The Turn of Midnight

by Minette Walters

  ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘Along the highway.’ Peter set to unbuckling the second pack pony’s harness. ‘He can use this for a mount. The other will be able to carry the load once its rid of the gold. If you haven’t caught up with me before the light fades, which you won’t with a wagon in tow, I’ll make camp near the road’s edge. You’ll likely see my fire before I see your torches.’

  Olyver helped him lift the load to the ground. ‘Then make yourself useful while you wait for us,’ he said, loosening the knot that held the cauldron and a bag of butchered mutton before attaching them to Peter’s saddle. ‘I’ll not be the only one slitting my throat if I don’t see food this night.’

  ‘These, too,’ added Joshua, removing a sack of beans and another of dried fruit. ‘You can wear them around your neck the way we’ve had to,’ he told de Courtesmain, stringing the rope across his shoulders. ‘Peter won’t welcome your company, but I don’t doubt he’d rather listen to your grudges than have you cause Milady further irritation here.’

  Olyver stooped to lace his hands beneath de Courtesmain’s foot. ‘You should count yourself lucky that God saw fit to inflict you upon us,’ he said severely. ‘You’d have died long since if He hadn’t sent you to Develish.’

  The crowd of women and children at the gate had dispersed, leaving only a handful of youths to witness Peter and de Courtesmain’s departure. Two or three walked with them, agog with curiosity to know what was happening. Peter answered their questions honestly but shook his head in disgust when they expressed disappointment to hear there’d be no flogging.

  ‘Is that what you’ve been waiting for?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s nothing else to do.’

  Peter instructed Hugh to take a firm hold of the pony’s mane and led him at a fast trot to the end of the approach road. From there, he slowed to a walk. They received curious glances from the women they passed in the streets but none was emboldened enough to speak. He expected to find guards on the bridge, and advised Hugh to speak and act like a freeman if he didn’t want to be returned to the steward as an absconder, but the road was empty and they crossed without trouble.

  As they made their way up the gentle incline of the hill, Hugh found his voice. ‘Do you plan to kill me?’

  Peter glanced at him. ‘Why would I want to?’

  ‘To spare Milady further worry. I can’t speak of what I know if I’m dead.’

  ‘You’ve already spoken,’ said Peter. ‘What use would your death be now? The time to kill you was before you entered Blandeforde. I don’t say I wouldn’t have been tempted. We’d all have been saved a lot of trouble if you’d met with an accident on the road from Bourne.’

  ‘Others may believe me.’

  ‘Not while you’re bonded to Athelstan, they won’t. No one will hear you unless he gives you permission to speak. Be grateful he kept you alive. You know from the lashes you inflicted on the serfs of Foxcote that you’d not have survived. We had word before you ever reached Develish that five of the men you scourged died from having their skin torn from their ribs.’

  Hugh closed his eyes. ‘I did what I was commanded to do.’

  Peter thought of the numerous times Thaddeus had chastised his companions for blaming their faults on others instead of taking responsibility themselves. ‘Is that your defence for every bad act you commit? “Someone else made me do it.” I’ll wager you blame God for your misfortunes as often as you blame men.’

  ‘I fear His wrath too much to chastise Him.’

  ‘Then I’d not wish to live a second in your shoes, Master de Courtesmain. You must struggle with terror every day. An angry God’s as hard to please as an angry lord.’

  A flicker of irritation flared in Hugh’s heart. ‘What knowledge do you have of either? Develish serfs are ignorant of the meaning of wrath or fear.’

  Peter gave a grunt of amusement. ‘As were you while you lived amongst us. Was that not more pleasurable than where you find yourself now?’

  It was a moment before Hugh could produce the words. ‘I fear returning to Develish.’

  ‘Because you’re a traitor or because you’re a slave?’

  ‘Both,’ came the whispered reply. ‘I’ll be a figure of hatred and mockery through what I’ve done. It would be a kindness to end my life now.’

  Peter led him over the breast of the hill. ‘You give up too easily, Master de Courtesmain. If the steward honours his promise to grant Athelstan title to Pedle Hinton, you’ll be making your home there rather than Develish.’ He saw relief enter de Courtesmain’s face. ‘You won’t be so keen when you see it,’ he warned. ‘The village is destroyed and the roof of the house half-burnt. Your hands will grow calluses cutting timber and mixing daub before they ever lift a pen again.’

