Romancing Robin Hood

by Jenny Kane

  ‘Surely it is obvious, dear Robert? Jealousy.’

  Mathilda was struggling to remain silent, but the warning glance of Sarah kept her mute despite the injustice of the words she knew she was about to hear.

  Taking a draft from his ale, Eustace sat himself on the nearest chair and put his feet up on the table, as if to prepare himself for the forthcoming charade, asking lazily, ‘Jealous of what?’

  ‘Master Hugo, of course.’ Sneering out his words with relish, Father Richard then played his trump card, ‘The leatherworker’s ungodly affection for our dear Robert is well known. His very existence is a threat to young Mathilda, who has obviously set her sights far above her station at our family. Pointlessly of course, as dear Robert will never take more than a token wife.’

  The dagger was drawn from Robert’s side in a flash of mesmerising silver before the final word of the churchman’s sentence had been uttered, and although John swiftly placed a warning palm on his shoulder, Robert didn’t move the blade from the rector’s throat. ‘Go on then, cleric; carry on speaking your poison while you can.’

  ‘You place a blade at my throat? You, who bring disgrace upon this family!’

  Eustace’s eyes turned to John, who said, ‘Lower the knife, Robert, but keep it to hand. Now, Richard, tell your tale quickly before all our patience snaps.’

  Holding himself as though shamefully affronted, the rector ignored all those present except for John. ‘As I was saying, the girl wishes to up her family status. The removal of her only rival for Robert’s affections is motive enough, and yet the girl is cleverer than that. She had a secondary plan. By implicating me in Hugo’s death, she also took the opportunity to remove one of us, and therefore increasing her would-be husband’s share of the family coffers. Greed. Jealousy and greed, John. I’ve seen it many times in the parish, I’m sad to say. Those believing themselves better than they are will go to any means to improve their standing.’ The clergyman shook his head as he spoke, as if he was constantly surprised by the folly of his fellow humans.

  Mathilda’s lungs felt heavy. She’d barely taken a breath as he’d spoken. Surely the brothers wouldn’t believe that? It was ludicrous, especially the last bit. Although people did kill to improve their position, there was no physical way she could have got to Twyford. She had been here all the time – locked in a cell no less!

  ‘I myself saw the dagger by the Twyford girl’s feet in the cell. Where, I should remind you, she’d been thrown for repeated insolence. A dangerous game to play indeed, especially as her help and good behaviour relates to how soon the debt her family owes is paid off. A fine example of how little she thinks of her father and brothers.’

  Robert’s hand gripped his dagger handle tighter as Mathilda bit her lips so hard together to prevent her protests that she was close to drawing blood. There was no way she was going to rise to the bait. She could imagine all too well how thrilled the rector would be to see Robert thrown from the family manor.

  ‘Where did she get a dagger from?’ Eustace spoke as if he was relishing the show he was watching. ‘You yourself ensured the girl was weapon free when she was ushered here, and you are the one who escorted her to the cell on her arrival. Are you saying you were lacking in your duties?’

  Mathilda relaxed her jaw a fraction. Was she imagining it, or was Eustace actually enjoying this? She’d certainly got the impression earlier that he had no trouble in imaging Richard having organised Master Hugo’s death. On the other hand, the rector was his brother …

  ‘It is hardly difficult to pick up a dagger in this house, brother! She could easily have secreted such a small weapon within the folds or sleeves of her clothing.’

  ‘And what know you of women’s clothing, Father?’

  Eustace’s dig caused Walter to grunt derisively, as the gloating rector barbed his reply with heavy implication, ‘I imagine I know as little as dear Robert does.’

  It was a snide comment too far. Robert moved so fast he was a blur. The clatter of the nearest chair hitting the floor ricocheted around the stone hall as Father Richard found himself lifted off his feet and banged against the table with such force that Eustace had his flagon knocked from his hand. ‘Enough! I’ve lived with your evil whispering long enough. No more.’

