[Mediaeval Mystery 06] - Cast the First Stone

by C. B. Hanley

  Aelfrith came to join him, rubbing his hands and looking about him. Other than his brief visit to find Father Ignatius the other day he’d never been inside the cottage before, and he made a pleasant comment to Alys about the furniture. Indeed, home looked even nicer than usual this evening, Edwin thought, for she had laid a cloth on the table and set out every dish and cup they owned.

  ‘Aelfrith, have you met Rosa? She has kindly agreed to serve our meal so we can all sit down.’

  Aelfrith frowned at Rosa in the dim light, and then his face cleared. ‘Oh, Ned’s little sister, is it?’

  Edwin saw Alys grimace, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Smells lovely,’ he said. ‘What are we having?’

  Alys stood back and surveyed everything. ‘Good, we’re ready. Sit down, and I’ll tell you.’ She gestured Aelfrith to the best of the stools and Edwin to his chair, then she sat down with them at the top end of the table, while Rosa and Hal began to bring pots and dishes.

  ‘Barley pottage with leeks and pork,’ she began, as Rosa ladled out the steaming thick mess into their bowls. ‘Lucky it’s not Friday.’

  Edwin drew out his spoon and was about to start when she forestalled him. ‘And a chicken in honey sauce’ – he looked and sniffed in wonder as the pot was placed on the table – ‘with raisins.’

  There was also maslin bread and one of the cinnamon loaves, the scent making Edwin’s mouth water even more. Aelfrith gave Alys a broad smile. ‘This is a fine spread, mistress, truly.’

  ‘Thank you. But we should also thank Rosa, who helped and who can make any dish delicious.’

  Rosa had just sat down at the bottom end of the table, and Edwin saw her open her mouth and then shut it again when Alys threw her a look. He held his cup for Hal to pour the ale into it, and when everyone was served, the boy sat down too, alongside his sister.

  Edwin thought that the unaccustomed formality of the occasion called for a grace, so he hastily stumbled over a few words of thanks, and then dug in. The hot, meat-flavoured and lightly spiced pottage was exactly what he needed after his cold, wet afternoon, and he savoured every mouthful, watching Aelfrith do the same as they talked of this and that. Hal, inevitably, couldn’t shovel it in fast enough, but as he reached for the pot of chicken, Rosa slapped his hand away and whispered angrily in his ear.

  Aelfrith saw it and laughed. ‘You do as you’re told, boy – the womenfolk are in charge inside the house.’

  ‘Very true,’ replied Alys with a smile. ‘Rosa, why don’t you help Aelfrith to some of the chicken?’

  Edwin watched the girl rise and come to stand next to Aelfrith, leaning over the table to reach the pot, and then watched him watching her as she served him. Belatedly, he realised what Alys was about.

  ‘You’re lucky to have Rosa to help you tonight, my love,’ he said, loudly, meeting Alys’s eye. ‘A good, biddable girl, that,’ he added in an undertone to Aelfrith once Rosa had returned to her place. Then he turned back to his cinnamon bread, partly as he didn’t want to overdo it, and partly because he didn’t want to miss out on his favourite food.

  Once the meal was complete, he and Aelfrith moved their seats nearer to the fire, where their boots steamed. Edwin’s feet finally started feeling like they belonged to him again.

  ‘So,’ began Aelfrith. ‘Tell me about the court I missed this morning? It’s a shame I wasn’t there, for I’d have been able to tell everyone that Ivo was out at my place all that afternoon.’

  Alys was reasonably happy with the way things had turned out, but Lord, she wished everyone would just go away now. The pressure of having to act normally for the whole time was starting to tell on her; her head ached and she just wanted to go and lie down in the chamber. But she must keep going just a little longer.

  As far as she was concerned, Aelfrith had turned out to be a disappointment. He had a fine figure, of course; a pleasant enough face, and there was hardly a girl who wouldn’t swoon over that rumbling voice. But now she had spoken with him, listened to him over the course of an hour or so, she was coming to the conclusion that there wasn’t much in his head.

