‘Not with your skill. My husband taught me and he loved to win, whether by cheating or skill was all the same to him. I prefer the honest approach so I’ll tell you how I arrived at this move.’ She replaced her beaker and Gregory, with his usual alacrity, refilled it as she explained.
She began by remarking, ‘Your question to Master Gervase about his men’s failure to call for help when they found a body hanging from their rope was a good one.’
‘One for which he had no ready answer, yes.’
‘We can ask did they know they had a body on the end of the rope? If so, when? And did they know who it was? And if so again, why did they do nothing?’
‘Spite comes to mind.’
‘Something like that maybe. Hence, the mother.’
‘An oblique approach might be useful.,’ he agreed. ‘How are you going to manage it?’
‘The guest mistress at my lodgings asked me to accompany her on a visit. She hopes I’ll be able to persuade Robin’s mother that her life hasn’t ended and she can best serve God and her neighbours by joining one of the Orders.’
‘Good work. I mean, on your part - being invited to meet her.’
‘I did nothing but be present for this invitation to be issued.’
‘But you’ve seen at once how it may help us - ’
Before he could finish their hawk appeared. He looked as angry with himself as ever.
‘Now I’ve heard something,’ he greeted in a low voice as soon as soon as he sat down. ‘Let me tell you this. Frank, whom you’ve already met, one of the masons, remember?’
They both agreed they had met and remembered him.
‘He’s strutting like a cock of the walk because Master Gervase has invited him and his sister to dine at his house. Her betrothed is scarcely cold in the ground!’
‘So?’
‘It’s obvious the master has hopes.’
‘Hopes?’
‘Of marriage.’
‘Does she want to accept?’
‘Domina, if I knew that I’d be a mind reader. She told me about it just now when I bumped into her in Market Street. She neither smiled nor scowled.’
‘I expect words passed between her and her brother over it.’ Hildegard recalled the girl’s dismissive tone when she announced that Frank had plans for her that would take him way out of his depth.
Gregory was looking lazily around as if paying little attention and ventured an idle question. ‘So what is it that makes you angry? Why should the mason and his sister not accept an invitation from the master of his guild?’
‘You don’t understand!’ Jonathan exclaimed. ‘It’s not just a visit. It’s more than that. It’s the first move to establish a contract of marriage.’
‘But surely the girl deserves a husband?’
Jonathan bit his lower lip and gazed furiously at the table as if he couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. Eventually, when nobody spoke, he muttered, ‘It’s too soon. Her betrothed was all her life. She would look at no-one else. She cannot know what she is doing.’
Hildegard regarded the young friar discreetly from under her lashes. There was more than concern for the dead youth on his mind. She wondered if he had been given proper instruction on the hard life that lay before him. Few found the life of a celibate an easy one. Her heart went out to him.
A glance at Gregory showed that he was giving Jonathan’s concern more than passing thought and he leaned forward with an interested expression. ‘Frank seems to be the stumbling block here. Would you agree?’
Jonathan gave a grunted assent. When no-one said anything he blurted, ‘The rumour is he had something to do with Robin’s fate that night. He’s guild, of course, so nothing is said, just hints and shrugs and sideways glances. But I’m sure he’s in it up to his neck.’
‘All right, young hawk, let’s go back to the mason’s lodge and have a chat to the lads, eh?’
Jonathan glanced up unseeingly. ‘You know they won’t talk to you.’
‘I’m sure we’ll find they will.’
After the two of them left Hildegard paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. Slowly but surely they were being dragged into the whirlpool of petty tragedy that makes up the daily life of any town.
Into this brew was mixed the ever present dissent in the greater realm. Even while they kicked their heels here, good and loyal supporters of the king were being accused of treason and dragged to the block to pay the ultimate penalty for their fealty.
Sir Simon Burley was still imprisoned in the Tower of London awaiting judgement for his loyalty to the king.
Scarcely had they had time to set foot on English soil before their own loyalty to King Richard was tested, and now the murdered youth, and most puzzling of all, the appearance of de Lincoln with his ravings about destiny, threatened to draw them down into unexpected depths.
She got up abruptly and as she went out reminded herself that there was one more matter that concerned her, and here he was, Richard Medford, black robes flapping, his face gaunt and as white as a player’s mask.
SIXTEEN
He noticed her at once, looked down before glancing up again to see if she had observed him and when he saw she had, he dropped his glance again and pulled up his hood. As he brushed past her he muttered from under it. ‘We must talk.’
Hildegard was acutely conscious of watchers in the crowd so she carried straight on without acknowledging him, out of the refectory, and into the cloisters. There she found a niche away from the main stream and sat down with her back against one of the purbeck pillars that separated the stone benches. She took out her ever useful beads and began to count them off.
It was only a few minutes later when Medford reappeared.
This time he strolled nonchalantly down to the far end of the cloister, turned and paced back. No-one seemed to be following him this time and, in fact, nobody seemed to pay him any heed at all.
