Hangman Blind (13 page)

‘If Sir William had noticed a mere mason sitting with Lady Avice he would have broken his neck.’

‘The way I remember it,’ said Hildegard drily, ‘his attention was totally engaged by his partner.’

Ulf pursed his lips. ‘So, we can account for Melisen, with Roger all evening, and William in the thick of the dancing, Philippa and the Lombard likewise, and the only ones at the table: Sueno and Avice. Could either of them have slipped something into his drink?’

‘Getting rid of Roger would be the last thing Sueno wanted.’

‘Or so he hinted.’

They were both silent.

At length Hildegard gave a heavy sigh. ‘Anyway, they would have had to be in league because one couldn’t have doctored the wine without the other one noticing.’

‘It’s ridiculous.’

‘What is?’

‘The idea of those two forming a conspiracy.’

Feeling she was clutching at straws she said, ‘Of course, we’re forgetting the other guests. I wasn’t watching them, were you?’

‘It’s always the same at these events. Everybody’s up and down, back and forth—’

‘Just like the servants, in fact.’

‘The last thing they’d want is Roger dead. You’ve got quite the wrong idea about them. It’s because of the Saxon lads, isn’t it?’

‘Mostly. There are other reasons.’ She pictured the little phial, the reliquary, at present hidden in her scrip. ‘The crux of the matter is, Ulf, we don’t have anything to go on. This is all guesswork.’

‘Let’s go and sit out in the hall ourselves,’ he suggested. ‘I know it’s rowdy but we might pick up a few clues if we have another look at where it happened.’

‘I had a look round when everybody was in chapel,’ she told him as she got up, ‘that’s when I noticed the wine stain. Truly, Ulf, if we don’t get a lead soon I’m going to have to go back to Swyne and continue my search for a grange. I don’t have permission to stay away for ever.’

They made their way over to the Great Hall, crossing the bailey on the cordings. They were slippery with mud but at least they kept people’s feet dry. It was raining even now. The entire yard was like a quagmire.

Indoors, the servants had made an effort to clear up after the previous night. Ulf looked round with a critical eye but could find nothing much to complain about. He called for somebody to bring them a sample of a new brew that had just arrived from the lowlands, and they stood next to one of the wooden pillars to watch the servants coming in and out from behind the screens.

They were laying the board for the day’s eating, first a spoon, then a goblet, next a spoon, then another goblet. The napkins were brought out by the third yeoman, the one Roger had called forth only to send away again in order to see him go out backwards. He looked as morose now as he did then as he placed the folded napkins then went back and stuck spoons in them all. He had the air of a man who thought he was capable of better things.

After he had finished the two yeomen of the salt processed in. Judging by their expressions it had taken a fair amount of ambitious jostling to get the job, and they seemed mighty pleased with themselves. Together they hoisted the salt cellar on to the table. It was a massive object of solid silver, skilfully fashioned in the shape of a high-sided cog under sail.

‘That’s a fine piece,’ observed Hildegard. ‘It must have cost something.’

Ulf chuckled. ‘It impressed Melisen no end when she first saw it. Roger had it modelled on one of his wine ships that come into Ravenser.’

They watched as it was heaved into a precise position according to some rigid rule known only to the yeomen and their mistress. Then the most senior man produced a small key and with great ceremony unlocked a lid on the deck and inspected the contents by dipping a finger inside and licking. Screwing up his face, he pronounced himself satisfied and, bowing to the salt, he and his assistant backed out.

‘The points on their poulaines are ridiculous,’ Hildegard remarked. ‘Do they have to follow court fashions so slavishly?’

Ulf snorted. ‘They’re daft, aren’t they? It’s a wonder they don’t trip over themselves. They shouldn’t be longer than two inches. That fellow’s are at least four. I’ll have a word.’

‘I didn’t remark on them to get him into trouble.’

As she spoke she observed that no guest places were laid below the salt. Everyone seemed to have fled, even Schockwynde, usually not one to miss an invitation to dine with his betters. She assumed he’d gone to eat in his chamber away from the poraille and the risk of the pestilence. Ralph’s place wasn’t set.

