Nine Men Dancing

Twenty

Maud said quietly, ‘No, Ned. We can’t spend the rest of our lives running away from the truth. We’ve done that for far too long. If Eris had known about her parentage, none of this sorry mess would have happened. And the chances are that if we’d admitted that I was carrying your child in the beginning, if we’d had the courage to face up to your father and take the consequences, Nathaniel might have relented and let us marry.’

‘You know my father better than that,’ Ned interrupted her roughly. ‘I’d have lost the farm.’

‘Perhaps.’ Maud left fussing over me and sat down on one of the stools, hugging her knees with her arms. ‘But nothing could have been worse than all these years of concealment, of deceiving both Gilbert and Petronelle …’

‘I feel certain Dame Petronelle knows.’ It was my turn to interrupt. ‘Otherwise, that night, why was she so insistent that Eris came home to tell you of her plans? Surely it must have been because she thought that she could rely on you to tell your daughter the truth.’

Maud raised her eyebrows at Ned. ‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Does Petronelle know that you were Eris’s father?’

He nodded, adding quickly, ‘I didn’t tell her. She guessed. As Eris grew up, she could see the likeness, not so much between her and the twins, as between her and Nathaniel. And there was a likeness, quite a striking one, if you looked for it. But no one did, of course, except a jealous woman. Maybe Petronelle had her suspicions when she married me. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now.’

Maud answered steadily, ‘You’re wrong, Ned. It does matter. As I told you a minute or two ago, I can’t continue with this life of deceit any longer. I’m going to see the village elders first thing tomorrow morning and tell them the truth. What they do about it is up to them.’

‘No!’ Ned’s roar made both Theresa and myself jump violently, but Maud didn’t even flinch.

‘Yes,’ she insisted in the same level tone as before. ‘For one thing, there’s Tom to be considered. I won’t have him on my conscience, as well as everything else. I don’t like what’s happening to you, Ned. I feel I’ve lost you. You’re not the same kind and gentle man I’ve been in love with all these years. That man would never have beaten up two innocent people just to throw suspicion on his brother, nor would he have tried to murder anyone, as you tried to murder the chapman this afternoon.’

‘I was just warning him to keep his nose out of my affairs, that’s all,’ Ned blustered angrily.

Maud shook her head. ‘That’s a lie. You meant to kill him, and would probably have succeeded if I hadn’t arrived to prevent you. You’d have left him shut up in the well until he was dead. He would have lost consciousness and fallen off the ladder.’

‘Oh,’ I cut in vindictively, ‘Master Rawbone had already tried to speed the process by attempting to push me off the ladder with the end of my own cudgel.’ Hercules, who had hardly left my side since my return to the cottage, growled and bared his teeth at that, almost as though he understood what I was saying. I lowered a hand and fondled his ears before asking, ‘But what lucky circumstance brought you up to the ridge, Mistress Lilywhite? Whatever the reason, it was most fortuitous.’

‘It was neither lucky nor fortuitous.’ Maud gave me a wintry smile. ‘I’d gone out to see if the dogs were all right after that heavy rain. I saw you leaving Dragonswick Farm – you’re so tall I couldn’t mistake you, even at that distance – so I guessed you’d taken shelter there during the storm. Then, a little later, I went out again to shut up the geese, and that time I saw someone I thought was Ned also heading for the ridge.’ She closed her eyes for a brief moment while she fought to control her voice. ‘It occurred to me that you might have told him where you were going, and why, and I began to feel … uneasy. So I decided to follow you both.’

‘Thank God you did,’ I said fervently.

‘You’re a fool,’ Ned grated. ‘No one would have missed him. People would have thought that he’d gone home at last. We could easily have disposed of his pack and that mongrel cur.’ Once again, Hercules showed his teeth, but Ned ignored him. He put a hand on Maud’s shoulder. ‘Promise me you’re not serious about going to see the village elders in the morning?’

She glanced up and made a gesture as though she would cover his hand with one of hers. But for some reason she thought better of it, and her hand fluttered back to her lap, where it clasped its companion so hard that the knuckles of both showed bone-white.

‘I was never more serious about anything. I refuse to let you condemn Tom to a life of exile for a crime committed by you. What in God’s name,’ she cried, her voice rising suddenly like an animal in pain, ‘possessed you to do such a thing?’

Ned withdrew his hand abruptly.

