Squire Throwleigh's Heir

by Michael Jecks

  ‘I ask you all to drink to Hugh,’ he boomed, ‘a hero among servants! Hugh!’

  Margaret returned to the side of Lady Katharine and poured wine for her. The bereaved woman drank deeply, holding the cup with both hands to steady it. She needed to steel her nerves for the inevitable confrontation with Thomas, Margaret thought, and it was only when she had refilled Lady Katherine’s pot that she allowed her attention to wander around the room again.

  Anney was nowhere to be seen. She had been out with the others to witness the fight, but still hadn’t returned, and Margaret clicked her tongue at such dereliction. It was especially important that she should look after her mistress on a day like this, when she had not only buried her child but had also endured the shame of a fight between guests at the funeral party. Margaret tut-tutted silently. She would have to speak to the steward about Anney.

  The priest huddled at the back of the hall near the door, even more pale than usual, his eyes dull and listless. Catching Margaret’s eye, Brother Stephen gave her a ghastly smile.

  Scarcely knowing what he was doing, he raised his drinking pot to his lips and took a deep draught. It felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on him; the place was stifling with all these people! He knew he was in enormous danger still, even though Petronilla had gone and destroyed some of the evidence. There were too many who had seen him up on the moors that day… and he was unpleasantly aware of Godfrey’s cool gaze on him. Then Godfrey looked away, and with a freezing feeling in his bowels, Stephen saw him look from Sir Baldwin to the bailiff.

  Simon was insisting that Hugh should drink all his wine and have another cup to wash it down. In the midst of his delight it was some time before he noticed the grave-looking servant standing behind Hugh. ‘Are you all right, Godfrey?’ he cried bluffly. ‘Your master’ll recover from his scratch, never fear! I’ve seen much worse.’

  ‘So have I, Bailiff. Many times,’ said Godfrey drily. ‘That wasn’t why I was quiet. I wish to make a statement in front of the whole company, but am not sure how to begin.’

  The Lady Katharine had returned to her seat by the fire; her steward stood behind her, gripping his staff once more. Her expression was one of deep shock, as if after burying her husband and her child, and then witnessing the small battle at the very entrance to her hall, she was close to collapse.

  Stephen saw the vacuity of her expression and walked to her side. He touched the cross at his waist, his face filled with compassion, then reached out towards her, but his hand hovered a few inches from her shoulder, as if he did not dare interrupt her thoughts.

  Simon felt that in that simple, humble gesture, Stephen had given him more of an insight into his character than all the sermons he had heard the cleric give or the conversations he had held with the man. The priest might appear cold and unfeeling, even perhaps cruel sometimes, but he was still a man, and perhaps, Simon thought, watching him from the corner of his eye, perhaps he was a man with the same desires as any other, no matter what his oaths implied. For there was a hint of reverence in his way of standing there next to his mistress, like a knight who has been overwhelmed by the beauty of a lady.

  Lady Katharine looked up at last, noticing the silence that had gradually fallen all about her. Seeing Godfrey at its centre, ready to make some sort of announcement, she gave a small frown and waved her hand. ‘Do you wish to speak, Master Godfrey? Please go ahead.’

  ‘If you are sure, Madam,’ he said, and shot a look at Thomas.

  ‘I doubt whether there is anything you could say which would surprise me. Is it about Thomas trying to make me sell off parts of my land?’

  The merchant was sitting upright now, and had fixed him with a piercing - no, Godfrey amended, a threatening stare - but one in which the fear of personal discovery was all too evident. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide,’ Thomas said gruffly.

  ‘On the day your son died, my Lady, this man arranged to meet my master. Sir James demanded that I should be present, in case of any risk to himself, and I thus overheard their entire discussion. I think Sir James has already told you the general tenor of what they discussed.’

  She nodded, with a contemptuous glance in her brother-in-law’s direction. ‘Yes. Thomas demanded money in order to persuade me to sell parts of my land to van Relenghes. My brother-in-law was prepared to sell his nephew’s birthright for his own gain.’

  ‘That’s right, my Lady,’ Godfrey acknowledged, and lowered his head. ‘And I confess that I held my tongue about it, and for that I beg your pardon. There were two reasons, my Lady: first was the consideration that I was paid by my master, and for a man like me that consideration must carry weight; but second was my belief that something odd was being planned by my master. If I were to leave his service I could not have discovered what he intended.’

  ‘Which was?’ Simon interrupted.

  ‘Nothing more than the ravishing of Squire Roger’s wife.’

  There was a shocked intake of breath from the gathering. Simon was quiet with anger. ‘You mean this?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. James van Relenghes is a conceited fool who believes that no woman can reject his advances. You see, he wanted revenge on the squire. My master once captured a hostage and ransomed him, allowing him to go free. The prisoner was a French Duke, and the squire - your husband, my Lady - heard of this and forced the Fleming to repay all the money he had won. All hostages of rank were to have been sold to the King in order that he could ransom them himself, and he paid a reasonable rate, but van Relenghes was greedy. He wanted the lot. Squire Roger got the money and gave the Fleming some time to escape before he told the King - thus in van Relenghes’s mind Squire Roger cost him a king’s ransom and his career.’

