The Turn of Midnight

by Minette Walters

  The man’s lips thinned in a sardonic smile. ‘Or you, Master Thurkell. We are both known by the unusual colour of our skins.’

  Terrified, Joshua shrank deeper into shadow. He had feared this moment from the day Thaddeus had ridden into Woodoak and allowed a handful of serfs to believe he was a lord. Thaddeus broke every law by doing so—not least the laws of treason against the King—and Joshua cursed him for ever believing that Lady Anne’s invented lineage and My Lord of Bourne’s letter of accreditation could provide protection. He watched in anguish as the steward instructed Thurkell to step away from the dogs and surrender his weapon.

  Thaddeus answered with a laugh. ‘How long have you believed yourself the equal of lords, Master d’Amiens?’

  ‘You’re no lord, sir. You’re a slave posing as one.’

  ‘Then show me the warrant that accuses me of such. I would know who signed it and what his status is. You can’t be so ignorant of the law that you’d arrest Athelstan on your own recognisance.’ He shook his head scornfully when d’Amiens made no answer. ‘You’re a fool, sir. Acting for your absent lord doesn’t give you licence to behave without due process.’ He glanced towards the soldiers. ‘Which of you is captain of arms?’

  ‘I am, sire,’ said one, stepping forward.

  ‘Then escort me back to my camp before Master d’Amiens’ hubris leads you and your men to further sedition. Your duty to your lord is to uphold the King’s justice not traduce it on the twisted fancies of an ambitious steward.’

  Without pausing to see if the captain would obey, he approached the two soldiers who were guarding the entrance to the track and instructed them to lower their swords and move aside. They did so, but whether out of fear of a man whose height was so much greater than theirs or because the captain gave a curt nod, Joshua couldn’t tell. He watched in relief as the dogs responded to the clicking of Thaddeus’s fingers, but he was at a loss as to whether to show himself when the captain followed behind with a torch. Was it better or worse that these people believed Thaddeus was alone?

  His indecision meant he heard d’Amiens’ muttered instruction to the two soldiers nearest to him.

  ‘Find the priest’s guest and bring him to me. He’s a wretched creature but I don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.’

  Ian, who had crossed the cleared land at an angle to reach the highway where the woodland began, saw a glow of light through the tree trunks. He came to an abrupt halt, dropping to one knee and placing his hand over his mouth to mute his laboured breathing. Close behind, Edmund did the same.

  They could tell from the way the flames moved from side to side that they were looking at torches but neither could judge how distant they were. Ian counted eight, Edmund ten, and both knew there must be a throng of men on the road. To draw closer in order to see if Thaddeus and Joshua were amongst them, Ian pointed towards the tree line and then flattened and lowered his hand to urge Edmund to keep low, but he’d barely given the signal when they heard the sound of running feet on the road. Together, they dropped to the ground, faces pressed to the grass, and through half-closed lids watched two liveried soldiers, the foremost bearing a torch, hasten past them towards the bridge. Ian turned his head to the left to watch their progress, Edmund looked to his right, where he thought he’d glimpsed the intermittent flicker of a light inside the woodland.

  It took only a second or two of searching to find it again. It was a single flame, and he couldn’t see who carried it, but he was ready to wager that soldiers were involved. He pulled himself forward on his elbows and pressed his mouth to Ian’s ear. ‘Someone’s heading towards our camp,’ he said. ‘Perhaps several. If they’re armed, we should go back to help Peter and Olyver defend it.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Behind you to your right.’ Edmund drew away and pushed himself into a crouch, raising his arm to show the direction. ‘There,’ he whispered. ‘Do you see the flame?’

  Ian nodded. ‘They’re too far ahead. We’ll not reach the camp before them.’

  ‘Then let’s cut through the trees and follow. They’ll not be expecting an attack from behind.’

  A stream of quiet curses issued from Ian’s mouth as he rose to his feet. ‘I knew it was a bad idea to come here,’ he muttered.

