Wolf Wood (Part One): The Gathering Storm

by Mike Dixon

  'But Roger Knowles surely doesn't doubt that William is his nephew.'

  'He doesn't care. He has no interest in the boy. The marriage was to strengthen a partnership. My father and Roger's father were once good friends. Later, they fell out. As far as Roger is concerned, William is Judith's bastard and he wants her dowry back.'

  'What are these stringencies you talked about?'

  'My parents wanted to be sure that the heir would be a true Gascoigne and not the offspring of some casual acquaintance of my wife. So they specified that if she behaved in any way that cast doubt on the legitimacy of her child then the child would be denied the right to inherit. The Knowles inserted a clause to say that if Judith died without legitimate issue then her dowry would be returned to them.'

  'That does make it rather difficult,' Elizabeth agreed.

  'It makes it extremely difficult,' Harald's voice hardened. 'That is why it is so important to discredit the testimony of any witness Roger Knowles might bring before the court.'

  A movement outside caused Alice to leave the table. She walked quietly to the door and threw it open. An old woman stood there.

  'What are you doing, Sarah?'

  'I didn't mean no harm.'

  'That's not what I asked.'

  'I've come for the salt.'

  'Then why didn't you knock?'

  'I only just got here.'

  Alice went to an alcove. John watched her spoon salt into a small pot and hand it to the woman who left hurriedly. He waited for Alice to return to the table.

  'Do you think she was listening?'

  'I don't know,' Alice shook her head. 'I've suspected Sarah for some time. She works in the kitchen. I've caught her talking to the butcher when he delivers the meat. He's giving her money and I don't think it's for amorous favours.'

  'When you say butcher, do you mean Walter Gallor?'

  'Yes, the big man. The one who walks around the streets in a bailiffs uniform. Ralf has seen him go up to the abbot's chambers as if he reports to him. Not even the vicar does that. Ralf thinks he's spying on people.'

  Alice stared at the table for a few moments before continuing.

  'I think he's spying on me. Ralf says there's a lot of tension in the monastery. Bradford has been slow to hand out the benefices that became vacant on Abbot Brunyng's death. It's his way of securing the monks' loyalty and they are competing with one another to please him. One way is to repeat the things he likes to hear. They're talking a lot about the almshouse … calling it a Trojan horse. And there's talk about me. Some of the monks say I'm a witch.'

  She went to a box and returned with some books.

  'These might harm our cause if they were discovered. They are very precious to me. With their guidance and the blessing of the Holy Mother I have saved lives and healed the sick.'

  Tears appeared in her eyes.

  'Pray, take care of them.'

  She placed the books in front of Harald.

  'They are a repository of ancient knowledge and it would be a sin to destroy them. One day the church will recognise their true merit.'

  Harald thumbed through the musty volumes with a sense of foreboding. Some were covered in signs of the zodiac and symbols from the Jewish and Islamic religions. Others were written in a language he recognised as belonging to the heretical Cathars who had been put down with much slaughter two centuries earlier. He racked his brain for a place to hide them.

  Chapter 15

  Bishop's Peace

  Richard Vowell squeezed wine into the ladies' cups then turned his attention to the pewter mugs preferred by the men. A scented candle burnt in the middle of the table. By rights it should have been on the altar in All Hallows but such niceties did not fuss Richard. This was a time for celebration. He discharged the last of the wineskin into his own mug and raised it in a toast.

  'To Jonnie Baret!'

  The company drank John's health then toasted Richard Rochell and the other trustees of the almshouse.

  'They sort of got it right,' John Tucker said.

  'They did bloody marvellously.' Thomas Draper put down his mug. 'They made Bradford look a right monkey. He called for the inquiry and landed himself in the shit.'

  They were in Thomas' house. Since being named as dissidents, they were no longer welcome in the Julian and other hostelries. For the moment, they preferred to meet in private. Richard had a copy of the ordinance that the vicar had received from the sacrist. He pointed to where Bishop Neville listed his demands.