  ‘So he was motivated by revenge?’ Simon said.

  ‘Yes, sir. The Fleming hated the squire, and wanted to mete out punishment on his wife and child. Well, I think he thought the best way to ruin the Lady Katharine was to show she was guilty of infamy, taking another man soon after her husband’s death. And he thought he could make her take him. I don’t think he wanted to merely damage her reputation. No, I reckon he thought that by showing her to be unfaithful to her husband’s memory, he could also hint that she was adulterous during the squire’s life, that he was cuckolded. That way the Fleming would get back at the man he really hated.’

  ‘And you chose to keep this secret?’

  ‘I remained at his side all the time to ensure my Lady was safe. Perhaps I was wrong, but if I had told of the scheme, my master must have found out that someone had spoken. It would not be hard to guess that I had opened my mouth. And I thought it better to remain with him, to see what else he would attempt. Especially since I had my own debt of honour to repay. I used to fight with the squire - oh, many years ago. So did another man with whom I have spoken.’ He saw no reason to say that the man who had given him much of his information was Thomas’s own servant, Nicholas.

  Lady Katharine gave him another nod, slower this time.

  ‘And now, my Lady, allow me to make amends to you for my secrecy. Here and now, I accuse your brother-in-law of murdering Herbert, your son.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘You’ve been here all the time?’

  In the stable, Nicholas winced as Anney wiped some of the blood from his nose. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled, his voice nasal and thick with pain. ‘I couldn’t go and see you, though, could I? What would you have done?’

  ‘Probably hit you, you bastard,’ she said evenly. It was true: she would have been happy to hit him if he was standing - but not now, not like this. Nicholas was a picture of dejection, sitting on the stool with his head tilted back so the blood wouldn’t flow down his shirt any more and would have an opportunity to clot. ‘I don’t think I’d have managed to get you so well as this, though.’

  Nicholas wheezed through his open mouth. There was a dull ache between his eyes, and he had a desperate urge to scratch his ruined nose, but he daren’t touch it, not yet. ‘I’ll get the sod ba
ck for doing this.’

  ‘You think so? After he put four of your friends down and then you as well, you really think you’d have a chance against him?’ She patted away another dribble of blood from the tender, shattered skin, and felt him flinch as her damp cloth touched him, but not as much as when she said, ‘What happened to your wife?’

  ‘What of her? She left me.’

  ‘Left you?’

  He curled his lip. ‘She got upset when she found me in bed with a strumpet.’

  Anney leaned back and surveyed him. There was truth in his face; he wasn’t of a temper to lie, not now, and Anney, for the first time in the ten years since he had been taken from her, realised how lucky her escape had been. Nicholas was no more than a brute who would drink himself into oblivion whenever he had an opportunity, then beat his wife for any one of a number of imagined slights, and turn to a pox-ridden whore at the first opportunity to prove his virility.

  It was hard to believe that she had spent so long pining after him, wishing he hadn’t been taken back to his first, legal wife. But he was still the father of her children, and Anney was content to look after his wounds because he was also the only man who had ever held her heart. And although she had no wish to discuss the affair with him, it gave her some comfort to know that the father of her dead boy was with her.

  The boy whose death had been caused by that spoilt brat Herbert.

  ‘Eh? What’s that? You say you think I… The man’s mad!’ Thomas spluttered, puce in the face.

  Godfrey ignored him and went on with his statement. ‘My evidence is this, Lady: he and his servant left us because he saw your maid Petronilla approaching and didn’t want to be overheard by her, or so he said. She came ambling idly along, and my master, who thought she might be able to give him information about you, tried to hold her up and talk. I had no wish to listen to his flattery and lies, so I took my horse a few yards away and left them to it.

  ‘Then there was a cry up on the hill, away near the top. When I looked up, I saw the priest thrashing about him with a stick at the furze, shouting out in the most unholy fashion about boys generally, but your son, and his friend Alan in particular. I had no idea why at the time, but I heard the priest shout something about slings. Now I think I understand why.’

  Simon moved a little, so he could glance at the priest.

  Stephen did not look up, but kept his head bowed as if in prayer, and the bailiff was convinced he was hiding something. And yet perhaps it was only this, that he had been near the scene of the boy’s death. He was thought to be a child-hater, so maybe he had decided to keep quiet in case he could be suspected.

  Godfrey continued, ‘At the time, Thomas and his man were near the fork in the road, and I saw them stop there and glance back, so they obviously heard the shouting too. Petronilla did as well, and she scampered straight off up the hill to pacify the priest. I saw her. Just afterwards, Thomas and Nicholas carried on their way, but soon after they had disappeared around the curve in the road, I saw a figure dart across it. It was a boy.’

  ‘Was it Herbert?’ Baldwin asked immediately.

  Godfrey gave a slight shrug. He wasn’t absolutely certain. ‘I’m no father; one boy looks much like another to me, especially when he’s been rolling in mud, which this one had, by the look of him.’

