The Dragon of Handale (15 page)

“What are you grinning for?” His blue eyes pierced.

“Just you. I think I’ve missed you.”

“Only think so? You’re not sure?”

She nodded. “I am sure. Very sure. It’s about all I am sure of at this moment.” She drew back from dangerous ground. “But about Fulke. What have you heard?”

“He’s alleged to be a pillar of piety. Has a tannery at a place called Ruswarp. Other interests—importing furs from the Baltic through Whitby. Sells them on in York and Durham. Made quite a packet for himself.” He looked thoughtful.

“That’s not all, Ulf. Our old friend Master Sueno de Schockwynde—you remember he was the mason employed a few years ago by Roger de Hutton when you were steward at Castle Hutton?”

“Ha! Indeed I do remember him! What’s old Sueno been up to?”

“He’s the mason in charge of the building work at Handale.”

“No? I’d heard he was at Durham on some prestigious long-term work for the bishop?”

“So he is. But this must have been a commission he could not refuse. It’s small compared to the cathedral, but its patron, Fulke, seems to have deep pockets. Schockwynde, apparently, has a stepdaughter—”

“Yes, so I’ve heard. A talented imaginator, by all accounts. She’s in charge of Sueno’s drawings for the decorations at Durham. Very much sought after, I’ve heard.”

Hildegard noticed his expression change. She leaned forward. “And what else?”

“Nothing really. She’s a bit of a mystery, that’s all. Nobody seems to know where she sprang from. How does Sueno come to have a stepdaughter? Did he marry? I never heard of it. And knowing him, it would all be done in magnificent style. He’d want a great show of it. And it wouldn’t be to any mason’s widow, either. Sueno’s wife would have to be a lady at least.”

“So who is she?”

Ulf got up. “I’m in the mood for action. This quiet life doesn’t suit me. Let me go back with you and find the answer to all our questions.”

Hildegard didn’t move. “Your wife, Ulf. You haven’t mentioned her.”

His blue eyes darkened. “I’m surprised Roger didn’t say anything. She’s away at present. Her family are over the other side of York. She’s visiting them.”

Recalling what Ulf had told her in London over a year ago, she asked, “So which one did you choose, the older woman with lands of her own, or the younger one with nothing but beauty?”

He gave a rueful smile. “You’ll call me a fool when you find out, and you’ll be right.” He did not enlighten her further. As he opened the door, he had a question of his own. “You haven’t mentioned Meaux. I trust everything is well at the abbey?”

She knew what he meant. It wasn’t the abbey he was curious about. It was his rival, Abbot de Courcy. She turned to face him. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”

He looked surprised. “You mean you’ve been in the country for all of six weeks and haven’t yet had an audience with Hubert de Courcy?”

Now that Alys was safe under the immediate care of Ulf’s cook and the rest of his household servants, Hildegard was eager to return to Handale as soon as possible. She explained to Alys that Ulf would send somebody with a message to her brother and his lord and that a serjeant-at-law would be appointed to look at her father’s will. Her guardian would be called to account for his actions and everything would be sorted out for the best.

Alys seemed quite content to stay in the company of Ulf’s kindhearted cook, and when she came to the door to wish Hildegard a safe journey, she was profuse in her thanks for helping her escape from Handale.

Ulf walked with Hildegard to his stables.. “What will you say when you get back?”

“I doubt whether I’ll need to say anything. They leave me pretty much alone. I’ve been warned not to go into the wood, but that’s about all. I do a little work in the scriptorium in return for my keep. At present, they seem to hope they’re in the running to receive a chunk of my widow’s inheritance, although one or two little things have made the cellaress look at me rather suspiciously.”

“Be careful.”

“I will be. I’m beginning to believe that my lady prioress of Swyne knew exactly what she was doing when she suggested Handale. Word of something nefarious must have reached her ears.’

“But surely she wouldn’t involve herself in anything as commonplace as smuggled goods or abduction?”

“The latter might depend on the identity of the girls being abducted.” She frowned. “But I do agree with you. It’s not her usual style and it’s also right out of the Riding, not her fiefdom at all.”