  Keeping the flat of his dagger free hand pressed against the rector’s chest, pinning him against the table, Robert addressed John. ‘I believe you should let Mathilda speak now, my Lord. You have heard our reverend brother. His version of events has more holes than a broken fishing net.’ Instead John, rather than ask Mathilda to speak, turned to Sarah. ‘You have been in charge of the girl while she has been here?’

  ‘Yes my Lord. She has been a great help to me. I admit I wasn’t sure of her at first, but she has earned my respect.’

  ‘John, you can’t take the word of a servant over …’

  The lord of the manor put up a hand to stem Richard’s protests.

  ‘And in your opinion, Sarah, is it even remotely possible that Mathilda could have laid her hands on a dagger and escaped from this household for long enough to kill Hugo, or even arrange for another to do the deed. Has she appeared in any blood-soaked clothes? Had a weapon in her possession? Did this dagger in the cell even exist?’

  Sarah glanced at Mathilda, before confirming that there had been no time in which Mathilda could have committed such a crime. The only time she had been separated from the girl was when she was being escorted to and from Derby market and the woods by Robert, when she delivered the messages to Nicholas Coterel.

  Licking her lips, Sarah nodded towards Robert as she went on, ‘My Lord Robert gave Mathilda a dagger to keep on her during her first trip to see Coterel.’

  ‘You see! She did have a weapon.’

  The reverend’s cry resulted in Robert pushing him even further up the table so his feet where dangling off the floor, hissing through clenched teeth, ‘Sarah has not yet finished speaking. She held her tongue as you uttered your lies, now you listen to some truth for once in your miserable life.’

  Carefully Sarah continued, ‘The knife was safely hidden under her cot on her return, awaiting the chance to be given back to my Lord Robert. It wasn’t long after that that Mathilda was falsely accused of poor behaviour at the market when selling wares for Master Hugo, and was placed back in the cell. There was no dagger on her when she went in. I put her in the cell myself. There was, however, a dagger there when I took her food and drink. The girl had fallen asleep while she was in there. During that time, the dagger was placed by her feet. I can only assume that whoever had placed it there had searched her quarters and found it.’

  John stared shrewdly at Richard. ‘I believe you were at the manor that day. Did you check on our captive, by any chance, and add a little something to her cell?’

  ‘As God is my witness, I did not! The housekeeper is bound to stick up for the girl. We all know she’d do anything to protect her favourite, and find a wife for her precious Robert.’

  Ignoring the fresh outburst from the man pinned to the table, John refrained from mentioning that he thought God had more sense that to bear witness to his malevolent brother, asking, ‘what did you do with the dagger once you’d found it, Sarah?’

  ‘I hid it in the kitchen, and then later returned it to my Lord Robert.’

  ‘I see.’ John sounded solemnly. ‘I think it is time we heard more from Mathilda. However, I feel it prudent to remind you, girl, that you are not a guest here, you are a hostage.’ John closed his eyes for a moment as if to collect his thoughts before saying, ‘You were telling us that there was a dagger in your cell when you woke up, but not beforehand. That was what alerted you to thinking that Father Richard was involved in this matter. Yes?’

  Swallowing to lubricate some moisture back into her fear-dried throat, Mathilda nodded, ‘That’s right, my Lord. As Sarah said, I was in the cell when Master Hugo’s body was discovered and …’

  ‘So what! You could have stuck him hours before then; w
e don’t know the hour of the crime, just the hour of the body’s discovery!’ The withering glare that Robert gave the rector silenced the clergyman’s new interruption.

  Mathilda couldn’t help noticing that which each fresh protest of his innocence, Richard was losing his red-faced flush of angry bravado. He was beginning to look pale. That meant he was getting rattled. Perhaps he was afraid she could prove he’d committed a crime after all.

  Robert smiled kindly in Mathilda’s direction, ‘Go on, it’s all right.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ Mathilda wiped her perspiring palms down the front of her dress. ‘As Sarah said, the dagger was the one that my Lord Robert had lent me, but I hadn’t seen it since I stowed it under my cot until I awoke in the cell.’

  ‘And you believe that was the dagger that killed Master Hugo?’

