by Mel Starr
“I did not enter Bampton,” the squire insisted.
“I did not ask where you did not go,” the sheriff replied with some menace. Homersly surely noted the tone. His face grew pale.
“I will send the sergeants to bring Sir Simon,” Sir Roger announced. “It seems reasonable that since you left the inn together, and returned together, that you traveled through the night together as well. Perhaps Sir Simon will wish to tell us what you do not. No doubt, wherever you journeyed, Sir Simon will place blame for destroying Master Hugh’s house upon you. Who is to be believed: a mere squire, or a knight?”
This introduced a new and unwelcome thought to Homersly. I saw his eyes flicker about the chamber, as if seeking some previously hidden means of escape. But there could be no flight from either the chamber or Sir Roger’s suggestion.
“’Twas Sir Simon,” the squire blurted.
“What?” I asked. “Sir Simon accompanied you?”
“Nay. ’Twas not that way. I accompanied Sir Simon.”
“To Bampton?”
“Aye. Near so. Sir Simon stopped near a small chapel to the east of the town and bade me remain there with the horses. He went on afoot.”
“How many journeys to Bampton in the night did you and Sir Simon make?” I asked.
“Three.”
“What transpired on these nights?”
“The first two times Sir Simon ran back to my place and urged me to mount quickly, as did he, and we galloped away.”
“Did he tell you what he intended?”
“Nay. Not ’til the third night.”
“Two nights past?” Sir Roger asked.
“Aye. Sir Simon was in no hurry the third time when he returned to the chapel. When I asked if we were to be off he said, ‘Nay,’ and watched the sky over the town. Soon flames lit up the sky. This seemed to satisfy Sir Simon. He then instructed me to mount my horse and together we rode through the night back to Oxford.”
“Did you ask Sir Simon what meant this glow in the night sky?”
“Aye, I did so. When we were well on our way from the town.”
“What was his reply?”
“He laughed and said a lass who made sport of him would regret it, did she live.”
“A lass?”
“Aye.”
“So it was Sir Simon’s plan to burn my house? Not yours?”
“Why would I wish to burn your house? I knew you only as the surgeon who bathed my wounds and stitched Sir Simon’s cuts.”
“Sir Simon did not tell you whose house he intended to set alight?”
“Nay.”
“Do you remember Thomas atte Bridge?”
“Thomas who?”
“Atte Bridge.”
Homersly was silent, thinking. “Nay,” he finally replied. “Should I?”
“Your father hired him and a brother to plow some years past.”
The squire shook his head. “I remember my father speaking of finding workers. Don’t remember that he named ’em.”
“Did he speak of their theft?”
“Ah… were they the thieves who made off with the calf?”
“Your father believes so.”
“If he spoke their names, I do not remember.”
“And you say ’twas Sir Simon’s plan to set my home ablaze?”
“Aye.”
“Why, again, would he do so?”
“His friends made sport of him, mocked him because a maid chose another, a bailiff, Sir Jocelin said, over him.”
“So he wished to kill the lass?”
“I did not know his intent,” Homersly pleaded. “I would not have accompanied him had he told me his plan.”
“For a third visit? You did not ask what he was about the first two attempts?”
Homersly did not immediately respond. “Sir Simon does not appreciate questions from his inferiors,” he finally said. “He says, ‘Come,’ and I come.”
“We will see how he likes questions from his betters,” Sir Roger said, then arose from his chair and approached the chamber door.
He opened it and called to the two sergeants who remained with Arthur and Uctred in the anteroom. “Return to the Fox’s Lair and find Sir Simon Trillowe. Place him under arrest and bring him to me.”
“He required the stable boy to have his horse ready at the twelfth hour,” I added. “It is nearly that hour. If you make haste you will have him before he may depart the city.”
“Take Master Hugh’s men with you,” the sheriff advised. Arthur and Uctred sprang to their feet and followed the sergeants from the room.
Sir Roger then spoke to his clerk. “Bring the warder.”
To me he said, “We’ll allow this squire to spend a few hours in the dungeon. Might serve to aid his memory and loosen his tongue, do we need more from him.”