“It’s probably just as she says, a place remote enough for you to think things through.” He gripped her arm. “Even so, my dearest, be careful when you get back there. Tread carefully.”

“If I’m back before midday, I can talk my way out of it should anyone question me. For all anyone knows, I could have been meditating in solitude somewhere about the priory. Minding my own business!”

“That’ll be the day!”

They had reached the stables and Ulf made to usher her through. “Go on in. I’m riding as far as Kilton with you.”

Before she could object, he added, “Then I can bring back the horse I’m going to lend you. We need a plan and we can stitch one together on our way.”

By the time Ulf and his page were turning back to Langbrough, a plan of sorts had been agreed upon.

First, Hildegard would try to find out what was in the tower and whether Dakin was complicit. If he was involved with Fulke’s shady dealings, it might implicate Master Schockwynde. They agreed they thought him honest. Even so, they both knew of his overinflated view of himself. Gold would help to bolster his high claims and ambition can turn even an honest man to crime.

Second, there was the death of the journeyman Giles to consider. So far, the coroner had not put in an appearance, and until he did so, there was no one to conduct the investigation demanded by law. Every day that passed made it more likely that his attacker would get away with it. The whole thing was turning into a shambles.

As for the priest, his death needed an explanation, too. Hildegard was not satisfied with the opinion expressed by the cellaress. Everyone suspected he had been poisoned. It was only the cellaress who had tried to brush it off as a kind of apoplexy.

To be fair, it was possible, of course, that he might have succumbed to sudden illness. But the way in which he had stared accusingly round the congregation as he grasped his stomach, as if trying to wrench something out of it, made it look like poison—and he knew it. As she pointed out to Ulf, it was more than likely he knew what Fulke was up to with regard to the novices. His knowledge might have made him dangerous.

She recalled his stammer when he spoke, his gentle nature, his hopes for the future. It was right that there should be a reckoning.

As for Alys, now she was free, due process would be followed.

Before they parted, Ulf reached out and put his hand over hers. “I’m glad you’re back. Glad you didn’t go straight to Abbot de Courcy, damn his eyes. Maybe this can be a new start for us?”

“But your wife—”

“I feel she’ll not be my wife for long.”

“Ulf”—she gave him a soft look—“I wish you were happy with her. Be patient. Give it time.”

“Time doesn’t solve all problems. I wish I could be happy, too, but wishing doesn’t help. I know that well enough—I’ve wished for us to be together longer than—” He broke off. “You know all this. I want only you, Hildegard. I always have.”

“I can’t give you any reason to hope, Ulf. I may rejoin the Order if they’ll take me. My own wishes are a complete mystery to me at present. I simply don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll wait. I’ve learned patience these last few months.”

He turned his horse and spurred it onto the road back to Langbrough, followed by his page on a frisky pony, leading the one Hildegard had been riding. Soon they had both disappeared over the brow of the hill.

Hildegard made her way on foot along the Kilton Beck—an easier task in daylight, when she could see where she was going—then climbed up through the scree to the woods and followed the now-familiar path towards the enclosure.

As soon as she reached the lodge, she saw that something was wrong.

C
HAPTER
14

Hamo was sitting astride the scaffolding high up, well out of what was happening below.

Half a dozen armed men were wrecking the lodge.

They were stabbing swords up through the thatch and strewing it around; they were slashing Matt’s beautiful furniture and throwing blocks of painstakingly carved stone to the ground, where they kicked it with their metal boots and tramped over it.

Carola was screaming at them to leave her drawings alone. Matt was picking up pieces of wood and cradling them in his arms. Dakin was in chains.

Chains?

Hildegard gazed in astonishment.

From inside the lodge came more sounds of destruction and, above it all, a voice.

Prioress Basilda in her chair carried by two strong men was heaved outside and positioned under the eaves. “I will not have thieves working in my priory,” she screeched, pointing a fat finger at Dakin. “Where is it, you lying toad!”

When Dakin didn’t answer, she shrieked, “Brand him! Burn the truth from out of him. Do it!”

