by Maureen Ash
Leofwine felt his muscles tense at the knight’s disparagement of Estrid’s abilities, wishing he could wipe the sneer off fitzRanulf’s face with his fist. FitzHaimo, too, looked disapproving but, while the expression on Abetot’s face did not change one whit, it could be seen by the look in his eyes that he agreed with his friend.
“That may be your opinion,” fitzHaimo said sternly, “but it is not that of Rufus and you will follow his lead in this matter.”
“It is my wife that is dead, not the king’s, and my wishes should be paramount,” fitzRanulf asserted heatedly.
FitzHaimo rose slowly from his seat, his displeasure obvious. “In this instance, I will overlook your hasty words as being due to grief, Turstin, but I warn you to take more care in the future, lest your sentiments be judged treasonous.”
FitzRanulf blanched. There was no doubt that the threat was not an idle one. FitzHaimo was a knight of high rank, and a close confident of the king, having served him since they were both young pages training for knighthood under the old duke’s tutelage in Normandy. Intensely loyal to Rufus, he would not hesitate to safeguard every aspect of the monarch’s authority.
“I meant no disparagement of the king,” fitzRanulf said hastily. “I am only impatient to apprehend my wife’s killer, that is all.”
“Then you would be wise to leave the catching of him in Rufus’ hands, for haste often proves to be rash, both in battle and in seeking a villain,” fitzHaimo replied tersely.
FitzRanulf nodded, and walked back and sat down at the table where he had been playing backgammon and drained his wine cup, Abetot following him.
As fitzHaimo turned his attention back to Leofwine, the Englishman regarded the trio of knights, assessing their natures as he would if he had met them in battle in those long ago years when he had fought with Hereward the Wake against the Norman invaders. FitzRanulf was young yet, brash and impetuous; an adversary that might be brought down simply by his own surfeit of confidence. Abetot was different. Stoic and unemotional, he was a seasoned knight that would kill without compunction, and prove a dangerous enemy. FitzHaimo, Leofwine knew, was also fearless in battle, for he had himself been with Rufus at the recent battle in Rochester with the king’s treacherous uncle and observed at first hand how well the knight had proved his mettle during the fray. But he was also, Leofwine believed, possessed of a conscience, and would choose inflicting injury or death only if it should be necessary and not otherwise. And, for that very reason, was more to be feared than Abetot, for his tenacity of purpose would make him a formidable foe.
Once the other two knights were seated apart, fitzHaimo turned to Leofwine. “I will send a message at first light to the king at Dover. You will wait here for his response which, all being well, should arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
At Leofwine’s nod, fitzHaimo asked if Estrid intended to stay in Bearsted until she received the king’s answer.
“She has returned to Rochester to ask Bishop Gundulf for his permission to delay completion of some of the stitchery work he has ordered, which should not take her more than a day to arrange, and will then return to Bearsted to await the king’s reply.”
The knight seemed satisfied with the answer and dismissed Leofwine, bidding him make his pallet for the night with the men-at-arms on duty at the manor house.
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The Englishman saw his horse stabled and then sat down for a meal with the other soldiers of the small garrison. There were only four and all were Norman. Leofwine and Ugg had met them all before on their previous trips to Ashford, and none showed any offense when Leofwine took himself apart to sharpen his battleaxe with the small whetstone he always carried with him.
As he stroked the blade on the stone, he considered the declaration that fitzRanulf had made that the levy of a fine would soon result in the revelation of the name of Alfreda’s killer, and was inclined to agree with him, even if it was only for Estrid’s sake. If such did happen, the king would no longer demand she investigate the crime and she would be free of danger. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he almost wished that would be so.
But he also had to agree with Rufus. Such a step might bring accusations to be made which were false—against a villager held in enmity by another, or merely because nefarious gossip pointed in an innocent person’s direction—and were simply accused to negate the need for loss of the villagers’ hardly earned silver.
These thoughts disturbed his rest when he lay down on a pallet in a corner of the small building that housed the garrison, and the night seemed long, as did the next day while he waited for the arrival of an answer from the king. It finally came late in the day, carried by the same soldier fitzHaimo had sent with the query and it was only moments later that the knight came out into the yard in front of the manor house and walked over to where Leofwine was standing.
“The king has given his permission for Estrid to pursue her investigation openly, and bids me send her his confidence of her success. You may now return to Bearsted and relay the contents of his message to her.”
Leofwine nodded and turned to fetch his horse from the stable, but fitzHaimo stayed him for a moment.
“You may also tell her of my own high regard for her abilities but, in addition, I would bid her take great care while she exercises them.”
For a long moment, the Norman and Englishman stared at each other in shared recognition of the danger in which Estrid was being placed until finally Leofwine broke the silence. “I will guard her well, lord, of that you may be certain.”
“See that you do so—and report to me at once if you have any reason at all to fear for her wellbeing.”
CHAPTER 13
As Leofwine set out on his journey, Estrid and Judith, in the company of Ugg, mounted their horses to travel the much shorter distance to Rochester.
