A Rose for the Crown (22 page)

Oliver and the page set out later in the morning. Kate could hear nothing from downstairs as she told her rosary by Elinor’s bier. Brother Francis chanted and prayed until Kate’s patience became frayed and she begged for a visit to her chamber pot. She lingered in the room, peering out of the window across the courtyard to the gate, hoping for a sign of Oliver and the page. But her timing was bad, and she was back at her prayers when they came running through the gatehouse into the courtyard calling for Edgar, who had remained behind to supervise the household.

When the bell rang for dinner, the chaplain allowed Kate to leave and get some sustenance. He assured her he would keep vigil while she was gone. When she sat down at her trencher, she saw Edgar staring at her curiously. He came over and sat next to her at the high table. Anne moved to occupy her mother’s chair.

“Kate, you may be right about seeing somebody yesterday. Oliver found a bundle of food lodged in some branches in that tree. We cannot be sure it was not put there by someone from the house, though I do not think the food was from here.” He wrinkled his nose with distaste. “But this evening, when Master Haute returns, we will put the question to the household.” He searched her face for clues. He was convinced Geoffrey was guilty, and he would not have put it past his clever sister to have planted some evidence to clear the boy. Kate’s eyes betrayed nothing but surprise and hope at the news. She thanked the steward sincerely, and he moved back to his place.

Anne looked quizzically at Kate. “What is it, Kate? What have they found?”

Kate whispered to her of Oliver’s find. Anne looked skeptical.

“All fingers point at Geoff, Kate. I would not count on this bundle to prove otherwise.”

Kate felt annoyance at Anne for the first time. What a ninny she is, she thought, selfishly forgetting that Anne was still shocked and grieved at losing her mother.

All afternoon, Kate mumbled prayers while her mind flitted from one scene to the next in her imagination. Richard coming home and being told the news of the forgotten food. Geoff reappearing with a perfectly good explanation for his absence. Richard coming across the vagabond carrying Elinor’s headband . . .

“Certes!” she said aloud, as the light dawned. Brother Francis frowned, and Kate bowed her head. He stole her jeweled headdress and Elinor tried to fight him off! That is what must have happened, she thought.

The tired horsemen returned at dusk empty-handed. No one in the villages of Ivy Hatch or Ightham had seen the boy the day before, and extensive searches in the woods and fields had yielded nothing. Kate was sick with worry not only about Geoff’s general well-being but also because it looked certain that Richard took Geoff’s prolonged absence as a sign of his guilt. But then Edgar took Richard aside and told him of Oliver’s discovery, and the two men disappeared into the office to examine the bundle. The call to supper was not delayed, and when Richard reappeared to take his place at the high table, he was carrying the bundle. In Brother Francis’s absence, Richard said grace. Before the household had time to begin eating, he raised his arm and came around to the front of the table to address them.

“First, I do thank those of you who rode with me today to search for my wife’s assassin. We were not successful in finding young Geoffrey, but tomorrow we shall try again. Now”—Richard turned and picked up the bundle, holding it high over his head—“is there one of you who recognizes this?”

Some of the servants at the back of the hall crept forward for a closer look. Richard had asked the question pleasantly enough, and there was no reason for any of the household to feel afraid of speaking up. Nobody
claimed the ragged bundle, and Richard thanked them and told them to begin eating. He turned to Kate and showed her the bundle. She gingerly untied the knot and peeked at the contents, feigning surprise.

“Maybe your theory is right, Kate. It seems Oliver found this in the spot where you say you saw someone hiding. It is a paltry piece of cloth and could belong to a vagabond, in truth. But we must go on looking for Geoffrey. Guilty or no, I am now concerned for his safety.”

K
ATE
HARDLY
SLEPT
that night. She tossed and turned, wondering what had become of Geoff. She again rose before dawn to take a walk around the moat. She put on two pairs of leggings and her second chemise under her warmest woolen robe before creeping through Richard’s chamber and onto the landing. This time, Oliver heard her, and she whispered she needed to take a walk because she could not sleep. He mumbled something about wrapping up and pulled his bedcover up over his head. Kate went on her way.

Her walk took her along the terraced garden on the east side of the stewpond, and as dawn came up and the household stirred, she wandered through the beds now devoid of all but the hardiest of vegetables. As she passed the old stone shed where the gardeners kept their tools and a few hens liked to roost, she heard a whimper. She stopped and listened intently. Yes, there it was again. Her heart began to thump as she crept to the open side of the structure. She peered into its darkness.

“Geoff, is it you in there?”

There was a prolonged sniffle, and a small voice whispered back, “Kate? Aye, ’tis me. Oh, Kate, how did you find me?”

Kate quickly checked around her, but no one had appeared from the house as yet. She entered the shed and made out Geoff’s small form crumpled up in the darkest corner. A rough blanket covered him. His face was dirty and tear-smudged. He put out his arms, and Kate knelt down to hug him. He was shivering with cold and fright, and his teeth were chattering between his sobs. She cuddled up to him, offering the warmth of her body and cloak. She dried his tears with the sleeve of her chemise and rocked him until she felt him relax.

“Geoff, where have you been these two nights? Do you know Richard has been looking for you? And I have been sick with worry for you.”

“Dame Elinor will beat me again, won’t she, Kate?” He began to cry again.

Kate’s heart leapt with joy. So, he thinks she is alive! That proves he did not do it, she thought. She decided not to tell him about the drowning, and perhaps his surprise in front of Richard or the sheriff would go in his favor. She soothed his fears and probed him again for an explanation of his disappearance. Between sniffles his story tumbled out.

Desperately unhappy after his beating in the morning, he had made up his mind to run away back to Bywood Farm. He remembered that the road by which he had come to Ightham Mote would lead him to the Tunbridge road, but not wanting to be seen, he had followed the stream from the upper lake, which he was convinced would run into the Medway at some point. He believed he would be home in no time. He had not realized the stream would take him further north, and soon he was lost in the woods.

