The Holy Innocents

Chapter Eighteen

I followed the young girl into one of the downstairs parlours, where such light as there was came through the unshuttered window from the street outside. It was a richly furnished room, with fresh, sweet-smelling rushes covering the floor, three finely carved armchairs, the ceiling beams newly painted in glowing reds and gold, the walls hung with splendid tapestries, whose colours had a pristine glow, a corner cupboard, displaying bowls and cups and plates crafted in go!d and silver-gilt, and a large table, fashioned from the finest oak.

From the middle of the ceiling was suspended a candelabra of latten tin, its many filigree pendants tinkling in the slightest breeze. It was the room of a man of wealth, of a man who knew what was due to himself and to his standing within the community he served.

‘Ah, chapman, empty the contents of your pack on the table there, so that I can examine them at my leisure. I’m looking for some silk ribbons to adorn the sleeves of a new velvet gown.’

The woman who thus addressed me, was seated in one of the armchairs, her feet, elegantly shod in pale blue leather, resting on a low stool of carved elm. At first glance, it was difficult to guess her age, but I suspected her to be older than she would have had people think. There were lines around the grey-green eyes which seemed to grow more numerous the longer I observed them, and the slender, beringed hands already showed one or two brownish spots. Her eyebrows had been plucked and her forehead shaved to create the smooth, domed, mask-like appearance so prevalent in those days amongst women of fashion. A few stray hairs, which had escaped the razor, were auburn in colour, but the rest of the mane was tucked out of sight beneath a brocade cap and wired, gauze veil. Her full-sleeved gown was made of pale green sarcinet, embroidered with tiny blue flowers on thin, gold stems, and her girdle, studded with semi-precious stones, was of the same blue leather as her shoes. A gold and coral rosary was wrapped about one slender wrist, and a beautifully wrought gold pendant, on a thick gold chain, dangled from her neck. Her many rings were also of gold, as was the brooch, in the shape of a peacock, pinned to one shoulder of her gown. Master Gregory Napier made certain that his wife was a walking showpiece for his wares.

I emptied my pack as I was bid, spreading out its contents across the table, thankful that I had restocked in Exeter last Friday morning. I had managed to obtain several lengths of very fine silk ribbon from a Portuguese ship which had only just then tied up at the city quay. But even as I displayed them for her approval, I was conscious that Ginèvre Napier was far more interested in me. Her eyes kept straying from the ribbon to my face, and at every opportunity, her hand brushed one of mine. At length, she bade me draw up a stool.

‘For I can’t make up my mind which ribbon to choose,’ she said. ‘They are all so beautiful.’ After a few more minutes, however, she abandoned all pretence of interest, leaned back in her chair and asked, ‘Why were you watching this house? No, don’t deny it. I saw you.’

I recollected the shadowy figure at the open casement, and decided that I must be honest with her.

‘I’ve come to London from Devon,’ I said, ‘from the township of Totnes, on purpose to seek you out.’ She raised the faint, plucked line of her eyebrows in puzzlement, and I continued, ‘It concerns Lady Skelton and her second husband, the man she married here in London, Eudo Colet.’ A momentary wariness flickered into the grey-green eyes, and the heavy, almond-shaped lids closed over them, briefly.

Then the narrow shoulders were hunched with a ripple of pale green silk.

‘Now, why does a pedlar want to know about Master Eudo Colet?’ she demanded.

‘If you’ve the patience to listen,’ I said, ‘I’ll tell you. If not, you have only to say the word and I’ll take my leave at once.’ But I sent up an urgent prayer to heaven that she would hear me out.

Ginèvre clasped her hands together and regarded me thoughtfully across the bony knuckles.

‘Oh, I’ve the patience to listen.’ She added candidly, ‘I can always find time for a lad as good-looking as you.’

