The Wicked Winter

Chapter Twelve

For a brief moment, I was tempted to knock on the door and enter, but then came to my senses. There was no consolation I could offer, no course of action I could recommend without revealing that I knew more than I was supposed to know.

Moreover, Mistress Lynom was a proud woman who would not take kindly to advice from a common pedlar. So I shovelled my way past the open door to the end of the gallery where, breathing hard, I rested on the handle of my spade.

I was now immediately outside the women's dormitory which, in its turn, was behind the upper half of the great hall's northern end. I was therefore at an angle to the main part of the house and in command of a wider, more extensive view of the approaches to Cederwell Manor than that afforded by the narrow passage between the kitchen and the hill. Over the snowladen roofs of the outbuildings, I could see the ground ascending towards the path by which I had so recently travelled. Yesterday in fact. Could it really be so short a time ago?

Earlier, there had been a little needle-sharp sunlight which had turned everything white and gold. But now the clouds had gathered again, their underbellies pregnant with further snow, except for one solitary, broken banner of iridescent light high above the trees. Everything seemed frozen into immobility, and over all there was a sense of eerie desolation, of a lost land, an enchanted, fairy world of silence, where nothing stirred…

A faint movement, somewhere away to my right, caught the tail of my eye and made me turn my head quickly. All was quiet, yet I was sure that I had not been mistaken; and in confirmation of my suspicion, three or four dark patches of scrubland which bordered the track showed where the undergrowth had been shaken free of snow. I waited, forcing myself to stand perfectly still, peering with narrowed eyes across the line of single-storey buildings — smithy, barn, pigsty, byre- towards the rising ground. Someone was there, watching, and I felt the hairs lift on the nape of my neck.

Whoever it was must be aware of having attracted my attention and would not break cover until I was gone.

Deliberately I resumed my work, although there was nothing much left to do. It was time to go down and collect the logs.

The door to the women's dormitory opened and Simeon emerged, looking stem and grave. In the room behind him, I could hear Adela Empryngham's muffled sobs.

'Your words of comfort have fallen on stony ground then, Brother,' I remarked.

'I was not there to give comfort,' he answered severely, 'but to point out the error of her ways. Had Mistress Empryngham not quarrelled with her husband, had she not flounced out and left him on his own, he might not now be lying stiff and cold upon his bed.'

I raised my eyebrows and pulled down the comers of my mouth.

'Dear me! Not, I imagine, what the poor soul wanted to hear. Martha Grindcobb thinks that you're condoling with the widow.'

The friar snorted. 'It is not my office to tell people what they want to hear, but to show them the truth, to help them recognise their sins.' He added, 'I'm glad to see that you've been put to work at last!' and nodded at the cleared pathway of bare boards between the banked-up piles of snow. Then he raised his head and stared glumly at the sky. 'What do you make of the weather?'

'I think it's going to snow again, tonight if not before. No good your looking like that, Brother. God's will be done. Besides, you can help me achieve His purpose as well here as on the road.'

'What do you mean by that?'

I lowered my voice. 'I've a deal of importance to tell you.' Then, in my normal tone, I went on, 'But first, I must fetch some more logs for Mistress Grindcobb. I've a basket at the bottom of the steps…'

My words trailed away into silence. As I spoke, I had half turned to face Brother Simeon, my glance straying across his shoulder to the distant prospect beyond.

'What is it?' he demanded, also turning. 'What have you seen?'

'A little while ago,' I answered slowly, 'I thought I detected a movement in the scmbland, as though someone were hiding there. And I'm sure I saw something again, just now. Yes, look! Over there! That dark patch to the right of the oak! The snow has been shaken from the bushes!' The friar's eyes followed the direction of my pointing finger, but after a moment he shook his head. 'There's no one there as far as I can tell.'

I sighed in exasperation. 'There is, but he's lying' low. He can see us up here on the gallery. We can't see him because he's hidden from our view by the undergrowth, but we can guess where he's been by the way that the snow has been disturbed.'

Simeon, however, preferred to put his own, more optimistic interpretation on the facts.

'It may simply mean that the thaw is setting in.' His eyes brightened at the prospect.

'No,' I said. 'Don't delude yourself, Brother. At present, the snow on the ground is freezing hard. I've had to chip it piece by piece from the steps and the gallery boards. If it gets even slightly warmer, we shall have another heavy fall.

You've only to look at those clouds to know that. No, there's someone out there, I'm certain of it.'

'What fool would be scrambling about amongst dense undergrowth in this weather'?' Simeon's tone was scathing. 'You're the one who's deluding himself, Chapman. We've enough tragedies under this roof without imagining trouble where none exists.'

