Squire Throwleigh’s Heir

Chapter Twenty-Eight

‘You’ve been here all the time?’

In the stable, Nicholas winced as Anney wiped some of the blood from his nose. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled, his voice nasal and thick with pain. ‘I couldn’t go and see you, though, could I? What would you have done?’

‘Probably hit you, you bastard,’ she said evenly. It was true: she would have been happy to hit him if he was standing – but not now, not like this. Nicholas was a picture of dejection, sitting on the stool with his head tilted back so the blood wouldn’t flow down his shirt any more and would have an opportunity to clot. ‘I don’t think I’d have managed to get you so well as this, though.’

Nicholas wheezed through his open mouth. There was a dull ache between his eyes, and he had a desperate urge to scratch his ruined nose, but he daren’t touch it, not yet. ‘I’ll get the sod back for doing this.’

‘You think so? After he put four of your friends down and then you as well, you really think you’d have a chance against him?’ She patted away another dribble of blood from the tender, shattered skin, and felt him flinch as her damp cloth touched him, but not as much as when she said, ‘What happened to your wife?’

‘What of her? She left me.’

‘Left you?’

He curled his lip. ‘She got upset when she found me in bed with a strumpet.’

Anney leaned back and surveyed him. There was truth in his face; he wasn’t of a temper to lie, not now, and Anney, for the first time in the ten years since he had been taken from her, realised how lucky her escape had been. Nicholas was no more than a brute who would drink himself into oblivion whenever he had an opportunity, then beat his wife for any one of a number of imagined slights, and turn to a pox-ridden whore at the first opportunity to prove his virility.

It was hard to believe that she had spent so long pining after him, wishing he hadn’t been taken back to his first, legal wife. But he was still the father of her children, and Anney was content to look after his wounds because he was also the only man who had ever held her heart. And although she had no wish to discuss the affair with him, it gave her some comfort to know that the father of her dead boy was with her.

The boy whose death had been caused by that spoilt brat Herbert.

‘Eh? What’s that? You say you think I… The man’s mad!’ Thomas spluttered, puce in the face.

Godfrey ignored him and went on with his statement. ‘My evidence is this, Lady: he and his servant left us because he saw your maid Petronilla approaching and didn’t want to be overheard by her, or so he said. She came ambling idly along, and my master, who thought she might be able to give him information about you, tried to hold her up and talk. I had no wish to listen to his flattery and lies, so I took my horse a few yards away and left them to it.

‘Then there was a cry up on the hill, away near the top. When I looked up, I saw the priest thrashing about him with a stick at the furze, shouting out in the most unholy fashion about boys generally, but your son, and his friend Alan in particular. I had no idea why at the time, but I heard the priest shout something about slings. Now I think I understand why.’

Simon moved a little, so he could glance at the priest.

Stephen did not look up, but kept his head bowed as if in prayer, and the bailiff was convinced he was hiding something. And yet perhaps it was only this, that he had been near the scene of the boy’s death. He was thought to be a child-hater, so maybe he had decided to keep quiet in case he could be suspected.

Godfrey continued, ‘At the time, Thomas and his man were near the fork in the road, and I saw them stop there and glance back, so they obviously heard the shouting too. Petronilla did as well, and she scampered straight off up the hill to pacify the priest. I saw her. Just afterwards, Thomas and Nicholas carried on their way, but soon after they had disappeared around the curve in the road, I saw a figure dart across it. It was a boy.’

‘Was it Herbert?’ Baldwin asked immediately.

Godfrey gave a slight shrug. He wasn’t absolutely certain. ‘I’m no father; one boy looks much like another to me, especially when he’s been rolling in mud, which this one had, by the look of him.’

‘He always liked that. It was one of their games up on the hill,’ said Lady Katharine softly. There was a catch in her voice, and Stephen rested his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. ‘Chasing each other through the bushes and squirming their way through the peat all over the common. I used to scold him and smack him when…’ She buried her face in her hands.

‘My Lady, do you want me to be still?’ Godfrey asked.

After a moment, she lifted her head. ‘No, please tell us the rest.’

‘You don’t believe what this man says, do you? He’s only a whoreson mercenary!’ Thomas shouted suddenly. ‘Look at him! Would you trust his honour?’

