The Winter King (25 page)

‘Lady Richenza?’ Gervase turned to her. ‘Did you know of this?’

‘I … no.’ The lovely face creased in a frown.

There was a moment of stillness. Helewise found she was holding her breath. Then, just as she had known he would, Gervase said quietly to Lady Richenza, ‘And did you summon my wife and ask her to prepare remedies for yourself and Lord Benedict?’

There was a long pause. Then, her face very white but her voice firm, Lady Richenza said, ‘No. My late husband must have met her in private, for I knew nothing of it.’

‘It could equally well have been Sabin whom he summoned,’ Helewise said firmly.

Gervase looked at Josse. ‘It is, I fear, a case of Lady Richenza’s and Sabin’s word against Meggie’s,’ he said, frowning.

‘Others at Medley will bear witness that Meggie came with Mistress Gifford to lay out the body,’ Sebastian said. ‘A woman servant who has long been with the household remembers seeing them, and sending them on to the cellar where the body lay. I am sure others, too, will remember.’

‘But that in itself is not in dispute!’ Josse fumed. ‘It’s—’

Sabin’s voice, sharp with anxiety, interrupted him. ‘I
swear
to you that my visit with the canons was the first, and it was after Lord Benedict was dead!’ Jumping up, she ran to Gervase and took both his hands. ‘Send for them, Gervase! Oh,
please
, do as I ask! They’ll confirm that I had no prior knowledge of the house or its inhabitants, and that will prove to you all that I could not possibly have consulted Lady Richenza and prepared any potion for Lord Benedict!’ She paused, breathing raggedly, and then added coldly, ‘If, that is, you all require more proof than Lady Richenza’s word.’

There was an awkward silence. Gervase, after a puzzled look at his wife, lowered his eyes. After a moment he said, ‘I will send word to the priory, and ask the two canons to join us.’

The wait – not, in the end, a very long one – seemed interminable. Unable to go on watching Josse look as if he’d like to pounce on Sabin and shake the truth out of her, Helewise suggested they go outside.

The two canons arrived, and Helewise and Josse followed them up the steps. Gervase took the canons to the far side of the hall, and, in low tones, muttered to them for some time. Helewise tried to persuade herself that he would balance both sides of the argument, and give no more weight to Sabin’s version than to Meggie’s. Once, she would have trusted him. Now, she found she wasn’t so confident …

She heard movement. Looking up, she saw that Gervase was ushering the two canons towards the seated figures. ‘Canon Mark and Canon Stephen,’ he began, ‘you asked Sabin de Gifford, here present, to go with you to view the dead body of Lord Benedict de Vitré. Sabin has a question she would like to put to you.’ He turned to his wife. ‘Sabin?’

What does this mean?
Helewise wondered.
Does Gervase doubt her? Is he leaving it up to her to tell her lies?

She listened closely as Sabin started to speak. ‘Brothers, you led the way to Medley that day when you asked me to accompany you, didn’t you?’

Canon Mark glanced at his companion, looking slightly perplexed. ‘Yes, Mistress Gifford, I suppose so. I can’t, in truth, recall who rode ahead, but it seems likely.’

As if anxious to move on from his slightly ambiguous answer, Sabin said quickly, ‘Yes, quite. And, once at the hall, you showed me where to go.’

‘It was the steward who escorted us down to the cellar, as far as I recall,’ Canon Mark replied. ‘We had not been there before, my lady. Canon Stephen had consulted Lord Benedict previously, it’s true, but Lord Benedict came to see him at the priory.’

There was a pause. Sabin appeared to be floundering. ‘I am trying to persuade these people that I had not previously visited Medley Hall,’ she said eventually. ‘Since that is undoubtedly the truth, I require you, Canon Stephen, Canon Mark –’ she bestowed on the latter a ravishing smile – ‘to confirm that I displayed no knowledge of the place.’

Mark, looking slightly dazzled, returned Sabin’s smile. ‘No, I don’t believe you did, Mistress Gifford.’

‘Thank you,’ Sabin murmured. ‘Canon Stephen?’

Just for a moment, he hesitated. Had Helewise not been watching so closely, she might have missed the quick, slightly apprehensive look he shot at his fellow canon. Then he said, ‘No.’