As they rode, Estrid knew Judith was looking forward to seeing Cenred, the young healer that Estrid intended to ask about yew poison. The pair had met the previous year during Estrid’s investigation into the crime for which her son had been charged and they had been attracted to one another. Since then, their relationship had developed into a blossoming romance, and it was commonly expected by all of their family and friends that the two would soon announce their intention to wed.
“How long will we stay in Rochester?” Judith asked as they neared the town.
“It will take Leofwine at least a day to bring back a response from the king, so I intend to return to Maidstone the day after tomorrow.”
Judith made no response at first to Estrid’s statement and, then realising that her mistress had spoken only of herself returning, gave her a puzzled frown and asked if she was not to accompany her.
“No, Judith,” Estrid said gently. “I will go back alone and you will stay in the workshop with Gytha.”
“Why am I not to go with you?” Judith asked, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Is it because I was not of any help while we were there?”
“Quite the opposite,” Estrid responded. “Your observations were pertinent and I was glad to hear them.”
“They why am I not to go, frea?” Judith asked in confusion.
Estrid took a deep breath. She, as well as Leofwine and fitzHaimo, was aware of the danger that threatened herself and anyone who accompanied her during her search. “Because, Judith, I do not wish to see you harmed by the person who is responsible for this crime,” she said.
“But Leofwine and Ugg will be there to protect us,” Judith protested.
“A sword is useless against poison,” Estrid replied. “And it is a threat that might be hard to circumvent if we get close to finding the murderer. While I am prepared to risk my own life, I am not willing to put yours in peril.”
For a moment, Judith said nothing and then, raising her small chin in a determined manner, she declared the decision should be hers to make and that if she was willing to place herself in jeopardy, she should be allowed to do so.
Although Judith w
as normally of a diffident and unassertive nature, there had been times when Estrid had seen a streak of resolution suddenly surface, such as when she had been given a stitchery in the workshop that was very difficult and would sit working for hours, sometimes late into the evening, until she had finally accomplished the task.
But while this determination was admirable in such everyday matters, it was quite another to stubbornly risk one’s life in obvious danger and Estrid was just as resolved that the young girl, who had become very dear to her, should be kept out of harm’s way.
“No, Judith. I cannot allow it,” she declared. “You are in my charge and, as it is so, I forbid it.”
“Please, frea, do not do that, I beg of you,” Judith burst out. “I will do any other thing you tell me but, please, do not shut me out of this affair.”
Her outburst caused Ugg, who had been riding behind them, to become alarmed that some danger of which he was not aware had arisen and, pulling his axe from his belt, he sped his horse forward.
With a gesture, Estrid assured him there was no need for his protection and, when he saw the tears that had begun to trickle down Judith’s face, he wheeled his mount around in embarrassment and resumed his former place.
After giving her young companion a few moments to stem her tears, Estrid asked Judith why she felt it important to take part in the hunt for Alfreda’s murderer.
“Because when I saw how upset Maud was made by her friend’s death, it made me realise how terrible the crime was,” Judith said in a trembling voice. “To kill a bride on her wedding day, denying her the joy of sharing her husband’s bed, and the pleasure of bearing his children—it is a dreadful thing, frea, so awful I can’t imagine it, and I want to help find the man, or woman, who is responsible and see them punished.”
The explanation made Estrid understand why it was so meaningful to Judith that she be involved in the enquiry. Her new love for Cenred had made her extremely sensitive to Alfreda’s cause. Estrid herself recalled how devastated she had been when, in her youth, her own husband had been killed, but at least she had known, albeit briefly, the joys of marriage and had borne his child after his death. It had still not been enough, but it was more than Alfreda had been given. Judith, as a woman, had more than enough cause to wish to take part in discovering the person who had so callously denied the miller’s daughter her future.
“Very well, Judith,” she said slowly. “I will allow you to return to Bearsted with me, but with one proviso—and that is that your father gives his permission for you to come.”
“I thank you, frea,” Judith said gratefully. “And father will agree, I know. He is always saying that although we must, in these new times, bow our head to the Norman yoke, it does not mean that English folk should lose their courage.”
“That is well said, but he may think differently when it his daughter who is at risk,” Estrid replied.
CHAPTER 14
It was almost time for the evening meal when they reached Rochester and Estrid decided to wait until her son, Godric, returned from his place of work at the blacksmith’s shop before telling Gytha all that had happened. In the meantime, Ugg took their horses to the stable in the castle, where he would also stay until it was time for their journey back to Bearsted. Judith set out for her parent’s home, telling Estrid that as soon as she had asked her father’s permission to continue taking part in the enquiry, she would find Cenred and bring him back with her to Estrid’s house.
After Godric came in, and fondly greeted his mother, Cuthbert placed food on the table for them all to eat and then, at Estrid’s bidding, took a seat at the table alongside the rest of them, just as anxious as they were to hear from his mistress of what had passed in Maidstone.
