The Outlaw's Tale

by Margaret Frazer

  Then his father was there. Come behind all the rest, he shoved through them, swearing at them to stop their caterwauling. He had his sword unsheathed in his hand, and there were both anger and determination in his set face as he said at Edward's back, “Edward, stand away."

  Slowly Edward obeyed, drawing his eyes from Frevisse.

  “All of you stay out," Master Payne said and moved forward. For only a moment Frevisse held her ground. But there was no point to it, no way that she could stop him. Caught in a nightmare feeling of helplessness, she drew aside and let him pass.

  Evan had struggled to rise, had dragged himself up against his pillows but had no strength for more. Magdalen knelt by him, staring defiantly across the room at her brother.

  “Leave us be," she said in a low, commanding voice. “We've done no harm. Leave us alone."

  “He's a murderer, Magdalen."

  “He's not."

  If it had been only a matter of will, she might have held her own against him, they were so much alike. But he had the sword, and his household at his back, and she had nothing but her love.

  “Magdalen," Evan said gently, putting her away from him, his eyes fixed on her brother, reading his death there as clearly as she did. “Go. Let Dame Frevisse take you away. Don't stay for this."

  Magdalen began to cry soundlessly, the tears huge in her eyes before they slipped down her cheeks. “No," she whispered. “No."

  Suddenly Master Payne came forward, but stopped at the foot of the bed. His sword still directed at Evan, he stooped and groped and pulled from the shadows a long leather belt that snaked from his upheld hand to the floor as he straightened and held it aloft by the buckle.

  “Not hidden well enough, man!" he said triumphantly. He swung around to the faces crowded in the doorway, Iseult and Edward first among them. “Here's proof! Here's evidence enough. Look at the end of it. That's blood there. New blood. Colfoot's blood."

  Near the end of the tongue, the belt was darkly stained and crusted, plain to see. Master Payne flung the belt down, out of his way, and turned on Evan. “Can't you even stand up, you coward? Hiding in my sister's bed and behind her skirts. You deserve to die for that alone!"

  “He's hurt!" Magdalen cried, trying to put herself between Evan and her brother.

  But Evan held her away, and begged in desperation, “Dame Frevisse, take her out of here!"

  Frevisse moved but there was no time. Payne was already around the bed, his arm drawn back for the thrust that Evan could not avoid.

  “Payne!"

  The roar from the doorway brought Payne around on his heel, instinctively crouched to face a new threat.

  Nicholas shoved past Edward and into the room. “Payne, you lying dog! Where's my fortune?" He dragged the crumpled account pages from the front of his tunic and threw them on the floor. “You've done nothing but lose my money! I'm no better off than when I started!"

  “Nicholas, that isn't..." Frevisse began.

  But Payne, dark-faced with new anger, cut across her words. “You're right! You were a cur when you started and you're a cur now!"

  “You lying cheat!" Nicholas yelled, drawing his sword and closing on him. “I want my fortune! And if I can't have it, I'll have your blood instead!

  Payne brought up his own sword between them. All the hatred for each other that they had buried for the sake of mutual gain was now in the naked open.

  “Nicholas, your pardon!" Frevisse cried. “Listen to me!"

  Unheeding, Nicholas thrust at Payne. Payne caught it aside with his own blade, more ready than Nicholas had expected. Mistress Payne screamed and would have thrown herself between them, but Edward caught her by the arm and waist and held her back. “No, Mother!"

  Frevisse backed into the narrow space between Evan's bed and the wall, trapping Magdalen behind her. The room was too small for wide swordplay. Payne and Nicholas could only manage thrust and slice, their swords held double-handed in front of them for shield and weapon both. Neither was much skilled and both were plainly long out of practice. But Payne's skill had come in the casual way of needing protection in his travels, while Nicholas in his long-since youth had at least had proper training. It showed as he knocked aside Payne's heavy thrusts, not able to force in any of his own but better able to defend himself.

  They went clumsily, in ragged starts and stops, a little down the room, then back to its center. Stunned, no one interfered. Even Mistress Payne made no more outcry but stood huddled against Edward, her fists clenched to her mouth.