When he came to the place where Hildegard was sitting he took up a position on the other side of the pillar with his back half-turned against her so that he should not appear to be speaking to her.
‘News from London,’ he murmured out of the side of his mouth. ‘Burley is still in the Tower. They cannot agree on a form of words by which to justify their charge of treason. King Richard’s allies continue to be hunted down and executed and - ’
He broke off as a monk trod slowly past. When he was out of earshot he continued. ‘And I hardly dare tell you this but I know you are loyal.’ He turned to fix her with a piercing look that reminded her of the Mr Medford of old when he was a power to be reckoned with.
‘Yes, you cannot surely doubt me,’ she agreed with asperity.
‘Forgive me for all that happened. But we must turn our thoughts to the plight of Sir Simon.’ He scarcely spoke above a whisper and in fact could have merely been muttering a prayer. ‘There is a plan to free him,’ he continued. ‘The Keeper of the Keys will smuggle him out of the Tower if he can be guaranteed anonymity.’
‘And his price?’
Medford gave a faint smile. ‘I see you have not lost your sense of reality. His price is the price at which he assesses his own life and that of the members of the Watch.’
‘A considerable sum then.’
‘Their heads will be at stake. Gold is being collected from the king’s supporters to be sent to London.’
He hesitated then lowered his voice even further. ‘There is a contact here in Salisbury who will ensure that the contribution from the south west reaches its destination. I dare not be seen meeting him.’
‘How do you communicate?’
‘We have a go-between. A fool who knows nothing.’ He leaned closer. ‘The gold has to be delivered to our man in the Tower. It is safest if it is sent by courier. They need not know what they are carrying. But our contact, who now has the full sum of what we have collected in order to save Burley, dare not be seen handing it over. We need someone unknown and unremembered.’
He paused and gave her a level glance, a
gain quite like the Medford of old, and said, ‘I thought of you, domina, that he might approach you?’
‘To do what exactly?’ she asked, scarcely moving her lips.
‘To hand a package to the town courier with instructions to deliver it to the Keeper of the Keys at the Tower.’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘When shall we do this?’
‘Soon. My profound gratitude.’ He got up.
‘But Medford,’ she called softly as he began to walk away, ‘who is this contact?’
He did not look back but paced along the cloister, hands lost in his sleeves, his black gown soon merging with the many other similar ones as the brethren came and went in the great and echoing building.
‘And this is one of our guests, Hildegard of Meaux. She has suffered a loss of her own and understands your grief, Joan.’
‘The loss of a child cuts deeper into the soul than any other,’ Hildegard murmured. ‘I offer what precious little consolation I can.’
She had seen Robin’s mother before. It was when Idonea had slapped Frank’s face just after the body was found. She was a large, fair, pink-cheeked woman of forty or so. In better times she would have been one of those women who are always ready for a gossip and a joke or two.
Now she looked deflated. Her cheeks sagged and her glance scarcely bothered to take in the newcomers as they settled on stools in front of the hearth. Ashes were heaped up. Now and then a weak flame licked at a small log, giving off no warmth, but she paid the fire no heed. In the small cottage there was a sense that everything had contracted and time had stopped.
‘He was a good boy without a bad bone in his body. I know I would say that of my own - ’ She lifted one hand and let it fall. ‘It’s the truth, domina. Ask the sister here.’ She closed her eyes and seemed to shrink into her chair.
‘Come now, Joan, he was one of the best and we pray for him daily but we’re not here to sit idly by. Let us get your fire going and put some pottage onto heat. I’ll warrant you’ve not eaten a morsel since I was here yesterday.’
The woman sighed and made a shooing motion. ‘I’ll get by.’
Hildegard went to a basket with a few logs in it. ‘May I put some of these on the fire for you? The sister’s right. We haven’t come to sit by and do nothing.’
She placed the logs on the fire and gave it a stir with the poker until flames began to leap and shed a little warmth. Meanwhile Sister Elwis lifted from the basket she was carrying a crock from the priory kitchen. Hildegard put the trivet in place and the nun positioned the crock over the flames.
‘He was always of such good cheer, my lad,’ Mistress Treadwell said at last. ‘Forever an optimist no matter what disaster beset him. Some folk hated him for that. They saw him as unfairly blessed, despite his bad fortune, because he never let anything get the better of him.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Elwis. ‘I never saw him frown nor did he utter a word in anger. He was the darling of everybody, you must remember that, Joan, and take strength from it.’
‘Some folk are jealous of other’s good nature,’ MistressTreadwell continued, half to herself. ‘They cannot allow anyone the solace of their own good humour. If my lad had changed his face to one of misery and joined in their moaning and groaning they would have had no quarrel with him. It’s my view somebody did him in, deliberately, with malice, because they couldn’t bear to see him bloody but still smiling. Take ‘im down a peg or two, that’s what was said that night. And so they did.’
‘Surely no-one meant to harm him - ’ Hildegard began but Mistress Treadwell interrupted.
