by Maureen Ash
“An excellent plan,” the miller replied. “Osric did not take enough care in questioning the guests at the wedding feast. It is well that it should be done again.’
“It is not only those who were at the celebration that I wish to speak to,” Estrid said. “but any who were in Alfreda’s company from the evening before her wedding up to the time she left here to go to the church.”
“What?” Siward exclaimed. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because there is a probability that Alfreda did not ingest the poison at the wedding feast, but did so sometime during the hours before she arrived.”
While the miller and his family sat stunned by the statement, Estrid explained how she had consulted a healer in Rochester who had given as his opinion the fact that it would be rare for yew poison to cause immediate death, so it was unlikely it was in the cup from which she drank at the feast. “It is usual for some little time—at least half an hour or more—to elapse before the effects of a yew toxin become apparent,” Estrid said, “and it is, therefore, more than possible that your daughter was given the poison during the hours before she arrived at the hall.”
Siward reacted with disbelief. “But how can that be?” he demanded. “It is impossible, she showed no symptoms of poisoning until the feast; none at all.”
“According to the healer, that, too, can happen,” Estrid told him.
“I do not believe it,” the miller declared. “The healer you spoke to must be in error.”
“That is not likely,” Estrid replied sternly. “He is well known for his skill and is respected for his knowledge by all of Rochester, including Bishop Gundulf.”
Siward slumped onto the bench alongside the table. “But that means…, that means…,” he stuttered, unable to voice the dire implication he had just realised, and Estrid finished the sentence for him.
“…that it is very likely she was poisoned here, in her own home.”
CHAPTER 18
It was over an hour later that Estrid and her companions left the miller’s home. As Siward and the others had been struggling to recover from the shock of realising that Alfreda might have taken the poison while under their own roof, Humbert set up a piece of parchment and his scribing tools on the hall table. Once that was done, and the family slightly more composed, Estrid had asked them all if the girl had drunk or eaten anything during the morning of her wedding day of which the rest of them had not partaken.
“Only a cup of goat’s milk,” Siward had replied shakily. “It was her habit to drink one every morning when we broke our fast. She said to drink ale so early, like the rest of us, made her feel sick and so always had milk instead.”
“And the milk she drank was from your own goat?” Estrid had asked.
“Yes, Valerie draws some every morning for the cheese she makes and always left a cup in the shed for Alfreda to fetch before she broke her fast.”
“So the milk would have been there for just a short time?” Estrid asked Valerie.
“No, it would have been there from the day before,” Valerie corrected, with a sob in her voice. “I never milk the goat until the morning meal is done.”
Estrid once again spoke to Siward. “Did you have any visitors while Alfreda’s cup of milk was in the shed—either on the eve of the wedding or the next morning before she went to fetch it?”
“Yes,” the miller replied. “There were some. Reeve Osric and Gifel both came late on the evening before with their daughters to well wish Alfreda and bring some flowers to decorate the wain she was to ride to church. And then, early the next morning, Maud came to help Alfreda dress in her finery and plait her hair.”
Estrid nodded and waited for Humbert to catch up with writing down the names on the sheet of parchment and refresh his quill from his ink pot. When the monk had done, she spoke to Siward again.
“And there were no others?” When the miller shook his head, she asked if Alfreda’s habit of drinking a cup of milk every morning was known to others outside of the family.
“She might have mentioned it to some of her friends, perhaps, but no others, I would think,” he replied.
Estrid then asked if there had been any disturbance during the night before the wedding that might have indicated an intruder had climbed the fence and gained entry into the compound for the purpose of adulterating the milk.
“No, there was not a sound,” he replied. “The dogs would have barked if that had happened and they did not.”
“Would they have barked if the intruder was not a stranger?” Estrid enquired.
Once again, the miller looked deflated. “I am not certain,” he admitted.
“Then the possibility that the milk was contaminated must be considered,” Estrid informed him.
*************
The reeve’s house was near the village hall on the main street, and was similar in construction and size to that of Kendra and her husband—two storeys high, with walls of wattle and daub and a neatly thatched roof.
Leaving Judith outside with Leofwine and Ugg, Estrid knocked at the door and she and Humbert were ushered inside by a woman with a faded prettiness and a haughty manner that reminded Estrid of Kendra, who told them she was Osric’s wife, Edgiva. The inside of the house was much the same as Kendra’s, with a hearth in the middle over which had been placed a summer cover of wood, a large oaken table and benches, and an open shelved dresser laid with eating utensils. There was only one difference and that was in one corner where another table had been placed and at which the reeve was sitting arranging tally sticks and lengths of knotted twine into separate piles. These measurements would most likely represent the income of various villagers and be the means by which the fees that would need to be paid to the bailiff who oversaw the area for the Archbishopric were calculated. Against the wall leaned the reeve’s staff of office, a thick wooden stave at the top of which had been carved the image of a wheatsheaf.