  She waited for Rosa to clear the dishes off the table and then picked up the cloth to shake it, the firelight catching on a few crumbs as they fell into the rushes. To be fair, there wouldn’t be many men who wouldn’t sound unintelligent if they had to try and keep up with Edwin’s conversation for an evening, but Aelfrith seemed to her to be actually stupid. He had no thoughts, no opinions on anything outside of his own farm, and Alys reflected on how boring it would be to have to listen to that every evening from now until one of them died.

  However, this didn’t seem to bother Rosa in the slightest. Her eyes had been on stalks since the moment Aelfrith had walked into the house, and she’d barely looked away from him since, even when she was serving the meal. If she thought that someone like Aelfrith would do for her – and, in the light of day, it would be a good match for her family – then Alys would do all she could to bring it about.

  Aelfrith was now sitting comfortably by the fire, talking to Edwin about something she wasn’t interested enough to wonder about. Rosa was watching him over her shoulder while she put dishes and cups back on the sideboard. Hal, who had finished scrubbing the big cooking pot, was obviously ready to go, his eyes drooping now that he was warm and fed after a long day.

  Alys attempted to pull herself together. One more effort, and then she could rest. ‘Hal, why don’t you go home?’ she said, loudly enough to break into the men’s conversation.

  Hal made a sleepy move towards the door, and Rosa, as Alys had known she would, began to hurry. ‘I won’t be two moments – you just wait there.’

  Alys looked at her but kept half an eye towards the fire. ‘Oh, let him go – he’s tired and he’ll have plenty to do tomorrow.’ She gestured and Hal, gratefully, was gone. ‘Don’t worry, Edwin and I can walk you home later if you’re worried about going out on your own in the dark.’

  Edwin was nodding as Rosa finished putting everything away and then smoothed down her apron. Now, was Aelfrith going to …? He was. ‘I must be going, too, to get home before Mother starts worrying.’ He stood and stretched, driving new force into the limbs and muscles that Rosa was clearly admiring, before turning to Alys. ‘Thank you, mistress, for a fine meal. And I can take Rosa home to save you going out in the cold – I’ll look in on Ned while I’m there.’

  Rosa’s smile was so wide it could barely fit on her face, but Alys was just tired. Keep going. Just a little longer. ‘How kind.’

  He put on his hood, which had been drying, and opened the door. ‘Rain’s stopped, and there’s a bit of a moon.’ He turned to Rosa. ‘Ready?’ She was.

  Aelfrith picked up his bag. ‘Edwin.’ He inclined his head. ‘Mistress. My thanks again.’

  Then they were gone, the door was shut, and cottage, mercifully, contained only the two of them. Alys almost staggered with relief as she turned her face away from the fire to compose it, still unsure exactly what she was going to tell Edwin if he brought up the subject of her trip to the forest.

  Think of something else. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why were you so uneasy, earlier, when you came to see Denis in the cell? You looked as though you’d seen an evil spirit.’ She crossed herself.

  He stared into the fire for a long moment. ‘Not an evil spirit, no. But maybe a ghost.’ He met her eye, fiddling absent-mindedly with the leather thong he always wore around his neck. ‘I’ve been in that cell before, just once. And –’

  There was a knock on the door, making Alys jump. Had Aelfrith forgotten something? Edwin motioned to her to stay where she was, and moved to open it himself; he spoke to someone without, and Alys caught his half of the conversation. ‘What? Did he? Oh, yes, he did say something about …’ and then, ‘Lord! What on earth have you done to your face?’

  This last gave her a fraction of a moment’s warning, and she whipped round to see that Young Robin
was standing on the threshold.

  Chapter Eight

  Edwin held the door open. ‘Come in out of the cold.’

  Young Robin stepped over the threshold, saying again that he’d come to talk about building a loom as Alys had been to see his father about it. He carried a piece of charcoal and a flat board on which Edwin could make out some lines and sketches.

  ‘Yes, well, there’s no point asking me about that – my wife is the expert. Alys, Young Robin needs to speak to you.’ He looked at Alys across the fire. She stiffened and her eyes opened wide – but no, she was fine as she stepped around the flames; it must have been the effect of the smoke on his own eyes.