I ignored this last remark as best I could and plunged without further ado into the events which had occupied my mind, waking and sometimes sleeping, for the past twelve days: those surrounding the disappearance and subsequent murder of the two Skelton children, as yet, I mentioned nothing about the burning of Grizelda’s cottage and the death of Innes Woodsman, nor of the killing of Martin Fletcher and Luke Hollis. When, at last, I had finished, my companion pursed her lips.

‘I pleaded with her not to marry that man,’ she said after a pause, ‘but Rosamund was always headstrong. Headstrong and wilful. That father of hers could never curb her fits and starts. Not that he ever tried to, as far as I could tell. A foolish, over-indulgent man, who thought his precious only child could do no wrong. As for her husband, Sir Henry Skelton… well! A man concerned more with his own advancement than trying to please his wife. A cold man, uninterested in the pleasures of the flesh.’ She stole a sidelong glance at me to see if she had caused embarrassment with such plain speaking, but I gave her no satisfaction, keeping my features under control. Ginèvre continued, ‘But then, as you may know, he was killed after on!y two years of marriage, and Rosamund went home to Sir Jasper, in Devon.’

I nodded. ‘And her cousin with her.’

‘Her cousin?’ Once again, Ginèvre was puzzled. Then comprehension dawned. ‘Oh, you mean Grizelda Harbourne. That poor creature!’ She was dismissive. ‘I’d forgotten she was kin to Rosamund, as anyone might, considering the way she was treated.’

‘And how was that?’ I ventured.

‘She was nurse to young Andrew after he was born, but before that – no better than a servant. If she led you to believe otherwise, she’s lying.’

‘I begin to think so,’ I agreed, and my heart went out to Grizelda for her proud and painful deception. ‘She wasn’t asked to accompany her kinswoman, when Lady Skelton came to stay here, with you, three years ago?’

Ginèvre Napier laughed. ‘No, indeed! For the first time in her life, Rosamund was her own mistress. No husband, no father. She was free to do as she pleased. She brought only her maid, a young, biddable girl who would protest at nothing, and do exactly as she was told.’

‘And it was during that visit,’ I said, ‘that Lady Skelton met Eudo Colet when you both visited St Bartholomew’s fair.’

Mistress Napier’s eyes opened very wide and fixed themselves on my face. ‘Now, how do you know that?’ she asked softly.

I made no attempt to answer the question. ‘He was a mummer,’ I hazarded. ‘A singer who could also play the flute a little. And he travelled the roads in summer, going from fair to fair.’

My companion nodded slowly, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘He was with a troupe of mummers and jongleurs who had a sideshow at the fair. But I ask again, how do you know? For I’d stake my life that Rosamund would have told no one, and nor would he. I’d have been willing to swear that Gregory and I were the only two people who were party to the truth.’

Once more, I did not answer, posing instead a question of my own.

‘Would you be willing to tell me how it all came about? Now that you find I know as much as I do.’

Her flown deepened. ‘You’re the strangest chapman I’ve ever met,’ she said. ‘Who are you? And what can possibly be your interest in Rosamund’s affairs?’

‘My interest is in Eudo Colet. I believe him to be an evil man who may have done murder. As for who I am, I’m what I appear to be, a pedlar by trade, a man who was once a novice of the Benedictine Order, but who abandoned the religious life for the freedom of the open road.’

‘Ah!’ Ginèvre Napier continued to regard me, absentmindedly biting the nail of one finger while she considered my words. ‘That explains much,’ she went on at last. ‘A pedlar with book learning, and handsome, too! You could do as well for yourself, chapman, as Eudo Colet, for his looks, though pleasing to the female eye, are as nothing compared with yours.’ She sighed. ‘If only I weren’t so happily married …’

‘I am more than content with my life,’ I interrupted hastily. ‘And I have a little daughter at home, in Bristol.’

She drew down the corners of her thin, painted mouth in mock despair. ‘You’re married! And faithful to your wife! Alas! The best men always are.’

