She searched his face for a moment and then pressed her right palm to her breast. ‘I don’t know what might lead you to make such an accusation, Master d’Amiens,’ she answered in English, ‘but I can swear, hand on heart and with Almighty God as my witness, that I have never committed the sins of fornication and thievery. I would go further, and say I am grievously offended that you would cast such slurs against me.’
A murmur came from the crowd, and Ian glanced round to see Slater step forward. ‘I, too, am offended,’ he said, pressing his own palm to his chest. ‘And will likewise swear before Almighty God that I am innocent of what the priest accuses me. My wife, now dead, is the only woman I have loved, and stealing has never tempted me.’
The voices of his fellows rose in agreement as hand after hand thumped against chests, and their cries of innocence brought Miller and his supporters hurrying back. They skirted around the guards and lined themselves beside the greybeard, assuming the same stance of right palm to left breast.
‘If fornication and thievery brought the pestilence to Blandeforde,’ Miller called, ‘then the culprits must be here and not in the town. Father Aristide blames us unfairly.’
Andrew Tench moved forward to join their rank. ‘Our priests knew our weaknesses better than he, and they rarely sermonised about mortal sin even before the pestilence came.’
‘They were good men all,’ said Slater. ‘Before they died, they begged us to hold to the path of righteousness, and we have tried to do so. No man here would claim to know another’s secrets, but we can all speak of the kindness and care our town has shown the many sufferers who have sought sanctuary over the last half-year. Have you and My Lord’s household been as generous, Master d’Amiens? Has the priest?’
D’Amiens stared hard at him as if committing his face to memory. ‘You stray into heresy with such questions. Only God knows why the house is blessed and the town condemned.’ He raised his voice. ‘Am I not right, Father Aristide?’
When no answer came, all turned to look for the black-robed figure. But he was gone, and his absence gave Slater courage.
‘Where’s the heresy in asking how many sufferers you’ve tended?’ he asked d’Amiens. ‘We don’t question God’s plan for us, only why you sent your sick to us instead of caring for them yourselves. We know of four you expelled but none that you’ve kept and cared for.’
‘None was expelled. They left of their own free will.’
The lie was so blatant—as evidenced by the discomfort of the guards—that a silence followed. It fell to Lady Anne, who had heard the story of the little maid from Edmund, to break it, but rather than challenge d’Amiens on his falsehood, she questioned his judgement.
‘Did you not have a duty to stop them?’ she asked. ‘I cannot believe My Lord of Blandeforde would have wanted more sufferers inflicted on his town when they had taken in so many already.’
D’Amiens eyed her with dislike. ‘Do not to try my patience too far,’ he said in French. ‘You delude yourself if you think can incite these men to support you against my guards.’
‘I wouldn’t ask it of them,’ she answered in the same language. ‘I have more care for their lives than you do. Your guards also. I wish harm to no man. Yourself included.’
He gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘We can all speak brave words from the back of a horse, milady. If lives matter so much to you, descend and stand amongst the townsmen. Your presence on the ground is their best protection, for I’ll not order my soldiers to make war on Lady Anne of Develish.’
‘You may come to regret that promise, Master d’Amiens.’
He shook his head. ‘You haven’t kept your people free of the pestilence all these months to act the fool now. Cease your stirring and encourage this rabble to return to their homes. I give my word that you and Thurkell will receive a fair hearing.’
Lady Anne held his gaze for a moment and then turned to Ian. ‘Oblige me by assisting me from my saddle,’ she said in English. ‘I have more faith that Master d’Amiens’ guards will honour his first pledge than I do that he will uphold his second.’
Ian’s resistance was obvious. ‘Are you sure, milady? I doubt the men of Blandeforde would expect you to act as their shield.’
She nodded. ‘In Develish, we set fourteen days as the period of exclusion for a man to prove he was well. Here, eight weeks have passed without a death. Do you ask me to show less friendship to these worthy people than to My Lord of Bourne or the serfs of Pedle Hinton?’