Godfrey ignored his outburst. ‘The figure ran over the road, then I saw him dive into the bushes at the other side and disappear. I thought nothing of it at first. Oh, I assumed the lad must have done something to the priest up the hill there, but that was as far as I got. Beyond that, I had no thought for him. Then I heard the bellow of rage from him,’ he said, and pointed to Thomas.

Thomas flinched as the finger stabbed towards him, but then met Godfrey’s stare with a resolute fury as Godfrey finished his story.

‘Thomas screamed and I think I heard his man laugh, but then Thomas must have dismounted from his horse because I turned and saw him running towards me. As soon as he saw me, he demanded whether I had seen a lad coming my way. Well, I shook my head, wondering what on earth all this fuss was about, and he said: “The little bastard shot me with a sling and if I catch him, I’ll wring his insolent neck!” Then he swore and went back the way he had come.’

Godfrey paused and stared down, as if debating whether to continue. ‘My Lady, I also have to tell you that this man has no money. He needed the inheritance to save his finances. I think he ensured your son was put out of the way’

Simon gazed at the miserable Thomas. ‘Well? What do you have to say for yourself?’

‘Me?’ Thomas sneered feebly. ‘What could I say, Bailiff? You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you? “Oh, the evil creature, he’s prepared to try to get himself a few pennies from his brother’s estate” – a brother, you’ll recall, who has left me nothing, nothing! And the estate would all have been mine if he hadn’t taken that dam to wife so he could start breeding. Why shouldn’t I have got something out of it? It should have been mine anyway, and why on earth the law allows a puling brat to take a man’s lands, I don’t understand.’

‘You know full well that the law is there to protect the weak, like poor Herbert,’ Baldwin stated sternly.

‘Oh, spare me the lesson on the law! The weak, you say? What exactly am I supposed to have done? Eh, Sir Knight?’

‘You’ve been accused of murder,’ said Simon sternly. ‘And as bailiff, I have to tell you that I am inclined to believe the accusation. You admit to your lust for the estate, you confess your dislike of the boy, and you knew that he was the only person standing between you and your greed. All you needed to do was kill him, and you could possess the lands you always hankered after.’

‘I… That’s rubbish!’ Thomas spat, rising to his feet. Edgar was close by, and took a step nearer, but Baldwin gave a slight shake of his head, and his servant remained where he was.

‘Rubbish, I say – you suggest I killed my own nephew, forsooth! In God’s name, it would have been easy enough, but I never even saw the little devil. He wasn’t there!’

‘Then who did you see?’ Baldwin asked, and seated himself at a bench. Simon sat at his side, and the two of them stared at the disconcerted man.

By that simple action, they had altered the whole tone; Thomas now felt he was truly the subject of a legal court, the suspected felon in this heinous crime. He swallowed. Suddenly he was sober, and fearful. He felt his legs quiver, and stared from one to the other, hoping to see a sign of sympathy in their eyes, but there was nothing. When he allowed his gaze to wander about the room, he saw contempt on all the faces, except Katharine’s: hers radiated pure hatred.

‘Well?’ Simon asked. ‘Who was it down there? We’ve heard from another that you were off your horse, beating among the bushes, and now we learn that you had run back and called out to Godfrey. Who was the boy if it wasn’t Herbert?’

‘I think it was that cretinous son of a villein, Alan,’ Thomas muttered. ‘The little shit has hit people before. Ask Stephen about him, he’ll tell you – go on, ask the priest! The sod sits in the bushes and when he sees a rider coming past, he tries to tickle up the horses by hitting them with a stone from his sling. He got me instead of my horse that day, hit me right on the thigh, and painful it was, too – that was why Godfrey heard me shout. Anyone would have cried out, hit by a bullet like that.’

‘What did you do then?’ Simon pressed.

‘Like Godfrey said, I went in search of the brat; I was going to give him a sound thrashing if I had the chance, but I couldn’t find him, and from what Godfrey said, the sod hadn’t gone back that way. Thinking that he must be hiding down the slope or out on the road to Throwleigh, I made off back the way I had come to head him off. When I still couldn’t spot him, I started searching for him in and among the bushes.’

‘And then you heard a cart coming your way?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Yes, but not Edmund’s. The one I heard was the fishmonger’s cart coming back from the manor. I looked up when that thing came rumbling along, and had a good look at it in case Alan was clinging on beneath, but I couldn’t see him, so I went back to the bushes again.’

