by C. B. Hanley
‘And you didn’t see or hear anything unusual?’
Young Robin’s pause was enough to make Edwin react this time. ‘You did?’
He shrugged. ‘Went out to have a piss, didn’t I? Only for as long as it took.’ A crafty look came over his face. ‘Did see someone out and about who shouldn’t have been, though.’
‘Why in God’s name did you not say anything before?’ That was Everard, jumping in before Edwin could open his mouth. ‘At the court? Or afterwards?’
Young Robin shrugged. ‘Because the mason did it. Or Edwin, or both of them. What difference would it make, knowing that Aelfrith was in the village?’
Edwin sat up straight. ‘Aelfrith?’
It wasn’t exactly a moment of triumph – he could get in trouble for concealing information – but Young Robin seemed to be enjoying the surprise he’d created. Under the bruising on his face, his expression was smug.
‘Well, all the girls reckon he’s good-looking, don’t they? Can’t see it myself. But if he’d come in to get away from that Godawful mother of his and have some fun, who am I to rat on him?’
This didn’t make any sense to Edwin. Why hadn’t he … ‘How do you know it was Aelfrith? If it was dark?’
‘There was enough of a moon to make out who it was. Besides, I heard him talking to someone.’
And you couldn’t possibly mistake Aelfrith’s voice for anyone else’s, thought Edwin. Damn. ‘Who was he talking to?’
‘Don’t know.’ Young Robin leaned forward with a smirk. ‘Do you know where your wife was all night that night?’
Edwin leapt to his feet, and Everard held out a restraining arm. ‘Now then.’ He turned to Young Robin. ‘Slandering the name of a virtuous woman is a serious business. If you don’t have good proof, then I suggest you take that back.’
The elder Robin interjected. ‘You do as you’re told and shut up.’
Young Robin adopted an insouciant tone. ‘I take it back. Aelfrith can take his pick, though I don’t know if he prefers married girls to virgins.’ And then, after a pause, ‘Still, your wife will be a widow before long. She’ll need a man to look after her.’
The rage rose in Edwin’s head, and he would have thrown himself over the table if Everard hadn’t stopped him. Young Robin found it all hilarious, but his father didn’t. ‘Stop it, please, stop it!’ he had tears in his eyes. ‘William’s dead, and there’s more death to come, and you’re making jokes!’
Everard moved around the table and ushered the two Robins firmly towards the door. ‘That’s enough for now. You should take a harder line with the boy, Robin – if he was my son he’d get a thrashing for disrespect like that. And as for you, lad – you should be ashamed of yourself. Get out, and think on your shame.’
He pushed them outside. ‘I’ve always thought there was something particularly dislikeable about that boy.’ He collected himself. ‘But try to put it all out of your mind. You too,’ – this to Wulfric – ‘and make sure you don’t grow up like your brother.’
‘No chance,’ said the boy, with such a thunderous face that Edwin noticed it even in the midst of his own thoughts.
He sat down and beckoned. ‘Can you tell me anything about what your father and brother said? Can you tell me if it’s true or not?’ He didn’t want to turn a family on itself, not really, but this was important.
It didn’t matter anyway, because Wulfric couldn’t help. ‘I get tired, and I sleep all night. Avice tells us younger ones to get to bed, and then I don’t wake up until she calls me in the morning. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s no matter – it was just a thought, that’s all.’ Edwin turned to face Everard. ‘I think I need to talk to Aelfrith. It would take a long time to get a message to him and bring him here, though – can we go out to his farm?’
Everard walked to the door and looked out. ‘Not now, no. We’ve been in here longer than I thought – it’s not far off sunset, and we wouldn’t even get there before dark, never mind get back. Besides, it’s pouring again and the road won’t be good. We’ll have to wait until the morning.’
Edwin chafed at the loss of time. The sheriff would be here tomorrow – and even that was if he hadn’t already arrived while they’d been in the church. But he wouldn’t solve the murder by breaking his neck on the road, and he supposed that Everard would be loath to take him out of Conisbrough in the dark for the additional reason that he might try to escape.
