by C. B. Hanley
Sir Roger was entering the castle’s outer gate. As expected, he rode straight towards the stable, and Alys was instantly on her way across the ward. In the gathering gloom she got mixed up with the various grooms and men who were swirling about, and she couldn’t get near him. Her voice was drowned by the noise, and he was in any case concentrating on his horse as he dismounted and handed over the reins.
Someone trod on Alys’s foot, and her exclamation caught the knight’s attention. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Oh, get out of the way, woman,’ said a rough voice, and Alys was shoved as someone took the horse past her.
Sir Roger’s voice sounded again, sharply this time. ‘Unhand that woman, this instant.’ He peered. ‘Step forward, whoever you are.’
Alys realised she still had her shawl wrapped tightly about her and her hood up, so she pushed it back as she advanced.
‘Mistress!’ His tone suggested that he knew who she was. ‘Are you all right?’ He looked about him. ‘Is Edwin here?’
She had meant to explain the situation calmly, but to her distress, as soon as she looked into his face she dissolved into tears once more, unable to speak a single word.
Everything around her was rushing, the noise crashing over her, many voices trying to speak at once, but she made out Sir Roger’s telling them to be silent and then asking one to explain. The voice that replied was Crispin’s, and she listened as he told the knight, in very few words, what had happened. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand, felt her legs wobbling … and then Sir Roger was holding her arms, supporting her.
Even through her confusion she could hear his tone of authority as he addressed the others, and it revived her. He issued instructions to have a fire lit in the council chamber, for Edwin to be brought there, and for the reeve to be summoned from the village. ‘Tell him he may bring two others if he wishes, but no more.’
Then she was moving, being shepherded by the knight’s firm hand under her elbow. When they reached the keep he asked her if she would be all right to walk up the steps, and she nearly cried again, at the courtesy from a man so far above them in rank, who had the thought to care about such things. But she kept hold of herself and gulped it back. By the time they reached what Alys assumed was the council chamber she was in control of herself once more, and she could think about how to respond to what was coming.
A small blaze had been lit in the fireplace, but it had not yet got going properly and the room was chill. One servant was feeding the flames and another lighting candles; Sir Roger waited until they had left and then placed two stools by the fire. ‘Now. Quickly. Before everyone else gets here. Tell me what I need to know.’
She couldn’t speak quite as dispassionately as she had intended, but she managed to get it all out. Edwin had been accused of the murder. Edwin had been locked up. But Edwin was innocent. She knew it, for they – she hesitated at saying such things to an unfamiliar man, but he did know they were newly married – they had been together in their cottage on the night Ivo died.
‘I believe you.’ He looked directly at her, in an effort at reassurance, and even in the poor light – even in the terrible circumstances – she could not help but be aware of how extraordinarily handsome he was, how piercing his eyes. You could sink right into them. And yet, as she looked, there was something behind those eyes, something …
He broke away and continued. ‘But unfortunately what I believe has nothing to do with it, and a woman may not testify in support of her husband, so we will have to find something else.’
Alys heard footsteps on the stairs, and in a moment, there he was. Never mind how handsome anyone else was, there was only one man she cared about; she ran across the room and threw herself into Edwin’s arms before he had hardly crossed the threshold.
Edwin and Denis both heard the noise coming from the top of the steps. They exchanged a glance and stood, Edwin wondering – in this world that had turned upside down so quickly – whether either or both of them were to be released, or whether a third person was about to be imprisoned for the murder. As it was, the door opened and Everard stood framed in the dim light. ‘Sir Roger’s back. He wants to see you.’
‘Both of us?’
‘No, just you. But he’ll be safe in here.’
Everard stood to one side to allow him to pass. Edwin started to move but was stopped by Denis, who hadn’t understood the exchange and was worried that Edwin was being taken out to face summary punishment.
‘Don’t worry, I’m just going to see Sir Roger – the knight – and I’ll try to explain everything. For both of us.’