Simon frowned, and jerked his thumb towards Godfrey. ‘You said you remained up there. What else did you see?’

‘Sir, after Thomas went off in a rage, I sat there laughing awhile, and didn’t notice much. When I did look about me again, I saw that Petronilla had disappeared. She was going to pacify the priest before he could hurt the boys – well, that’s what my master thought…’

Lady Katharine stirred. ‘Bailiff, she knew my feelings towards the priest. Stephen always resorted to the cane at the slightest provocation, and I had a fear that one day his zeal would overcome him. Petronilla would have gone to protect my boy if the priest had caught him so far from home.’

‘Which means that Stephen and Petronilla both thought that Herbert was up the hill with them,’ Baldwin pointed out. He too glanced at Godfrey. ‘What makes you think that Thomas captured and killed him?’

‘This, Sir Baldwin. Only a little while later, my master and I were about to ride back to the manor when we heard a short cry and a bellow of anger, and then a few minutes later a boy hared over the road going back up the hill towards the priest. By this time Stephen had gone quiet, and I reckoned the girl had persuaded him to leave well alone, but a few moments later up came Thomas, puffing and blowing like a spent nag, pointed up the hill, and was away, over the road and into the bushes.

‘At the time it all seemed so ludicrous I was ready only to laugh, but then I thought to myself, if the brat likes taking shots at horses and riders, maybe the best place for me is beyond reach of his sling – and so I rode away.’

‘So your evidence is,’ Baldwin concluded, ‘that the lad was alive then, that Thomas was enraged and could have done the boy harm – although you say he was still on foot?’ Godfrey nodded, and Baldwin gave Thomas a puzzled frown.

Simon set his head on one side. ‘Did you ride straight back to the manor then?’

‘No, sir. We were about to, but I persuaded my master not to take the direct route within range of his pebbles.’

‘Why?’

Godfrey grinned. ‘Sir, like I said, I thought the boy was up there with a sling. I didn’t fancy being his target on my ride home! Sir James agreed to take the longer route homewards, and as we were about to turn and go off, we saw the other carter, the local man.’

‘Edmund,’ Simon nodded.

‘Yes, sir. He was drunk, that was obvious. He was reeling on the seat every time he hit a pebble on the track. He looked mightily fearful of us too: two strangers, well-accoutred, armed and obviously not local. He hunched his head down into his shoulders like a snail, and tried to avoid meeting our gaze. We just stared at him, for fun, you understand, and he rode on by. But when he got some few yards from us, I saw him turn and stare back at us.’

Baldwin looked at Thomas. ‘We heard that Thomas was down at the other road when Edmund passed, yet you say Thomas ran over the road before the cart came into view?’

Daniel interrupted. ‘Edmund must have been lying!’

‘I don’t think so, Daniel,’ said Simon. ‘The distance Thomas had to run was only short, yet Edmund would have seen him up to a half-mile away from the fork. I daresay Edmund saw him, chose to take the other road, and then Thomas set off after his assailant, running up to the higher road and over it before Edmund got there.’

‘That would explain it,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘So then, Godfrey. After witnessing all this excitement, you rode away from the scene with your master.’

‘Yes, sir. We went straight down through the bushes to the Throwleigh road, and came back that way.’

‘What of you, Thomas?’

The sagging figure eyed him bleakly. ‘I went after the sod, I admit, but he escaped. I couldn’t catch him – I never even saw his face.’ He stopped and stared about him, then burst out, ‘You have to believe me, I wouldn’t have killed him! He was my nephew, for God’s sake! I wouldn’t have hurt him.’

Katharine rose shakily to her feet and, without glancing at anyone else, crossed the floor to him. She stood before him, holding his gaze, and suddenly her hand whipped out and struck his cheek. Bunching a fist, she hit him again, and then she flailed at his chest with both hands, and shrieked, ‘You killed him! You murdered my Herbert, my poor, darling Herbert! Murderer!’

Daniel rushed to her side and caught her wrists. Speaking softly and soothingly, he forced her to turn from the ashen Thomas, and led the sobbing woman from the room. A few yards behind them strode Stephen, his face troubled, hands fiddling with his rosary.

Thomas suddenly shouted, ‘Where’s Anney? Get that bitch in here! Get her to tell you what she was doing up there!’