Hangman Blind (17 page)

She smiled. ‘Greetings, master. I was wondering whether you would do me the favour of answering a question about a couple of guests?’

‘Most certainly, Sister. Come inside and ask away.’ He settled her comfortably in a chair and when he was seated himself beside his pile of ledgers he leaned forward. ‘Well?’

‘I’ve been wondering about the two friars who are staying over for St. Martin’s week.’

‘Good fellows,’ he said, sitting back. ‘No trouble whatsoever. Kept themselves to themselves. Pity they’ve gone—’

‘Gone?’

‘Left at dawn when the Lombards rode out. Be back in Beverley by now I should think But they weren’t friars.’ He chuckled. ‘One of them had got himself a nice little post as corrodian, though he didn’t say what service he rendered the brothers in return for his keep. The other fellow was a companion from his youth and they’d decided to take a short break together over Martinmas. I reckon they had more entertainment than they bargained for.’

‘It was put about that they were friars—’ she insisted.

‘I don’t know how that rumour started. We haven’t had a friar in here for the last year. Not even to take Lord Roger’s confession, save his soul.’

All she wanted was to go up to her chamber and catch up on her sleep, but instead Hildegard went to find Ulf. He was overseeing the guests who remained in the hall.

It was a sombre occasion. Sir Ralph was the only man at the top table. Avice and Sibilla were present. Philippa was just leaving. The servants went back and forth without a smile. There was no singing.

Ulf turned as she approached and she said, ‘I’m not here to eat and drink. I just thought you might like to know that those two so-called friars have already left.’

‘So-called?’

She nodded. ‘One of them was a corrodian at the friary in Beverley. The other was just a companion. Neither of them were friars as it turns out.’

‘Let’s not drag those two into it,’ advised Ulf in a harassed tone. ‘There are more important things to consider. You remember you asked me right at the start who would want to poison Roger and I said—’

‘Did I want the long list or the short one? Yes, I remember. And have you a list?’

‘Let’s go somewhere quiet. I want your views.’ He cast a glance round the Great Hall. There was nothing that needed his attention just now. He led the way to his office.

‘I didn’t want to set too many hares running,’ he said as soon as they were seated. ‘I hoped somebody would have given me a useful whisper by now and we’d have caught this poisonous devil. But there’s been no hint of a name.’ He poured them both a drink of Rhenish. ‘So now I’m going to give rein to my blackest thoughts, the saints forgive me. But don’t forget, I’ve lived cheek-by-jowl with the family all my life, I know their ways, and I’m forced to it.’ With a grim expression he began. ‘We have to look at motives. And we need to start with the folk closest to Roger.’

‘The family, you mean?’

He nodded. ‘Clearly young Edwin’s not involved as he’s banished and probably in France. So, who do we have who would gain from Roger’s death? First, there’s Melisen. She knows full well that if she doesn’t produce an heir soon Roger will have no compunction in throwing her out. You know what he’s like. However,’ he frowned, ‘I’ve had a look at the marriage settlement since we last discussed matters. With Roger dead, heir or not, she’ll inherit a fortune.’

Hildegard was stunned to hear him talk so cynically. It was unlike him. Putting that thought to one side she asked, ‘What about Sir Ralph’s baby son?’

‘His claim could be set aside. It was only proclaimed in the hall during a drunken riot. There’s nothing written down. And of course,’ he added with a crooked smile, ‘should Melisen happen to find herself with child now, that would strengthen her claim.’

‘How could she, with Roger dead?’

‘With the help of a virile young squire, perhaps?’

Slowly she asked, ‘Are you suggesting they might have plotted together to get him out of the way?’ She remembered the immaculate youth escorting Melisen into the church for the requiem mass. With that image in mind the idea suddenly seemed less far fetched.

But Ulf continued. ‘As well as that, as a widow, at her age, with or without a child, but with the sort of wealth she would inherit, she could remarry whomever she liked, royalty included.’ He added, ‘I don’t think she’s without ambition despite her whims. Then,’ he went on before Hildegard could do no more than open her mouth, ‘There’s Sir William. It’s well known he’s jealous of his brother-in-law. He owns barren lands near the Borders, a place you’d only go to if you wanted to see your guts served on a platter. Lady Avice came to him with a tract in Holderness but it’s nothing but marsh. The best she offers is portage in and out of Ravenser and a tax or two from Wyke now it’s called Kingstown on the Hull. Otherwise it’s fish, fish, fish, import, export, and continual fights with the burgesses over who should pay what, and all revenues finishing up in King Richard’s coffers after Lord Roger’s had a dip. You can imagine how William feels about that.’