‘That baby still hasn’t been brought down, has he?’ Hildegard asked. ‘Maybe Sibilla thinks it’d be tactless with Roger gone.’

‘Nobody knows whether to celebrate a birth or mourn a death,’ Ulf said gloomily. They’re all at sixes and sevens. I feel tempted to tell them the truth. I’m having to bite my tongue.’

‘But we’d better abide by Roger’s decision for the moment until we know what he’s planning.’

‘You think there’s more to it?’ Ulf asked.

Hildegard didn’t answer but instead went over to look at the table again. Ulf followed and they sat down. The table had been cleaned and a fresh cloth put out. There was one goblet for William, one for Avice and one for Melisen. The latter was a delicate silver affair studded, of course, with gems. Roger’s goblet, a big, practical piece, was inverted.

It looked poignant like that, even though she knew Roger was probably faring well enough with Hubert de Courcy in the comfort of the abbey. ‘I wonder how the old devil is?’ she remarked. ‘I hope he’s taking that medicine I gave him.’ It was more than his health which worried her. The two escorts were never out of her mind. She was just thinking, ‘there’s no remedy for a slit throat,’ when there was a commotion outside.

The main doors flew open to let in a rabble of excited castle servants. Seeing Ulf, they headed straight for him. He was already on his feet by the time they reached the dais, and Hildegard saw his hand stray to his dagger. She gripped her cross but remained seated.

‘Sir, sir, it’s bloody murder, that’s what it is! And here, within the bailey! Look, sir! Come and look!’ There was a clamour of voices nearly drowning out his words, confirming what he said.

Ulf gripped the man by the hood and hauled him on to the dais. ‘What?’

‘Murder, sire! Come and see for yourself!’

‘Who’s been murdered?’ He shook the messenger until, nearly choking, he managed to splutter, ‘One of the maids of the bedchamber, sir!’

Ulf released him and the messenger dropped to the floor, coughing and rubbing his neck. The other servants fell back as Ulf sprang from the dais with one long stride.

‘Show me!’ he commanded, grabbing the messenger and hauling him along by his cotte as he made for the doors.

Hildegard lifted the hem of her robe and followed him at a run.

In the tavern where he sat out the hours before embarking for England, the papal envoy smiled to think that the Count of Flanders, Louis de Mael would be as interested as himself in the conversation taking place at the next table. A vociferous group of Flemish weavers were boasting of the numbers willing to bear arms against the count and his ally Duke Philip the Bold of Burgundy. They could not know of the overwhelming numbers who rallied to the duke’s cause. They could not know that their leader, Van Artevelde, would be dead within the month. They could not know of the thousands to be drowned in the mud of Flanders’ fields in the coming slaughter. Their optimism at the prospect of battle brought a further smile to the envoy’s lips. He pulled the hood of his black cloak over his face and leaned closer to hear more.

T
HEY RAN AT
the head of the mob out of the hall, across the muddy cordings, through the kitchen yard, past the workshops, and out again to the stores. Hildegard was carried along by an army of excited servants. Everybody was shouting; two men came to blows. Ulf dealt them a clip round the ears. The head man came to a breathless halt in front of one of the grain stores, where two pike-bearers stood guard.

‘It’s not a pretty sight, sir. Maybe the sister would like to stay back?’

‘I’m sure I’ve seen worse,’ said Hildegard. ‘I haven’t lived in a cloister all my life.’

‘As you wish.’ Still breathing heavily, he pushed open the door and stepped aside to allow them through. Ulf went first. Hildegard heard him swear. She followed quickly into the grain-scented darkness. The indescribable stench of blood rose up to mingle with the sweetness of barley and rye.

‘Poor child,’ she murmured crossing herself. It was indeed one of the maids. Despite her disfigurement, Hildegard recognised her as the girl with red hair who had attended the birth of Sibilla’s baby and had later danced so provocatively with Sir William during the feast.