Estrid recounted it all, but when she came to the end, and told them of Valerie’s request for her to investigate Alfreda’s death, a shadow of concern passed over the faces of her companions.
“I do not like this turn of events, moder,” Godric said apprehensively. “By making it known to all the villagers that you are looking for the killer, you are placing yourself in certain danger, and Judith also. You almost lost your life when you were searching for a murderer to save me; I would rather you did not risk such peril again.”
As Gytha chimed in with her agreement, and Cuthbert worryingly nodded his head, Estrid made her response quietly. “I understand your concern, all of you, and thank you for it, but this is a heinous crime that must not go unpunished and, besides, I have already given my promise to search for the culprit.
“The reason I did so,” she went on, “is not to please the king, or even to save the villagers from a heavy fine, but because Alfreda’s family deserve justice. In my father’s day, he would have done everything in his power to ensure the poisoner was caught, and I intend to do the same.”
For a moment, no one spoke, and then Gytha broke the silence in her usual gruff manner. “I shall sharpen my scramseax for you to take with you. It stood you in good stead the last time you came too close to a murderer; you may find it useful again.”
“But Leofwine and Ugg will be with us,” Estrid protested. “I have no need of a dagger.”
“And what if the poisoner is a woman?” Gytha responded sternly. “Neither Leofwine or Ugg can accompany you into female chambers—and that is where she might be lurking, so it is best you have a weapon at hand.”
Godric agreed with Gytha and Estrid, feeling the precaution was wise, said she would do as asked and wrap the scramseax up in a piece of cloth to make it appear she was merely carrying a spindle in her purse—as she had done when she was investigating the crime that her son had been accused of—so it would be concealed.
Godric then added another precaution. “You must also be careful what you eat and drink, in case there is poison in it.
“I can prepare some victuals for you to take with you,” Cuthbert said eagerly. “In that way you will be certain your food and drink are wholesome.”
Estrid held up her hands in mock surrender. “I will follow all of your counsels, I promise, and ensure that Judith does also. The food will not be necessary, Cuthbert, for I shall eat nothing except what is prepared in the miller’s home by his wife.”
When the crippled servant’s face fell at the rejection of his offer, Estrid said to him, “But I would welcome it if you would prepare a flagon of mead for us to take. The cup I drank in Maidstone when I first arrived there did not have the excellent flavour of the one you purchase for our household, and so will be very welcome.”
As Cuthbert beamed with delight for the compliment, there was a knock at the door. It was Judith and Cenred.
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As they came in, Judith’s little face was alight with satisfaction as she told Estrid that her father had given his permission for her to continue participating in the Maidstone murder enquiry. “When I told him that it would now be an open investigation, he was a little reluctant to agree,” she said, “but in the end he gave in.”
Cenred did not look happy at the prospect of her involvement in the manhunt, but made no overt objection beyond wearing a worried frown on his face. He and Judith made an endearing pair; both small, slight and bashful in manner and Cenred glanced fondly at Judith as they seated themselves at the table and murmured their thanks for the cups of ale that Cuthbert placed in front of them. It was obvious they were truly enamoured of each other; it only remained for the young healer to summon up the courage to ask Judith’s father for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
“I have explained to Cenred all that passed while we were in Maidstone,” Judith said to Estrid, “and told him you wish to ask about the effects of drinking a toxic mixture made from yew.”
“First of all,” Estrid said to the healer, “do you agree with the village cunning woman that the symptoms the bride showed—a shortness of breath and lips turning blue—are consistent with yew poison?”
“I would tend to think she is correct, but cannot do so with full certainty for my exp
erience of the poison has been limited to animals,” Cenred replied cautiously. “Since the toxicity of all parts of the tree is well known, it is rare for a person to ingest any, and so I have never had the need to attend anyone suffering from its effects.”
“I understand,” Estrid said. “But it might be helpful if you could tell us the symptoms of the creatures you have seen die from it.”
“They varied. In some cases there were muscle spasms, although not always, but there was usually some panting, which would accord with the shortness of breath in the young girl that died, but to breathe very rapidly is not uncommon when an animal is in distress, and it is the same in humans. And sometimes there was vomiting and purging of the bowels but again, this did not happen every time. And I also examined a bullock that showed no symptoms at all, just fell down dead in the pasture where he was grazing.”
“Do you know how long the poison takes to work?” Estrid asked him.
“That too, can be diverse,” the healer replied. “Sometimes it is quick, and on other occasions not. The farmer whose bullock died suddenly told me the animal had been grazing calmly for most of the morning and when we searched all over the area to see if we could determine what had killed him, we found he had been able to get out of the farmer’s pasture through a gate that had not been shut properly. On the other side of the gate, and but a short distance away, we found a yew tree with low growing branches that had been stripped of most of their leaves—and also some of the berries which contain the seeds, the most deadly part of the tree. The farmer told me that the animal had not been in the stretch of pasture where the gate was located since very early in the morning, and that was many hours before he collapsed, so it must have taken all of that time for the poison to take effect.”