  Then Nicholas's sword caught along Payne's blade. Nicholas wrenched his sword around and Payne's sword broke loose from his hands and clattered wide away from him across the floor. Payne jerked backward, head up, still angry but his hands spread out, surrendering. Nicholas without even pause lunged forward, driving his blade in to the left and under of Payne's breastbone. Then he jerked back, hauling it out, and blood followed, gouting down the front of Payne's gown. Payne reached to stop it but he was already falling. And dead before he reached the floor.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nicholas stepped back, panting heavily. With a gesture of finish and satisfaction, he let the blade's point drop toward the floor and was not ready for Edward's anguished cry and single forward movement that scooped his father's sword from the floor at his feet, brought it up, around, and down as he leaped at Nicholas. Barely Nicholas jerked his own sword up in time to catch the blow, but the force of it drove him backwards and Edward so headlong after him that they grappled together.

  Iseult in the doorway turned wildly on the men behind her and screamed, “Stop them!"

  Released from their shock, Adam, Jack, and Tam pushed forward into the room. Before Nicholas could break free from Edward, they were on them, Tam pulling Edward away, Jack and Adam grabbing Nicholas from behind, twisting his sword from his hand and wrenching his arms up behind his back.

  Nicholas fought but they had him. They forced him first to his knees, then jerked him to his feet as Edward ordered, “Take him out of here. Put him in the barn. Tie him and guard him."

  “You dog's whelp!" Nicholas raged. “I'll kill you next and anyone else between me and mine!"

  “Take him!" Edward yelled.

  They did; and by the way his shouting cut off suddenly on the stairs, someone knocked him senseless on the way.

  By then Mistress Payne was kneeling beside her husband, bent over and weeping on his back. Richard, crying, too, was trying to put his arms around her. The three younger children, not fully understanding yet what they had only half seen, stood staring around Sir Perys and the maidservants in the doorway.

  “Take them away," Frevisse said quietly to anyone who would; and the two women did, gently drawing the children back, herding them away to somewhere else.

  Behind her Magdalen had crumpled down beside Evan, clinging to him, her face hidden in his shoulder while he held her as close as he could.

  Edward stood where Tam had left him in the middle of the room, dry-eyed, staring down at his father's body, his hands held out open and empty at his sides.

  The only sounds in the room were Iseult's and Richard's crying, and Sir Perys' hurried prayers from the doorway.

  Then Jack and Adam returned. Frevisse stirred from her own paralysis, knowing things had to be done. As they hesitated behind Sir Perys, she said quietly, “You had best move Master Payne's body to his own bed. Bess, help Mistress Payne."

  At a direct order, Bess was able to move, to come forward from her corner and draw Mistress Payne to her feet with Richard's help so the men could lift her husband's body carefully between them and carry it out of the room. Bess, Mistress Payne, Richard and Sir Perys followed after them.

  Edward stayed where he was, did not even lift his head to watch their going. Behind him, Frevisse picked up the forgotten belt, rolled it and, holding it, tucked her hands up her sleeves.

  “Edward," she said.

  He looked around at her, slowly, as if uncertain he was still able to m
ove and see. She went to stand in front of him.

  “Edward, the sheriff and crowner will be here, probably soon."

  Edward tried to answer but no words came; he was still too empty with shock.

  “Would you have me speak to them first?" she offered. “To explain what's happened?"

  Vaguely, trying to draw his mind around to it, he said, “I have to talk to them. I should..."

  Frevisse gripped his arm to make him look at her. “No. You should not." Holding his eyes with her own, she said very slowly and forcefully, “Edward, listen to me. You know Evan did not kill Colfoot."

  Edward tensed and made as if to draw away from her hand. Then he steadied and said in a rather desperate voice, “I know."

  “Because you know your father did it."

  Edward opened his mouth, protest in every line of his body. Frevisse dug her fingers more deeply into his arm and repeated ruthlessly, “You know your father did it. No peddler ever wore a belt like the one your father showed us. That's a rich man's belt. Your father brought it deliberately into the room to accuse Evan of the murder. But it was your father who killed Colfoot."