  The rest of their conversation took place beside a fire while Peter cooked mutton and watched the highway for approaching torches. For his part, Hugh felt compelled to keep revisiting his sins of omission and commission, and the confessions he made to Peter were more honest than any he’d made to a priest. His greatest wretchedness was to lose his status, but Peter advised him to cease fretting about an order made in Blandeforde. Milady and Athelstan would never reduce a man to slavery. They had striven too long to win freedom for their people to take a backward step now.

  ‘You must learn new skills and work with the rest of us to promote the good of all,’ he told Hugh. ‘When Milady and Athelstan succeed in their plans to turn Develish and Pedle Hinton into communities of freemen and merchants, you’ll profit along with the rest of us. If you cling to your one talent, you’ll be left behind.’

  Lady Anne had said the same on the morning of the great storm, and Hugh had dismissed the idea as fanciful. But he saw that she and Peter were right when the glimmer of torchlight appeared on the highway. As the convoy approached, there was no mistaking Thurkell astride his black charger. He rode between the Startout twins, both holding flares above their heads. On their flanks, Joshua and Edmund steered their mounts with their knees to leave their hands free to operate the bows they were carrying; ahead of them loped the dogs, questing to and fro across the road to sniff out miscreants amongst the trees.

  Had they been strangers, Hugh would have taken them for what they appeared to be, a lord and his fighting men, and to cling to the comforting idea that they were serfs—and therefore beneath him—would be as foolish as Peter had warned. Even the older Develish men who followed with Milady’s wagon rode with assurance, and Hugh’s cheeks heated to recall how he had disparaged them to her, saying none had the wisdom or ability to sit on her council.

  Panic engulfed him as they drew closer, and such strong pains struck at his chest that he thought he was dying. He prayed he was. Dead, he would not have to take their derision or search in vain for ways to atone. It was a mystery to him now that he had been so unable to accept that the education which had benefited him might also benefit those whom the Church had ruled beneath him.

  He felt Peter’s hand grip his arm and heard the youth’s call of welcome to Thurkell.

  ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ came the laughing retort. ‘I’m told you have a veritable feast for us.’ As the charger brought him level, he gave a nod to Hugh. ‘I trust I find you well, Master de Courtesmain.’

  Hugh felt tears prick behind his eyes. ‘You do, sire.’

  Thaddeus swung from his saddle. ‘I’m glad to hear it. You were in safe hands with Peter.’ He passed his reins to Ian. ‘Let me speak with Milady. If she’s happy to spend the night in the open, I say we make camp here. For myself, I haven’t the energy to travel to Develish this night.’

  As the flames of the fire flickered across the smiling faces of the people around it, Hugh was reminded of when Lady Anne had danced with her serfs to celebrate their victory over Bourne’s archers. He had condemned her for it, believing she was endangering her daughter and him by lowering herself to their level. To offer friendship to base-born people was to encourage rebellion, and he’d
feared that he and Lady Eleanor, being Normans, would become the butts of their hatred.

  He wished now that he had followed her advice and sought closeness with these men. Lady Anne had lost no respect through her care for them. Indeed, their admiration for her showed in everything they said and did. When she stepped from the carriage, taking Thurkell’s hand to steady herself, she was dressed once again in homespun, and Hugh had felt an absurd relief to see the simple kirtle. It made his own peasant tunic and britches less noticeable amidst the Athelstan and Develish liveries.

  Behind her had come Mistress Wilde, her face wreathed in shy smiles as Thurkell assisted her to the ground. Her belief that he was Athelstan was reinforced by the Develish men’s constant use of his title, and Hugh saw that they found it easy to do. Whatever the truth of his birth, there was little doubt they accepted him as a worthy leader beside Milady.

  Mistress Wilde was presented as Lady Anne’s chaperone for the journey, but when the woman spoke of her excitement to spend a few days in Develish before returning home, Hugh guessed that Milady’s reason for bringing her was to remove any lingering uncertainties d’Amiens might have about Thurkell’s status. The people of Develish were as committed to upholding the imposture as every man here, and Mistress Wilde would take her belief in his nobility back to Blandeforde. It seemed she was also the bearer of clean rags to re-dress Thurkell’s wounds, and Hugh was grateful to Peter for drawing him away while that task was performed.