He sighed. ‘So, what now then?’
‘I’ll take you back up to the castle. Those were my orders.’ He picked up his hat. ‘You go home, son – if we need a messenger in the morning, I’ll find you.’
Wulfric nodded and slipped out, although he didn’t look particularly enthusiastic, and Edwin didn’t blame him. His eldest brother was a bully who would probably take out his anger and resentment on his siblings.
Edwin considered the carpenter and his family as they made their way up the hill to the castle. Young Robin was a liar, that much was obvious, but what exactly was he lying about, and what was his purpose in doing so?
They reached the inner ward. Edwin expected to be taken straight back to his room, but instead Everard motioned him towards the communal table, where the braziers were just being lit. ‘There’s a guard on the gate, and no other way for you to get out unless you can fly off the walls, so you may as well eat with us. You’ve got friends here, you know.’
Indeed, as Edwin neared the table, men were greeting him and making room for him. One or two of them had been in the earl’s company at the recent battle on the south coast, and word had somehow got round that Edwin had acquitted himself well. They’d always thought him harmless, at the least, with no reason to dislike him, but talk of how he’d held his courage in the heat of battle had raised him in their estimation.
He was slapped on the back. ‘Here. Sit down. Have you got yourself out of this mess yet?’
Edwin tried to reflect the mood. ‘Not yet. But I’m working on it.’
Several of them chipped in. ‘Good for you. We’ve got your back if you need it – not that you should.’ ‘You know Richard Cook threatened to starve any man who spoke against you – don’t think young Jack will be eating for a while!’ And a darker ‘None of this would be happening if Sir Geoffrey was here.’
‘You shut that now, Tom,’ said Everard. ‘I won’t have disrespect for our betters here.’
‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’
‘That’s better. Now, here’s the meal – you get yours last.’
Edwin hadn’t eaten since dawn, and now, to his surprise, he found that the meat and offal pie brought water to his mouth. He reached for his eating knife and was momentarily confused at its absence before remembering that he’d had to give it up earlier. He still had his spoon in his belt pouch, though, so he made the best of it.
He had not long finished his meal when he was elbowed from one side. ‘Over there.’
Edwin turned to peer into the dark. Just by the torchlit gatehouse he discerned Alys, standing uncertainly and carrying something. He waved.
She spotted him and came over, a little hesitant in the presence of so many men, but the one sitting next to Edwin stood up and gestured to the empty place.
A little embarrassed at having to speak to her in front of so many others, Edwin took her hand. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m all right. I – I wasn’t sure if you’d get anything to eat, so I’ve brought you the rest of the cinnamon bread.’
‘Course we’d feed him,’ came a voice from over the table. ‘He’s one of us, in’t he?’
Edwin felt nothing but gratitude, to all of those around him. ‘That’s kind. Given that I’ve had some pie already, maybe you won’t mind if I share it?’ The food served at the castle was hearty, but spices only usually found their way to the top table, so the cinnamon would be a treat.
Alys agreed, so Edwin broke it up and passed it around. There wasn’t very much of it, but most of those around him got a taste, a
nd they all remembered to thank her.
Everard stood. ‘Can’t leave you completely alone, but I’ll be over here. And the rest of you, shift. Wall duty or tidying the armoury, sort yourselves out.’
There was a little grumbling, but not much, as the benches gradually emptied.
‘Did you discover anything after I left?’ Alys kept her voice low.
‘A little, but I’m not sure how relevant it is.’ He told her of his conversations with the two Robins – leaving out the parts that related to herself, obviously – and of what had been said about Aelfrith.
She gasped. ‘Really? He was really in the village that night?’
‘I don’t know – I only have Young Robin’s word for it, and he’s not exactly trustworthy. But I’ll go out to his farm tomorrow and talk to him face to face.’ He paused. ‘How is Cecily?’
She grimaced. ‘She’s trying to be brave.’
Edwin put his face in his hands for a moment.