The warder must have been close by. He appeared nearly as soon as Sir Roger finished his explanation, and a moment later he dragged Homersly from the chamber. As the squire disappeared into the passageway he continued to object that the destruction of Galen House was none of his doing. I began to believe him, as did Sir Roger, I think, but there might be more knowledge to be prized from the fellow and some hours of contemplation in the stink of the dungeon might help bring it forth.
A castle valet appeared in the anteroom just then, and announced to Sir Roger that his supper awaited.
“Excellent. Master Hugh, you will join me. Perhaps when we are fed Sir Simon will have been found and will be awaiting examination.”
Sir Roger’s cook prepared an excellent meal. The sheriff’s stout frame gave evidence that this was not uncommon. I was so sated after two removes that I could consume little of the third, and ignored the subtlety. Sir Roger noted, and asked if I was ill. It was nearly so, but this was not the cause of my failed appetite but the result of my eager consumption of the first two removes. I hoped the coming confrontation with Sir Simon would not add to my indigestion.
It did.
I followed Sir Roger into his clerk’s anteroom and over his shoulder saw Arthur, Uctred, the two sergeants, and a furious Sir Simon Trillowe. I think at first he did not notice me, the sheriff being so constructed as to block the view of any behind him.
“What means this?” Sir Simon roared as he turned to face Sir Roger. I saw then the result of my surgery six months past. The scar upon his cheek was pale, no longer red and fierce, as are fresh wounds. His beard covered much of this blemish, but his left ear stood from the side of his head like a pennon in a gale. The fleshy organ was not lost to him, as I feared it might be when I sewed it to his head in the infirmary of the Augustinian Friars, but my needlecraft had left the appendage standing abruptly from his skull. He was no longer symmetrical. Rather than thank me for preserving his ear, I suspected he was irate at its appearance. This proved true.
Sir Simon should thank me for more than saving his ear. Pride is a great sin. With such an ear extending from the side of his head it will be difficult for the man to feel pride in his appearance. Of course hate is also a grievous sin. Perhaps my labor caused Sir Simon to exchange one sin for another.
Sir Roger strode to his chamber door without answering. It was then Sir Simon saw who it was who followed behind the sheriff. The knight’s mouth opened and closed spasmodically, but no words came forth. Sir Simon surely believed me dead in the ashes of Galen House. Perhaps he thought he saw the ghost of the man he had burned alive.
Sir Roger opened his chamber door, nodded to Sir Simon and growled, “Enter.” A man would no more argue with Sir Roger when he speaks so than with an alaunt snarling at his throat. Sir Simon glared at me, his surprise now become anger, and did as he was commanded. I followed.
Sir Roger seemed short of vocabulary. His next utterance was, “Sit.” He pointed to the chair Geoffrey Homersly had recently occupied. I, having a fine command of language, knew to keep silent. Sir Simon remained standing, intimidated, but not cowed enough to place himself in an inferior position.
“What means this
imposition?” he finally spluttered. “I’ll see that my father learns of this.”
“Your father,” Sir Roger rejoined, “is busy convincing King Edward that he did not do fraud when he occupied this office.”
Sir Simon made no reply.
“I am told you travel the roads of Oxfordshire at night. Where is it you go when good men lie abed?”
“Who says so?” Sir Simon snorted.
“Two who have no reason to deceive.”
Again Sir Simon made no reply.
“Your silence means agreement, I think,” Sir Roger growled. “And there is no need for you to tell us what you have been about. We,” he nodded to me, “know all. Are you surprised to see Master Hugh standing here, fit and unburnt?”
Sir Simon glowered sullenly in my direction but I cared little for his black look. I would have accused him also but Sir Roger needed no assistance. I held my tongue and awaited a propitious moment.
The sheriff circled Sir Simon and peered intently at the knight’s misshapen ear. “Do the maids approve of your new ear? You should thank Master Hugh you have two. Had I been he I’d have lopped it off and completed the job that abbey servant began.”
Sir Simon’s expression said clearly he did not agree.
“The King’s Eyre will meet again in a fortnight. I think you will remain a guest here in the castle until the court decides what to do with you. Burning a man’s house and attempting his life might be cause enough for the scaffold, I think.”