  ‘We’ll serve a better purpose collecting wood,’ he said, beckoning to Edmund to bring a torch. After a hundred paces, he asked Edmund if Athelstan had succeeded.

  The other youth grinned. ‘He did. In return for a pledge of fealty to Blandeforde, Athelstan bears writs granting him vassal status over Pedle Hinton.’

  ‘Will they hold?’

  ‘No reason why not. D’Amiens wanted the gold more than he wanted a demesne devoid of people. Ian said he warned Athelstan he’d give him no quarter if the estate failed in its tax obligations.’

  ‘How did My Lord answer?’

  ‘He advised d’Amiens to concern himself with his own affairs. He was fortunate to have Athelstan’s gold to plug the holes in Blandeforde’s revenue today, but the shortfalls will increase if the townsmen can’t find the confidence to reopen the markets and resume trading. He’s persuaded d’Amiens to meet with their council and hear their ideas. It seems they’re proposing to hold markets outside their boundaries until they’re sure the pestilence has passed.’

  ‘Will that help?’

  ‘Athelstan believes so. Their greatest fear is to allow sufferers into the town again. He’s advised all to keep their distance and toss their money onto the ground rather than touch hands. If customers and visiting merchants do the same, confidence will grow on both sides.’

  ‘What else did he say?’

  ‘That he and Milady will set an example by sending their surplus stock to Blandeforde as soon as the markets open. Where Develish and Pedle Hinton lead, others will follow. The townsmen cheered him, but he told us afterwards that it will benefit us as well as them. D’Amiens will be reassured that both demesnes can submit taxes if he sees us trading regularly in Blandeforde.’

  Peter saw Hugh shake his head. ‘You don’t agree, Master de Courtesmain?’

  ‘If the dead are as numerous as Athelstan says, there won’t be enough hungry mouths to fetch a good price on meat. To satisfy d’Amiens, he’ll need to show another source of wealth.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘That he brings in reserves of gold from his Spanish demesnes as soon as foreign ships make entry to England’s harbours again. A receipt, properly set out and signed by a ship’s captain, will be all that is needed to convince d’Amiens the transaction took place.’

  Edmund exchanged a glance with Peter, neither sure what de Courtesmain meant by this. That he believed Athelstan had reserves of gold or that a receipt could be easily forged? Both could see the merit of forgery to explain the wealth they’d plundered from abandoned demesnes this last month. Their biggest haul had come from Bradmayne. For all his professed need of Lady Eleanor’s dowry, My Lord of Bradmayne had still left a sizeable fortune behind in his treasury. It should have been stolen by bandits, since the demesne was deserted, but as Thaddeus had said, he and his companions seemed to be the only bandits left in south Dorseteshire.

  The fruits of their labour were buried deep in a sand dune overlooking the sea near Poole. Used carefully and wisely, Thaddeus believed there was enough dead men’s gold to rebuild Pedle Hinton and set all in Develish on the path to freedom. Nevertheless, he had yet to find a way to excuse his thieving. Certainly, the idea of forging receipts hadn’t occurred to him.

  ‘Do you think ships will return soon, Master de Courtesmain?’ Edmund asked.

  Hugh wondered afterwards if that was the moment he chose to embrace change, or if the desire to do so hadn’t been with him from the moment a chattel wife took control of Develish. ‘My Lord of Bourne thought so,’ he answered. ‘I prepared several receipts for him in expectation of trade resuming before too long. He thought it wise to divide his stolen gold across several ships, and I still remember the names I gave the vessels. Will Athelstan be interested to learn them? His own transactions might carry more credence if another lord has used the same ships.’

  Peter gave a friendly nod. ‘Be sure he will,’ he said.

  As the meal was eaten, Hugh kept his head lowered for fear of meeting Lady Anne’s or Thurkell’s gaze. He had little confidence that Peter spoke for either of them, and believed it was a matter of time only before one or both forced him to account for his actions. He feared that time had come when Thurkell laid aside his plate and asked Ian to bring his writing desk. He opened the lid and revealed the scrolls Hugh had taken to Blandeforde. He handed Lady Anne the page from the Develish register. ‘This is part of your people’s history and belongs to you, milady.’