  Edward began to shake his head in denial. Again Frevisse cut him off, driving her words at him. “Edward, your father is dead. He can't be hurt by our saying this. No accusation can touch him anymore. Do you truly think he would want it otherwise, now that he's dead?"

  Edward shuddered and dragged his eyes away from her. “No. He wouldn't."

  “Then that is what I will tell the sheriff and the crowner when they come. That your father went out after Colfoot in a rage and killed him. You didn't even know about it until now. They won't have many questions for you after that. Do you understand?"

  His whole body stiff with pain, Edward nodded.

  In the bed Sister Emma stirred. She would shortly be awake. Frevisse, aware of how much simpler her questions would be – and that Edward needed to do something more than stand imprisoned with his thoughts – said to him, “Evan should not be here when Sister Emma awakes. A man in her room would sorely distress her. Will you help Magdalen move him to your bed?"

  Edward, ready to do what he was told, nodded again. Together he and Magdalen helped Evan to his feet and, with most of his weight on Edward, took him out of the room.

  Sister Emma roused with heavy coughing. It jerked her fully awake, and before Frevisse could give her anything to drink, she had sat up and leaned over the side of bed, beginning to throw up.

  Frevisse caught up a basin from the table and held it for her until she had finished, then helped her ease back on the pillows and wiped her face with a damp cloth.

  “I feel awful," Sister Emma moaned. “Awful."

  “You'll feel better soon, now that that's out of you," Frevisse said. She hoped she was right, but Sister Emma's pallor was alarming.

  Bess had returned and been waiting. Now she came forward, and after she had felt Sister Emma's face and laid an ear against her chest to listen to her breathing, she said, “Her fever hasn't come back and the rheum's not sunk into her lungs. It's the medicine in her now that's making her feel worse. She'll be better for being awake and sitting up."

  “And eating something," Sister Emma croaked. “I think I'm starving."

  Frevisse and Bess exchanged looks. “She'll mend," said Bess and went to see what could be found in the kitchen.

  Frevisse stayed with Sister Emma, and when Bess returned with broth and bread and ale, took the duty of feeding her while Bess, without a word, went with a cloth to clean the blood from the floor where Master Payne had fallen. Sister Emma could not see it from where she lay; Frevisse kept her own face turned away, unable to watch.

  When they were both done she gave Sister Emma's care over to Bess and left without explanation. As she had told Edward, the sheriff and crowner would be here, probably soon, and there were matters she had to see to before they arrived.

  She went to Magdalen and Evan first. They were alone in Edward and Richard's room. Magdalen had been weeping but was quiet now. Evan was as white and sunken with exhaustion as Frevisse felt. Neither of them said anything as Frevisse entered. She was not sure whether their silence was because there was nothing else to say, or because there was too much. Through the wall, unintelligible, she could hear Sister Emma's unwitting chatter at Bess.

  “You heard what I said to Edward?" Frevisse asked. “About Colfoot?"

  “That Oliver killed him," Magdalen said brokenly. “Did he?"

  “How else did he come by that bloodied belt that both you and I know was never Evan's? Why else would he want so badly to have Evan be the murderer if not to cover his own guilt?"

  “And you're going to tell the sheriff?" Evan asked.

  “I'm going to tell him that, and about the quarrel Oliver had with Colfoot and Colfoot's threats that drove Oliver to kill him."

  “What do you say about Evan?" Magdalen asked.

  “That he's a peddler and your lover and that Oliver meant to use him as scapegoat for Colfoot's murder."

  “And when Nicholas tells him I'm one of his men?" Evan asked.

  “I have things to say to Nicholas that will keep him quiet on that point," Frevisse said grimly. “And if he isn't, then we'll deny and deny and deny it again. We'll say we sent the accounts to him with promise of reward if he used them to make Master Payne let you go unharmed. We were desperate and that seemed the only hope. I'll tell the sheriff that, and you will tell him that, and that is all that we will tell him. Our word will weigh far more than Nicholas's, in any event. And if we don't convince him, I have other recourse. There's still the matter of the pardons I asked my uncle for."