‘Holy Virgin!’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you see that it was to protect us? People blamed Tom for Eris’s death, but they couldn’t prove anything. They couldn’t even prove that she was dead. If he’d just stayed quiet, if he’d only behaved himself, the whole affair would have blown over. Eventually it would have been forgotten. Indeed, it was being forgotten until this great oaf-’ he glared at me – ‘with his long, twitchy nose came blundering into our lives. I tried to frighten him away. But I very much doubt if anyone would have taken much notice of him and his questions if Tom hadn’t also started to whip up their curiosity and speculation again with his outrageous behaviour. He’s been making a right fool of himself trying to win back Rosamund Bush, and brawling with Lambert Miller. The chapman wasn’t going to stay here for more than a day or two. In fact, he kept telling us he’d promised to get home to his wife by the Feast of Saint Patrick. But Tom, once he gets an idea in that stupid noodle of his doesn’t give up easily. He was going to keep on drawing attention to us, to the family, and keep the fact of Eris’s disappearance fresh in everyone’s minds. I thought it was time to be rid of him, and his last fight with the miller gave me the opportunity that I’d been looking for.’

‘But why attack the priest, as well?’ I asked. ‘Is it because Sir Anselm knows the truth about you and Mistress Lilywhite?’

Maud raised her eyes from the contemplation of her hands, still locked together in her lap.

‘I confessed to him years ago,’ she admitted, ‘not long after Eris was born. But he would never have betrayed us.’ She glanced reproachfully at Ned. ‘He couldn’t, even had he wanted to. A priest can’t reveal what he’s learned in the confessional.’

Ned said impatiently, confirming the conclusion that I had already reached. ‘But the old idiot couldn’t conceal the fact that he knew something – at least, not from a sharpnosed, sharp-brained fellow like the pedlar here.’ I inclined my head in ironic acknowledgement of the dubious compliment. Ned ignored me and continued, ‘Sir Anselm was getting far too friendly with Master Chapman, and I thought a short, sharp warning not to pursue the acquaintance wouldn’t come amiss. Particularly as brother Tom could be foisted with the blame for that, as well.’

A sudden thought struck me. ‘You said just now that you tried to frighten me away. Were the corn dollies and the burning cage anything to do with that attempt?’

‘Only the burning cage. The dollies are hung up by some of the villagers just before, and during, the Feast of Saint Walburga, in order to propitiate the witches and wizards and general spirits of the forest who ride the night sky around this time.’ (I should, of course, have worked that out for myself, having noticed the first corn dolly before ever I set foot in Lower Brockhurst.) ‘From what I could gather, they made you uneasy, so I hoped to play on that superstitious fear of yours.’ Ned laughed shortly. ‘I should have known better than to waste my time. Nose-twitchers like you aren’t easily discouraged. In the end, I had to resort to telling Maud to throw you out.’

‘You were her visitor last night.’

He laughed again, but there was no mirth in the sound.

‘I might have guessed that that quivering snout of yours continues to alert you, even when you’re asleep.’

I was growing tired of these constant, sneering references to my nose, which I have always considered to be one of my handsomest features. I turned to look at Maud.

‘Mistress, if you wish it, I’ll delay my departure tomorrow morning and go with you to the village elders.’

‘You needn’t trouble yourself, chapman,’ Theresa rasped, speaking for the first time in some minutes. ‘I’ll accompany Maud to make sure she doesn’t change her mind. Or have it changed for her.’ She glared defiantly at Ned Rawbone. ‘After that … After that, I shall return to Gloucester. I can’t stay here any longer, not now that I know the truth. My sister will be glad enough to share her roof with me.’

Maud turned her head quickly to look at her mother-in-law. ‘You won’t stay with me?’ she asked.

I recognized the note of fear in her voice, and guessed that after years of wishing to be free of Theresa’s company, when at last the chance was offered, she was afraid of the loneliness; of the days and nights with only herself and her thoughts for company.

Theresa demanded harshly, ‘What is there to keep me here? Eris wasn’t even my granddaughter. She wasn’t Gilbert’s child. You’ve deceived me, made a fool of me. No, I won’t stay. But I’ll make sure that everyone in this benighted village knows the truth before I go.’

‘What truth?’ Ned sneered. ‘The pair of you can go to the elders if you want, but I shall deny everything you say. It’ll be my word against those of a couple of hysterical women.’