Ian nudged his mount backwards and passed his reins to Peter before swinging himself to the ground. ‘No, milady,’ he said, reaching up to support her dismount. ‘My Lord of Athelstan would say the same. Will you allow me the privilege of accompanying you?’
Nineteen
GYLES STARTOUT BROUGHT HIS SMALL convoy to a halt as they breasted the hill above Blandeforde. To his right rode his brother Alleyn, to his left James Buckler. All wore threadbare tabards with the crest of Sir Richard of Develish, these being the only garments left in Develish that might lift them above the level of serfs. The livery looked well enough from a distance but Gyles didn’t doubt the moth-eaten fabric would invite derision at close quarters. He had no greater hopes that their mounts, stolen from Holcombe by Lord Bourne, would strike a more commanding appearance. Two seasons on the pastureland by the moat had left them unbrushed and unkempt, giving them more the air of carthorses than chargers.
They certainly hadn’t made for a comfortable journey. So long unridden, they had responded poorly to their bits and, with no time to soften the saddle leather with oil and tallow, all three men had suffered. It led Gyles to wonder if Lady Anne could possibly have reached Blandeforde. Was she capable of riding so far when even he, the most experienced horseman, winced with every unexpected lurch in his brute’s uneven gait? The only sounds that had come from James and Alleyn’s mouths had been full-throated oaths, and both gave sighs of relief as the town came into sight below them.
By the sun, Gyles estimated it was an hour past noon, and he questioned again whether Lady Anne could be ahead of them. She may have had an eight-hour start on him and his companions, having left Develish at midnight, but they had ridden at a fast gallop and her lack of horsemanship would have kept her to a slow walk until dawn. He cursed himself for not insisting that John ask sensible questions of his son instead of spending his time berating the youth about misplaced loyalty. If Gyles knew where Edmund had left his companions, he would have a better idea of Lady Anne’s progress.
James Buckler stood in his stirrups to relieve the pressure on his aching groin. ‘What’s worrying you?’ he asked.
‘That we’ve arrived before Lady Anne. I’ve known her fifteen years but I’ve never seen her on horseback. She told me she’d manage with Edmund’s help but . . .’ He shook his head.
‘You think she’s given up?’
‘There’s a good chance.’
Alleyn was studying the verge to the left of the highway. ‘Horses have stopped here recently,’ he said. ‘Do you see how the grass has been trampled? I’m guessing they were allowed to graze while their riders looked down on Blandeforde. Who else could it be but Lady Anne and your sons?’
‘The steward’s fighting men?’ suggested Gyles. ‘For all we know they’ve been scouring the countryside since Thaddeus was arrested.’
There was a thoughtful silence, broken by James Buckler. ‘Then what are we doing here?’ he asked. ‘You could have foreseen all this before we left Develish.’
‘I felt I had to try.’
‘For Lady Eleanor’s sake?’
‘Isabella’s, too. Her pleas were as heartfelt.’ Gyles glanced at Alleyn. ‘I even had your Robert joining in.’
‘The lad’s in search of adventure. He’d have taken my place if you’d permitted it.’
Gyles shook his head. ‘It’s more than that. He fears Eleanor will harm herself if anything happens to Lady Anne. Both he and Isabella say she’ll blame herself if Milady is taken in charge
for heresy.’
‘With good cause,’ said James. ‘She should have had more sense than to denounce Lady Anne in front of de Courtesmain.’
‘Would you have her kill herself over it now? Robert assures me that’s what she’ll do if harm comes to Lady Anne through her fault.’
James nodded to the leather knapsack behind Gyles’s saddle. ‘Will the documents you’re carrying prevent that?’
‘Isabella believes so—as long as it’s Master de Courtesmain who betrays us and I can place them in Lady Anne’s hands before she’s obliged to answer to him.’
‘Hence your fussing over whether she’s behind or ahead of us.’
Gyles nodded. ‘She must read them first. They’ll serve no purpose at all if her dreams were misguided and it’s Bourne who informs against Thaddeus.’
James grinned. ‘You never think anything she does misguided.’
‘There’s always a first time.’