I did not enlighten her and she continued, ‘You asked me about Rosamund and Eudo Colet. Very well. I see no reason, now that she’s dead, and you, as you say, know so much, why I should not tell you the truth. Indeed, there’s little to tell, I should imagine, that you haven’t understood for yourself already. It was St Bartholomewtide and Rosamund and I visited the fair. Our maids were with us, of course. We were not unchaperoned. Eudo was there, performing with a troupe of mummers and singers, and for some reason, he immediately caught her eye. She was bewitched by him from the very first moment that she saw him. Don’t ask me why.’ Ginèvre spread her hands, a stray shaft of sunlight catching her rings and making them glitter. ‘These things happen, I know, although I have never experienced such a coup de foudre myself’

‘Did you ever know the names of any of the others in the mummers’ troupe?’ I asked her.

My hostess looked affronted. ‘No, nor did I wish to. I was only acquainted with Eudo Colet because of Rosamund’s foolish infatuation and her determination to marry him. Folly! She could have taken him as her lover, enjoyed his body and then paid him to go away. These things are better arranged so.’

I had no doubt that they were, and I suspected that she knew from experience just how it was done. She caught my eye and smiled.

‘You disapprove, chapman. I can see it in your face. But when there is too little to do, servants to run one’s every bidding and pander to one’s every whim, a woman grows bored. A handsome man is a pleasant diversion.’ She crowed with laughter. ‘And now I’ve truly shocked you.’

I murmured a protest, but without much conviction, and asked, ‘But in this instance, Lady Skelton was determined on marriage?’

‘I’ve said so. And so, of course, was he, once he saw which way the wind was blowing. Not that I blame him, you understand. What man with any sense would not exchange poverty for riches, a wandering, tumbling, mummer’s life for a roof above his head and a soft bed with a pretty woman in it? I tried to dissuade her from such a course, and so did Gregory, but to no avail. Her mind was set on making Eudo her husband. She had married to please her father the first time, she said, and now she would marry to please herself. There was no one to prevent her. She argued that Eudo provided her with everything she had ever wanted in a man, everything that she had looked for in Sir Henry Skelton – and been disappointed!’ Ginèvre smiled lasciviously, the eyes momentarily veiled before being opened wide. ‘They spent most of their time in bed. The house reeked of the farmyard.’

I was beginning to dislike Ginèvre Napier: she made me uncomfortable. Under the guise of moral outrage, her thoughts and desires were salacious.

‘And you and Master Napier were the only people who knew of Eudo Colet’s origins. What of Lady Skelton’s maid?’

‘Rosamund rid herself of the girl. She found her a place with a noble family whose home was in the north, well away from any probing tongues. Which was just as well, for a month or so after Rosamund returned to Devon, two men arrived at our door, asking questions. It turned out that they had been sent by Sir Jasper’s partner.’

I nodded. ‘Master Thomas Cozin, a highly respected burgher of Totnes. And you and your husband told them nothing?’ But I already knew the answer.

Ginèvre’s thin lips curled in a sneer. ‘Why should we? What business was it of anyone but Rosamund herself? And Gregory is not the man to allow himself to be interrogated by servants. If this Thomas Cozin wanted the truth, he should have come to London himself, not sent menials to do his work for him.’

‘And what of Eudo Colet’s fellow mummers? Did they have no idea of his good fortune?’

‘Of course not!’ Ginèvre was scathing. ‘Eudo wasn’t such a fool as to tell any one of them. What! Lay himself open to some chance meeting in the future? To have it revealed that he was nothing but a poor jongleur? To be claimed as friend by a parcel of vagabonds, when he had risen so high in the world? You must be mad even to ask such a question! He crept away in the middle of the night and came here, to Rosamund. They never knew what had happened to him nor where he had gone. As far as they were concerned, he had simply vanished.’

‘And you sheltered him? Willingly?’

Ginèvre Napier’s eyes snapped with sudden anger. She sat forward in her chair.

‘I’m growing tired of these questions, chapman! Consider yourself lucky that I have not asked you to leave, or had you thrown out before this.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, rising quickly, and realizing that once again, as so often in the past, I had overstepped the bounds of familiarity in my insatiable eagerness to get at the truth.

