Cruel as the Grave

by Sharon Kay Penman

  "How dare you interrupt our meal?" Humphrey flung his napkin to the floor as if it were a gauntlet, and pushed away from the table. "We've already told you all we know about that wretched girl's death. I'll be damned ere I let you inconvenience or embarrass my family and friends in my own home. My sons will answer no questions tonight. You'll have to come back on the morrow."

  Justin was not surprised that Jonas seemed utterly unperturbed by this diatribe; the serjeant had faced down men far more formidable than Humphrey Aston. "We are not here to ask questions," he said composedly. "So there is no reason why your supper need be ruined. Whilst you eat, we'll conduct our search."

  Humphrey made a strangled sound, much like a squawk, and Beatrice began to sob. Geoffrey was on his feet now, too. "What are you looking for?" he asked, sounding bewildered, and Jonas smiled at him, so indulgently that Justin had a sudden vision of a wolf wagging its tail.

  "I cannot very well tell you, now can I, lad?" Beckoning to his men, who'd been hovering in the doorway, he declared, "We'll take the hall. You start with the kitchen and buttery."

  "Can they do this?" Daniel turned, not to his father, but to Master Serlo for enlightenment. "Do they have the right?"

  Thus appealed to, Master Serlo nodded tersely. "I think it best if Adela and I depart," he said, and it was his defection that seemed to take the heart out of Humphrey Aston. Standing helplessly midst the wreckage of his perfect evening, he could only watch in disbelief as his guests prepared to flee and Jonas's men to dismantle his home. Adela was obviously a reluctant fugitive, but her murmured protests went unheeded as her uncle ushered her toward the door. Geoffrey trailed after them uncertainly, Beatrice was being fanned by a wide-eyed serving maid, and Daniel sank down upon the closest coffer, for once appearing more confused than defiant. Even the family dog was intimidated, retreating under the table to give an occasional tentative bark. Jonas was already turning toward the cupboard. Feeling like one of the Vandals who'd sacked Rome, Justin joined him.

  What followed was an uncomfortable experience for all but Jonas. Humphrey fumed in silence, Beatrice moaned at the sight of strangers rooting through her belongings, the servants gaped, and the Aston sons fidgeted uneasily as Justin and Jonas searched the cupboard and then the coffers. When they finally closed the last coffer lid, an unspoken sigh of relief seemed to ripple across the hall. The reprieve was short-lived, for Jonas then announced, "We'll search the bedchambers now."

  "No!" Humphrey sounded as if he were choking on his own tongue. Jonas paid him no mind, telling the sons to lead the way. Humphrey hesitated, then hastened after them as they headed back toward his shop.

  The shop was closed for the night and dark, but there was an extinguished cresset lamp on a table, and after several fumbling tries, Geoffrey managed to light the wick with a candle taken from the hall. A narrow spiral stairwell in the corner led up to the family quarters: a bedchamber for Humphrey and his wife, a much smaller one shared by their sons, and up under the eaves of the roof, a tiny garret for the apprentices. The boys crept down the stairs in baffled response to Humphrey's summons, and when he ordered them to occupy themselves elsewhere for an hour, they hurriedly unlatched the door and escaped out into the street.

  Humphrey swore at the sight meeting his eyes: neighbors and passersby clustered outside his shop, drawn by the commotion. For a man whose fear of scandal and disgrace was primal, this was a waking nightmare, and in his frustration, he lashed out at any available targets, first warning the curious away from his shop, then cursing at Daniel when the youth stumbled against the table and almost tipped over the lamp, and finally turning upon the absent Agnes, berating her bitterly for having brought Justin into their lives.