  Joshua was thinking the same as he slipped through the trees behind Thaddeus and the men who accompanied him. The captain had instructed another three to fall in behind as he followed Thaddeus onto the path, and not one had sheathed his sword. Joshua kept close enough for the torchlight to show him the silhouettes of trunks but not so close that the dogs would detect his presence. While they remained at Thaddeus’s heels, the soldiers hung back, but Joshua trembled at what might happen if the pack deserted him. He appeared quite blind to the danger he was in, engaging in light-hearted chitchat with seemingly little concern for his safety.

  With no wind inside the woodland to carry Thaddeus’s words away, Joshua heard them easily. He asked the soldiers their names, where they came from and how long they’d been in My Lord of Blandeforde’s service but, receiving no answers, he glanced over his shoulder to address the captain directly, allowing a note of sympathy to enter his voice.

  ‘You must worry for your family in France, captain. I’ve met many mercenaries who long for news that never comes. All fear they’ll die in England without ever knowing the fate of those they love. Is it a wife or a mother who holds a place in your heart?’

  Perhaps it was surprise that this man understood another’s anguish that prompted the captain to reply. ‘A mother and two sisters, sire. I haven’t seen or heard from them in over a year.’

  ‘I feel for you, my friend, but it’s truly said that while there’s life there’s hope. Keep faith that God blesses your women as surely as He blesses you.’

  ‘I try, sire—we all do—but it’s not easy.’

  ‘At least you’re fortunate in your priest. His understanding of God seems greater than his brothers’ in the town, since he is alive and they are dead.’

  ‘The town priests gave their time to tending the sick, sire. Father Aristide gives his to prayer and absolution. By such means he keeps the household alive.’

  ‘He deserves much praise for it. It’s an onerous task to hear a hundred confessions each day while finding time to recite the liturgy of the hours.’

  ‘I doubt any man could do so much, sire. We are summoned to the great hall each morning so that Father Aristide can absolve us with a blessing. His Holiness the Pope sent word last autumn that sins can be pardoned without the need for confession.’

  Thaddeus slowed. ‘Were the town priests dead when this news came? I wonder they took such care of the sick if they knew that general absolution was all that was needed to keep the pestilence at bay.’

  ‘There’s more sin in the town than in My Lord’s household, sire. Thieving and fornication are rife, and merchants worship money more than they do God. A priest can only protect the pure of heart.’

  Joshua prayed most earnestly that Thaddeus would let these statements pass. To challenge the Church’s teachings in front of men carrying swords would be madness.

  ‘Indeed. Some transgressions demand a more profound penance than can be gained from a blessing. Was the little maid who was forced from the house a thief and a fornicator? Her depravity must have been great to merit such a punishment.’

  There was a long pause before the captain answered. ‘The punishment was God’s, sire.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘He afflicted her with the pestilence.’

  ‘What age was she?’

  ‘A child still. Perhaps ten or eleven.’

  ‘Were you acquainted with her?’

  ‘She came with the women who brought food each night to our barracks. We called her Little Sparrow because she was timid and shy, but we were greatly deceived by her. Satan uses many guises to lure men from the path of righteousness.’

  Thaddeus came to an abrupt halt and turned to look at the captain. ‘T
hen she was wicked indeed,’ he said with such sarcasm that Joshua couldn’t believe all four of the fighting men didn’t hear it. ‘What vile sins did she persuade you to commit? Was her timidity enough to lure you into bedding her?’

  The three soldiers drew level with their captain and one raised his sword. The tip was only a wrist’s length from Thaddeus’s throat. ‘If you’re the slave the steward says you are, I’ll have your hide for that. There’s not a man here would have tarnished the maid. You malign her when you malign us.’

  Thaddeus’s reach was so long and his reactions so fast that he’d seized the blade in a gauntleted fist and snapped it across his knee even before the other was aware it was gone. ‘Your anger’s misplaced,’ he said, tossing the pieces into the undergrowth at the side of the track. ‘Blame your captain for saying she was touched by Satan before you blame me for asking how Satan manifested Himself.’

  ‘He repeats only what the priest said when he ordered her expulsion.’