When Estrid and Humbert entered, Osric rose from his stool and, after his wife had repeated the names by which they had identified themselves at the door, gave them greeting.
“I had heard of your presence in the village a few days ago,” he said to Estrid, “and well remember your father. It is an honour to meet you.”
As Estrid acknowledged the compliment, she took a quick stock of the man in front of her. Of short stature and slightly stocky, his careful words gave rise to the impression that he was possessed of a cautious nature, but the stiff set of his shoulders suggested he was just as prideful as his wife.
Estrid wasted no time in informing him of the reason for her presence. “I am come,” she said, “to inform you that the king has given his sanction, at the request of Siward and his sister Valerie, that I lead an enquiry into the poisoning of the miller’s daughter, Alfreda.”
The reeve seemed, for a moment, disconcerted and then, after rubbing his hand over his balding pate, said slowly, “I am pleased to hear of it. Her death has set the village in a turmoil; what with Siward closing his mills and the fear that the murdrum fine will be imposed, all contentment has been destroyed. Perhaps, when it is learned that the king has ordered an independent investigation, it will help settle everyone’s spirits by giving them an assurance that the fine will not be imposed—or, at least, not yet.”
“That eventuality will depend on the outcome of my enquiry,” Estrid told him. “Should it be found that one of the villagers is responsible for the crime, Rufus may decide the fine will be justified.”
“I pray to God that will not happen,” Osric replied fervently.
“I will need you to arrange for the village hall to be at my disposal to interview witnesses,” Estrid informed him. “Brother Humbert is here to record all of the answers so they may be included in a report for the king.”
“But I interviewed everyone at the feast just after Alfreda died and found there were none that could be considered guilty,” Osric objected. “Surely you do not wish to interrogate them all again?”
; “Not at the moment,” Estrid told him. “In the first instance I wish only to speak to those who were in Alfreda’s company earlier on the day of her wedding and during the evening before.”
As Siward had done, the reeve questioned her purpose and she explained to him how it was possible that the poison had been administered before the feast took place.
The reeve at once saw the implications of what she said. “Then she could have taken it while at home,” he said.
“That is so,” Estrid told him. “The means that were used to administer it have yet to be confirmed, but it is more than likely she was poisoned by someone who brought it into Siward’s compound and found a way to get it into her food or drink. The miller has given me the names of those who called.”
The reeve’s face went a pale shade. “Then you will know that I was there the night before the wedding, along with another villager called Gifel, to offer our best wishes for the marriage. But I swear to you before God that I had no reason to harm Alfreda, and am certain that Gifel did not either.”
“You will both be able to give evidence of your innocence at my enquiry,” Estrid said to him, “and so will your daughters who, I understand, accompanied you to the mill.”
“But surely you cannot suspect either of them,” Osric said, with a fearful glance at his wife, whose equanimity was also shattered. “They are just young girls, innocents, who cannot have any knowledge of poisons and, even if they did, no reason to kill a girl who was their friend.”
“Nonetheless, I will need to question them, along with Kendra’s daughter, Maud, who, I am told, came in the morning to help Alfreda prepare for her wedding. I also wish to speak to the two men who were her former suitors, whose names, I understand, are Sweyn and Redwald,” Estrid replied. “And to that end, you will ensure that all of these persons, including yourself and your daughter, come to the village hall tomorrow morning to give testimony.”
**************
As they left the reeve’s house, Humbert gave Estrid a curious glance and said, “You were not kind to the reeve, maistresse, or even to Siward when we went to the mill. May I ask the reason why?”
“You may,” she replied, giving him a small smile to show that she took no offence at the mild rebuke in his tone. “No one is above suspicion in this murder; not the headman of the village, or the victim’s family. And that fact must be seen by all, for how can I expect truthful answers from the rest of the villagers if they believe I am biased?”
CHAPTER 19
When Osric went to inform Gifel that he and his daughter’s presence were required in the hall the next morning and the reason why, he found his friend on his boat. While the reeve was explaining that the king had appointed Estrid to lead an enquiry into Alfreda’s death, and how, subsequently, she had ordered that, along with himself and Rowena, Gifel and his daughter and a few others had been summoned to give evidence, he was overheard by an unnoticed villager picking cress on the riverbank. From there, news of Estrid’s interrogation spread through the village with the speed of a lightening bolt, and by the time the reeve went to inform Maud, Sweyn and Redwald of her dictate, everyone in Maidstone was aware of the forthcoming proceedings.
In consequence, when Estrid arrived in the village the next day, she found not only those she had summoned with members of their families, but also a crowd of villagers lining the street. She had been prepared for this eventuality as, on the evening before, one of Godser’s customers, who lived in Bearsted but had been into Maidstone that day, told the miller that news of Estrid’s intent was known to all who lived there.