I saw that he was unwilling to be convinced, and we walked along the gallery and descended the stairs in silence.

As we passed the guest chamber I noticed that the door had been shut, which was hardly surprising. Mistress Lynom could not have remained ignorant of our presence. I wondered if she had overheard any part of our conversation; but if she had, I did not feel that she could have learned very much from it. Even had she listened that long, she would probably share Simeon's scepticism of my assertion that someone was watching the manor.

'I shall go and warm myself at the fire,' the friar announced as we reached the bottom step. 'You can tell me whatever it is you have to say when you return with the logs. Bring plenty of them and be quick about it.'

On this parting shot, he scuffed his way through the snow choking the narrow channel between hill and kitchen and disappeared inside the back door with a whisk of his rusty black habit. I grinned to myself as I propped the shovel against the outside wall and stooped to pick up the basket: Friar Simeon was not always as unworldly as he liked to seem. Then, with a silent curse, I realised that I had not inquired of Martha the whereabouts of the woodpile. I was just going indoors for her instructions when I was saved the trouble by the appearance of Fulk Disney. Booted and cloaked, he rounded the western corner of the house, his thin face red and raw with cold, a drop of moisture suspended from the end of his long, pinched nose. He did not look to be in the best of humours.

'Master Disney, well met!' I exclaimed cheerfully. 'Where can I find the woodpile?'

At the sound of my voice, he jumped in alarm. His eyes had been firmly fixed on the ground and the five or six inches of snow which reached well above his ankles. I wondered why, in such conditions, he had been out walking.

'D'Isigny,' he snapped. 'How many more times do I have to tell you?'

'All, yes,' I murmured. 'Your ancestors came over with the Conqueror. You must forgive a mere Saxon peasant. Can Your Honour direct me to the woodpile?'

For a moment he glared as though he would like to hit me, but thought better of it once he had weighed up my size.

He jerked his thumb backwards over his shoulder.

'You'll find wood stored in an empty stall in the stables.' I thanked him politely and would have pushed my way past, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm. 'What is that friar saying about me and Maurice?' he demanded fiercely.

I hedged. 'What is there to say?'

'Why was he brought here? Surely he must know why Lady Cederwell sent for him?'

'How can he? She was dead before his arrival.'

'But her messengers, Jude and Nicholas Capsgrave, they must have given him some idea of what she wanted from him.'

'If they did, he has not confided in me. And now, if you'll excuse me, Master Disney, I must fetch in the wood, or Martha Grindcobb will be wondering what has become of me.'

He snatched his hand from my arm.

'Don't get uppity with me, Chapman, or I'll have you turned out into the snow. And for the last time, I am called D'Isigny!'

'Do you have that much ascendancy over Sir Hugh, Monsieur D'Isigny?' I asked with heavy emphasis on his name. 'Or is your influence all with Manrice?' His face was suffused with colour.

'I've warned you, Chapman, watch your step. I'm not a person to cross in this household. I make a bad enemy.'

'I'm sure we all do that,' I answered levelly, 'especially Brother Simeon.'

He stared at me for a moment, the grey eyes full of anger and dislike, the blood draining from his face and leaving it pale where before it had been bright red.

'You can prove nothing,' he muttered at last. 'Sir Hugh will ensure that no charges are ever brought against his son, now that that woman is dead.'

He elbowed me to one side and entered the house. I gazed after him thoughtfully.

It was surprisingly warm inside the stables. Much of the snow had been cleared from around the building, presumably by the grooms, and the doors fast shut to keep out the cold.

Within, straw had been piled high in every occupied stall and braziers lit where they could do least harm, the glowing coals encased in narrow-barred, iron cages. The mingled scents of sweat and dung and leather filled the air, and the horses shifted and whinnied as they chomped the hay in their mangers. I recognised the big, white-stockinged black belonging to Sir Hugh which I had noted yesterday morning at the Hall, and also the chestnut mare with the pale mane and tail, owned by Mistress Lynom. There, too, were the cob and Jessamine, the raw-boned grey, presumably ridden here by Jasper and Hamon. The remaining occupants of the stalls I had not seen before, and must therefore be the property of the manor.

There were two further stalls at the end of the line, one containing firewood, stored for safekeeping out of the winter weather, and the other empty except for the grooms, Jude and Nicholas Capsgrave and their guests, Jasper and Hamon.

The four men were huddled around a brazier, taking it in turns to drink from a black leather bottle and, judging by their long, sombre faces, discussing the gruesome discoveries of last night and this morning.

'God be with you, gentlemen,' I said.

