Day of Wrath (20 page)

‘Thank you for coming and warning me, Jane, but I'll stay here, if you don't mind. I know only too well what happens to witches. Up on Marchester Heath the bodies of two women condemned for witchcraft still hang from the gibbets. I expect that already they're saying that Ambrose here is my familiar. But I have a clear conscience. I wouldn't know how to cast a spell on anyone even if I wanted to, which I don't. People come here to ask me to help them. Some things I can't cure, and I always say so. I never give people wrong advice just to keep them happy. Even the holy monks come and consult me sometimes. Ask them if they think I'm a witch! As for babies dying and hens not laying eggs, that's all part of the natural world; and it's got nothing to do with me. I know how to prescribe a potion to make people with troubled minds go to sleep, and I know how to ease stiff joints and relieve coughs and fevers, but that's a gift which comes from God, not His adversary, the devil. Now don't you worry about me, my dear. Why don't you come inside and I'll make you a herbal drink with honey, and we'll forget all about these gossips.'

*   *   *

Jane left Agnes's cottage and rode up to the common to give Melissa a good gallop. She wanted to order her mind. Ahead of her was Mortimer Lodge, usually such a peaceful sight; but now an atmosphere of malevolence hung over it which seemed to contaminate the surrounding countryside. She avoided the wood. Something was going wrong in this little community, she thought. A family broken up through one man's treachery, two innocent people dying because they unwittingly overheard an incriminating conversation, and now a harmless old lady accused of witchcraft. But why pick on Agnes at this particular time? Agnes had always been held in high esteem. People called her a wise woman, even a holy woman. There'd never been a hint of witchcraft. What had she done? Had she, too, overheard something? Was someone trying to get rid of her?

Deeply perturbed, she turned Melissa back towards home. But first she had to see Prior Thomas. He wanted her to sing to his special guests who were due to arrive at any moment, and she wanted to look through the programme and maybe have a rehearsal with Brother Benedict.

*   *   *

Nicholas slept fitfully whilst the coach lurched and jolted over the rough roads of West Sussex. They reached home just as the servants were waking up and the labourers were setting off to work in the fields. Nicholas climbed stiffly out of the coach, dazed by tiredness, with his body aching from the rough journey and still sore from the fall he'd had in the woods.

A boy, sleepily rubbing his eyes and frantically trying to tie up the fastening on his trousers, opened the main gate. Nicholas had never seen him before.

‘Who are you?'

‘Anthony, sir. Geoffrey's nephew.'

‘And where do you come from, and what are you doing here?'

‘I live in Marchester, sir, and I've been offered a job as general servant. Geoffrey's had to take on a lot of new hands.'

At that moment, Geoffrey came running out to meet them. He, too, looked as if he needed a good night's sleep, although his worried face broke into a smile of relief when he saw Nicholas.

‘Welcome home, my Lord. I don't know whether I'm coming or going at the moment, what with all the provisioning and the preparation of the rooms, I'm at my wits' end. I need you to guide me.'

‘I'm sure you've got things well under control, but let me have something to eat, for God's sake, before we start on our domestic problems.'

Over a plateful of fried bacon and half a dozen eggs, Nicholas listened to Geoffrey's tale of woe: not enough beds, not enough servants, not enough food, not enough chairs … Finally, just as Geoffrey seemed to be on the point of collapse, he blurted out, ‘And they do say, my Lord, that the King's coming.'

Nicholas carefully mopped up the last drop of egg yolk with his bread, swung round and looked at Geoffrey.

‘I suppose the whole world knows by now?'

‘Bound to. The sailors talk about nothing else in the Portsmouth taverns. Seems he's going to look at the ships on the seventh so I suppose he'll be coming here on the sixth? It's too soon, my Lord. I'll never be ready.'