After this was related to Estrid, she and her companions had discussed how it would be best to proceed if the villagers asked to be allowed to attend the questionings since, in the days before the Normans came, such an enquiry would have been held at a mote, a gathering of all those who lived in the area where the secret murder had taken place. As was their right, they would have expected to be allowed to listen to the testimonies. As Estrid was the daughter of an English thegn who had often sat in judgement at such proceedings, it would not be unreasonable for them to assume she would follow the old tradition.
“But I cannot allow it,” she said to her companions, “for I wish to speak to each of the witnesses without any onlookers present so as to encourage them to speak without fear of recrimination.”
“What would your father have done in such an instance?” Leofwine asked her.
“He would have given his decree as to the manner in which he intended to conduct the enquiry and expected them to accept it,” Estrid replied promptly.
“Then you must do the same,” Leofwine declared.
**************
And so it was done. When Estrid arrived, Leofwine and Ugg dismounted and walked one on either side of the horse she was riding until she was standing in front of the village hall. As had been foreseen, one of the villagers stepped forward, an older man who, by his confident stance, was held in respect by his neighbours.
“I give you greeting, Estrid Thunorsdohter,” he said politely. “My name is Aedulf, and I have been designated by those others who live here to ask if, as used to be the practice, we may be present at the hearing of those you intend to question in the matter of the murder of the miller’s daughter.”
Estrid gave him a polite nod, and then let her gaze sweep over the rest of the crowd as she gave her answer. “For the moment, I must refuse your request, for I intend that each person should give their witness privily and so be free from censure. Such facts as they give will be held in confidence by myself and those who are assisting me until, and unless, any of the information I have been given by them should lead me to the culprit. Then all will be made known to you.”
Such was the confident manner of her authority that her response was received by heads nodding in agreement with her caution, and so she continued, “But I give you my pledge that if, and when, this murdering nithing is arrested, I will petition the king for permission to allow you all to be present at the meting out of punishment.”
This last statement was met with more nodding and a collective air of acceptance, for it had assured them that the need for all to feel they were not being excluded in such an important village affair would remain unsatisfied.
*************
Estrid then entered the hall, and took a seat on the dais at the very table where poor Alfreda had met her end. Humbert seated himself beside her and laid out his scribing tools, while Judith positioned herself to stand behind her mistress. At a signal from Estrid, Leofwine and Ugg went outside and shepherded all those she had summoned, along with the relatives who had accompanied them, through the large building and out into the yard behind, where they were told to wait until their name was called.
Estrid had given much thought to the order in which she would call the witnesses, and had decided it must be done carefully and in such a fashion that enabled her to build up a true picture of the events leading up to Alfreda’s death. With that in mind, she told Leofwine to first bring Sweyn into the hall. He had been the girl’s original suitor and, having noticed his cocky swagger on the day of the funeral, seemed the most likely to have borne her umbrage for Siward’s refusal of his offer of wedlock.
When he came in, his smug attitude was completely absent. The only hint on his person of his former boldness was the bright yellow cross garters on his leggings and even they drooped in untidiness. He was noticeably edgy and stood before her with slumped shoulders and a drawn expression.
“Have you been told by Osric it is possible that Alfreda was poisoned before she arrived at her marriage feast?” Estrid asked him.
“Yes,” he answered quietly.
“Then you will know that I want to ask where you were during the eve, and the morning, of her wedding day.”
“I spent the day before with my father tending our fields and afterwards we returned home where I spent the evening with him and my mother until we went to bed.”
“And they are bo
th prepared to confirm your presence with them during that time?” Estrid asked.
“I would think so, for it is the truth.” This time Sweyn spoke with a little more confidence, so Estrid accepted it and went on to ask his whereabouts during the next morning.
“I went into the village and kept company with Rowena for a couple of hours but then…then the festivities that were being prepared for Alfreda’s arrival at the church irritated me, so I left.” Here he paused for a moment, and then said, “It was not right that she should have married a Norman; and I was not the only one who thought so. She should have chosen an Englishman for a husband.”
This last was said with a defiant tone, and his face was now animated with self-righteous spleen.
Estrid ignored his last statement and asked where he had gone after he left the village.
“I went down by the river to check some fish traps I had placed there and then I went home.”
“Was anyone else present while you were inspecting the traps?”
“No,” he replied miserably, “but that is where I was. I never went near Alfreda, or her home, on that day, or for many days before, not since the time her intent to marry the Norman was made known.”
Estrid nodded and waited while Humbert finished penning the young man’s responses.
“At this time, I have only one further question for you,” she then said. “Do you have any opinion as to who might be the person responsible for poisoning Alfreda?”
The query startled him, but not for long. “I do not know,” he replied with a resumption of his former impudent manner, “but I am not the only man in the village who lusted after her, perhaps it was one of them.”
CHAPTER 20
“A youth brimming over with selfish passion and vanity,” Humbert murmured as Leofwine showed Sweyn to the front door of the hall and saw him outside so he would not have an opportunity to speak to the other witnesses gathered in the yard.