  Alys invited their guest to the table. ‘And you sit here as well, please, Edwin. I’d like for you to know what I was thinking of.’

  Edwin sat in his chair; Alys placed herself next to him and then gestured for Young Robin to sit on his other side. The board was placed on the table and Alys pushed a rushlight nearer so they could all see. She must have caught it on an uneven part of the surface, for it tipped and splashed hot fat.

  Now that he could see the carpenter’s son more clearly, Edwin examined his face while he started pointing at things on his drawing board. He’d had his nose broken – it was swollen and crooked, with dried blood crusted under his nostrils. His eyes were also turning puffy and black, but there didn’t seem to be too much other damage – no teeth missing, for example, and he wasn’t limping or groaning. So he hadn’t been set on by a gang of men. But could this have anything to do with the murder?

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Alys was speaking to him.

  ‘Er, just run that by me again? A loom, you say? Over in that corner? Plenty of room for it.’

  He listened with more attention as they explained that they were talking of something much bigger than he’d been envisaging; it sounded quite complex, but Alys knew exactly what she was talking about, and she was soon smudging a finger on the drawing, making Young Robin understand more clearly what pieces would be needed and how they would fit together. Edwin was proud of her knowledge, and in an area he knew nothing about.

  A hiss and a shower of sparks made him look at the fire; it was low, so he made to stand so he could put another log on it. But Alys pulled him back down. ‘I’ll do it. Now we’ve agreed on a design, perhaps you should talk with him about how much this is going to cost.’

  After some haggling they fixed on a price that was probably a little higher than Edwin would have expected, but he knew the job would be done well, and besides, there were a lot of children to feed in the carpenter’s family. He would pay half when they were ready to start and the other half when the loom was complete.

  He was quite pleased with himself by the time he showed Young Robin out the door. Having a loom and the chance to weave would give Alys more to do, and from the way she always spoke about cloth, the different types and the way it was produced, he knew it was a subject dear to her heart. A few pennies for a loom – even if it meant losing a sizeable chunk of the floor space – was a price worth paying, especially if it kept her at home and out of trouble.

  She was sitting on a stool near the fire, staring into its depths. He touched her on the shoulder as he sat down, and she started.

  ‘You were far away. Were you thinking of everything you’ll be able to make? We’ll dress like kings.’

  ‘Hardly. My father employed some very skilled weavers, but I’m both a novice and out of practice. Still, I should at least be able to make some homespun to use as blankets, or to sell for work tunics.’ Her tone was light, but he could see that she spoke with some effort.

  ‘You’re tired.’ She didn’t argue. ‘I’m not surprised – such a lot has happened today.’ She stiffened, thinking no doubt of the court. ‘It hardly seems possible that it was only this morning you were tending to Denis and I was speaking for him.’

  She seemed on the point of saying something else, but then said, ‘You don’t think he did it.’

  He rubbed his chin. ‘I didn’t – I still don’t, really, but did you see that he held out his left hand to take the hammer?’

  ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean much, though, does it? It might just have been nearer.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I mean – yes, but it reminded me that I’d seen him using it in his left hand when I was watching him at work the other day.’ He sighed and stirred the fire. ‘But I still don’t think he did it.’

  Alys gave a huge yawn. ‘Sorry. I am listening – please carry on.’

  He smiled. ‘Why don’t you get yourself to bed? It’s been a long day, and you were up half of last night as well. I’ll watch the fire until it dies down and then come in.’

  She nodded and stood, dropping a kiss on the top of his head as she passed.

  He took her left hand. ‘Will this be all right?’

  He felt her shiver. ‘It will be fine. I washed the dirt out so it shouldn’t swell.’

  She made as if to move off, but he kept hold of it for a moment, playfully. ‘I don’t suppose it was you who hit Robin?’

  ‘Of course not. Why would you think that?’

  He was surprised at her tone. ‘I was only jesting. I asked him on the way out and he said he got hit by a branch while he was felling in the woods today.’