  ‘Who was tasked with it?’

  ‘We were.’

  ‘Did she resist?’

  The man shook his head. ‘She accepted that she was damned.’

  A look of contempt crossed Thaddeus’s face. ‘Then take responsibility for the guilt you feel,’ he said coldly, ‘and be grateful to the thieves and fornicators in the town who took her in and cared for her. She died in wretchedness because she believed herself too wicked to live, but at least she knew kindness at the end.’ He turned to the captain. ‘Keep your men under better control. I’ll do more than break the weapon of the next to threaten me.’

  ‘Philippe was provoked by what you said, sire. He had a great fondness for Little Sparrow, who reminded him of his sister.’ The captain gestured to the other two soldiers to sheathe their swords. ‘Why do you say in one moment that we are fortunate in our priest and then judge us harshly for obeying his orders?’

  ‘I make no judgement on your obedience. You and the rest of the household stay alive by following his instructions, do you not? It’s your willingness to accept his reasons that angers me.’

  ‘I don’t understand, sire.’

  With a shrug, Thaddeus began walking again. ‘It’s an offence against God to call an innocent ten-year-old a creature of Satan.’

  Ian put an arm around Joshua’s chest and clamped a hand across his mouth to keep him from shouting out. Their paths had converged some fifty paces from the camp, and Joshua, intent on listening to Thaddeus’s dangerously honest answers to the soldiers, had neither seen nor heard Ian and Edmund’s approach. He ceased struggling when he heard Ian’s voice in his ear. ‘Is Thaddeus their prisoner?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he whispered when Ian removed his hand. ‘He’s looking to win them to his side.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘In the worst way possible. He’s telling them their priest’s a liar and a fraud.’

  Olyver and Peter fed arrows onto their strings, raised their bows and sighted along the shafts. They stood before the fire, their left shoulders towards the woodland, their right hands holding steady against their cheeks. The only movement either of them made was a fractional adjustment of their bows to the left when the sound of voices amongst the trees seemed to shift direction.

  Thaddeus was the first to emerge and he nodded approval when he saw their readiness. Briefly, his gaze roamed around the rest of the campsite, looking for Ian, Edmund and Joshua, but he made no comment when he didn’t find them. He moved to stand beside Olyver, clicking his fingers to persuade the dogs to follow him, and raised a hand in acknowledgement to the captain and three soldiers who remained within the trees.

  ‘I thank you for your safe escort, captain, and wish you and your men well.’

  ‘The steward will expect us to stay with you, sire. Will you ask your soldiers to lower their weapons?’

  Thaddeus shook his head. ‘The steward is your master not mine, my friend. He has no authority here. You may go of your own free will or I will ask my men to accompany you.’

  ‘We are four and they are two, sire. The odds are not in your favour.’

  Ian’s voice spoke from behind them. ‘You’re in error, sir. The odds have always been in My Lord’s favour. Had he given the signal we would have felled you in the woods.’

  Thaddeus listened to Joshua and Ian’s stories as he knelt to replace the parchments and writing implements in his travel desk, but he didn’t need Ian’s account of the imposter’s mention of twins or Joshua’s repeating of d’Amiens’ reference to the priest’s guest to tell him it was time to leave. He’d guessed from the moment the guards on the bridge responded to the name of Athelstan that he was testing his luck, but he’d known it for certain when the guildsmen signalled their unease.

  He refused to waste time, debating over who had betrayed them, and shook his head when Peter asked if he should stamp out the fire. ‘We’ll build it up. The steward will see its glow from the highway and the longer it burns the better start we’ll get.’

  ‘But in which direction?’ asked Olyver. ‘We’ll not find a path to the south through these woods in the dark—and even if we do, there’s no knowing where we’ll come out. What if the steward’s set a second block on the road a mile farther down? We’ll ride straight into it.’

  Thaddeus nodded. With the bridge to the north and the highway to the east and south, their only way out was to the west. But at night in the forest they were as likely to veer south as maintain the direction they wanted. He pictured the loop of river that he’d studied earlier that day, recalling how it had run west from the bridge for some five hundred paces before curving towards the north.