‘But not today,’ Alleyn murmured, jerking his chin towards the right-hand edge of the highway. ‘That pile of turd looks like dog excrement to me.’ He turned his gaze on Blandeforde. ‘You must have more faith, brother—if not in Lady Anne, then in God and your sons. The boys will have found a way to make the journey easier for her, and God loves her too much to lead her wrong now.’
The town appeared empty of life. There were no guards on the bridge and no people in the streets. Gyles was reminded of riding through Dorchester in the early days of the pestilence, when a pall of death had hung over the streets, but he didn’t have that same sense here. There were too many signs of recent industry—broached barrels of ale outside tavern doors, the scent of newly baked bread, sheep carcasses hanging from a beam outside a shop.
He knew Blandeforde well from visits he’d made in the past as part of Sir Richard’s retinue, and needed no directions on how to find the manor house. Nevertheless, as they neared the turning which led to it he had a growing fear that they were riding towards a flogging. Or worse.
The whip had been banned in Develish for a decade and a half, but he could still remember when Sir Richard had insisted on every serf being summoned to watch a fellow’s skin being flayed. Lady Anne’s arrival had brought an end to such punishment but the sport had remained common in neighbouring demesnes. Countless times Gyles had been forced to witness a public scourging while lords laid wagers on how many lashes a serf could endure. His darkest memory was of watching a youth hanged for absconding. Thin and undersized, he had dangled at the end of a rope, his legs twitching through more than three hundred beats of a drum before he breathed his last. The spoils had gone to Sir Richard for guessing that the boy’s puny weight would keep him from strangling sooner.
‘You should prepare yourselves,’ he told James and Alleyn. ‘I can think of only one reason why bread has been baked but the streets are empty. The people have been ordered to the house. I pray the steward wants their attendance at a trial, though I fear it’s more likely they’ve been summoned to witness a punishment.’
He led them on to the approach road and urged his mount to a trot. Even from two hundred yards, he could see guards along the walls, but his attention was drawn to the throng of women and children blocking the entrance. He guessed the gates must have been closed against them and wondered why. Had the steward ordered a penance so terrible that only men were able to stomach it? The thought alarmed him, and he nudged his horse to a canter, calling on James and Alleyn to do the same. The clatter of hooves on the road caused the crowd to turn and then scurry to the verges, and Gyles saw with relief that he’d guessed wrongly. The gates stood wide with nothing to impede their progress except a straggle of townsmen on the driveway beyond.
If he’d learnt anything from riding with Sir Richard, it was that Norman soldiers had more proficiency with dice than weapons. Few took the trouble to train once they realised how easily Dorseteshire folk were intimidated. There was no call to draw bows or swords when a charging horse or a flailing whip served the purpose better. At fifty yards, he saw that the guards on the walls to either side of the entrance were of an age with his twins, and he gambled they’d had little practice at firing on a moving target. With a shout to the crowd to stand clear, he took his mount to a gallop, and stretched himself along the animal’s neck.
The townsmen on the driveway scattered as he thundered through the pillars with James and Alleyn close on his heels, and only when the bend in the driveway was too close for comfort did he straighten and pull hard on his reins. He took a few deep breaths. ‘Compose yourselves as best you can,’ he told his companions, straightening his tabard and settling his bow across his shoulder. ‘Once around that corner, you will be judged by the way you display yourselves. Recall how well Thaddeus has taught our sons and you’ll not go wrong.’
James held his finger to his lips. ‘Someone comes,’ he murmured, giving a small jerk of his head to the rear.
Gyles glanced behind him and then wheeled his horse to face the approaching townsmen. There were ten or twelve, the same who had been making their way towards the gates before the horses set them running.
‘I know your crest,’ said one. ‘I wove it into a tapestry for Sir Richard of Develish three years back. If it’s Milady you seek, you’ll find her on the forecourt.’
‘Thank you, sir. Has she been there long?’
‘As long as the Mass lasted. An hour and a half perhaps.’
Gyles took what he could from these answers. ‘Does your priest always hold Mass in the open?’