  'The bish has told Billy Bradford to put up a screen to separate us from him and his boys. That will enable us to regain possession of the nave, which is what we've been trying to do for years.'

  He ran his finger to another clause.

  'Billy is similarly instructed to widen the doorway that was so despicably narrowed and return the font to where time-honoured tradition decreed it should be. He must also allow us to conduct the baptisms like we always have. That means we can march up and down and make as much noise as we like.'

  'What about the new font?' one of the women asked.

  'He's told us to get rid of it but we'll not do a sodding thing until Billy has done what's required of him.'

  'But what about excommunication? We could get ourselves excommunicated if we don't do as we is told.'

  'Love.' Richard patted her hand. 'It's not going to happen. We'll tell Robert Neville that we won't get rid of the new font until Billy puts the old one back. Neville's got himself over a barrel. He can't excommunicate the monks over something like this … and that means he can't excommunicate us.'

  Richard got up from the company. Things were working out better than expected. He reached in his pouch and removed a letter from Sir William Gascoigne. The old man wanted him to keep a close eye on his older son, Harald, who was bringing a case against the Knowles family in the Dorchester assizes.

  Harald was a kind-hearted individual who thought you had to be nice to people. He hated violence and was determined to go to Dorchester without an armed escort. Harald thought you could win cases without bribing or intimidating anyone. The man was naïve.

  To make matters worse, he had involved Sister Alice. She had links with the Knowles family and believed she had allies amongst them. More likely, they were pumping her for information. Richard had written a report for Sir William, informing him of what was going on.

  Chapter 16

  Dorchester

  A guestroom had recently been added to the Gascoigne manor. It was built to Harald's specifications and had a modern fireplace and glazed windows. The room was intended for John Baret who was accompanying him to Dorchester for the assizes. Harald went to check that it was properly in order. To his surprise, a man in the uniform of the Earl of Huntingdon was sitting on the bed, polishing a pair of riding boots.

  'What are you doing here?'

  'I'm with Sir Hugh Orpington,' the man said as if that explained everything.

  Sir Hugh was a lawyer and a friend of Harald's father. His presence in the manor could also explain why the hall resonated with the sound of drunken voices. Harald hurried to his mother's private apartments, going up the outside stairs to avoid entering the hall. He arrived flushed and out of breath. Margery Gascoigne was there with her female companions. He poked his head round the corner and beckoned.

  'Could I have a word with you?'

  Margery strode over.

  'How dare you barge in on me?'

  'I beg your pardon, Mother. I didn't wish to intrude but I must know what is happening. As you well know, I am preparing for an important case in Dorchester. My advisers will soon be here. I rode ahead to see that all is prepared for them.'

  She stared over his shoulder. 'Is my dear William with them?'

  'He is, Mother. But that's not important. I need to know why the guestroom is occupied.'

  'Is his arm getting better?'

  'William's arm is perfectly all right.'

  'Harald. You sound hysterical.'

  'Mothe
r. Why is Hugh Orpington here?'

  'Your father has engaged him to contest William's case.'

  One half of Harald's brain had guessed from the start. If he'd been less agitated, the other half would have known too. The Gascoigne's didn't fight according to the rules he'd learnt at Oxford. They had rules of their own and they employed people like Hugh Orpington to see they were carried out.

  'Your father has arranged finance for Sir Hugh and a suitable force to accompany you to Dorchester. There will be no repetition of that nonsense when Robin had to save you from Roger Knowles' men. Do you realise how much you owe to that young man?'

  'I have great admiration for him, Mother. That is why I made him a companion to William. They are close enough in age for Robin to be an example and mentor to my son.'

  'Well, that's one thing you've got right.'

  The remark was comforting.

  Her next was mortifying.

  'If he is your son …'

  He reached past her and closed the door.

  'Mother. How can you say such a thing? Our entire case rests upon William's unquestionable legitimacy. It would only require one witness to testify to what you have just said and all would be lost.'