Into the sudden hush, Lady Richenza said, ‘There! Now you have it. Mistress de Gifford did not prepare any potions. It is the forest healer woman who is culpable.’

Josse’s rage broke. Turning on Gervase, he said, ‘A word. Now.’ And, giving Gervase no chance to refuse, he strode out of the hall and headed down the steps into the courtyard, Gervase following him.

The two canons hurriedly did the same. Helewise was on the point of going over to try to reason with Sabin, but found that she could not bear to let Josse face Gervase alone. She went to stand at the top of the steps. Josse, she realized, was trying to persuade the sheriff of Meggie’s innocence. Unfortunately, he was desperate and, unwittingly, going about it in entirely the wrong way …

‘Josse, what you ask of me is impossible!’ Gervase shouted eventually. ‘I cannot support you just because you tell me to! You believe your daughter; I believe my wife.’

‘But she’s lying!’ Josse cried.

This is making matters worse
, Helewise thought frantically. Should she intervene? She did not know.

Hesitantly, she started to descend the steps. Then something occurred to her. She stopped, thinking hard.

Hoping neither Josse nor Gervase would notice, she stealthily jumped down the steps and, crossing the courtyard, hurried off up the road that led into the town.

She knew Canon Stephen was the infirmarian, and so looked for him in his place of work. He had clearly gone straight back to whatever task he had been doing before the interruption, and was in a small side room, pouring some thick, greenish liquid from a large jar into smaller bottles. He looked up as she was shown in, the frown replaced by a smile of welcome.

‘I am sorry to disturb you in your labours,’ she said.

He bowed courteously. ‘It is a pleasure to be sought out by the abbess of Hawkenlye.’

‘Not any more,’ she said swiftly.

He smiled again. ‘Perhaps not, my lady. Yet we hear that your good works continue. What can I do for you?’

It might have been wishful thinking, but she had an idea that he was eager for her to speak. She paused. Now that the moment had come, she did not know how best to say what she had come to say.
Just tell him what you thought you observed
, a calm voice said in her head. ‘When Mistress Gifford asked you just now to verify that the visit she made to Medley with you was the first time she’d been there – when you went to view Lord Benedict’s dead body – I was watching you. I may be wrong but I thought you hesitated.’

He studied her for a long moment, not speaking.

‘
Please
,’ she whispered. ‘A young woman stands accused of something that I know she did not do.’

Slowly Stephen nodded. ‘I did hesitate, yes, although I’m surprised you noticed. Oh, I’ve tried to tell myself it’s nothing, but nevertheless, it’s bothering me, and I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.’ He smiled quickly. ‘In fact, I was relieved to see you, when you arrived just now. I suppose there’s no harm in telling you …’

She waited.

In a rush, he said, ‘It was just that, when Mistress Gifford, Brother Mark and I entered the house, she – Mistress Gifford – made a remark that seemed to suggest she’d been there before.’

Helewise’s heart gave a thump. ‘What did she say?’ she asked urgently. ‘Can you remember?’

He frowned. Then he said, ‘She remarked that we must be in the original part of the house, and I thought she was about to say it was different from the newer sections, only she suddenly seemed to realize what she was saying, and she stopped. I prompted her to continue, and she said something about it being dark and cold.’

‘Dark and cold,’ Helewise echoed absently.

‘Oh, and she said it was frightening, too. But …’ He stopped.

‘Go on,’ she urged.

He shook his head. ‘I
could
be mistaken, but, just for an instant, I had the clear impression that she was familiar with the house.’

She had been there before
, Helewise thought.
Of course
she had, for she went to see Lady Richenza, to prescribe the potions for her and for Lord Benedict, just as Meggie says. That earlier meeting with Lady Richenza can’t have been witnessed by anyone – and, if both women deny it, what on earth is to be done?

If Sabin had admitted to that earlier visit,
her thoughts ran on,
then people might have started to suspect that one of her potions had killed Lord Benedict.

As it is
… Helewise was torn between anguish for Meggie and fury at Sabin’s treachery.
As it is, she’s trying to put the blame on Meggie.

Oh, dear Lord, how could
she!

Canon Stephen, she noticed belatedly, was anxiously hovering. ‘My lady? Are you unwell? You look rather pale.’