  Daniel flushed scarlet, but Justin and Jonas ignored the harangue, heading for the stairwell. They started in Humphrey's bedchamber, a spacious room dominated by a large curtained bed, soon concluded a cursory search, and moved into the chamber shared by the Aston sons. This room was much tidier than Justin would have expected; apparently Humphrey's exacting standards carried over into every corner of his offspring's lives. There were two pallets, both carefully made up, several coffers, chamber pots and washing lavers, but nothing to reveal the personalities of the occupants. As Jonas set about searching the bedding, Justin opened the first coffer chest. It smelled pleasantly like newmown hay, for the contents had been sprinkled with sweet woodruff to disguise the more pungent odor of the herbs used to deter moths. The clothes were winter woolens, neatly folded, and the St Davydd's cross was hidden under the second garment, a moss green mantle.

  Justin sat back on his heels, staring down at that small lead cross. He hadn't really expected to find it in the Aston household. After a startled moment to reflect what this meant, he said, "Jonas, over here," and their hunt moved into its next phase.

  The Aston men were waiting below in the shop. "It took you long enough," Humphrey grumbled. "Now can we stop this tomfoolery and - What do you have there?"

  Justin held up the green cloak. "Whose is this?"

  "Mine." Daniel started to reach instinctively for the garment. "That is my winter mantle. Why?"

  "He has not worn it since March." Geoffrey moved swiftly to his brother's side. "So if a witness saw someone at the churchyard in a green mantle, it could not have been Daniel. You need not take our word for it. Look at the wool, how heavy it is-"

  "The mantle does not matter. It is what we found under it," Justin said and extended his hand toward the light, palm up.

  Daniel's gasp was clearly audible to them all. He stared at Melangell's missing cross as if stupefied, the blood draining from his face. "I... I do not know how that got there ... I swear I do not!"

  "We're going to have to talk about that at the city gaol, lad," Jonas said, and Daniel started to shake. His eyes were darting about the shop and when he took a backward step, Jonas tensed, for he knew the danger signs well. But it was not Daniel who acted, it was his brother.

  "Run, Daniel!" Geoffrey spun toward the table, knocking the cresset lamp onto the floor and plunging the shop into blackness. "Run!"

  Chaos resulted. Jonas dived for Daniel, but he was no longer there. Justin grabbed for the boy, too, collided with Geoffrey instead. Daniel had the advantage, for he knew the layout of the shop even in the dark, and he reached the door first. As he flung it open, a glimmer of twilight illuminated the room and Jonas lunged toward the light. Again, Geoffrey got in the way, collapsing in a heap by the door with Jonas on top of him, swearing hotly. By the time he untangled himself, Daniel was gone.

  Shouting for his men, Jonas barreled through the door and out into the street. "Where?" he demanded. "Where did he go?" A few of the spectators shuffled their feet and averted their eyes, not wanting to deliver up a neighbor's son to the law. Most had no such qualms and a dozen fingers pointed up Friday Street. Jonas took off, with Justin at his heels and the Serjeant's men strung out behind them.

  Daniel was already nearing Cheapside, but when he slipped in the mud and almost fell, his pursuers gained ground. The cloud-choked sky had brought on an early dusk, but there was still enough light to make out their quarry. By now the Hue and Cry had been raised, and as men heard the English Out and the French Haro, they hurried from homes and alehouses to join in the chase. With so many eyes upon him, Daniel dared not duck into an alley, unable to seek a hiding place until he could put more distance between himself and the mob. He'd been running full-out and his chest was heaving, his eyes burning with unshed tears. By the time he reached the site of the fish market, he was at the end of his tether, his pumping legs leaden, his lungs starved for air, and his staggering pace made capture seem not only inevitable but imminent. Then he suddenly swerved to the left, into the churchyard of St Paul's Cathedral, and Jonas began to curse, long and loud.

  Daniel's lead had now shrunk to a few precarious yards. Sprinting past Paul's Cross, he hit the Si Quis door with his shoulder, catapulted into the nave of the church. Vespers had already ended, but ther
e were still parishioners present, and they gaped in amazement at this sudden invasion of God's House by shouting, swearing men. Stumbling through the doorway in the pulpitum screen, Daniel sank to his knees before the High Altar, sobbing for breath.

  "Get a priest," he begged one of the startled women. By now Jonas had reached him. Shrinking back against the Altar, he stared up at the serjeant in desperate defiance. "You cannot take me," he panted. "I claim the right of sanctuary!"