‘But I forgot – I have something else to tell you, something I forgot to mention when I came to the church earlier.’
He raised his head. ‘What?’ To start with, he couldn’t work out why she was telling him some garbled story about Robin’s eldest daughter, whom he remembered from earlier years. She’d got married and moved away, which wasn’t all that unusual. But his interest was piqued by some aspects.
‘Now, let me finish by asking you a question,’ she said.
‘Yes?’
‘Was everyone you spoke to today a man?’
‘Apart from you, yes.’
‘You’ve missed out, then.’
‘But –’
‘No, listen, please. The jury might be all men, but the village isn’t. The women know a lot that just passes their menfolk by. You call it gossiping, but sometimes it’s important.’
‘Such as?’
‘You spoke to Robin. You asked him where his son was on the night Ivo was killed. If you speak to him again, ask him what his daughter was doing.’
Edwin woke up, and had a pleasant half-moment of warm sleepiness before it all hit him, and he felt sick, a stone settling in the pit of his stomach. Today was the day. He’d been lucky that the sheriff hadn’t arrived yesterday, but he could count on no further delay, so he needed to sharpen his wits and get everything straight now – before noon, preferably – so he had the real culprit ready to present.
He had agreed with Everard that they would ride over to Aelfrith’s farm, so as not to waste any time, and he had subsequently amended his request, after Alys had left him the previous evening, to ask that they might call in on Robin again before they set off.
They found the carpenter already in his workshop with several of his younger sons.
‘I need to speak with you again.’ Edwin knew that Robin wasn’t going to like it, but he didn’t have time for niceties.
‘Speak, then,’ he replied, not looking up from his work.
Edwin hesitated as he looked at the youngsters. ‘Can we go inside?’
‘No.’
‘I really think that you’d prefer it if we did, given what I’ve got to say.’
Robin dropped the chisel he had in his hand, and then fumbled as he bent to pick it up. ‘You lot get on with shaping that beam. I’ll be checking it when I get back, mind.’
He led the way inside, and Edwin followed, leaving Everard to tie up the horses.
The cottage was dingy and not terribly clean. Blankets were piled haphazardly everywhere, and Edwin wondered how so many of them even managed to find the space to sleep. It was otherwise empty; the boys were all out at work, and Avice presumably about her morning tasks with the younger girls in tow. Edwin was quite glad that she was absent, for if he was wrong then he was about to slander her dreadfully.
‘What’s he done now, then?’ asked Robin, a little nervously.
Edwin had Avice at the forefront of his mind, and it took him a moment to realise that the question was about Young Robin.
‘Nothing – or at least, not as far as I’m aware. No, I came to talk to you about Avice.’
‘Avice? Why?’
‘To put it bluntly, what was she doing the night Ivo died?’
‘At home with the rest of us, of course.’
Edwin shook his head. ‘I have a witness who says otherwise.’ That was untrue, and he’d need to confess to a lie when he got the chance, but it was the only way he could think of to goad Robin into the confession.
Robin looked about him, as though an answer or an escape might appear out of nowhere. Then he sat down, heavily. ‘Oh, all right.’
‘All right what?’
‘Short of money, aren’t I, with all these mouths to feed? At least the boys can get out there and earn a few coins, but what use is she?’
Edwin reflected on the sole responsibility of cooking and cleaning for a family of fourteen, but he didn’t want to distract the carpenter now he seemed disposed to talk. ‘And?’
‘You can’t be that innocent, surely? There is one way a girl like her can make some money. She’s my daughter and I can hire her out to whoever I like. There’s a few regulars in the garrison, and even Ivo was tempted when I offered. You wouldn’t think he had an eye for village girls, but he did. She’s not worth much – less as we go on – but it all helps and the others aren’t old enough.’
Good Lord, but Alys had been right. ‘And that’s why Ivo was in the village that night?’