  ‘We’ll hug this tree line to the river,’ he said, ‘and then make our way along the bank. Providing we follow the water course, we’ll come to another highway eventually. This bridge can’t be the only crossing.’

  ‘It could be miles away,’ said Edmund.

  ‘It could,’ Thaddeus agreed, ‘and we’ll be doing it on foot. We need to move quietly. Lead your horses on rope halters and store your reins and stirrups in your saddle packs. The night’s so still, the rattle of harness will give us away.’

  ‘Who’s to hear us?’ asked Joshua.

  ‘Anyone with the wit to work out which way we’ve headed.’ Thaddeus rose to his feet with a sigh. ‘I’ve led you into a trap and for that I am deeply sorry. If we’re fortunate, the flames of the fire will persuade the steward we’re still here; otherwise, he’ll send men who know the forest paths to cut us off somewhere along the riverbank.’ He glanced from one anxious face to the other. ‘Should that happen, I want your promise that you’ll leave me to deal with the threat alone.’

  ‘None of us can promise that,’ said Ian.

  ‘You can and you will, for we carry the fate of Develish in our hands as well our own.’ He held out his palm. ‘Give me your pledges. Free of restraint, you have a better chance of helping me than if I’m forced to watch as each of you is broken on the wheel.’

  (EXTRACT FROM A PRIVATE JOURNAL KEPT BY LADY ANNE)

  Easter Day, 1349

  Harold Talbot lost his temper again today. This time his wrath was directed at our parade from the church as Father Anselm led us through the vegetable garden and orchard before shepherding us into the great hall for our Easter banquet. Before the pestilence, women and maids would spend weeks stitching new apparel for themselves and their families in honour of Christ’s rising, but with fabric in short supply they chose instead to bedeck old clothes with brightly coloured woollen sashes and tassels. The children hopped and skipped to set their ribbons fluttering and the sight was pleasing to all except Harold.

  I’ve never known a man so keen to embrace misery. If he’d had his way, every person in Develish would have worn hair shirts and beaten themselves with flagellants’ whips as penance for Christ’s crucifixion instead of walking together in celebration of His resurrection. Alice tells me his temper has grown worse since age scrambled his wits, but in truth I suspect he’s always been angry.
On the rare occasions when his mind is untroubled, he shows himself to be a person of intelligence, and I can’t help feeling his frustrations would have been lessened if he’d received an education.

  As ever, it was Eva Thurkell who soothed him. There’s no accounting for why he responds so readily to her voice and touch, but she wins our admiration each time she succeeds in quieting him. Alice says Eva’s fair prettiness reminds him of his youngest daughter, but I wonder if it wasn’t Eva’s staying of Will’s hand when he sought to punish Harold for raising little May’s skirt that won the old man’s heart. Whatever the reason, it pleases me that Eva has gained in confidence from being able to do something that no one else can.

  I thought my eyes deceived me yesterday when I watched her inscribe her name on a slate with Isabella’s help. She took so much satisfaction from the task that her face was wreathed in smiles, and for once they didn’t disappear when she became aware of my presence. She tells me she is determined to master the names of all her family before Thaddeus returns, and I wonder whether her previous resistance to acquiring new skills was driven by fear of mockery if she failed.

  She asked if I thought Thaddeus and his companions were safe, and I said I was sure they were. But it wasn’t an honest answer. This last week my nights have been troubled by dreams of Jacques d’Amiens. It may only be because Thaddeus said he would enter Blandeforde during the Easter celebrations, but my sense of foreboding is very great.

  Thirteen

  Develish, Dorseteshire

  GYLES HAD REASON TO BLESS the Easter festivities as he released the raft from its moorings and let it drift on long ropes towards the centre of the moat. By Lady Anne’s command, the day of revelry, sport and feasting had ended with watered wine being shared by all as the sun began to set; and now, at close to midnight, every person in Develish was deeply asleep, except for the men who stood on the guard steps.