‘And against mine,’ I said. ‘I’ll go with Dame Theresa and Mistress Lilywhite. I’ll back their story.’

‘You’re a stranger,’ Ned retorted. ‘You’ve been in the village less than a week. Why should they take your word over mine? Now, if one of you knew where Eris is buried, if you could direct the villagers where to find her body, that might be different.’

Maud smiled faintly and swivelled round on her stool to look Ned fully in the eyes.

‘I know where Eris is buried,’ she said. ‘I’ve always known. Or, at least, I’ve always had a very shrewd idea.’

There was a moment’s complete silence, broken only by the crackling of the logs on the hearth. Even Hercules seemed to be holding his breath. Then Ned Rawbone laughed uncertainly.

‘You’re lying,’ he challenged, but without any degree of certainty in his tone.

Maud replied evenly, ‘You forget that Gilbert was a weller. Do you really think that, during all the years we were married, I learned nothing about his trade? And you, Ned! You knew what was at the bottom of the well because you’d seen it as a boy, when you fell in. In fact, Gilbert told me that you’d once mentioned it to him and asked what its purpose was. So it’s no use trying to deny that you knew it was there.’

Ned’s face suddenly wore a defeated look. He sat down abruptly on another of the stools and buried his face in his hands.

‘What are you talking about, Mistress?’ I asked excitedly, recalling my conviction that Eris was somewhere in that well. And, on a more practical level, I remembered the overpowering stench of decay. But there had been nothing down there that I could see.

Maud rubbed her forehead with her hand as though trying to ease a headache. She was still extremely pale and Theresa, moved, I suppose, by some residue of affection, got up and poured her a stoup of ale.

‘Here! Drink this!’ Her tone was abrasive, but she meant well. ‘Then tell the chapman what he wants to know.’

‘Don’t you want to know?’ I asked her.

Theresa resumed her seat, pausing only to tuck my blanket more securely around me.

‘My daughter-in-law’s right, chapman,’ she said. ‘You can’t live with a man for years and remain totally ignorant of his trade.’ She glanced at Maud. ‘Are you saying that the Upper Brockhurst well has a “drive”?’ The younger woman nodded, an action that was echoed by Theresa. ‘Of course,’ she mused, ‘That’s why the foot or so of water that remained in the well has dried up to nothing since last September when he-’ she glared at Ned – ‘must have put Eris’s body inside and then blocked up the entrance.’

I recollected two things simultaneously: the first was the patching of the wall at the bottom of the well, and the second was that not only Theresa, but also Sir Anselm had mentioned the fact of Ned stumbling around in water the first time he went down to ‘search’ for Eris’s body.

‘Could you please explain exactly what you’re talking about?’ I begged Maud.

‘Wells are dug,’ she said, ‘on the recommendation of a dowser, who tells the weller that water can be found at a certain depth. But if the weller doesn’t immediately strike water at that depth, then he has to dig a “drive” – a horizontal shaft – until he reaches the source of the water and the well begins to fill up. This must have been the case at Upper Brockhurst Hall …’

‘Of course,’ I breathed. ‘It comes back to me, now. You told me that your grandmother had been told by her grandmother that the Martin brothers had to have their well deepened; that whoever sunk it originally, hadn’t dug down far enough – or, as now seems possible, not close enough to the underground source of water. The two wellers from Tetbury must have cut this horizontal shaft, and that must have been when they found the silver bowls, near the original sacred spring of the Romans. And you think that Master Rawbone, here …?’ I paused, unable to continue.

Maud took a deep breath. ‘Yes. I think – I’m almost sure – that Ned must have carried Eris’s body up to the ridge, thrown it down the well and then …’ Her voice, too, became suspended.

All three of us stared questioningly at Ned until, at last, he raised his head.

‘All right,’ he said in the toneless voice of a man who concedes defeat; who has come to the bitter realization that he has lost control of the situation. ‘You’re right, Maud. I knew about the “drive” at the bottom of the well. I’d seen it as a boy and found out from Gilbert what it was. He explained that when the course of the Draco had been altered by the men of Lower Brockhurst, after the great plague, it had dried up, except for a very small trickle of water that occasionally found its way through the “drive”. Hence the foot or so of water always present at the bottom of the well. So, when I was wondering how to … to dispose of Eris’s body … I remembered it.’