  ‘No my Lord, I think that is what everyone was meant to think, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it is a very similar weapon to the one used. You all wear daggers, and although I haven’t been here long, I have noticed that they all look very similar. Not only that, but if they were made locally, then many other people could also own similar weapons.’

  Eustace pulled his dagger from his side and held it up to Mathilda, ‘They were a gift. We received one each when we came of age. Most of us have other daggers we favour, and keep these just for show. I rather like to keep mine handy; it has a useful short blade for hooking stones from my horse’s hooves, opening stubborn doors, and such. They are more a tool than a weapon really.’

  ‘But they could be used to kill, my Lord.’

  The single stone in the hilt of Eustace’s dagger shone red in the firelight. ‘Indeed they could.’ He turned to Robert, ‘Where is your dagger now?’

  ‘Wrapped in an old tunic at the bottom of the chest at the foot of my bed.’

  John nodded, ‘Sarah, fetch Robert’s dagger from its hiding place, please.’

  As Sarah left the hall, the expectant eyes of all the men fell upon Mathilda. ‘When I learnt that Master Hugo had been stabbed while I was under lock and key it seemed too much of a coincidence for there to be no connection. I’d only recently been introduced to Master Hugo, he’d lied about me, I’d learnt that the Coterel family were suspicious of him, and a dagger had been put in my prison all within a very short period of time.

  ‘It wasn’t until I found out that it was Father Richard’s idea to use me as a hostage to meet my father’s debt that I began to wonder if he could be involved, although I didn’t understand why.’

  ‘But now you do?’ The hall had become very tense. John spoke barely above a whisper. The fire had died down, and apart from the intermittent crackle as the logs snagged against the low flames, all that could be heard was the hush of suspense.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Awake since seven, Daisy sat at the desk in the corner of her hotel room; her stomach fizzing with happy, excited energy.

  The second she’d opened her eyes, Daisy had leapt from her bed and dressed in her usual jeans and jumper. In only a few hours she’d have to change again into the beautiful dress that Ashley had helped her find, and had somehow magically nipped and tucked in all the right places to make it appear as if the folds of ivory satin had been designed exclusively for her from the day the dress pattern was dreamt up.

  Daisy hadn’t expected to sleep much, but in fact she’d slept like a log. She wondered if Marcus had. He had plainly been exhausted from a day wrestling bovines and going through the short, but necessary, wedding rehearsal the night before. By the time Daisy had waved him off to her future in-laws’ home, reluctantly keeping up the tradition of the groom not seeing the bride on the day of the wedding until it was time for her to walk down the aisle (or gap in the chairs as Daisy called it), Marcus had been all in.

  Scanning her emails to make sure there were no last-minute cancellations from any of the wedding guests, Daisy reread the last message she’d received. Putting down her mobile, Daisy smiled. She was almost sure she’d done the right thing. However, in case she’d read the situation wrong in her keenness for Grace to experience some of her own hazy glow of happiness, Daisy was ready with a plan B – to deny all knowledge and tell Grace she couldn’t possibly be cross with her on her wedding day!

  Slipping on her trainers, Daisy fastened her laces, glancing over at the clock on the corner of the television screen as she did so. She’d agreed to go down to breakfast with Grace at half past eight, and as Grace was always early, she’d be knocking on the door any minute.

  Grace was beginning to think that by the time she finally put on her posh frock, one of the sleeves would need shortening. Her right shoulder and wrist ached so much from her frantic scribbling that Grace feared she was in danger of wearing her arm down to the elbow. The ink in her pen was getting fainter as well, and Grace wondered what would run out first; the pen, or the time she had left to write in before breakfast with Daisy.

  ‘It was after I’d spoken to my brother Oswin that it all began to become clear. You see, my Lord, unbeknown to me, Oswin had overheard my father talking to the rector in the workshop a few weeks before I was bought here. Being only a woman, I was not privy to the financial arrangements my father was about to make.

  ‘The reverend had come for some cheap candleholders for his church. We were desperate, my lord. We only had enough money needed to buy the raw materials for his pottery order, so my father took up the rector’s offer of a loan, and borrowed a small amount from your good selves.