  He still had hold of her hand, and now he looked at it more closely – stared almost right through it.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I was just … I remembered something … you just reminded me of …’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s gone.’ He dropped her hand and watched as she made her way into the bedchamber.

  Edwin heard the creaking of the ropes of the box bed as she settled herself, and then silence. He blew out the rush on the table, leaving the fire as the only light, and returned to it. He stood with his back to the flames for a few moments to warm himself, and then sat down, stirring the bright ashes. The log Alys had put on earlier was a large one, and it wouldn’t do to leave the fire unattended while it was still alight. Still, he had plenty to think about – well, two things of importance – and the silence of the cottage, broken only by the crackle of the slowly dying flames, was the best thing for it.

  He used his foot to push in a stick that was trying to escape from the hearth stones. On the afternoon that he had died, Ivo had been out at Aelfrith’s farm. They had argued, he had learned from his conversation earlier, about the proposed new bread oven. Because the farm was three miles out of Conisbrough, Aelfrith’s family had always baked their own bread there, instead of walking in. As the village oven was free to use, this had made no difference to anyone, but Ivo had apparently been so zealous about his new plan that he had ridden out there to tell them that from now on they would have to use the earl’s new oven in the village along with everyone else – and pay the same fee.

  Aelfrith, as far as Edwin could judge, had been quite angry. He was out in his fields every day, so the task would fall upon his mother, and he had become quite animated as he’d told Edwin how unfair this was, how she was ill and couldn’t be expected to walk that far. Another reason for him to get married, thought Edwin, with a small smile at the remembrance of Alys’s actions that evening. A fit young wife would be a Godsend out on the farm.

  It sounded, however, as though Aelfrith had said some of these things to Ivo’s face, and the interview hadn’t ended well. Aelfrith had sworn to Edwin, however, that the bailiff had been alive and well when he left. This Edwin knew to be truth, as Ivo had been seen back in the castle later that same evening.

  But had Aelfrith come to Conisbrough during the night and committed murder? It seemed a bizarre suspicion, but then, the thought of anyone in Conisbrough, men he’d known all his life, killing Ivo was equally unbelievable. It had been dark, but Aelfrith knew the road well, and there must have been some small light from the waning moon. But why? Surely a dispute over an oven wasn’t sufficient reason for anyone to kill? And why would Ivo agree to meet him in the middle of the night to continu
e an argument that could easily have waited until daylight?

  The fire was dying down. Edwin pushed the hot ashes from the edge to the centre of the hearth, and began to stack the turfs round it.

  It took him a long time, and deliberately so, for he didn’t really want to go to bed. The second matter that was pressing on him had nothing to do with the murder, but it was hurting him more. Alys had explained what had happened to her injured hand, and of course it was perfectly plausible – who hadn’t, at some point, grazed their knuckles on a tree in the woods?

  The problem was that Edwin had now been in the earl’s service for half a year, and in that time he’d had to talk to many people in order to get the truth from them. And so he could tell when someone was lying.

  Alys awoke the next morning to find that the bed was empty: Edwin had already risen. Worried that she might have slept too long, she dressed quickly and moved to the main room. Edwin wasn’t there – was he already at church? But a glance out of the window, as she unshuttered it, showed her that the inhabitants of other houses were only just getting up. Besides, the bell hadn’t rung yet, and she would surely have heard that.

  She broke off a piece of bread and chewed it as she began to steel herself for the effort of appearing normal all day. She began to plan. The whole village would attend Mass, so she would be able to hide in the crowd and wouldn’t need to go anywhere near Young Robin. He would no doubt be questioned by all who saw him as to how he’d been injured, but she already knew from Edwin that he’d made up a story about being hit by a branch. That was a relief, at least.

  After Mass she would seek out Cecily – she would always be safe with her, and the female company would do her good. She would string that out for as long as possible, but eventually she would have to come home; there might be no work in the fields on a Sunday, but chores in the house never stopped. Edwin might or might not be there – she had no idea where he’d gone or whether he’d be about the business of the murder. Probably the latter, so she would be alone in the house. But he wouldn’t dare call, would he? He wouldn’t dare come round while she was alone? However angry he was with her?