‘Calm down, Geoffrey. I know there's a lot to do, but I daresay the Prior will come to our rescue. He can put up a whole lot of people on the top floor of the guest house, the servants, the valets. We'll have the most important people here, the King, of course, and his senior courtiers. Now listen carefully, Geoffrey. I know the problem you have of feeding this mob, but believe me it's nothing compared to the problem I'm going to have with guarding the King. He's a difficult man to keep under control and I don't want him wandering off anywhere on his own. He's bringing some of the Yeomen of the Guard – no, don't get alarmed,' he said as Geoffrey exclaimed in horror. ‘They'll have to stay here with us, and we've got to put them up near the King. They'll have their instructions, of course, but I want you to co-operate with them one hundred per cent. Now, Geoffrey, I want you to swear that you won't go round prattling to everybody about this. Let people talk, but don't give them any information. It would be the most terrible thing if the King should come to any harm in my house. Remember our motto – always loyal.

‘I shall need a list of everyone employed in this house; their names and where they've come from. Anyone coming here to apply for a job must be turned away. Even if we're short-handed we must know who our servants are and we must be sure of their loyalty. Now I want that list immediately, as I shall have to check every person on it with you. I must insist on tight security at all times from now on, Geoffrey. If in doubt about anything, consult me. On the sixth of June, I want only those people known to us to be in this house. Anyone not on our list, or not on the King's list which I shall expect him to send down to me with his steward, is to be sent away. Is that clear? Don't worry about provisions; I'll see what the Prior's got in his store cupboard. But first I must go to Marchester and see Landstock.'

‘But surely, my Lord, you should rest first.'

‘No time for that. Get Harry saddled up. I can rest later.'

‘But where's the King going to sleep?'

‘The King? In my bed of course. Unless he brings his own bed with him.'

‘And the Queen?'

‘She'll have to have a room, I suppose.'

‘How many meals?'

‘For God's sake, Geoffrey, don't be such an old woman. I don't know. At least three feasts, I should think. One when they arrive, one on the seventh, unless Southampton's going to feed them, one after the hunt on the eighth.'

‘And will they want entertainment?'

‘Bound to. Something simple. Jane Warrener can sing to them with Brother Benedict. Some dancing, I suppose. Nothing vigorous, the Queen's not into dancing these days. The Prior and the Precentor can rustle up some musicians between them, I expect. Now off with you and get me Harry.'

Chapter Fifteen

‘Ah, Lord Nicholas,' said Richard Landstock, jumping to his feet. ‘I hoped you'd come today. You've become damned elusive. You're too much away at Court, my Lord. We need you here. Sit down, man, you look all in. Too much roistering, I suppose! Let me get you some ale.'

‘Thanks,' said Nicholas accepting the tankard of ale which Landstock poured out for him from the jug on the table. ‘God, that's good,' he said as he drank deeply, wiping away the line of froth along his top lip with the back of his hand. ‘Now let's get this straight. I haven't been roistering, as you call it, but witnessing a barbaric interrogation sanctioned by our legal system.'

‘There speaks the Justice of the Peace. I hope you're not going to turn soft on us, my Lord. Our safety depends on suspects owning up to their crimes. How else can we catch criminals? Or don't you want them caught? Perhaps you don't mind your barns raided and your stewards murdered?'

‘Of course I want them caught. It's just sickening to watch someone under torture.'

‘Teach the others a lesson, though. You'd think twice about raising a hand against the King once you've seen what you've just seen, wouldn't you?'

‘I could no more lift my hand against the King than fly to the moon.'

‘There you are, then. It worked. You'll stay loyal to the end of your life. But now, let me tell you what's been happening here. Whilst you've been away, I've been sorting out your affairs.'

‘My affairs?'

‘Concerning your steward, or rather your erstwhile steward, Matthew Hayward, or have you forgotten all about him?'

‘I thought we'd cleared that up.'

‘Not entirely. We know Giles Yelman let the killers in to your house. We've now got the killers. We sent Yelman to Lewes for interrogation, but fortunately, he's no hero. In fact, he named the killers as soon as he saw the manacles in Lewes prison. Now he's in custody waiting for the Assize judge to come. The hangman'll be the last man he'll see.'

‘Who are the killers?'