‘But why didn’t you just bury her in the woods?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know! I was in a panic, I suppose. I wasn’t thinking properly. It just seemed safer at the time to conceal her body in the shaft. Apart from myself and Gilbert, I didn’t think anyone knew about it, and Gilbert was dead. Stupidly, it didn’t occur to me that he might have shared his knowledge with Maud.’

‘So what did you do, the night that Eris died?’ I asked as Maud seemed unable, or unwilling, to do so.

Ned seemed equally reluctant to dwell upon that night’s events.

‘I – er-’ He glanced sideways at Maud before continuing, ‘I dropped Eris’s body down the well, then returned to the farm for a lamp and some tools.’ (I recalled the lean-to shack where the picks and other implements were stored.) ‘After that … After that …’ He stopped, folding his lips together, refusing to say any more.

I didn’t press him. We all had enough imagination to picture subsequent events. Ned must have descended the ladder, pushed the girl’s body – his daughter’s body – into the ‘drive’, then climbed up again in order to search for stones with which to plug the mouth of the horizontal shaft. There were plenty of those lying about in the grass of the old Hall courtyard, and he had spent the rest of the night completing his grisly task. It was small wonder, then, that Christopher had described his father’s appearance the following morning as ‘soaking wet and absolutely filthy, plastered with mud and muck … exhausted’.

Maud said accusingly, ‘You’ve been advocating lately that the well should be filled in. I suppose, now, we all know why.’ She gave a laugh that turned into a sob.

Ned was beside her immediately, pulling her up from her stool and into his arms, rocking her to and fro and caressing her hair.

‘Sweetheart, sweetheart, don’t. I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. You wanted to admit the truth, but I wouldn’t let you. I was the one who persuaded you that it would be better if Eris just “disappeared”. I was afraid of the consequences if my father ever discovered what a fool he’d made of himself, wanting to marry his own granddaughter.’

Maud clung to him for a moment while she fought to hold her tears at bay, then she gently pushed him from her. He would have reached for her again, but she drew herself up, straight-backed and at her most dignified, fending him off with her outstretched hand.

‘No, Ned. We agreed long ago, when you married Petronelle and I married Gilbert, that we would never again allow our feelings for each other to get the better of us. We would be friends, but no more: that was the bargain. And you mustn’t shoulder all the blame. The initial fault was mine. I should never have let Eris go to work for you at the farm. I knew it was playing with fire … And now, I’d like you to go. I think it’s time you told your family the truth. But I should be deeply grateful if you would come to see the elders with me in the morning.’

Ned nodded, his hands falling back to his sides. He gave me a slanting look, as though in half a mind to offer an apology, but then, wisely, thought better of it. There’s nothing adequate you can say to a man you’ve just tried to kill. He bade Theresa a brief ‘Goodnight!’, opened the door of the cottage and was gone, the dusk of late afternoon soon shrouding him from view.

Maud looked for a moment as though she might faint, but she was a strong woman, in mind as well as body. She had had to be to keep her secret for so many years, and for the past five months to live with the knowledge that, however unwittingly, she had caused the death of her child.

Theresa would have spoken, but Maud said tersely, ‘No more, Mother-in-law. We’re all of us tired and our guest has a day’s walk ahead of him tomorrow. Supper, I think. And then bed.’

It was only just daylight when, with Hercules, I crossed the bridge into Lower Brockhurst village the following morning and turned to walk the length of the street. This way, according to both Maud and Theresa, would lead me eventually to the main Gloucester-to-Bristol track.

My two hostesses and I had said our muted farewells in the presence of Ned, who had arrived before daybreak, bringing with him his father, Tom, Petronelle and Dame Jacquetta. All of them were pale and heavy-eyed, as though they had slept badly the preceding night, and while Petronelle looked sulky and Tom dazed, Nathaniel’s expression was murderous. But no one uttered a word of reproach or blame, either to Ned or Maud. At least, not during the time that I was there. The Rawbones were showing their customary family solidarity against the outside world.

I was huddled into my cloak, my pack settled firmly on my back. Hercules trotted happily by my side, not even straining at the length of rope knotted to the other piece that encircled his neck. There was a sharp wind, but, to my relief, it wasn’t raining, and a glimmer of sunlight showed above the hills. A cock crowed somewhere in the distance, I heard the rattle of wooden patterns on the cobbles of a yard, somebody shouted. But, for the most part, the village was silent, not yet fully awake to the coming day.