Another man answered. ‘He’s the steward’s priest and had but one reason to sermonise outside: he fears being close to us. Mind, he absolved us of our sins, and that’s a gift we haven’t had in nigh on half a year.’ He eyed Gyles curiously. ‘The soldiers who accompany Milady wear a different crest. How so?’
‘Their lord is Athelstan, cousin to Lady Anne. His men rode to Develish to inform her of his arrest.’
‘She spoke of him in the town. It seems the steward has made an error by taking him in charge.’
‘He has,’ said Gyles, tapping the pack behind his saddle. ‘And I bring the documents to prove it.’ He studied the upturned faces. ‘Were you summoned here for a trial or just a Mass?’
‘Neither,’ said the first man. ‘We joined our fellow townsmen when Matthew Miller called on us to escort Lady Anne.’
‘There are more of you?’
‘Many more . . . and all still on the forecourt with your mistress. We have tasks to perform or would have remained with them.’
‘Why do the women and children wait at the gate?’
The man shrugged. ‘Entry has been forbidden for many months now. We’re only here ourselves because of Milady’s determination to gain access.’
Gyles’s weathered face creased in a smile. ‘She has a powerful way with her. I don’t doubt the steward is already regretting the permission.’ He pulled on his left rein and nudged his horse into motion again. ‘I bid you farewell, sirs. May God go with you.’
He expected to hear the response ‘And with you’, but it seemed the men were regretting their early departure. As he led James and Alleyn at a walk towards the bend, the group chose to follow, their curiosity stronger than their need to work.
Thaddeus was grateful the servants had the same curiosity. Those who were closest to the windows called out descriptions of what they were seeing, and together they painted a clear picture of the battle for authority between Lady Anne and d’Amiens. Thaddeus had little difficulty interpreting Milady’s actions, or indeed the steward’s, but he found it harder to understand Aristide’s. A maid, peering to her right, spoke of him hastening across the bridge to the church, and Thaddeus wondered what was taking him there. He had no need to retrieve de Courtesmain’s scrolls, which lay on the table where the steward had tossed them before venturing out to confront Lady Anne.
The news that three mounted men in livery with a dozen townsmen behind them had rounded the bend in the driveway prompted the captain to move t
o the window. He clearly knew the Develish crest, because he asked Thaddeus if they could expect more of Lady Anne’s men to join her. And why had these not accompanied her this morning rather than place her in the care of Athelstan’s troop?
‘I’m as ignorant as you of what’s been happening in Develish this day,’ said Thaddeus lightly, turning his hand in the bowl of warm briny water that Mistress Wilde had brought him. ‘You’ll get better answers by going outside and addressing these incomers directly.’
‘To do that, I must trust you to hold to your parole, sire. Your master of hounds knows his way to the kitchen and the woodland beyond, and for all I know there are more of Lady Anne’s people at the bottom of the driveway.’
‘Then take him and the dogs with you. I cannot escape the guards and servants alone.’ Thaddeus glanced at the matronly woman who hovered at his side with a salver of boiled rags. ‘And nor would I wish to while Mistress Wilde shows me such kindness.’
Joshua ducked his head in a small bow. ‘I would prefer to remain at your side, My Lord.’
Thaddeus looked deep into his eyes. ‘You will serve a better purpose if you help the captain make sense of Develish speech, Buckler. I wager these incomers will try to befuddle him with brogue. They did the same often enough with Master de Courtesmain, which is why he’s so confused about my status.’
He couldn’t tell if Joshua grasped his full meaning, but de Courtesmain certainly did, and Thaddeus counted the Frenchman’s angry reaction a victory. For a quarter-hour, the hall had been subjected to his mummery of martyrdom: a sinking to his knees as he was chained to a pillar, the mouthing of prayers and his calling on God to chastise heretics. But it seemed he had too much conceit to allow Thaddeus’s slur against his intellect to go unchallenged.
‘Are there any lies you won’t tell?’ he hissed in French. ‘Your precious whore has taught her people too well to have them grunt like pigs. Even the harlot you call mother knows how to fashion speech that can be understood.’
The Turn of Midnight Page 31