A gesture to the apparent leader of the forces summoned him to stand in front of her chair. “My lady Prioress, we have no authority to proceed further.”

“Authority? What do you imagine I’m bestowing on you, sot wit? I’m handing you authority on a plate!”

“Beg leave, my lady, you are not my commander.” The man went so far as to add, “I am not one of your monks.”

“Then send me a monk! Send me the bishop! I will have the truth from this thief.” She turned violently on Dakin. “Where is it hidden? Tell me that. Now! Or I promise I shall rip your tongue from your mouth with my own bare hands!”

Hildegard, unnoticed until now, stepped forward.

Basilda jerked her head round in surprise. “What are you doing outside the precinct, lady?”

“My gracious prioress, pray use more temperate language. This poor fellow must be allowed recourse to the law if accused of theft. Canon law does not apply here.”

“What do you know about it? If the crime takes place within the purlieu of Handale Priory, then the trial and punishment take place here, as well.”

She prodded an impatient hand at the nearer of the two men attending her chair to show that she wanted to be lifted up.

“There will be an investigation between sext and nones in my chapter house. And punishment will follow at once. On!” she ordered her porters, thrusted a pointing finger in the direction of the priory. “All convene at the appointed hour. You, captain, make sure this prisoner does not escape, or it will be your life for his!”

The men hoisted the chair off the ground and conveyed it rapidly away from the scene.

Hildegard went over to Dakin. “What happened?”

He refused to meet her glance. She saw his mouth tighten with suppressed rage. “Dakin, what is it?”

Matt spoke. “He’s been put in the frame for theft, when we all know he’s innocent and it’s just a ploy to—” He broke off.

Carola, holding a piece of vellum rescued from her workroom, had gripped Matt by the sleeve to silence him.

Hildegard turned to her. “You explain, Carola. Why this?” She swept an arm to include the havoc created by the armed men.

Three or four others were emerging from their rampage of destruction and hung around their captain, as if eager for more orders along the same lines.

Carola glared at them. “They believe the runaway novice stole a gold chalice from the mortuary and that Dakin knows something about it. As proof, they allege they found a trinket from her belt beside the bodies and her belt here inside the lodge. One of the nuns claims that the belt belonged to the novice. Certainly none of us have ever seen it before.”

She turned to stare hard-eyed at the cellaress, who had appeared silently from inside. “That is right, madam, is it not?”

“I have no obligation to answer such impertinence.”

“I think you’ll find you have,” Hildegard said. “The guild woman here has every right to question you. Prioress Basilda is wrong when she claims that a crime has been committed within her domain. For the length of time the master mason sets up his lodge here, that place is his own by the laws of his guild and he can be tried by no one else.”

The cellaress replied, “You seem extremely well versed in both monastic rites and the law, widow. May we be permitted to know by what means a mere townswoman such as yourself can claim such knowledge?”

“By my own private means,” retorted Hildegard. She turned to the captain. “Where do you intend to hold your prisoner?”

He had clearly given the matter no thought and his mouth sagged.

“I suggest you order your men to clean up this place and allow the prisoner back into the lodge, where you can set a guard on him until the appropriate authorities have been informed of the prioress’s intentions. Send a man to Durham to demand Master Sueno de Schockwynde’s immediate attendance, and tell him to bring his clerk at law.”

“Our lady prioress has already done that,” the cellaress informed her.

“A reminder in case the first message went astray will not be unhelpful,” replied Hildegard. She turned back to the captain. “Also send to the bishop. We seek clarification of the rights and limitations of canon law as it applies here. Is that clear?”

The captain nodded. “Who’s to write all this down?”

“I will.”

He glanced once towards the enclosure, as if seeking help. “To Master Schockwynde and to the bishop,” he repeated, dragging his glance back to Hildegard.

She gave him a cold look. “We will not have arbitrary and unlawful punishment here. Who is your commander?”

By now, she had realised that the men Basilda had called in came from Kilton Castle. On their tunics they wore a strange device—three exotic green birds, parrots or popinjays, as they were called—the emblem of the lord de Thweng, whose family had owned the castle for many generations, along with much land in the East Riding, long before the current dispute arose.