  ‘He always liked that. It was one of their games up on the hill,’ said Lady Katharine softly. There was a catch in her voice, and Stephen rested his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. ‘Chasing each other through the bushes and squirming their way through the peat all over the common. I used to scold him and smack him when…’ She buried her face in her hands.

  ‘My Lady, do you want me to be still?’ Godfrey asked.

  After a moment, she lifted her head. ‘No, please tell us the rest.’

  ‘You don’t believe what this man says, do you? He’s only a whoreson mercenary!’ Thomas shouted suddenly. ‘Look at him! Would you trust his honour?’

  Godfrey ignored his outburst. ‘The figure ran over the road, then I saw him dive into the bushes at the other side and disappear. I thought nothing of it at first. Oh, I assumed the lad must have done something to the priest up the hill there, but that was as far as I got. Beyond that, I had no thought for him. Then I heard the bellow of rage from him,’ he said, and pointed to Thomas.

  Thomas flinched as the finger stabbed towards him, but then met Godfrey’s stare with a resolute fury as Godfrey finished his story.

  ‘Thomas screamed and I think I heard his man laugh, but then Thomas must have dismounted from his horse because I turned and saw him running towards me. As soon as he saw me, he demanded whether I had seen a lad coming my way. Well, I shook my head, wondering what on earth all this fuss was about, and he said: “The little bastard shot me with a sling and if I catch him, I’ll wring his insolent neck!” Then he swore and went back the way he had come.’

  Godfrey paused and stared down, as if debating whether to continue. ‘My Lady, I also have to tell you that this man has no money. He needed the inheritance to save his finances. I think he ensured your son was put out of the way’

  Simon gazed at the miserable Thomas. ‘Well? What do you have to say for yourself?’

  ‘Me?’ Thomas sneered feebly. ‘What could I say, Bailiff? You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you? “Oh, the evil creature, he’s prepared to try to get himself a few pennies from his brother’s estate” - a brother, you’ll recall, who has left me nothing, nothing! And the estate would all have been mine if he hadn’t taken that dam to wife so he could start breeding. Why shouldn’t I have got something out of it? It should have been mine anyway, and why on earth the law allows a puling brat to take a man’s lands, I don’t understand.’

  ‘You know full well that the law is there to protect the weak, like poor Herbert,’ Baldwin stated sternly.

  ‘Oh, spare me the lesson on the law! The weak, you say? What exactly am I supposed to have done? Eh, Sir Knight?’

  ‘You’ve been accused of murder,’ said Simon sternly. ‘And as bailiff, I have to tell you that I am inclined to believe the accusation. You admit to your lust for the estate, you confess your dislike of the boy, and you knew that he was the only person standing between you and your greed. All you needed to do was kill him, and you could possess the lands you always hankered after.’

  ‘I… That’s rubbish!’ Thomas spat, rising to his feet. Edgar was close by, and took a step nearer, but Baldwin gave a slight shake of his head, and his servant remained where he was.

  ‘Rubbish, I say - you suggest I killed my own nephew, forsooth! In God’s name, it would have been easy enough, but I never even saw the little devil. He wasn’t there!’

  ‘Then who did you see?’ Baldwin asked, and seated himself at a bench. Simon sat at his side, and the two of them stared at the disconcerted man.

  By that simple action, they had altered the whole tone; Thomas now felt he was truly the subject of a legal court, the suspected felon in this heinous crime. He swallowed. Suddenly he was sober, and fearful. He felt his legs quiver, and stared from one to the other, hoping to see a sign of sympathy in their eyes, but there was nothing. When he allowed his gaze to wander about the room, he saw contempt on all the faces, except Katharine’s: hers radiated pure hatred.

  ‘Well?’ Simon asked. ‘Who was it down there? We’ve heard from another that you were off your horse, beating among the bushes, and now we learn that you had run back and called out to Godfrey. Who was the boy if it wasn’t Herbert?’

  ‘I think it was that cretinous son of a villein, Alan,’ Thomas muttered. ‘The little shit has hit people before. Ask Stephen about him, he’ll tell you - go on, ask the priest! The sod sits in the bushes and when he sees a rider coming past, he tries to tickle up the horses by hitting them with a stone from his sling. He got me instead of my horse that day, hit me right on the thigh, and painful it was, too - that was why Godfrey heard me shout. Anyone would have cried out, hit by a bullet like that.’ />
  ‘What did you do then?’ Simon pressed.

  ‘Like Godfrey said, I went in search of the brat; I was going to give him a sound thrashing if I had the chance, but I couldn’t find him, and from what Godfrey said, the sod hadn’t gone back that way. Thinking that he must be hiding down the slope or out on the road to Throwleigh, I made off back the way I had come to head him off. When I still couldn’t spot him, I started searching for him in and among the bushes.’

  ‘And then you heard a cart coming your way?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘Yes, but not Edmund’s. The one I heard was the fishmonger’s cart coming back from the manor. I looked up when that thing came rumbling along, and had a good look at it in case Alan was clinging on beneath, but I couldn’t see him, so I went back to the bushes again.’

  Simon frowned, and jerked his thumb towards Godfrey. ‘You said you remained up there. What else did you see?’