I had unlatched and relatched the stable door so quietly, and they had been so absorbed in what they were saying, that no one had heard me enter. One of them yelped and Hamon, who was holding the bottle, spilled some of its contents on the floor, while the other two clutched wildly at each other as they all swung round to face me.

'Wh — who-' Jasper stuttered, then added on a gasp of relief, 'Oh, it's you, Chapman. God in heaven, what a start you gave us! What are you doing here, anyway?'

I held up my basket. 'I've been sent to get more firewood for the kitchen.'

One of the Capsgrave brothers relieved Hamon of the bottle and took a long draught of its contents, wiping his mouth afterwards on the back of his hand.

'I've seen you somewhere afore you came here,' he said, looking hard at me.

'I was at the valley mill when you arrived, searching for Friar Simeon.'

The younger of the pair nodded. 'So you were. I remember now. What were you doing there then?'

'Selling my wares, of course. Just as I was hoping to do at Cederwell, but so far there's been precious little chance. Which of you two is Jude and which Nicholas?'

'I'm Jude,' the older and thinner man said, adding, 'You came 'ere at a bad time, Chapman.'

'Couldn't 'ave bin worse,' concurred his brother.

I inquired, 'Did Lady Cederwell tell either of you why she needed to see the friar so badly?'

The brothers looked astonished.

'No,' said Nicholas, 'nor did we ask. It's our place to obey orders, not to query 'era.'

'Sir Hugh mentioned that you both came here with her from Campden; that you were both devotedly loyal to Lady Cederwell and her brother.'

Jude Capsgrave gave a short bark of laughter. "E said that, did 'e? Well, I'm not surprised. 'E's never 'ad time fer any of the 'ousehold she brought down 'ere with 'er. But the truth is we weren't long in 'er service before 'er marriage. As for Master Gerard, neither of us 'ave ever thought much to 'ira, and that's a fact. A poor creature, clinging to 'is sister's kirts and playin' at being the gentleman, when all the world knows 'im fer a bastard.'

'Knew,' corrected his brother.

'What? Oh, ar! Knew.' Jude shook his head incredulously. "A bad business! A bad business!'

I agreed, and entered the other stall to begin filling my basket with wood.

Inevitably, the four of them followed to gather around the entrance and watch, for there are few things so pleasant in this world as to stand idle while someone else works. At last, however, Jasper, probably recollecting my assistance of the previous morning, came forward to help. Together, we sweated and strained to pack some of the biggest logs into the basket, straightening up when we had finished, both of us clasping our hands to our aching backs. I gave Jasper my heartfelt thanks, and he in his turn procured the leather bottle from Jude and passed it to me. I drank deeply.

'Has any one of you set foot outside the manor walls this morning?' I asked, wiping the neck of the bottle on my sleeve and returning it to Jasper.

They protested vigorously that they were not so foolhardy.

They had all, at some time, visited the kitchen, and Nicholas Capsgrave admitted that he had been as far as the fish pond in order to feed the carp, a job not normally assigned to him, but which he had undertaken to save Jenny Tonge from getting her feet any wetter than they already were, after descending the gallery stairs from the dormitory.

'That was when I saw Fulk Disney going out by the gate in the wall. The snow were all churned up where 'e'd scuffed 'is way through it. But I don't know what errand 'e'd been sent on, nor what 'e were up to.'

'No good, that's fer certain,' opined his brother. 'And if 'e were gettin' 'is dainty feet wet in this weather, 'twas fer one person only. Though why Maurice'd be sending 'im abroad on a morning like this, I can't think.'

I asked innocently, 'Why should Fulk be dancing to Master Cederwell's tune? Surely it's Sir Hugh who pays the piper?'

I saw the brothers glance furtively at one another, as though they had said too much. Jude remarked with apparent irrelevance, 'You're very friendly with that friar; that Brother Simeon or whatever they calls 'ira.'

'I heard him preach in Bristol and my mother-in-law gave him dinner. Quite by chance I fell in with him on my way to the manor. That's all.'

Nevertheless, I could not deny to myself that I fully intended sharing such information as I acquired with Simeon, and so did not press my question. These men had their loyalties, and no doubt had heard of the friar's mission to stamp out immorality wherever he found it. It was far better for me not to seek confirmation of my suspicions than to bring the full wrath of the Church upon Fulk's and Maurice's heads. If I knew nothing to the contrary, I could acquit them in my own mind and presume them innocent. And I have often wondered in the secret places of my heart how we know for sure that the Church, that the Holy Father himself, is truly the mouthpiece of God. (There, I have set it down at last, but only because I know that these words will be read by no one but me until after I am dead. I did confess earlier to having courage of one kind, but not of another.) 'How did Lady Cederwell get on with her stepson?' I asked instead, adding a final log to my basket.