Denis nodded and retreated to sit against the far wall once more, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. Edwin followed Everard up the steps.
It was almost dark as they crossed the ward, making their way by the light of the scattered braziers, so Edwin didn’t feel like everyone in the castle was staring at him. He tried to gather his wits so he knew what he would say when he reached Sir Roger, but he was so cold he could hardly think straight, and besides, what was there to say? ‘I’ve been accused of a murder I didn’t commit’ was what anyone would say, obviously, and ‘I think the real murderer has done this on purpose’ was hardly less trite.
He had at least regained some feeling in his legs by the time they had ascended to the council chamber, and the sight of a fire was most welcome. But not as welcome as the rush of movement that saw Alys in his arms before he’d taken a step towards it. He embraced her, whispering what words of comfort he could summon, and then loosened his hold and turned to Sir Roger.
The knight’s greeting was both smiling and sad. Then he looked past Edwin and addressed Everard. ‘Leave us.’
The sergeant’s voice was uncertain. ‘Sir, are you sure …?’
Sir Roger’s voice took on an edge. ‘In the circumstances, I’m sure I can defend myself against an unarmed man and a woman, if need be. Go out, shut the door and wait outside it. Let me know when the men from the village arrive, but knock before you come in.’
Edwin heard the door shutting behind him. He looked at Sir Roger in silence.
After a moment the knight ran his hand through his hair. ‘I wish they would all just … But what in the name of the Lord is going on?’ His voice was louder than usual, and not entirely steady. He took a few paces and then stopped, pointing to the stools near the fire. ‘Sit, both of you. We don’t have long.’
Edwin sank down and gratefully held his hands out towards the fire. ‘Men from the village?’
‘They are coming to accuse you of the murder. At least, I think that’s what they’ll do. I am told they did so this afternoon, bravely while they were in a large group, but it remains to be seen whether two or three of them will do the same, and to my face.’ He stood again, evidently unable to remain still. ‘But this is –’
‘Sir Roger, I …’ Edwin wasn’t able to finish his sentence before the knight was crouching before him, his face close.
‘I know in my heart that you didn’t do this, but tell me now. Look into my eyes and swear that you had nothing to do with Ivo’s death.’
Edwin looked into the depths. ‘I am innocent of this crime, I swear it. I will swear any oath you like, and if you have a bible I will swear on it now.’
Their gaze remained locked for a moment, and then Sir Roger moved back and seated himself with a sigh. ‘Good. Now, you know that I would happily throw out these men and all their accusations, but while Sir Geoffrey is absent I stand in his place, representing the lord earl and his justice, and we must see that laws are followed. They must be permitted to voice their accusations if they wish, and then they can be refuted properly, in the open, so that no suspicion remains.’
Edwin nodded. ‘Justice must be done.’
He was alarmed to see that this seemed to set Sir Roger off again with another anxiety. ‘Justice?’ He turned his face to the fire, so Edwin couldn’t read it, and continued in an undertone. ‘I hardly kno
w what justice is these days. What is justice, when … oh, if only the Lord’s will was clear!’
He seemed so tense, so agitated, that it was almost in Edwin’s mind to think whether he should, whether he dared, ask Sir Roger to swear the same oath of innocence about the murder.
Fortunately he managed to restrain himself long enough for a knock on the door to be heard, and Everard was there saying that the village men had arrived.
‘One moment.’ Sir Roger moved to place himself in the earl’s chair. ‘Edwin. Remain seated – I won’t have you standing before them as though they have the right to judge you here – but move your stool a little further this way, so you can see them as well as me. And mistress, please stay by the fire.’
Edwin belatedly became aware that Alys had been holding his hand all this time, and he raised it to his lips to kiss the grazed knuckles before he moved away.
Once Sir Roger was satisfied, he raised his voice. ‘Enter.’
Edwin watched as the reeve entered the room, followed by Alwin and Young Robin. They looked suitably overawed by their surroundings, and Edwin recalled the nervousness he’d felt the first time he entered the room.