Sir Simon had faced us haughtily until these words. I saw him blanch and unconsciously put a finger to his gentlemanly neck.
“Two weeks in the dungeon will give you leisure to consider your sins and prepare your soul to meet God. He may be more lenient than the judge. Lord Gilbert Talbot is a man of influence, and he sets great store by this bailiff of his, as I know. A word from him to the judges of the King’s Eyre and their finding will not go well for you.”
All this time Sir Simon made no protest of innocence. At the sheriff’s last words I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped at the thought of Lord Gilbert’s involvement in the matter. He had seen my employer shape the decision of a court once before.
“Describe your house in Bampton, Master Hugh. What was it this scoundrel burnt?”
“Galen House was two stories,” I began, “of oaken timbers, wattle and daub. Two rooms below and two above, with a newly thatched roof. Had it been otherwise, were the reed old and rotting, this miscreant might not have succeeded in setting it alight so readily. And a new brick chimney also, with fireplaces above and below.”
“Hmmm,” Sir Roger pondered my description of the house. “The chimney may be of use. All else is ruin?”
“Aye.”
“To rebuild such a house will cost… what would you say, Hugh? Eight pounds?”
I was about to agree, when Sir Roger continued before I could speak: “Nay. Should the chimney need to be pulled down ’twill be nine pounds or more, I think.”
Sir Roger turned again to Sir Simon and lowered his brows in a scowl. He understood, I think, how effective the expression was. Sir Simon stared back at him, but arrogance was gone from his open-mouthed features.
“Ten pounds, I think,” the sheriff said. “Bring to Master Hugh ten pounds so he may rebuild his house and I’ll not charge you before the King’s Eyre.”
“I… I have not ten pounds,” Sir Simon protested.
“Your father does. I will release you to his custody. Leave the castle, go to the inn, claim your horse, and ride to Abingdon. If you do not return by the ninth hour tomorrow with ten pounds I will send sergeants to convey you hither and you will see out the next fortnight in the dungeon.”
Sir Roger spoke with conviction. I felt certain that there must have been in past months other disputes between the two knights which the sheriff now saw means to settle. If doing so rewarded me with ten pounds to rebuild Galen House, I was pleased to be of service.
“Then, after you place the coin in Master Hugh’s hand you will leave Oxford and not return for a year… no, two years. Neither do I wish to learn that you have been seen about Bampton.”
“But,” Sir Simon stammered, “where am I to go?”
“I would make a suggestion,” Sir Roger said balefully, “but those who go there are sent by a greater authority than mine. Now begone! Remember, tomorrow at the ninth hour, in this place, we will meet again.”
Sir Simon gave me one more glance, fraught with hostility. If Sir Roger saw he did not comment. I thought then that I had not seen or heard the last of Sir Simon Trillowe. Even should he obey the sheriff’s commands, two years would pass swiftly.
Sir Simon stalked from the chamber with as much dignity as he could muster, and when he was gone Sir Roger turned to me and grinned. The corners of his eyes crinkled beneath those massive brows, which I saw could express mirth as well as wrath, although in truth Sir Roger’s brows are most capable when displaying choler.
“What of Geoffrey Homersly?” I asked when Sir Simon had departed.
“What is it you wish? You believe he had part in the plot, or was he obedient to Sir Simon’s demands?”
“Sir Simon is a hard man against those beneath him in rank,” I suggested.
“Aye. A rabbit before his betters, a wolf to those inferior. What is your desire?”
“Leave him for a night in the dungeon, then tomorrow send him to his father in Cote. And tell him also he may not reside in Oxford for a year, nor set foot near Bampton. His father was recently injured and requires assistance on his manor. The youth will be well served doing useful work rather than following some rogue knight about Oxford.”
“Very well. It will be done.”
Chapter 14
The night was again spent in my father-in-law’s upper chamber. The evening was warm, so Caxton left open the windows. Any who violated curfew would have heard from the openings a quartet of snores, grunts, and snorts. I slept little, partly because of the racket, and partly because of thoughts I could not escape.