  ‘Father Richard told my father that if he would fan the flames of a rumour he had heard around the villages and towns about my Lord Robert, then he would ensure my family wouldn’t have to pay back the full amount owed.’

  ‘A rumour I have long suspected came from his foul tongue anyway!’ Robert increased his pressure against the trapped cleric, his voice sounding incredulous as he turned back to Mathilda, ‘and your father believed him?’

  ‘Your brother is a churchman, my Lord. And, my father was desperate.’

  ‘I assume that, rather than keep his word, my holy brother then reported to my Lord John that not only did your family owe us money, but that the Twyfords were the people who’d begun spreading the evil rumours about my friendship with Master Hugo?’

  John nodded gravely to confirm the truth of Robert’s allegation. There was no need for Mathilda to confirm Robert’s statement.

  The lord of the manor’s steely eyes fixed themselves upon the reverend. ‘Let me guess what happened next. You came up with another plan; a plan to make it appear that you remained loyal to this family by attempting to stop the rumours that could ruin my brother and Hugo’s names.

  By kidnapping Mathilda as a guarantee for the debt, it looked as though you were teaching the originator of the lies a lesson; with the added bonus of a sly suggestion in Eustace’s ear that perhaps, despite being of lower status, the girl could be a suitable match for Robert. A move that would certainly quash the talk behind hands about his ungodly behaviour – which, I repeat, you started in the first place. I assume you thought Robert would be insulted by the suggestion of Mathilda’s suitability for him – another fact you’d have enjoyed. How disappointing it must have been for you to see that despite the manner of her arrival here, the girl has been of considerable help to this family, and has obviously caught your brother’s eye in truth.’

  Raising a warning hand towards Robert, who looked ready to commit murder there and then, Eustace rose from his chair and sauntered closer to Father Richard, with Walter, Thomas, and Laurence following suit; boxing their reverend brother in.

  ‘Is there more, Mathilda?’ John seemed troubled rather than angry now. ‘So far you have highlighted the dubious character of my brother; which is something that isn’t going to surprise anyone. But what you’ve told us seems to have little to do with the actual murder.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Feeling the solid, menacing presence of his family closing in on him, Father Richard demanded, ‘How am I supposed to have skewered
the man while I was here supposedly planting a weapon on the girl?’

  John was clearly losing patience as he repeated, ‘Mathilda did not say you killed Master Hugo, but that you’d used the event to your advantage.’

  ‘I did no such thing. The chit has far too much imagination.’ Far from being relieved, the cleric looked more wary than before, ‘I’ve had enough of this indignity. I have souls to save.’

  ‘Any soul in particular, brother?’ Robert let go of the rector with an expression of distaste. ‘Your soul, perhaps? Or another soul? One that you might save all the way to the coast, so he can escape across the sea?’

  ‘I have no idea what you mean!’

  ‘Really? You don’t seem to know much today, do you? You don’t wish to take this opportunity to reveal the truth, then? You wish the girl to tell us more about how she saw through you?’

  ‘John! How could you even think this of me?’

  ‘Easily, after the number of crimes you’ve committed in the past.’

  ‘As have you!’ The clergyman puffed his chest in defiance.

  ‘True. But usually for the good of the area as a whole, to do the job the officials should be doing, and never against a member of my own family!’

  Mathilda thought back to the death of the corrupt Belers, and how much safer the region had felt after his removal, although the ripples of the terror of the occasion had been felt for a long time afterwards, and how she suspected that the recent meetings between the Folville and Coterel families were the build-up to the removal of another corrupt official in the near future.

  John called for Allward. ‘Go and fetch the sheriff, boy.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Father Richard shook his head, ‘He hasn’t even bothered sending his men to investigate Hugo’s death. Not a single soldier has been dispatched, nor a question asked, and the hue and cry was stood down before it had even begun. He couldn’t care less.’

  ‘And why do you think that was, dear brother?’

  Richard’s mouth dropped open. ‘You?’