I’ll go with Cecily now and you can come along when you’re ready.’ She squeezed his arm and started to shepherd her sister away.
Grateful for her tact, Edwin bent to kiss her cheek and then turned to walk through the churchyard until he found the place where his father was buried. In the weeks since his death some grass had started to inch back over the grave, but it was still mostly bare soil, a livid scar which would one day fade back into the earth, as the memories of the dead man would fade. Edwin started to kneel, but then just lowered himself to sit heavily on the ground, looking at the simple wooden cross which marked where his father’s head lay.
‘What shall I do, Father?’ Edwin realised that he’d spoken out loud and that the one or two other people in the graveyard were looking at him strangely. He nodded at them before bending his head and crossing himself, hoping they’d go away and leave him to himself. The last thing he needed would be to find himself accused of heresy and communing with spirits. He clasped his hands together and kept his thoughts inside his head. He still couldn’t quite believe that the rock of his life, the fount of knowledge and comfort, was no more, and he often still spoke to him as though he expected a reply. But his father had gone to his everlasting rest and would never answer him. Still, Edwin knew that he had been shriven just before his death, so that his path through purgatory would be short. No doubt he was or would soon be in heaven, looking down upon those he loved. Edwin sat in peace, remembering, until he felt he had gathered the strength that he needed in order to obey the earl’s orders and find the culprit.
On the way out of the churchyard he passed the boy Peter coming in, and he recalled that Peter’s entire family was buried there. Aware that the little lad had lost even more than he had, he stopped to greet him and ask how he was. Peter flinched and looked initially as though he would run, and Edwin remembered guiltily the way the boy had once been treated by the villagers after he was orphaned and forced to beg and steal his food. But Peter puffed out his chest and spoke in a voice which only shook a little, saying he was happy serving his new lord, even as he looked past at the graveyard. Edwin patted him on the head, seeing the tears welling up in his eyes, and left him to cry in peace.
He sighed as he crossed the village green towards William’s house. How should he approach this? ‘Hello William, did you murder Hamo after you threatened him yesterday?’ wasn’t exactly going to go down well, was it? It took only a few moments to reach his destination, but he almost balked when he reached the door. Was there anything more important he should be doing …? Could he possibly …? But William would be expecting him, and anyway, Cecily had seen him and was already beckoning him in.
He was surprise
d to find William in the cottage’s main room. He was propped awkwardly on a stool, his back against the wall and one elbow on the table, his legs stretched out in front of him.
‘Ha! Didn’t expect to see me out of bed, I’ll wager, but I’d had enough of lying there like a cripple.’ He pointed to a pair of roughly hewn crutches which lay on the floor beside him. ‘I won’t be running races any time soon, but at least I can stand upright as a man should and get myself in here to eat.’
His face was belligerent, and Edwin didn’t know where to start.
William picked up one of the crutches and used it to shove another stool towards Edwin. ‘But anyway, sit. Tell me of this death. Someone finally had enough of the little weasel, did they, and stove his head in?’
Edwin looked at him sharply before lowering himself on to the seat. He explained that he thought Hamo had been poisoned, watching his uncle’s face carefully all the while. But he just wasn’t very good at reading people’s thoughts and emotions, and he couldn’t tell whether William was surprised or whether he was simply a good dissembler. But honestly, how could he think that William would be guilty of murder? How could he suspect someone so close to him? It was disloyal just to be considering the possibility. But then again …
He had missed some of what William was saying.
‘Sorry?’
William sighed. ‘Can you not hear me? I said, never mind about Hamo, who’s serving my lord? Someone is going to have to make sure that things keep running up there. I had best …’ he started to reach for his crutches, as though he would haul himself up and drag himself to the castle straight away.
It was time to release the arrow. ‘You can’t.’
William stopped. ‘Why not?’
‘Because Sir Geoffrey says not.’ Edwin looked at the floor.
William was balanced precariously, one crutch under his arm. ‘Why in the Lord’s name would he say not?’