‘Yes. But I didn’t kill him, I swear. Met him at his house – it’s not finished, but it’s quieter there than our place, and it was raining so he’d have wanted somewhere with a bit of shelter at least. There’s half a roof and all that straw. I took the money, waited outside, then collected Avice and took her home. And he was hale and hearty when we left.’ He folded his arms. ‘My daughter is my property, and it’s no crime.’
Edwin wasn’t quite so sure about that, but he’d have to check, and that could wait. ‘And you didn’t see anyone else while you were out?’
‘No.’
Edwin was struck by another thought. ‘So how do you know that Young Robin was asleep at home all night?’
Robin shrugged. ‘He was asleep when I left and asleep in the same place when I got back. Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Besides, like I told you, it was that mason what done it. Why can’t you see that? We’d all be better off if the lot of them just upped and left.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘Rotting in a cell with a noose hanging over him, I hope.’
‘I meant your son.’
‘Oh. Up in the woods, looking out more timber.’
Edwin addressed Everard, who was just coming in. ‘Can you send some men out to find Young Robin?’
‘Yes. Why, is he your man?’
‘I’m not sure. But he’s lied to me more than once, so I’ll need to talk to him again. But we can’t wait to do it now – we need to get to Aelfrith’s. If you can have him brought back to the village, we can see him when we get back – hopefully there might be just about time before the sheriff gets here.’
‘I’ll see to it.’
Edwin watched him go, heard him calling to someone outside, and then followed him through the door and into the drizzle. He was halfway to his horse when he realised that Robin had made no protest about the prospect of his son being arrested.
Alys was once again loitering in the outer ward when the sheriff arrived. It was mid-morning and a pale sun was struggling to break through the clouds and drizzle as he rode in with a troop of a dozen men.
He’d been seen from a distance and men were standing ready. She had hardly started to think whether – or how – she might approach him when Sir Roger appeared. Along with a few other curious onlookers, she sidled closer to see if she could hear anything useful.
‘Geoffrey de Neville, Sheriff of Yorkshire.’ He made a slight inclination of the head, but did not either bow or take Sir Roger’s proffered hand. ‘And you are …?’
Alys was, of course,
predisposed not to like the sheriff, nor to welcome his arrival, but any hopes she might have had of a fair hearing for Edwin disappeared rapidly. It was quite obvious that Sir Roger was the ranking man at the castle, and here was the newcomer looking at him as though he were a jumped-up stable boy. She recalled murmurs from those of the garrison who interested themselves in such things that the sheriff and the earl were not on good terms. And if it was as bad as it looked like it was going to be, Edwin’s obvious innocence wouldn’t save him.
She swallowed a sob as she forced herself to concentrate and risked taking another step forward. Maybe one of them would say something – anything – that might help.
Sir Roger was, with some effort, remaining courteous, offering Neville rest and refreshment. ‘And perhaps that would give you the opportunity to review all the evidence at your leisure.’
Yes, thought Alys. Take as long as you possibly can.
But the sheriff was having none of it. ‘There is no need. You have the guilty party in custody already, I believe? A Frenchman? And another, if the additional news that caught up with me on the way here is correct?’
‘Yes, but –’
Neville waved his hand. ‘Never mind “but”. I’m a busy man. You’re obviously …’ – he looked the knight up and down, taking in his youthful features – ‘… new to your position, or you would know not to hold me up in the carrying out of my duties.’
He made as if to walk off, but Sir Roger stood his ground. ‘You also are new to your position, I believe? Indeed, the sixth sheriff of Yorkshire in five years? Otherwise you might know that finding the truth of the matter is of the utmost importance.’
Alys could see that Neville was riled by this, though he fought to keep his expression under control. But even if he had not been prejudiced against Edwin and Denis before, he would be now. What in the Lord’s name was Sir Roger doing?
The sheriff’s voice grew colder. ‘I will accept your youth and inexperience as an excuse for such incivility – this time. Now, have both the convicted men brought here.’
A faint smile touched Sir Roger’s lips so briefly that Alys wasn’t sure anyone else had seen it except her. ‘One is in the cell here. The other is out on the estate, about his duties.’