The first thing to notice was the blood. There was more of it than could be imagined to come from one young girl. It pooled copiously round the body. The second thing was her belly, hacked open, her guts revealed like coiled snakes in a pit. Worse was what had been done to her mouth. Someone had stitched her lips with twine.

Ulf went to the door and growled at everybody to get back. Some were craning their necks to have a look. He used his stave on the most forward ones. ‘You, Sigbert, did you find her?’ He turned to address the man who had led them here.

‘No, sir. It was a scullion sent to get a shovel of barley. Fair sent him out of his wits, it did.’

A quick glance showed no barefoot scullion among the onlookers. ‘Where is he?’

‘Back turning his spit handle if he knows what’s good for him.’

‘Have him brought to me now,’ Ulf ordered.

The man was gone in an instant to do the job himself.

Ulf closed the door, shutting out the jabber of the mindless jostlers outside, and stood beside Hildegard without speaking. A trickle of light seeped down from a high window. It was usually enough to enable the servants to carry out their business in the store without need for tapers. It enabled them to see a scuffle of footprints in the doorway. Closer to the body, however, there were three distinct patterns, those belonging to the maid with her small heels, those they knew to be their own, and a third set.

‘We must look at those,’ Hildegard said, pointing to them. She turned her attention back to the body. The girl’s hair was caked with blood where it escaped its linen cap. It spread in shades of varied red and gold over the chill stones. ‘She still wears her coif.’

Ulf gave Hildegard a glance. She knew the colour must have drained from her face, for he placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘You needn’t stay, you know,’ his voice was gentle. ‘It’s clear how she died. No poison here to be found and examined. It must have been a drunken fiend with a knife last night.’

‘This is more than a man driven by lust,’ Hildegard replied.

Looking again at the stitches sewing the girl’s lips together, she was transfixed by a memory. It was of simple words, spoken casually, half in jest, but now they aroused her revulsion by what they truly meant.

‘We must go to Sibilla’s chamber,’ she whispered in alarm. ‘The midwife. We must speak to her.’

‘Midwife?’

‘Before she hears we have found the body. I’ll go alone. You stay and do what you have to. The footprints. The weapon.’ Hildegard turned, leaving Ulf gaping after her as she pushed the door and shouldered her way through a crowd that stood in silence as she passed.

The late morning air seemed sweet outside the confines of the store and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Then, scarcely daring to allow her thoughts to direct her, she set off towards the bailey. Only when she was approached by one of the servants who had followed her across the grain yard could she summon the words to ask him to conduct her with all haste to the chamber of the Lady Sibilla. He obeyed without hesitation.

‘Sibilla, where is your midwife?’

Lounging on the bed amid her furs when Hildegard came in unannounced, Sibilla sat up abruptly. She was clearly shocked by the sudden entrance of the nun. ‘Midwife? Why? Is one of the maids in need?’

‘Where is she?’

‘Gone, I expect. How should I know? Her services were paid for, no doubt.’ Her tone was sharp.

‘Sibilla, I must know where she is. It’s urgent.’

She pretended to yawn. ‘Oh, ask Ralph. He deals with day-to-day matters. Do you think I can be bothered with all that?’

‘And where is Sir Ralph?’

‘Who knows? Hunting? Playing with his cat? I can’t be expected to know where he is.’ Sibilla gazed at Hildegard as if weighing up the likely moves of an adversary. ‘I’d like to know what’s happened to your famous humility. You seem remarkably peremptory for a nun.’

‘A maid is dead,’ she replied.

Sibilla seemed not so much shocked now as hostile. ‘A maid? What maid?’

‘One of those attending your delivery.’

‘What—?’

Hildegard observed her change of colour with curiosity. ‘Yes, one of those maids, Sibilla. The one with red hair. Surely you remember her?’

‘Why on earth should I?’

Her glance not straying from Sibilla’s face, Hildegard replied, ‘Considering she’s been murdered you might care to give the matter a little thought.’