The three men stood before Sir Roger, who allowed the silence to stretch before he uttered one word. ‘Well?’
‘We’re here –’ began the reeve in a high, strangled tone. He stopped, cleared his throat and started again. ‘We’re here to accuse Edwin, son of Godric, of the murder of Bailiff Ivo.’ He wouldn’t meet either Sir Roger’s or Edwin’s eye, although both Alwin and Young Robin glared.
‘And on what basis do you make this accusation?’
They looked uncertainly at each other, so Sir Roger spoke more plainly. ‘Come. Yesterday the jury found the mason guilty, and it was said before the court that nobody had seen the fatal blow struck. How, then, do you come to the conclusion that Edwin is the culprit?’
Now they all broke out at once, and Sir Roger had to hold up his hand. ‘One at a time. You first.’ He pointed at the reeve.
The reeve cleared his throat again. ‘He was jealous of Ivo taking the job, when he thought it would be his after his father died. Wanted him out the way.’
Sir Roger looked incredulous. ‘It that the best you can come up with?’ He waved his arm as if to dismiss them.
Alwin cut in. ‘And the bailiff wanted his house when he came, so they argued about that.’
Sir Roger turned to Edwin with a look of surprise, and Edwin realised the knight hadn’t known about this. He shrugged. ‘He did ask about it. But that was because he thought the house went with the position; once it was explained to him that it was my father’s own, he agreed to stay in the castle until his could be built.’ He tried to keep his voice level, but he remembered the cold feeling that had gripped when he’d thought, however briefly, that his wife and his mother were about to be made homeless.
Nobody picked him up on that, but unfortunately mention of the house reminded everyone of another subject.
Young Robin spoke next. ‘Yes, a stone house, being built by masons. And we all thought that fellow had done it, until you stood up for him.’ He was staring at Edwin with a venom that Edwin just didn’t understand – what had he ever done to Young Robin to deserve this? ‘So why are you so certain he didn’t do it?’ He turned to Sir Roger with a triumphant tone. ‘The only way he could be so sure the mason is innocent is that he did it himself.’
Sir Roger made the mistake of hesitating slightly, and Young Robin pushed his advantage. ‘And there’s more.’ He nudged the reeve. ‘You tell him.’
The reeve still wouldn’t meet Edwin’s eye. ‘He was seen threatening Ivo, Sir Roger.’
Edwin sat up straight in shock. ‘No I didn’t!’
The knight, too, looked shaken. ‘Threatened Ivo? You have witnesses to this?’
They were all nodding now, and Alwin took up the tale. ‘Yes. ’Twas after the manor court, the one about the oven – he came up here to the castle after him and threatened him. Some of the guards saw him, and one of them told my son Ned.’
The other two were agreeing, and Sir Roger looked at Edwin, nonplussed. ‘You say you didn’t?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘But you all say you have a witness?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sir Roger grabbed at a straw. ‘But none of you saw it yourselves. What you’re saying is that someone saw it, who told your son, who told you. I can’t arrest a man on that.’
‘But you can ask him yourself, sir. Jack, it was. Jack, the son of Old Jack.’
Edwin followed Sir Roger’s gaze and saw that he was looking at Everard, who had been standing silently inside the door all this time. ‘I do have a man by that name, Sir Roger, though I can’t at this moment speak to the truth of anything he might or might not have seen.’
Sir Roger sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them and looked steadily around at all of them. ‘This, here, now, is not a formal proceeding. No verdict can be brought. But,’ he glanced almost apologetically at Edwin, ‘I have heard enough to decide that there must be such a proceeding. Go back to the village –’ this to the three in front of him – ‘and tell everyone there will be another court tomorrow. Messages must be sent to the outlying farms so that nobody is absent, so we will hold it at noon rather than daybreak.’
Alwin and Young Robin smiled triumphantly at each other; the reeve was less enthusiastic. ‘I’ll see to it, my lord.’
‘Good. Now go.’