About a mile from the house, he abandoned the stream and followed a path for two or three miles, thinking it was bound to lead to a road. Two thieves jumped out at him and stole his cloak. When they saw he was only a child, they left him unharmed. Pointing him towards the London road, they ran off, leaving him cold and alone. He sat down to eat the food he had smuggled in his sleeve and tried to stay warm. He was about to go on his way when he saw a monk on a donkey riding towards him.

“He asked me what I was doing alone in the woods, Kate. I made up a terrible lie. I said I had got separated from my family after thieves attacked us and that I was cold and hungry.”

“No matter,” Kate said, agog to hear what happened next. “Go on!”

“I felt sure he would help me, even though he is odd-looking. His head is too big for his body, and he is no taller than me. Brother Jerome—that is his name—took me up on the donkey. The sun was going down, and he said wanted to reach his shelter on Oldbury Hill—wherever that is—before dark.” He paused.

Kate shivered at the mention of Oldbury Hill. It was said to be haunted by the ghosts of ancient Britons, which Kate imagined had been sacrificed by druids. It was not a place where one wanted to be at night, she thought fearfully, especially not with a strange-looking man, even if
he was a man of God. Geoff by this time was in his stride and was enjoying telling his tale. He said had felt safe with the monk, though where Oldbury Hill was and how he was going to get home were questions he did not dare ask.

“Did you see any ghosts on the hill?”

Geoff gave her a withering look. “Ghosts? Who believes in ghosts? Fiddle-faddle, as you would say, Kate!”

Kate stuck her tongue out at him, and for a brief moment Geoff’s plight was forgotten.

“You cannot fool me, Geoffrey Bywood, I know you were terrified.” Geoff grinned sheepishly at her.

“How did you get back here?”

“If you stop interrupting me with silly questions about ghosts, I will tell you.”

After arriving at the primitive hut and feeding him, Brother Jerome had attempted to get at the truth. Geoff concocted another story, then weariness overtook him. The next thing he knew, it was daylight and he was warmly wrapped in the monk’s blanket on the dirt floor. Brother Jerome was at his prayers, and Geoff thought about running off, but the monk turned when he heard Geoff move.

“I want the truth this time, young man.”

Finally, Geoff agreed to tell him the whole story. When he had finished, the monk persuaded him to return to Ightham and face the consequences. The worst punishment he would receive might be another beating from Elinor, the monk warned him, but his conscience would be clear before God.

The good brother gave Geoff his blanket, a crust of bread and some dried fish and drew him a map in the dirt of the shortest route back to Ivy Hatch. It was only two miles as the crow flies, and Geoff realized he must have gone around in circles before the monk had found him the day before. He set off immediately and arrived back at Ightham just before the search party left to find him.

“I was tired when I got back and was afeared of Dame Elinor’s wrath again, so I came in here to sleep for a while,” Geoff said. “When I woke up, it was getting dark. I heard the horsemen but did not know it was Cousin Richard looking for me. I thought they were guests, and I did not
want to embarrass him by entering the house then. I did not know what to do, Kate. I was so afraid of another beating!” He began to cry again.

So engrossed had Kate been in Geoff’s story that she had lost track of time. When she heard the bell for terce she realized she had missed breakfast and her absence would be noticed. She told Geoff to stay there, and she would go and get him some food and think about what he should do next.

“And if you are found, brother, you have not seen me this morning, do you understand? It will go worse for us if they think I have been hiding you all this time.” Kate cupped Geoff’s face in her hands and made him promise.

She ran quickly from the shed and down to the south side of the Mote, skirted the main path and went to the side door of the stable. No one saw her. She let herself into Rosey’s stall and lay down on some hay, pretending to be asleep. Ralph found her not long after and shook his head at her whimsical behavior.

Kate had no sooner disappeared behind the house than a gardener came to the shed to fetch a tool to prune an unruly hedge. The man was in the shed before Geoff was aware of him, and Geoff let out a startled “Oh!”

The gardener ran out, shouting, “He be here! Master Bywood be here! Help!”

He barred the way until Edgar and Richard came puffing up the path. They had been readying the search party in the courtyard when they heard the gardener’s cries.

Geoff was unprepared for the rough handling he received from Edgar when he came out of the shed, still wrapped in the monk’s blanket, pieces of straw sticking to him and his dirty face still streaked with tears.

“I am sorry, truly I am.” He addressed Richard. “I only wanted to go home. I got lost, but I meant no harm by it, I swear it!”

Edgar had him by the ear, which Geoff found painful, but he tried again to be heard.

“Please, please do not beat me. I will never run away again, I promise! I will empty all the chamber pots for a month . . . for a year . . . only please do not beat me!”

Richard looked at him curiously but said nothing.

Edgar guffawed unkindly. “Beating? Beating? ’Tis not punishment enough for
your
crime, lad. Why, it shall be hanging or branding for the likes of you!”

When the group entered the courtyard, there was quite a crowd to greet them, including Kate. She ran forward to embrace Geoff but was gently pushed aside by Edgar. Geoff reached his hand out to her pathetically, but by then he was being pushed into the great hall. Edgar slammed him down on a stool in the middle of the hall, facing the high table, and everyone else crowded in behind him, keeping their eyes on Richard and Edgar. Geoff started crying again.

The sheriff had duly arrived a few minutes before terce and agreed to stay at the house until Geoff was apprehended. He was a big, red-faced man with bulging eyes and rotting teeth, and he seemed to be out for blood. Kate’s pulse began to race.

Geoff now looked around fearfully for Elinor, who he expected to materialize with the largest birch rod she could find. He was puzzled by her absence.