  “You'll still ask pardon for Nicholas?" Evan asked.

  “No." There was no urge to good in Nicholas after all; apart from everything else, he had killed Oliver Payne in plain murder after Payne had surrendered. “No pardon for Nicholas. But you and the others, I think, will have yours. I'll plead to my uncle for them."

  Magdalen began to cry openly. Frevisse left Evan holding her and went down to face the one person she wanted to face even less than the sheriff and crowner.

  Nicholas was tied by the waist to one of the posts in the center of the barn. Another rope had been thrown up over a beam and his arms tied above his head so that he stood at full height, unable to sit or even slump. Blood had run down his neck from a cut above his ear and there was a darkening bruise below one eye. His eyes were closed, but Frevisse thought he was aware.

  The barn was shadowy, warm with cattle smells and straw. Tam the stableman rose from his seat on an over-turned bucket as she entered. A dagger was laid conspicuously on the straw beside him, but he had a piece of harness in his hands as if he had been mending it. “M'lady?"

  “I want to talk to him," Frevisse said. Tam looked doubtfully at Nicholas, whose eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. “He's sinned," she said. “I want to help him pray."

  “Ah. Right." Tam could see the sense in that. “Go on then."

  “Could you...?" She gestured farther along the barn. “So he can pray more freely? Just a little farther off. Not out of sight."

  Tam could see the sense in that, too. He picked up his dagger and went perhaps fifteen feet further away. Frevisse went close to Nicholas.

  “I hope you have a dagger up one of your sleeves, cousin," he said. “This is damnably uncomfortable and I want out of here."

  “No dagger, Nicholas. No escape."

  “Then you're not much use!" he snarled. “And I don't want your damned prayers. Leave, damn you!"

  “The sheriff and crowner will be here soon. We must talk."

  Wary hope rose in his face. “You have a plan? The pardon maybe?"

  “The pardon is in my uncle's control. What you have to do is keep silent about Evan."

  “Evan? Why should he go free while I don't? I'll say anything I can and he can hang right next to me if it comes to that."

  “Evan hasn't killed a man in front of witnesses," Frevisse said betwee
n her teeth.

  “He asked for it!" Nicholas retorted. “It was a fair fight; he had a sword!"

  “Keep your voice down. Leave Evan out of this and people will go on thinking he's only a peddler and only ask him the questions they'd ask a peddler. But if you say he's one of your men, there'll be different questions, ones he'll answer to save his own skin. Do you want Evan telling everything he knows about you? Telling every tale he has of what you've done?"

  Nicholas glared around the barn as if seeking for a better answer than the one she was demanding from him, but there was none. Refusing to look at her. “I'll leave Evan out of it."

  “Magdalen and I will say we sent you the accounts with evidence of Master Payne's cheating you because we wanted your help in taking her lover out of her brother's house. We promised you a reward. That's what we'll say and that's what you'd better say."

  “He did worse than cheat me. The damn fool lost my money!"

  “He hadn't lost your money. If you'd bothered to read the letter that came with the accounts or used your eyes half as well as you use your mouth, you'd know the second page was all false. In fear you'd be pardoned and come demanding your profits, Payne rewrote them so you'd think you had hardly more than you'd started with. He was cheating you but the money was still there!" Frevisse lost control of her voice. It rose with anger and pain and her own shame for her part in all of it. “We gave you the evidence to demand it from him, only you killed him instead!"

  Not able to stomach him any more, she turned her back on him and left.

  Lovie met her in the screens passage, flustered and anxious. “My lady, they've come! They're just riding into the yard. The sheriff and crowner and all their men! What do we do?"

  “Have them brought into the hall, and tell Mistress Payne and Master Edward they've come and that I'll speak to them as Master Edward and I agreed."

  “Will you?" Lovie sounded awed. “All by yourself?"

  “All by myself," Frevisse said wearily. What she truly wanted was to be entirely alone, and deny that any of the past four days had happened. But it was not finished yet. Not until she had spoken to these men who would ask questions she did not want to answer. Not until she had made them believe what mix of lies and truths she was going to tell them.