  'That's not going to happen, Harald.'

  'How can you be so sure?'

  'Sir Hugh would never allow it.'

  'He might not be able to stop it.'

  Harald tried to say more but his mother's attention was distracted by the arrival of John Baret's party. William was with them. She gathered up her skirt and hurried down the stairs to greet him.

  ***

  Dinner was served in the hall. Harald sat at the high table. His mother occupied the central position as lady of the manor. He sat on her right with William. Sir Hugh and an officer of his guard sat on her left. To Harald's immense annoyance, John Baret was assigned to an inferior position at the end of the table. The guard occupied the tables below. There were twenty of them. Fit young men wearing the uniforms of the Earl of Huntingdon. Harald guessed that their purpose was to intimidate rather than protect.

  His mother's chaplain said grace. Sir Peter de Trent had been with the family for many years and was employed for his administrative ability and unswerving loyalty. His religious qualifications failed to meet the standards of the church but his right to the tonsure had never been questioned. Harald's father was in continual correspondence with him. Their letters could take as little as a week to travel between England and France or several months, depending on conditions at sea and the progress of the war. The weather had been unseasonably calm. Harald guessed his father had instructed Peter to engage Hugh Orpington's services and hire a guard to accompany them to Dorchester.

  Peter broke bread and eyes turned to the fire burning on the flagstones below the high table. A pig was roasting there, attended by two servants. The animal had an orange in its mouth and its sides had been slashed and rubbed with spices. Harald wondered if this unexpected touch of refinement had been done for Sir Hugh's benefit.

  As guest of honour, Hugh was served first. A keg of wine was tapped and a silver pitcher filled. Peter de Trent had arranged everything. Harald concluded that the Gascoigne fortunes had taken a turn for the better. The arrival of the Duke of York with a new army had clearly made a big difference to the war effort in France. A few months earlier he had sold the family silver. Now they were dining off silver again. He examined the coats of arms and wondered about the previous owners.

  Sir Hugh's wine was served in a golden goblet. He raised it and proposed the loyal toast.

  'To Good King Harry!'

  'To Harry!' the guard bellowed.

  Harald was mortified. In his father's absence it was his duty and privilege to propose the loyal toast. The man was usurping his role. Worst of all, there was nothing he could do about it. In a fit of pique, he jumped to his feet.

  'To my father, Sir William Gascoigne, and all the brave lads who are fighting with him in France to protect the sovereign rights of our noble young king.'

  He raised his tankard and a confused babble followed as the guard tried to repeat what he had just said.

  Sir Hugh showed him how it should be done

  'To Duke Humphrey!'

  'Humph! Humph! Humph!'

  The guard banged their tankards on the table and shouted the duke's name, linking it with the Earl of Huntingdon. The din continued unabated. It was what Harald hated about dining at home. No one seemed able to do anything without making a huge amount of noise. John Baret evidently shared his disquiet but Sir Hugh was in his element. He rose and proposed another toast when the hubbub died down.

  'To Henry Beaufort!'

  'Henry Bigfart!'

  The guard blew raspberries and downed their wine.

  Other toasts and insults followed. The Duke of York and John Talbot were hailed as heroes. The Earl of Suffolk was derided as a traitor together with the entire Beaufort clan. Harald watched as huge hunks of flesh were hacked from bone and stuffed into gaping mouths. Greasy fingers were wiped on bread and clothing. He yearned for the linen napkins and finger bowls that graced John Baret's table.

  Sir Hugh turned to him with a mouth full of meat.

  'The chaplain tells me you've got informants.'

  Harald leant past his mother and tried to conduct a conversation.

  'I have friends who have provided valuable information.'

  'You mean you're not paying for it?'

  'No. I believe that to be detrimental to the cause of justice.'

  The proposition seemed novel to Sir Hugh.

  'What have they told you?'

  'Roger Knowles is bribing people to say that Judith was unfaithful.'