‘Murdered?’ Sibilla laughed and picked at one of her furs. When Hildegard merely waited with an air of unruffled patience she said, ‘This is ridiculous. You burst in here talking wildly of murder as if it’s anything to do with me! How should I know anything about her? These maids cannot be controlled. And anyway, I don’t have a red-haired maid. She must have come in with the midwife.’

‘And you say the midwife has left?’

‘I expect so. How should I know? I’ve told you, ask Ralph. He’ll have paid her off by now.’

‘And where is he, did you say?’

‘I didn’t.’ Sibilla glanced away. When she looked back Hildegard was still watching her with a level glance. It was close run as to who would make the better card player, but with her training in meditation and prayer, Hildegard had the edge on self-control. Grudgingly Sibilla conceded that Ralph was out hunting with William. ‘But don’t ask me where. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather like to sleep. I’ve had a trying time.’

With that she plumped her pillows, pulled a cover to her chin and closed her eyes. Almost at once she opened them. ‘I’m sorry about the girl. But they come and they go. I can’t be expected to know them all.’

Outside in the corridor Hildegard found the servant who had brought her here. She grasped him by the sleeve. ‘Your name, sir?’

‘Edberg,’ he told her promptly.

‘Edberg, I want to find Sir Ralph. Do you know where he is?’

‘I can find out for you, Sister. Follow me.’

He led the way down some nearby stairs. To her surprise they emerged in the passage separating the kitchen from the Great Hall. The ease with which anyone from anywhere in the castle could have approached the dais and done their work with the poison astonished her. The whole place was like a honeycomb, every cell leading on to the next. Edberg accosted one of the scurrying menials and rapped something out in Anglo-Saxon in a dialect that went over Hildegard’s head. When he turned he said, ‘He’s just been through here. Getting fish for his cat. If we hurry we’ll be in time to stop him before he rides out.’

Robes flying, Hildegard tore across the yard after him and they burst into the stables just as Ralph was being hoisted aloft a tall bay. His own horse, the black destrier she had seen his squire leading in the forest yesterday, hung its head over the door and snickered in its eagerness to come out.

‘Ralph! A moment!’

With a final hoist by his grooms he was in the saddle. He looked down at her. ‘Can’t it wait? I’m going hunting and I’m already late.’ He clearly had no intention of dismounting. She went to stand in front of him. His horse poked its nose into her sleeve and she fondled it as she asked him whether he had any news of the midwife, as a woman in the village was in need of her services.

Ralph frowned. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘I paid her off, lavishly I might add. Why should I know where she is?’

‘Do you know where she came from perhaps?’

‘No idea. Don’t midwives travel around?’

He made as if to urge the horse on but Hildegard stood her ground. Being handled so delicately appealed to the horse and he lowered his head and breathed warmly into her hands. Ralph brought up his whip but put it aside when he saw her expression. ‘Look, if this is urgent, I’m sure the maids know more about her than I do. Why not ask one of them?’

‘Which one do you suggest?’

‘How would I know? They all look the same to me.’ He lifted his whip again.

‘Even the one with the red hair?’

‘Ah, I see which way this is going.’ He hesitated for a moment, then threw one leg over and slid down. ‘So it’s William, is it?’

‘William?’

‘In the old days it wouldn’t have escaped your eagle glance, Hildegard, but now you’re so holy maybe you don’t see what’s going on under your nose.’

‘Maybe so,’ she said. ‘What should I have seen?’ She deliberately widened her eyes.

‘William and that maid you’ve just mentioned?’

‘Really?’

‘Indeed.’ Ralph’s glance narrowed. Turning to his groom he barked, ‘Too late to go out now. Unsaddle the brute.’ He clapped the horse on the flanks then, gripping Hildegard by one elbow as if she were a captive, he marched her out of the stable and into the yard. ‘Come with me, Sister. We need to talk.’

Aware that Edberg was following at a discreet pace or two she allowed Ralph to lead her back towards the main building. Once inside he hustled her up the side stairs and into his own chambers.