I glanced at the priest’s house as I passed, wishing that I could have said my goodbyes to Father Anselm, but he was still unwell and it would be cruel to disturb him. I transferred my gaze, instead, to the alehouse, shuttered and quiet, and found myself wondering what would happen to Rosamund Bush …

‘Roger!’ She was descending the outside stairs of the Roman Sandal, a blanket covering her nightshift, her fair hair streaming about her shoulders, a pair of scarlet leather shoes on her dainty feet. ‘It’s true, then. You’re really going home?’

‘For Heaven’s sake!’ I remonstrated. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold. Your teeth are chattering.’

She came and stood close to me. ‘Put your arms around me,’ she invited. ‘Then I won’t feel the cold.’ I did as I was bidden and she smiled up into my face. ‘There! That’s better!’ She rested her head against my shoulder. ‘I didn’t think you’d go until you’d discovered what’s happened to Eris.’

In my vanity, I couldn’t bear her to think me a failure, so I told her all that had happened. I couldn’t see that I was betraying anyone’s confidence. The whole village would be in possession of the facts in a couple of hours’ time. (Maybe even sooner, knowing how gossip travels in any community.)

‘So, you see,’ I finished, ‘Tom’s name will be cleared. You’ll be able to marry him, after all, if that’s what you want.’

She made no comment on this for some minutes, being too busy exclaiming at what I had told her and getting me to repeat the salient facts several times over. But when, at last, she had accepted my story as the undoubted truth, and come to terms with it, she said quietly, ‘I shan’t marry Tom. I could never trust him again, and trust is important in a marriage, don’t you think?’ I kept silent. What else could I do, with her wrapped in my arms and conscious of every curve of her body pressed against mine? Fortunately, she didn’t wait for my reply. ‘I shall marry Lambert,’ she decided. ‘He’s a good, dependable man with a little money put by. His mother’s too doting, it’s true, but I daresay I can handle her.’ She spoke with the confidence of youth. My heart bled for her and the years of disillusionment that lay ahead.

‘I must be on my way,’ I said, gently releasing myself from her embrace.

She reached up and kissed my lips. ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t like to stay?’

‘I’ve told you-’ I began.

She sighed. ‘I know. You’re a married man with three children and you love your wife.’

‘I do,’ I said. But I couldn’t help reflecting that the heathens of this world arranged things better. They, so I had been told, could have more than one wife. But then common sense reasserted itself. More wives, more children. I imagined the combination of Elizabeth, Nicholas and Adam multiplied three or four times over. And shuddered.

Nevertheless, I bent my head and kissed Rosamund on her tender young mouth. It warmed me up. I felt ready to face my journey with all its hazards and fatigue. She clung to me for a moment, then gave what might have been a sob – or then again, knowing my luck, it could have been a giggle – and ran back up the stairs. At the top, she turned and waved before going indoors.

Adela was unrestrained in her joy at having me home.

‘And early, too,’ she marvelled, hugging me tightly. ‘Still three days wanting to the Feast of Saint Patrick. Oh, Roger, it is good to see you again.’

Her welcome made up for the children’s offhand greeting of, ‘What have you brought us?’ and their indifference to my return once they discovered that my pockets were empty.

‘I was lucky,’ I admitted, ‘in meeting up with several carters, who were willing to give me a ride in their carts in return for my company.’ I kissed her once more. ‘I love you,’ I said fiercely.

It was a mistake. I saw her expression grow wary and that mocking glint light the back of her eyes. But she said nothing, merely drew me to the table and plied me with food and drink. She asked no questions. She knew that I would tell her all there was to tell in my own good time. Meanwhile, I was home, in my own house. My house! A proper house with a number of different rooms; with an upstairs as well as a down. Even now, I found it difficult to believe.

Elizabeth came rushing in to show me her latest toy, a present from her grandmother. ‘It’s called morals,’ she announced importantly.

‘Morrells,’ Adela corrected her, smiling. ‘Apparently, you move these little balls around in the slots until you get three in a row. I don’t really understand it.’ She broke off, frowning. ‘Although I seem to remember, when I was a girl, that there was a version you could play using real people. Have you ever heard of that, Roger?’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it,’ I said. ‘I’ve even been in a game where I was one of the “counters”.’ And, for the last time, I thought of Rosamund Bush, then dismissed her from my mind once and for all. ‘That version of the game,’ I added, blowing my wife a kiss, ‘is called Nine Men’s Morris.’