‘I’ll go.’ And I began to refill my pack.

Breathing heavily, Mistress Napier sank back in her chair, the anger dying out of her face.

‘No, no!’ she exclaimed irritably. ‘Sit down.’ She began to bite on another of her fingernails. After a few moments, she asked, ‘You truly think Eudo Colet guilty of the murder of Rosamund’s two children? What of these outlaws who are preying on the countryside around Totnes? You told me most people believe them to be the murderers. Why don’t you?’

I resumed my seat at the table, trying to assume a more respectful expression.

‘I believe they may have been the killers, if we are talking of wielding the knife. But I think it more than likely that Master Colet could have been in league with the wolf-heads, and paid them to do the deed.’

Ginèvre raised one eyebrow, or what there was left of it after the razor had taken its toll.

‘But you told me that Eudo was out of the house when the children disappeared, and did not return until after they had vanished. So what do you accuse him of? Witchcraft?’

I drew a deep breath. ‘There are those who, until recently, thought him capable of that.’

‘And you?’ The lips curled into a contemptuous smile. ‘Do you think him in league with the Devil, able to perform the black arts?’ When I hesitated, she laughed, but I saw her, nevertheless, make a sign to ward off evil.

I said defiantly, ‘I am convinced that he had a hand in those children’s deaths. I confess to having no idea how he got them out of the house during his absence, but I believe him to be a very wicked man. I believe him to be the murderer of two mummers who arrived in Totnes last week. Their throats were cut as they lay asleep in their wagon.’

‘Mummers?’ I had her attention now, her eyes wide with painful anxiety. ‘You mentioned nothing of this before.’

‘No. I wished to assure myself first that I was right in my assumptions about Master Colet. I had already learned that he could sing and play the flute, information which only had significance for me after the death of these two mummers. Furthermore, I recollected Grizelda telling me that Lady Skelton had visited you around St Bartholomewtide. It seemed possible to me then that she had met her husband at the fair. That he was in fact himself a jongleur. For all those who knew him, swore he was of peasant stock.’

Ginèvre gave a crow of delight. ‘Of course they did! I told the pair of them that fine clothes and a scented beard wouldn’t fool people into thinking that Eudo Colet was a gentleman. That everyone was bound to recognize him for what he really was. But Rosamund was so besotted with him, and he was so set up in his own conceit, that they refused to believe me or heed my words. “Give me a month or so to teach him how to behave,” she said, “and no one will know he’s not as well born as you and me.” The fool! Did she truly think she could make gold from dross? That no one would know the difference?’ She looked at me with a new respect. ‘And you were able, from these slender facts, to draw so accurate a conclusion?’

‘With God’s help. And I was given one more hint. There was a third man belonging to the little troupe, who was also sleeping in the wagon. He had known the other two for only five or six weeks, and he was left unharmed. It seemed unlikely to me that outlaws, killing for pleasure, would have spared him. All the same, I have no proof that Eudo Colet murdered either Martin Fletcher or Luke Hollis.’ My companion shook her head. ‘The names have no meaning for me, chapman. I told you earlier that I know nothing of Eudo’s companions. But I do recall one who was very, short and fat. A tumbler, surprisingly agile.’

‘Luke,’ I said. ‘So Eudo Colet would have known him, and therefore would also have known Martin Fletcher.’

The silk gown whispered faintly as Ginèvre shifted in her chair. ‘But surely they, too, would have recognized him had they met? Even if Eudo still wears the beard he grew while he was in this house, a man’s voice and the manner in which he walks never alter.’

‘But they did not meet, not face to face,’ I responded eagerly, forgetting myself once more and leaning forward to close one hand over her wrist, giving it a little shake. I told her, as briefly as I could, the circumstances in which Martin and I had gone to call on Grizelda Harbourne. ‘While we were talking at the door, I thought I saw someone move in the passageway behind her. Grizelda was holding a lantern, and its light was shining directly on me and on Martin Fletcher. Both our faces would have been plainly visible to anyone standing in the shadows.’