‘I am quite well, thank you,’ she managed to say.

Then – although she could see that he longed to ask her to explain – she wished him a firm good day and hastened back to the sheriff’s house.

Lady Richenza and her steward had gone, and Gervase was nowhere to be seen. Josse, waiting for her with obvious impatience, was standing in the courtyard, holding their horses’ reins. ‘A moment,’ she said, giving him an apologetic smile.

Inside the hall, Sabin was alone. Approaching her, Helewise said, ‘Sabin, you must tell the truth. It
was
you who made the potion.’

‘It wasn’t!’ Sabin cried.

‘In any case –’ Helewise pressed on as if Sabin hadn’t spoken – ‘it was a blade, not any potion, that killed Lord Benedict, so, in the end, you have nothing to fear. Can you not admit to having prepared the medicament? You are protected by your reputation as an apothecary, and your status as Gervase’s wife. But, Sabin, Meggie has no such armour. The fact that the stab wound actually killed him is being overlooked as people rush to put the blame on her, purely because she isn’t like everyone else.’

Sabin looked at her, just once, then swiftly turned her eyes away. ‘I didn’t do it,’ she muttered. ‘Lady Richenza supports me. We never met, and I am blameless.’

It was, Helewise reflected wearily, turning into a mindlessly repeated incantation.

Sick at heart, disgusted with Sabin and worried to the depths of her being about Meggie – and about Josse – Helewise turned away.

T
here was, Meggie reflected as she hurried away from St Edmund’s Chapel and plunged into the welcoming shelter of the forest, only one place to go. She knew she could look after herself in the hut; she’d lived there through much colder winter weather than this when she was a child, and her mother had taught her how to make sure of the things human life had to have to sustain it: warmth, shelter, water, food. She always kept some supplies in the hut, and a good reserve of firewood stood neatly stacked against its side wall, sheltered by the overhang of the roof.

Nobody outside her immediate circle knew how to find the hut, or were even aware that it existed. Moreover – and this really should have come first – Josse would not worry about her quite so much if he knew that was where she was.
I can’t go and tell him
, Meggie thought as she paced along,
because they may already be hunting for me
. She did not pause to define
they
. It was too frightening.
But it’s all right, because he’ll know.

She hoped very much she was right.

The anxious fear would not leave her.
As soon as Gervase becomes involved and Sabin finds out what’s happening
, she told herself,
the truth will emerge, because Sabin will speak up in my defence
. The injustice of it hit her suddenly.
She came for my help! I gave it willingly, because she was desperate!

Desperate. The word echoed in her head.

She seemed to hear a wise voice say,
Sabin is desperate, yes. Do not rely on her, for she fights to save herself
.

And then Meggie knew why she was so afraid.

She made herself go on. Forcing her mind away from the worst of her dread, she tried to summon facts that might work in her favour. She was a healer, and the number of people she had helped and advised over the years was uncountable. She had a good reputation at the abbey, and Helewise often said that she would not be able to do her work at the sanctuary without Meggie, her knowledge and her remedies.

All that
, she realized with a sinking of the heart,
is nothing when set against the fact that I am an outsider. Born out of wedlock to a forest woman
(Joanna’s pedigree had in fact been far more elevated than anyone else’s for miles around, but hardly anyone knew that, and those who did kept it to themselves)
and raised, wild and barefoot, in its secret fastnesses.

No. If they were determined to find someone to blame for poisoning Lord Benedict de Vitré with a potion, and then attempting to cover it up with a wound inflicted after death, then they wouldn’t settle for Sabin de Gifford, Tonbridge apothecary, healer and wife to the sheriff. Not when the other option was the strange, unknown, outsider: Meggie.

The hut seemed to reach out to her, offering its secure roof and walls, and its wonderfully secret location, as the one place she wanted to be.

She quickened her pace. Just in case anyone should come after her – it was not unknown for hounds to be used to track a fugitive – she took a twisting, turning route, doubling back on herself several times. She even removed her boots and hose and, for far too many very cold paces, waded along in the little stream that wound its way through the forest.

At last, she came out into the clearing where the hut stood waiting for her. The familiar scene opened up before her, every inch of the terrain and the surrounding trees known and loved. She hurried up to the hut …