They filed out, Everard behind them. Once the door was shut, Sir Roger collapsed back into his chair, looking younger and more vulnerable than he had in some while. ‘I’m sorry, Edwin. But to dismiss the evidence of a claimed witness without even speaking to him would have been a dereliction of my duty. We will examine him in public tomorrow and should be able to get him to admit he’s wrong. You will be able to come up with the right questions, I’m sure.’
‘I hope so, Sir Roger.’ Edwin’s mind was cast back to the day of the manor court. He had spoken to Ivo, certainly, but he hadn’t said anything that could be constituted as a threat. And then another thought struck him. The court. The court at which he had not defended the villagers – not to their satisfaction, anyway – and at which he had not appeared to be on their side. They, or some among them, at least, had decided that he no longer belonged to them, and was expendable. Blameable, in the same way that Denis was, in order to deflect suspicion from among their own.
He would have plenty of time to consider this overnight, because he became aware that Sir Roger was saying that he must remain under lock and key until the morrow. ‘Although that’s as much for your own safety as anything – I can’t let you spend the night defenceless in the village.’
He did, however, give orders to the returning Everard that Edwin was to be placed in a room in the castle’s household quarters rather than back in the cell.
‘Excuse me, Sir Roger.’ Alys had spoken for the first time.
The knight seemed only now to remember that she was present. ‘Mistress. Of course … I’m sorry you had to see that.’
‘I’m not sorry, sir, for now I know what Edwin is up against.’ Her voice was firm, and Edwin didn’t think he’d ever loved her more. ‘But may I request,’ she continued, ‘that I bring him some supper and a blanket? I don’t think he’s had anything to eat all day.’
A very faint smile crossed the knight’s careworn face. ‘Ah, would that every man had a wife such as you. But there’s no need. Edwin will get some of the castle’s evening meal and he’ll have a proper bed in the chamber.’
This reminded Edwin. ‘But, if you please, can you do the same for Denis? It’s so cold in that cell.’
With what Edwin thought was some reluctance, Sir Roger shook his head. ‘The situation is different. He’s been found guilty – I can’t let him out. But he will get a hot meal and some blankets.’ He looked meaningfully at Everard, who replied that he’d see to it.
‘And now go. T
hink as hard as you can, Edwin.’ Sir Roger’s eyes were already straying towards the chapel. ‘I need to pray.’
Edwin took Alys’s hand and left the chamber. On the way down the stairs he had time to tell her to go straight to William and Cecily’s house, to spend the night there. But could William even protect both of them? And how fantastical that he should be having to think such a thing, in his home village. It surely wasn’t real. Any moment now he was going to wake up.
But he was not dreaming. The cold dash of air as they left the keep hit him but failed to wake him from any slumber; he kissed Alys goodbye and followed Everard across to the castle’s household chambers.
Edwin had been convinced that he’d spend the whole night in contemplation, but despite everything he’d fallen into a deep sleep after a hot bowl of pottage, and it was dawn before he awoke.
He sat up and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He hadn’t undressed the night before, and there was no water to wash in, so there was nothing to do but wait. The chamber was one of the ones that ran along the inside of the curtain wall, so he had stone behind him; the other three walls were of wood, with a door directly in front that led out to the covered gallery. There was a window next to it, but it was shuttered – not very tightly, as it happened, for light came round the edges, which is how he had known it was past dawn. He hadn’t tried the window or the door latch, for what would be the point? If he got out the chamber he would still be in the closely guarded inner ward, and anyway, attempting to escape was the last thing he wanted to do, for his guilt would be assured by it.
As he stared at the door, it opened. Edwin stood in readiness. But it was not a party of guards, it was Sir Roger.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he began, without preamble. Edwin could see that he had – the knight looked like he hadn’t slept at all.
‘Yes?’
‘We don’t have to have this court. The sheriff will be here within the next two days, and we could leave it up to him. You might get a fairer hearing.’
Edwin considered that for a moment. Not to be hauled in front of the whole village … but it was no good.