Once again the brothers looked at one another, then shrugged. At last Nicholas took it upon himself to answer.

'There weren't much love lost atween 'era, 'tis true. She were only a twelvemonth or so older than 'e is. An' she weren't easy to get on with. Always on 'er knees, always sermonisin'.'

'Did she-?' I hesitated, choosing my words. 'Did she object to Maurice's friendship with Fulk Disney?'

'Can't say nothin' to that,' Jude cut in tersely, attempting to nudge his brother in the ribs without me seeing. 'We're grooms. We're mostly in the stables. Don't take much notice of what goes on indoors.'

'Why should she?' Nicholas demanded, staring straight into my eyes.

They still refused to trust me; but each, in his own way, had answered my question. I was content. Both Maurice and Fulk Disney could have wished Lady Cederwell dead before Brother Simeon arrived at the manor. But why either one of them would have wanted, or needed, to kill Gerard Empryngham was a mystery.

Hamon and Jasper had necessarily been silent bystanders during this exchange, quietly finishing the contents of the bottle between them. But now Hamon suddenly remarked, 'You ask a lot of questions, don't you, pedlar?'

There was a note of menace in his tone which made me glance sharply at him. But I gave a cheerful laugh and said as offhandedly as I could, 'I'm a naturally curious person.'

'They say curiosity killed the cat,' he answered.

'They also say that cats have nine lives. It's useless to threaten them.'

Hamon's eyes, grey with little flecks of brown in their depths, opened wide in innocent surprise.

'You mistake me? Why should I wish to threaten you, Master Chapman? Whatever gives you that idea?'

I picked up the basket of wood. 'I must get back to the kitchen. I shall no doubt see you all there at dinnertime.' And I took my departure without replying to Hamon's question.

Once outside the stable door, I found it already snowing again. Delicate, feathery flakes brushed my cheeks and settled across my shoulders, but this fall would not last long, for a little grudging sunshine was finding its way through the rent in the clouds, gilding the surface of the fish pond. I could see the black hole where Nicholas had broken the ice to feed the fish, and, on the opposite side, I could see a man's tracks leading to the gate in the wall, where Fulk Disney had kicked up the snow in front of him as he walked. On a sudden impulse, I set down the basket of wood and followed in his footsteps.

The gate had been used this morning, for the key still stood in the lock and it had not been properly fastened. I had only to push the iron-studded, wooden panels very gently for it to open without my having to lift the latch. Any resistance offered by the piled-up snow on the other side had already been overcome, and the gate swung back into an arc of cleared ground. And the footprints continued, running straight as an arrow homing into the gold, towards the door of the Saxon tower.

Why had Fulk gone there? Had he been looking for something? And, if so, who had sent him? Maurice Cederwell seemed the likeliest answer to that last question, and yet one could never be certain of anything. My instinct was to investigate at once, but I knew that if I did not return soon with the logs, Martha Grindcobb would be sending someone to find me. Reluctantly, I retraced my steps.

'And about time!' was the cook's greeting as I entered the kitchen. 'The friar here said you were going for the wood when he left you, and that was before he went off on his travels again. What's the matter with the pair of you? Why aren't you both be happy to sit in the warm instead of wandering about in the cold?'

I made no reply, merely emptying the logs into the bigger basket which stood behind the door and then going to squat on the floor in the further comer, beside Brother Simeon.

'Well?' he asked, whisking aside the hem of his tom black habit. 'What do you have to tell me?'

For the next ten minutes, while Martha and the kitchenmaids bustled around us, I recounted the conversation I had overheard earlier that morning between Mistress Lynom and Sir Hugh. When I had finished, he drew in a long, hissing breath.

'So,' he said at last, 'they stand condemned out of their own mouths that one of them is a murderer.'

I shook my head. 'No, Brother. Neither admitted to the crime. But that they are lovers is certain. We can guess that Lady Cederwell wished to speak to you on the subject; to ask for your advice; to beg you to put the fear of God into Sir Hugh, enough at any rate to scare him into ending the affair. She was afraid for his immortal soul.'

'As well she might be.' The friar's face was grey with anger.

'But there's more,' I continued, and told him of my encounter with Fulk Disney and my conviction that he had visited the tower this morning.

'I should like to know why he was there,' I added. 'What was he up to? After dinner, before it gets dark and the snow sets in again, I intend visiting the tower myself. I shall probably be no wiser when I leave than when I got there, but you never know. I might find something.'