‘So what difference does it make to William if Roger is dead? He can’t get his hands on Hutton lands—’

‘He could put a strong case for being the only one capable of running the estate. He’s hardly stretched at present.’

‘But there’s Sir Ralph—’

‘Do you seriously imagine Ralph has the will to organise a candle stall?’

She reserved her opinion and instead asked, ‘So by default—’

‘William would take the reins as guardian—’

‘But the others wouldn’t stand for it. I mean, despite what you say, Sir Ralph would object most strongly and—’

‘And Sir William would take up arms to force his case.’

They contemplated the blood-shed that would ensue should it come to that.

Ulf hadn’t reached the end of his list, however. He said, ‘And then, of course, there’s Lady Sibilla. If Sir William has a rival, it’s his sister-in-law. This birth, convenient of course, but do you imagine she’s going to sit and wait until the child comes of age before reaping the benefit? Not on your life. She’d be perfectly capable of running things herself on the child’s behalf. She has a good case.’

‘I understand she has lands to the east along the coast?’

‘She has. To an ambitious woman, Hutton could be a gem beyond compare. She would own a swathe from the sea to the gates of York itself, and it won’t have escaped her notice that she could compete with the Nevilles if she got her hands on all this.’ He waved an arm.

‘She struck me as being pretty shrewd. And it’s lucky to have borne a son –’ She furrowed her brow. ‘In that connection—’

‘Let me go on.’

‘There’s more?’

‘You want the full list of those who could benefit, don’t you?’ Ulf gave a heavy sigh and reached for his goblet. He drank deeply then wiped dry the gold hairs of his beard. His frown deepened. ‘As you so rightly observed, sister, there’s Philippa.’ His tone was heavy. Clearly he didn’t like the suspicions that were apparently teeming through his mind. ‘With her father out of the way, Philippa could marry where she chooses. You said she told you as much.’ He looked so troubled Hildegard’s heart went out to him. She could see he was having difficulty going on. ‘Not only could she marry anyone she liked,’ he admitted, ‘she could apply to have the law set aside and prove inheritance on her own behalf. She’s the eldest. She’s of age. All that stops her inheriting every stick and stone is her father’s adherence to Norman law. Which brings us,’ he paused, ‘to the Lombards.’

‘Ah.’

‘You must have noticed how intimate she and Ludovico are?’

‘Is this the first time they’ve met?’

‘I suspect he turned up in Kent after Melisen and Roger’s wedding. Philippa stayed down there for a couple of months. And these Lombardy men get everywhere.’

‘But what would Ludovico have to do with it?’ she asked cautiously.

Ulf looked unhappy. ‘I don’t believe Philippa would think up something like this by herself.’ He gave her a wild look. ‘But Ludovico must have realised when they first met he could be worth a pope’s ransom if he controlled both ends of the wool trade, production here in Yorkshire, the finishing and making up in Italy.’

‘You’re seriously suggesting he could have put her up to poisoning her own father?’

‘Sometimes a black-hearted devil can persuade a soft, gullible girl to do anything he likes so long as it’s in the name of love.’

Hildegard gave him a sceptical glance. ‘Do we know he’s black-hearted?’ She ignored the question of the gullible girl.

‘We can’t know he’s not.’

‘You said there’d be a lot of hares set running, Ulf. What you’re saying, in brief, is that every member of the family benefits from Roger’s death.’

Hildegard went up to her room. It was late by now. She couldn’t stop yawning. There had been no sleep since the ride out to the mill and back. She flung her cloak on its hook, removed her boots and lay down on the straw pallet in a corner of the chamber. Ulf had made it clear who would gain from poisoning Roger – practically everyone – but he hadn’t answered the real question which was: who would want to poison him? It might have a somewhat different answer.

A cock crowing shortly around dawn drew her from the depths of sleep. She stretched. She sat up. A pall of silence seemed to lie over the entire castle. She rose from the pallet, went to the window, and looked down into the bailey.