Sir Simon was the man who had plunged a dagger into my arm, and would have driven it through my back but for my good fortune. My supposition that these attempts upon my life were designed to bring an end to my search for Thomas atte Bridge’s murderer was now proved wrong. Sir Simon knew nothing of Thomas atte Bridge, and from Geoffrey Homersly’s testimony Sir Simon’s wrath was turned against Kate as much as to me. I had come to Oxford convinced that Homersly was responsible for all. He was responsible for none.
I turned on my pallet and entertained more pleasant thoughts. I would soon return to Bampton with ten pounds in a pouch, enough to rebuild Galen House. Indeed, enough to build better than the house Sir Simon burnt.
Arthur, Uctred, and I consumed a leg of lamb and bowls of pease pottage at an inn on the Canditch for our dinner next day, then made our way to the castle. Several men awaited the sheriff’s pleasure in the anteroom, but Sir Simon was not among them.
The clerk was instructed, I think, to notify Sir Roger when I arrived. So soon as I entered the chamber the man sprang to his feet and hurried to the door. Sir Roger appeared a moment later, ushering some petitioner from his presence. When the fellow had departed the sheriff motioned me to enter his chamber.
“I expect Sir Simon at any moment. If he arrives past the ninth hour he knows I’ll see him in the dungeon.”
“What if he does not return?” I asked.
“Then the devil take him… after I’ve done with him. He’ll come.”
“With ten pounds?”
“He is his father’s youngest son, apple of his eye, ’tis said. Such a lad can do no wrong. Sir John will fume a bit, but he’ll not withhold ten pounds if the sum will keep his lad from Oxford Castle dungeon, or a gallows.”
“Would the King’s Eyre send Sir Simon to the scaffold even though he failed to murder me and Kate?”
“Likely not. Sir John has displeased the king, to be sure, but he has yet some influence. Sir Simon knows this, but
he does not know how much authority his father yet commands. Would you risk your neck on such an uncertainty? For ten pounds?”
The question required no answer, nor was there need for one. We heard voices in the anteroom and a moment later the clerk’s face appeared at the door.
“Sir Simon Trillowe is arrived, sir,” he announced.
Sir Roger opened the door between his chamber and the anteroom. Sir Simon stood stone-faced before the clerk. Behind him were two others. I recognized one: Sir Jocelin Hawkwode. Sir Jocelin had suffered some from his association with Sir Simon, but evidently not enough to cause him to end the relationship.
“You have Master Hugh’s coin?” Sir Roger asked abruptly. Sir Simon took half a step back as the sheriff approached him.
“Aye,” Sir Simon muttered, and produced a leather pouch of great size.
Sir Roger looked to his clerk. “Count it,” he ordered. To Sir Simon and his cohorts he commanded, “Sit, ’til Master John has made sure the amount.”
Sir Simon dropped the purse heavily upon the clerk’s table and sat sullenly while the clerk dumped the contents upon his board. I saw groats and pennies, some half-pennies, and golden gleams indicating Sir Simon had included many nobles in the heap.
Sir Roger and I stood while the clerk ordered the coins into piles, each with its like, then scratched upon parchment with his quill the number in each mound. He rubbed his chin, reviewed his count, then said, “’Tis two pence short, Sir Roger. Here is nine pounds, nineteen shillings, and ten pence.”
The sheriff glared at Sir Simon as if the knight had robbed a widow of her last two farthings. Sir Simon turned to Sir Jocelin and muttered something I could not hear. Sir Jocelin reached for his purse, produced two pennies, and after peering up at Sir Roger to be sure his standing from his bench would not be taken amiss, quickly thrust the coins toward the clerk. Master John placed them with their brothers, then proceeded to count the piles again. There were sixty-two nobles, and perhaps four dozen groats. All else were pennies and half-pennies, with a few farthings. The coins made a considerable heap, gleaming dull silver and gold upon the table.
“Ten pounds,” the clerk affirmed. Sir Roger, who had stood all the while with his arms folded across his chest, observing his clerk’s work, turned to Sir Simon. “Two years. Do not be found in Oxford or near Bampton for two years. It will go hard for you should you defy me. Now, begone from Oxford before nightfall.”