‘Two labourers who worked for Mortimer. They had a good alibi but we've cracked that. They said they were in the ale-house in the cattle market here in Marchester Monday of last week – the night Hayward was killed – but a witness says that he saw them walking along the road to your house. I checked with the ale-house keeper and his cronies, but no one could say for certain that the two men were there that night. Probably they didn't hand out enough free ale. You've got to be generous when you want someone to tell lies for you.'

‘Where are they now?'

‘Here in Marchester, in my prison. No need to send them to Lewes. They'll come up before you at Quarter Sessions in June.'

‘You've done well, Richard. By the way, have you got any further with the investigation into Bess Knowles's death?'

‘There is no investigation. Coroner was quite sure: death through natural causes. Aren't you satisfied?'

‘I've got an open mind. She was Matthew's intended, as you know. She probably knew as much as Matthew about what was going on here.'

‘That's as maybe. She's in the churchyard now, and that's the end of the road, unless new evidence comes forward. But any more news about Sir Roger? His arrest caused quite a stir, I can tell you.'

‘He died yesterday in the Tower.'

‘Are you sure of that, my Lord?'

‘Quite sure. I was there; so was his wife.'

‘What the hell did they do to him?'

‘What do you expect? He died on the rack, under interrogation.'

‘What was he accused of?'

‘Treason. High treason.'

‘Is that true?'

‘Oh, quite true. His name was on letters addressed to Reginald Pole. Unfortunately for Mortimer, Southampton picked them up before they reached the Continent, read them and passed the information on to the King.'

‘Do they know who else was in the conspiracy?'

‘No. Mortimer wouldn't speak.'

‘He wouldn't. He was too much of a fanatic. Now we've got the King coming, and we don't know for sure if the conspiracy's been well and truly stamped out. Someone might be out there ready to carry on where Mortimer left off. I don't envy you, my Lord.'

‘Thanks for the sympathy. But we are not entirely in the dark. Mortimer wouldn't betray his accomplices, but we do know the code name of one of them, and the name of the conspiracy.'

‘Which is?'

‘It's called The Day of Wrath. The leader signs himself Ultor.'

‘What the hell does that mean? Latin means nothing to me.'

‘It means avenger, punisher.'

‘Good God, to think this is all happening here in Marchester, a place where usually nothing happens except drunken brawling and petty theft.'

‘Well, now you've got something to get your teeth into, Sheriff.'

‘What I can't understand is why Mortimer should support Reginald Pole, for heaven's sake? I've heard he's more interested in a cardinal's hat than the King's crown.'

‘You could be right, but it's more a case of who he is than what he wants. You know that the mother of the Pole brothers is the Countess of Salisbury, who, in turn is the daughter of George, brother to Edward IV, the King's grandfather. So they are the King's cousins and, more to the point, they're Yorkists through and through. If the Pole brothers aren't interested in the crown, then Lord Montague, their brother, would certainly risk his life for it. If the King doesn't stamp out this family, then they will be a constant thorn in his side. I can see the time coming when the Countess of Salisbury and two of her sons will all mount the scaffold on Tower Green. If Reginald Pole accepts a cardinal's hat and stays on the Continent until times change, he'll be the only one in that family to survive. The King, Richard, is not secure on his throne as long as there are any Yorkists left. And that's why Lady Mortimer will never be reinstated in her husband's house. Her family are all related to the Countess of Salisbury. The King promised to be merciful, though, and she'll go back to live with her children at the other end of the county.'

‘A pity all these Yorkists chose to live around here. My God, Peverell, what are we going to do?'

‘Protect the King; and find Ultor. And we start now. I want you to get your spies out. Get them into the ale-houses, particularly the Portsmouth ones, and tell them to pin their ears back. We've got just ten days to sort this lot out. Just think of the consequences if this Ultor gets the King.'

‘You've got to guard your house well, my Lord.'

‘I'll do my best. Henry Tudor isn't an easy man to guard. He'll be at his most vulnerable when he leaves me on the seventh of June to ride to Portsmouth Point. He's bound to go on horseback as it isn't very far and he'll want to show himself off to his people. An admirable quality, but I'd be a lot happier if he decided to keep his Queen company in the royal coach. The Yeomen of the Guard can protect a coach, but not a man on a horse who wants to show off to the watching crowd.'