‘And you believe that person to have been Eudo Colet?’ The fingers of Ginèvre’s other hand crept up to cover mine, but I was too wrapt up in what I was saying to notice.

‘I’m sure it was, although, again, I cannot prove it.’ I frowned. ‘But why Grizelda denied that there was anyone there, I cannot fathom.’

‘A lover’s tryst, perhaps?’ My hostess gave a slow, lecherous smile and passed the tip of her tongue between her lips. ‘Eudo always had an eye for a handsome woman, and my recollection of Grizelda Harbourne is that she was passably well-looking.’

‘She hated him,’ I retorted angrily, at the same time becoming aware that our hands were linked, and withdrawing mine hurriedly. ‘And he disliked her as much as she disliked him. No, if he were indeed there …’

I broke off, realizing that Eudo must have been there that night, for what other chance would he have had to observe for himself the damage my fall had done to the gallery? He had been able to inform Oliver Cozin of it the following morning, for the lawyer had been in possession of the facts by the time of the muster in the Priory courtyard. Here was sure proof of my suspicions, if only to myself. But why, oh why, had Grizelda denied his presence?

Ginèvre Napier pouted and sat back in the chair, resentful of my abrupt rejection of her.

‘A jealous lover, is that it?’ she sneered. ‘Or would-be lover. Yes, now I begin to read the signs. You would have liked to bed Mistress Harbourne yourself.’

I rose stiffly to my feet and gave a cursory bow.

‘Madam, I thank you for your courtesy in receiving me, and for answering my questions, but now I must take my leave. There is nothing more to be said between us.’

Ginèvre made no answer, but watched with smouldering eyes as I returned my wares to my pack and closed it. As I would have taken my leave, she said quietly, but with venomous spite, ‘A weak man, Eudo Colet, easily led. If he and Grizelda Harbourne are lovers, then you must accept that it is by her wish more than by his.’

I replied, trying to suppress my anger, ‘I have told you, she hates him. She believes him guilty of a pact with the outlaws to get rid of Andrew and Mary Skelton. For some reason that I don’t understand, you are trying to turn me against her. You won’t succeed.’

It was Ginèvre’s turn to rise to her feet, trembling from head to foot, her eyes mere slits in the painted mask of, her face.

‘I’ve a good mind to complain of you to my husband. He’d soon see to it that you were whipped at the cart’s tail and put in the stocks. But it would be a shame to mark that splendid hide of yours, so get out now, before I change my mind!’

I needed no second bidding, and found myself in the street without having any idea of how I got there. I shouldered my pack and set off blindly along Paternoster Row. I had almost reached the Cheap, when I heard the patter of footsteps behind me. The next moment, a hand was laid on my sleeve, and I turned to find Ginèvre’s little maid at my elbow.

‘My mistress begs that you’ll return with me, sir,’ she panted. ‘There’s something, she says, she has to tell you.’

‘Then why did she not tell me earlier?’ I demanded. ‘No, no! She takes me for a bigger fool than she already thinks me, if she believes I’ll go back there.’

The girl tightened her grip imploringly. ‘Please come with me, sir.’ She added confidingly. ‘My mistress would never harm a man such as you. Take my word for it! I know her! It would go against her nature. She means what she says. She really does have something to tell you.’

I was unconvinced, but suspected that the girl would suffer if I did not do as I was bidden. For her sake, therefore, I retraced my steps, but not without great misgivings.

My fears, however, proved to be unfounded. Ginèvre had regained her composure and faced me calmly across the table.

‘I have been thinking,’ she said, ‘that the murder of two innocent children is not a thing to be lightly dismissed. There is something, therefore, that you should know about Eudo Colet. Perhaps, after all, he’s in league with the Devil, for he possesses a fiendishly clever talent. Sit down for a moment more, and I’ll tell you what it is’