  'Do you know who they are?'

  'Yes.'

  'How would you categorise them?'

  'Some are easy to refute. Others are not.'

  'Tell me about them.'

  'Henry Knowles is easy to refute and so is Jane Etheridge.'

  'Where's the weakness?'

  'One was too young and the other was in France.

  'Can you prove that?'

  'Yes.'

  Nothing he'd been taught at Oxford had prepared Harald for such an interrogation. Hugh Orpington rattled out the questions and the chaplain took notes. Both were awash with wine and slurred their words. Yet, when they'd finished, he had divulged everything he knew about Roger Knowles and the case he had against him.

  ***

  Sir Hugh led them into Dorchester. He was dressed in a gown trimmed with white fur and mounted on a white horse. Harald's mother followed in a carriage with three other ladies. Harald rode behind with the rest of the party, including William. Heavily armed outriders guarded their flanks. Men in mail marched at their rear. His mother had insisted that William be present in court. That had added to Harald's embarrassment. His son knew where babies came from and was exhibiting an unhealthy interest in girls. William reminded him of Guy at the same age. People stopped and pointed as they rode past.

  The case had sparked public interest and it wasn't difficult to imagine why. Disputes over wills and boundaries were two-a-penny. Sex sometimes reared its ugly head but rarely in such an intriguing manner. Harald took his seeing glasses from their pouch and held them to his eyes. His vision wasn't perfect but he could see enough of the courthouse to know that Roger Knowles was already there. His escort was larger than before but looked no fitter than those who had fared so badly against Robin.

  They entered the court and went to the benches reserved for the plaintiffs. Eyes bore into the back of Harald's head. He couldn't hear but knew what people were saying.

  That's him … he's the one who had his little brother do it for him.

  On the other side of the court, Roger Knowles was wrapped in conversation with his advocate. Every few moments they stole a glance at Sir Hugh.

  A clerk entered the chamber and called for order.

  'This Court of Sessions, in the County of Dorset, in the fifteenth year of the reign of Our So
vereign Lord Henry, sixth of that name since the Conquest, is now declared open. Pray rise.'

  Those who were not standing got to their feet. The doors at the rear swung open and a procession entered. Harald recognised the shire reeve. He was the king's chief executive in Dorset and a man of considerable power and influence. The others were not so well known to him.

  'Pray be seated'

  The proceedings commenced. Sir Hugh opened with the case for the plaintiffs. He argued that Roger Knowles had acted illegally and with criminal intent in extracting rent from tenants on the Gascoigne estate. Harald couldn't fault him. Sir Hugh held the jury entranced as he spelt out the agony of a young boy robbed of his birthright and a father accused of denying his young wife the tender embrace of true matrimony.

  The counsel for the defence rose and immediately went on the attack. He cast doubts on Harald's manhood and sought permission to call witnesses. Henry Knowles was the first to take the stand. He described a frolic in the barn with Harald's wife, Judith. They allegedly made love against a pile of hay while she divulged the secrets of her unhappy marriage.

  Sir Hugh swooped like a hawk on its pray.

  'How old were you, Master Knowles?'

  Henry looked perplexed.

  'When you endowed Mistress Gascoigne with your irrepressible charms … how old were you?'

  Henry shuffled his feet.

  'You were six-years-old, Master Knowles. Are you going to tax the credulity of the honourable members of the jury by claiming that a shrimp could make love to a whale?'

  There was laughter in court. People settled down like spectators at a mummers' play, waiting to see what would happen next.

  The counsel for the defence jumped up. 'Show proof.'

  Sir Hugh opened his document case and produced a slip of paper that was handed to a clerk who conveyed it to the presiding judge.

  'Here, my lord, is our proof.'

  The judge gave the document a cursory glance and accepted it as genuine.

  Harald had been prepared to argue the point but that had not been necessary. He guessed that Hugh had prepared the ground beforehand and wondered if he'd bribed all the justices on the bench.