  Lady Anne took a moment to read it again and then leant forward to feed the cracked vellum into the fire. ‘A small part only,’ she said, ‘and since there’s no way of threading it back into the ledger, it will be lost to us anyway. Better it adds to our warmth than crumbles to dust through neglect.’

  Thaddeus watched a lick of flame destroy the evidence of his birth and then raised his eyes to Hugh’s. ‘The rest are yours, sir, even the letter I left for you in Bourne. Master d’Amiens had no interest in keeping them so I asked for their return. Do you wish to retain them or shall we allow cleansing fire to do its work? I suggest we’ll build a better future on new foundations than ones that have become twisted over time.’

  Hugh was too nervous to answer. Was he included in this future, he wondered, or did Thurkell speak only for the people of Develish? If the man’s intention was to cast him aside, would he not do better to keep the scrolls and threaten to use them as Lady Anne had threatened to use Bourne’s letters?

  ‘Perhaps Master de Courtesmain will find the decision easier if you burn the writ of slavery first,’ Lady Anne advised quietly.

  ‘Indeed.’ Thaddeus lifted the writ and passed it to Peter. ‘Allow Master de Courtesmain to reassure himself it’s the correct document and then place it in the flames. Blandeforde’s seal at the bottom should help it burn.’

  Hugh took the page from Peter in trembling hands and ran his tongue around his mouth to produce some words. ‘I wounded you badly and had malice in my heart when I did it. What punishment will you demand of me in place of this?’

  With a sigh of impatience, as if despairing of Hugh’s ability to understand anything, Peter seized back the parchment and thrust it into the fire. ‘If it’s pain you seek, you’ll find it soon enough by working without complaint at whatever you’re asked to do,’ he said sternly. ‘I wasn’t jesting when I said your hands will grow calluses cutting timber before they ever lift a pen again.’ He stood to retrieve the scrolls from Thaddeus’s writing desk. ‘All Athelstan asks is whether you wish to make your future with u
s or forge it alone. There’s few would offer you the choice after the trouble you’ve caused, but Athelstan does. What’s your decision?’

  ‘I would join you,’ Hugh whispered.

  Peter tossed the scrolls into the flames and resumed his seat, tapping the Frenchman’s shoulder by way of welcome. ‘You’ll likely change your mind after you’ve eaten Joshua’s stew five nights in a row, but that’s a penance we all have to pay.’

  When the laughter subsided, the conversation turned to the ending of Develish’s isolation. Thurkell said that there was no knowing how the rest of England fared but he believed it would be safe for Lady Anne to cross the moat on the morrow. She agreed so readily that Hugh knew she must have come to the same decision herself. Perhaps her journey to Blandeforde had been all that was needed to confirm what she and Thurkell had believed all along: that the pestilence would end as surely as the pox or the flux. Hugh wondered that he had been so unwilling to see the soundness of their arguments when even a priest like Aristide had preferred reason over the teachings of the Church.

  Lady Anne promised Mistress Wilde a fine celebration, and the woman’s plump face was wreathed in smiles to be invited as an equal. It seemed, however, that Thurkell would not be part of the festivities because he gave instructions on where the convoy would divide the following day. Lady Anne, Mistress Wilde and Milady’s men would take the highway to Develish, while he and his, together with Master de Courtesmain, would ride to Pedle Hinton. With God’s grace, he hoped to invite Milady and her daughter for a visit in the summer, when the forget-me-nots were in full bloom and the beginnings of a fine new demesne were underway.

  Hugh felt Lady Anne’s gaze upon him. ‘Do you look forward to helping My Lord rebuild Pedle Hinton, Master de Courtesmain?’ she asked.

  Tongue-tied by nerves again, he could only nod.

  ‘I shall ask the women of Develish to stay with me to till and plant our fields, and the men to cross the hills to assist in Pedle Hinton. Master Miller and several more have already promised to make the journey from Blandeforde, and My Lord hopes to attract others in return for wages. He looks to create a community of freemen who can use their wits and skills to improve their lives and the lives of their children. When the time comes, he will need a person knowledgeable in figures to keep a tally of their earnings. Would you be comfortable in such a post, Master de Courtesmain?’