  9

  LONDON

  April 1193

  Robbed of their prey, the mob crowded into the nave of the cathedral, jostling and muttering and cursing. Daniel scrambled to his feet and darted behind the High Altar, but his fears were needless. Jonas would never have allowed him to be dragged out by force, for men who violated sanctuary were sure to incur the wrath of Holy Church. The sacristan was already on the scene, indignantly swatting at the intruders whenever one came within range. When the dean also arrived, demanding that these impious malcontents be gone straightaway or risk eternal damnation, Jonas yielded to the inevitable and ordered his men to disperse the crowd.

  "There will be no violence done here," he assured the priests brusquely. "We are withdrawing." Turning, he skewered Daniel with a cold stare. "I'll have men posted outside, so if you try to bolt, you'll not get far."

  Daniel raised his chin. "I am staying right here," he said, with feeble bravado that few found convincing, Jonas least of all.

  "Not for long, boy," the serjeant shot back, "not for long."

  Justin gave Daniel one last, probing look, then hastened to catch up with Jonas. Recognizing the other man's frustration for what it was - the disappointment of a thwarted hunter - he gave Jonas time to recover his emotional equilibrium, and then ventured a bit of wry humor. "Well... at least we'll know where to find him now."

  The corner of Jonas's mouth twitched. "I suppose it could have been worse," he conceded. "If he'd gotten to St Martin le Grand, he could have lived out the rest of his days in sanctuary. At St Paul's, he gets forty days and then he's mine."

  "Are you so sure now that he's guilty?"

  "I do not get paid to cook the fish, too, just to catch them." Jonas spent the next few minutes giving instructions to his men, for it would be no easy task to keep watch over St Paul's; the cathedral precincts covered more than twelve acres. Striding back to Justin, he said, "Come on."

  Justin obligingly fell in step beside him. "Where now?"

  "To put the fear of God into Geoffrey Aston."

  They did not have to go far. They soon saw Geoffrey and Humphrey hastening up Cheapside, following the path of the mob. They were both flushed and appeared to have been quarreling. Geoffrey quickened his stride at the sight of Jonas. "Where is Daniel? Did he get away?"

  "No."

  "You arrested him?"

  "No."

  Geoffrey looked bewildered and then horrified. "He ... he is not dead?"

  "No ... he is in sanctuary at St Paul's."

  That was an option neither Aston had anticipated and there was a moment of shocked silence, until Geoffrey blurted out, "Thank God, he is safe, then!"

  Justin thought that was highly debatable, and Jonas said curtly, "You'd do better to worry about your own skin."

  "Me? What did I do?" Geoffrey protested, sounding scared.

  Jonas glared at him. "Your brother would not have escaped if you had not knocked over that lamp!"

  "That was an accident!" Humphrey shoved in front of his son, telling Geoffrey to say nothing more. "The lad stumbled and fell against the table. It was a mishap, not deliberately done, and you cannot prove otherwise!"

  Jonas had never intended to arrest Geoffrey, but he was not about to tell the Astons that. "You may be surprised by what I can prove," he said ominously and pushed past them.

  Justin followed, and they moved on. Neither man was pleased with this unexpected outcome. To Jonas's way of thinking, sanctuary was not a satisfactory solution to murder. And to Justin, the case seemed even murkier now than ever. All he knew for certain was that he would be returning to Gracechurch Street that night with news sure to break a good woman's heart.

  ~~

  It rained again after midnight, and light, intermittent showers were still falling the next morning. The sky was grey, the air clammy and cool, and Justin's mood dampened by the memory of Agnes's tears. Dropping off Shadow at Gunter's smithy - he wasn't up to facing Nell's interrogation - he saddled Copper and headed for the Tower.