The carts were still lined up against the walls, augmented by one or two more since yesterday. A steady downpour puddled in the ruts their wheels had made. Melisen’s char with its black awning seemed to have been filled with green branches. When she peered closer she realised it was yew. Appropriate for a funeral. She couldn’t help wondering why Roger hadn’t sent instructions to Ulf to stop the charade. His ‘death’ hadn’t flushed out the poisoner as he had hoped. Eventually people would have to be told the truth. She wouldn’t like to be in his shoes when he made a clean breast of things. She wondered how he would try to wriggle out of it. He wouldn’t be able to put the blame on his steward because she was a witness to his orders. And if he tried to blame her – the idea was unthinkable.

Pulling on her cloak and ramming her feet back inside her boots she went out in the hope of finding something to eat in the Great Hall.

There were plenty of people about, she noticed, when she pushed open the doors. The servants, as ever, were run off their feet, keeping everybody fed and watered, and an army of others were hauling packs of food from the kitchens to load on to the rest of the sumpter wagons. She stood to one side to let them through. There was a strange atmosphere about the place. She couldn’t name it. But you could cut it with a knife. Then Melisen, weeping, came out.

She was already dressed for the journey in a long black cloak with a sweeping hood and was escorted by a retinue of servants. Her squire lent his strong shoulder while she dabbed feebly at her eyes and drooped against him. They stepped outside into the rain. The squire raised a stole above her head and they hurried towards the char. They were followed by Philippa. She wore a grim expression and acknowledged Hildegard with a distracted bob of her head. After her came her personal maid, carrying a large object covered by a cloth.

Glancing across the bailey Hildegard saw that Sibilla and the baby were already sitting in the second char on a mound of furs with Sir Ralph in attendance. A hooded shape sat behind her which Hildegard took to be Avice.

Overhead the sky was weeping on one and all. It was a dreadful day to have to set out. She went indoors.

Ulf, wearing a black surcoat with his riding cloak thrown over his shoulders, was pacing back and forth in front of the dais. When she approached he glanced up with a start. ‘Didn’t you hear all that last night?’

‘The singing in the Hall? I thought it rather subdued—’

‘No, I don’t mean that. You’ve no idea what’s happened, have you?’ He gave a stricken shake of his head. ‘This place must have a curse on it.’

‘What do you mean?’

His lips tightened. ‘Sir William killed a man.’

‘Sir William?’

He nodded.

‘Who—?’

‘Godric, the third yeoman.’

‘You mean the one who serves Roger at table?’

He nodded again. Behind him a row of kitchen staff were hauling out the last of the provisions with their heads lowered.

‘But why? What happened?’

‘He came barging in half way through supper, ranting something about yeomen, and when Godric stepped forth William drew his knife and slashed out at him. It was witnessed by the entire household. He put Godric’s eye out. The man was dead within seconds.’

‘What did you do?’

He glanced away and his lips tightened again. ‘I wasn’t here. I had some business to attend to. They had to come and fetch me.’ He didn’t elaborate.

‘So how has William accounted for himself?’

Ulf looked even more enraged. ‘He hasn’t. He fled. Half a dozen of his men went with him. They rode away before anybody could stop them.’ Ulf was furious and glared round the hall. ‘I won’t blame them. It’s not their fault. They were unarmed.’ He gave Hildegard a fierce look. ‘If you’re ready, we’re leaving at once.’

‘Hold on, I’ve got to get my bag.’

She ran up to her room and began to gather her things. William. They knew he had an ungovernable temper. But to kill an unarmed servant was shocking. Just then there was a noise outside in the corridor. With her mind in turmoil she would have ignored it but it was accompanied by the sound of running feet. An irritable voice shouted something. The voice came again, this time high and wheedling. A crash followed as of an object being thrown. Strong language followed. Then she heard pounding feet and another crash.

With her bag half packed Hildegard poked her head out in time to see one of Ralph’s men picking himself up off the floor.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

He gave her a scowl. It was the man she had outfaced earlier in the kitchen yard over his cruelty to the hen. She felt a shiver go through her.

‘It’s Sir Ralph’s cat. It won’t leave. It doesn’t like rain.’ He straightened his clothes and began to make for a chamber at the far end of the corridor into which the cat was just disappearing with a flick of its tail.