‘So,’ Sir Ralph closed the door, ‘What’s William done this time?’

‘I don’t understand you,’ said Hildegard.

‘Oh, of course, he married into the family after you left. And as you’re cloistered out of the daily stream of the world,’ Ralph raised his glance to the ceiling, ‘you’ll know nothing about him, but everybody is aware of his depravity.’ His glance flew to hers, suddenly sharp, and then, almost in an instant, veiled and as vague as always.

‘You’ll have to explain, Ralph,’ said Hildegard. ‘It’s true. I do lead a secluded life. When I was anchoress I never saw a soul from one month to the next.’

‘I was astonished when they said you’d taken the veil,’ Ralph admitted, easing himself into a chair and crossing his boots at the ankle. ‘But what a change of fortune, eh? Hugh dead on some godforsaken battlefield. You a nun.’

It rankled that Ralph should embrace Hugh’s death in the phrase ‘change of fortune’. But all Hildegard said was, ‘You’re right. There have been changes.’ He put up a hand. ‘Excuse me a moment.’ He hollered for one of the servants. A man appeared, carrying Master Jacques on a cushion.

‘There he is,’ said Ralph, taking up the lolling creature and giving him a stroke. To his servant he said, ‘Bring us some ale, there’s a good fellow,’ and after the man had gone he said, ‘William has a foul temper. You know about that business with those thieves down at the docks in Ravenser? He strung all fourteen of them up, guilty and innocent alike. That shocked a lot of people in the Riding.’

‘I didn’t know,’ said Hildegard quietly.

‘The other thing is wenches,’ Ralph went on. ‘I don’t know how Avice puts up with it. Sibilla wouldn’t stand for it.’

‘You sound envious,’ Hildegard suggested.

‘The difference between William and me that is I’m happy with my wife,’ said Ralph. ‘In fact, I’m a happy sort of fellow altogether if you want to know the truth. As long as I’ve got my lands and Master Jacques here, what more could a man want?’

He wore his usual affable smile. His eyes were like pale blue glass and as guileless as those of a child of five, but it seemed to Hildegard his smile was like a mummer’s mask. She wondered why he had not included the birth of his son in his inventory of good fortune? And what did he mean by his lands? Everything he had came courtesy of someone else. His rents from Roger, the rest from Sibilla. Of course he looked every inch the perfect knight. Like his brother in grandeur. Only with Roger it had substance and the force of law to back it up.

‘What are you trying to tell me about William?’ Hildegard asked. ‘And why did my mention of that particular maid cause you to forgo your hunting?’

He laughed softly. ‘In the old days you’d never have posed a question like that. You must have seen them dancing. And I’d lay bets he didn’t finish up in his wife’s bed last night.’ He raised his brows.

‘But Avice?’ she asked. ‘What about her? She must be sorely distressed at the thought of William’s philandering?’

‘Avice? She has a heart of ice. Even as a child, don’t you remember? It’s the only way that marriage can last. Except for fear, of course,’ he added appraisingly, ‘she wouldn’t dare leave him for fear of retribution. Only way she’ll get out of it is if he throws her out. But why would he do that when she’s so compliant? And why would she not comply? She’s got no better protection against slings and arrows than William.’ He began to chuckle. ‘No, my dear stepsister doesn’t care about maids.’ He gave a bark of laughter.

‘Perhaps I ought to tell you something,’ said Hildegard.

‘What’s that?’ Ralph kissed Master Jacques behind the ears and began to stroke him slowly from nose-tip to tail.

Hildegard hesitated. ‘The red-haired maid has just been found dead.’

Ralph’s hand froze over the cat. ‘What did you say?’

‘Her body was found within the hour in one of the stores.’

‘Dead?’ He turned to her, eyes like stones. ‘But how can she be?’

‘She is, and how she came to be so is another question.’ Hildegard watched him carefully.

‘This changes things.’ He gave a narrowed glance. ‘Of course, you would not entertain the idea that William would be involved?’