  There he found the queen's household in turmoil. The Great Hall was overflowing into the stairwell, servants were buzzing about like bees at an overturned hive, the noise level was high enough to hurt sensitive ears, and Eleanor was nowhere in sight. Edging into the maelstrom, Justin began searching for a familiar face. Will Longsword and William Marshal were both at the Windsor siege, and he had no luck in tracking down Peter of Blois, the queen's chancellor. There was a sudden stir as Walter de Coutances swept through the crowd, but Justin was not about to intercept the Archbishop of Rouen and watched in frustration as the cleric was ushered into Eleanor's great chamber. The opening door gave him a glimpse of the queen, deep in discussion with a tall stately man clad in a bishop's vestments. Then the door closed, cutting off his view.

  Eventually he found someone he could interrogate: Nicholas de Mydden, one of the queen's household knights. Nicholas had never been a favorite of his. The other man was too self-satisfied, too cocksureand too familiar with Claudine. But Nicholas always knew what was going on. Justin did not even need to ask. "Have you heard?" Nicholas said as soon as he approached. "Hubert Walter is here!"

  The name was vaguely familiar, and after & moment Justin was able to prod his memory into recalling that Hubert Walter was the Bishop of Salisbury, thus sparing himself the embarrassment of having to confess his ignorance to Nicholas, who was a master at the art of courteous condescension. He still didn't understand why Hubert Walter's arrival should have caused such a commotion, though, and he murmured a noncommittal "Indeed," hoping his lack of response would provoke Nicholas into revealing more.

  It worked. Nicholas blinked in disappointment. "That might not be soul-stirring news to you, de Quincy, but I assure you the queen was overjoyed to get her first message from her son!"

  Justin forgot about salvaging his pride. "He brought word from King Richard? How?"

  Nicholas smiled complacently. "You do know that Bishop Hubert was on crusade with the king? He was in Sicily when he learned that King Richard had been captured on his way home from the Holy Land. He at once set out for Austria, where he somehow persuaded the emperor to allow him to see Richard."

  "That is wonderful news! The king is well... he has not sickened in captivity?" Justin asked anxiously, for he knew that must be Eleanor's greatest fear. The Duke of Austria and the Holy Roman Emperor had dared to seize a crusader-king, to defy the Church's stricture against harming those who'd gone on crusade. Would such men have qualms about maltreating their royal captive? Was Richard worth more to them alive... or dead?

  "The bishop assured the queen that King Richard is in good health. He is being held at Trifels in Bavaria now, and is hopeful of buying his freedom. God Willing, he may soon be back on English soil!"

  "God Willing," Justin echoed, no less fervently, for he would have moved heaven and earth to restore to the queen her lost son. He began to bombard Nicholas with eager questions, but it soon became apparent that the knight had no other information to impart. Whatever else Bishop Hubert had brought back from Bavaria was being shared with the queen, behind closed doors. It was obvious that Eleanor would have no need of him today. As soon as he could politely disengage himself, he threaded his way across the hall and moved into the stairwell, where he promptly collided with Claudine.

  He reached out to steady her as she stumbled. They were so close he could see the light from the overhead wall sconce reflected in her eyes and his every breath was scented with her perfume. They'd shared their first kiss in this stairwell, and in th
e shadowed stillness lurked memories that were better forgotten.

  "Justin," she said softly, and her voice was like a caress in the dark. She tilted her face up toward his, lips parting. "You are in my way." He almost welcomed the flash of claws, for that was safer than the purr. "Claudine, why must it be all or nothing? If not lovers, enemies? I do not want to be your enemy."

  "Well," she said, "I do not want to be your friend." She'd meant to sound mocking, sounded bitter, instead. Justin could think of nothing to say that would not be false or betraying. He stepped aside and she gave him a look he couldn't interpret, then brushed past him and continued on up the stairs.

  ~~

  Justin found Daniel in the parish church of St Gregory, adjoining the cathedral. Daniel was seated cross-legged on a prayer cushion, Geoffrey kneeling by his side. Their faces were intent, their voices low; Justin would have loved to eavesdrop on that confidential conversation. As he moved around the rood screen, both youths sprang to their feet. "This is still sanctuary," Daniel cried. "The priests said I can even go out into the churchyard and you cannot touch me!"