‘You’re a stranger here. What do you know? No offence. You’re here to do good. You admit you can do little. I agree. No-one can do anything. No-one can bring him back. I know all that. But I have my views and I know those lads. I know how one or two especially hated his cheerfulness. Hated that nothing could ever beat him down. Until that night. Until then. And then they made sure of it.’
‘You say they,’ murmured Hildegard.
‘Them masons. Were they not heard shouting and making out it was all tomfoolery?’
‘Is it known they were masons?’
‘Who else would make that racket in the middle of the night? They know they’ll always get away with it.’
‘I heard it was so but then something went wrong. It does not betoken malice in their intentions - ’
‘Ah, that’s what that damn fool Master Gervase is trying to persuade us. Lying mankin. He won’t see what’s in front of his eyes. His men are his flock of sheep. Innocent my arse. They’re all guilty. Every man jack.’
‘Do you really believe anyone would have wanted to harm Robin?’ Hildegard began again.
‘Tell her, sister, tell her what they were like. Tell her about their jealousy because of Idonea. Tell her about their secret meetings.’
She began to sing in a wispy, rasping sort of voice but the words were clear. ‘And on that promise yet we stand, when one is harmed the harm befalls us all - ’ She broke off and fixed Hildegard with an ironic grimace.
‘You didn’t expect me to know that one, did you, domina? I can see it means something to you.’
‘It does indeed. The White Hart Brotherhood sings that same anthem in my part of the country too.’
Mistress Treadwell snapped her thumb and forefinger with contempt. ‘That’s what I give for their brotherhood.’
Sister Elwis stirred the pot in silence. Eventually it was done and she rose stiffly to her feet. ‘There you are, Joan. It’s ready when you are.’ She looked down at her neighbour. ‘I expect Idonea will be in to see you later, will she?’
‘The dear lass. She will.’
Mistress Treadwell seemed disinclined to say anything further so, with a promise to come in later to bring more logs from the priory, they let themselves out.
‘She’s not herself, of course,’ apologised Sister Elwis, ‘but he was a boy blessed with the gift of happiness. That is the only thing to lighten the darkness, that he relished life and lived it to the full.’
‘What were the blows he made so light of?’ asked Hildegard.
‘The death of two of his friends after the Salisbury parliament four years ago. He was too young to go to trial, not that he was guilty of anything but expressing his opinion, but there, we all know what the realm is coming to, now the king’s uncles are chafing at what they regard as their lowly status.’
She gave Hildegard a piercing glance. ‘I’ve said too much. Nothing here is straightforward. It’s a small town but hatreds run deep and last long. You’re just passing through. Best keep it that way and not get involved.’
‘I did nothing to persuade Mistress Treadwell that she might be best off in a nunnery,’ remarked Hildegard as they headed back inside the priory.
The porteress came forward when she saw Hildegard enter. ‘A message for you, my lady.’ She handed over a small scroll.
‘Who brought this, sister?’
‘The town courier.’
Puzzled, Hildegard took the scroll up to her chamber and opened it as soon as the door was closed behind her. She began to read:
‘I beg the honour of a meeting, my lady.
My suggestion is today before vespers at the door of the Chapter House. I will find you.’
It was unsigned.
Hildegard’s impulse was to throw it aside. She did not respond to anonymous messages.
But then something made her pause.
Medford had asked her if she would act as go-between in the plan to save Sir Simon Burley. He had said soon.
This must be a message from the contact here, from someone cautious enough not to give a name which might then be used to incriminate themselves and to rope in others involved in the plot. How could she not respond?
SEVENTEEN
The shadows were lengthening across the Close. She had to cross it to reach the Cathedral where she was to meet Gregory and find out if his confidence in the masons was justified. Had they told him anything u
seful?
After that, a pause before going into Vespers.
She would tell Gregory about her assignation if she could prise him away from Jonathan for a moment.
The cattle were peacefully gathered at the far end of the Close, waiting to be milked, as Hildegard joined a number of townsfolk heading to the penultimate office of the day.
She increased her pace until she was within sight of the great west entrance. The crowd milling about in the porch were strangers but she cast a quick, remembering glance over their faces so that she would know the one who would approach her. Then she entered the cloisters and walked unhurriedly towards the Chapter House.
As she passed the open door of the refectory she had a quick look inside and was pleased to see Gregory sitting in their usual place near the entrance. Best of all, he was alone.
She hurried over to him. ‘I’m glad I’ve found you without your shadow,’ she greeted. ‘Look here, I have something to show you. It’s an anonymous message.’ Quickly giving him the gist of her conversation with Medford she held it out and asked, ‘do you think the gold we saw being handed over is something to do with this?’
Gregory held the rolled up vellum inside his sleeve while he read it then he pushed it back into her hand. Without further questions he said, ‘I’ll go on ahead and find a place in sight of the entrance.’
He got up. ‘By the way, I met two fellows who claim to have been in the windlass chamber on the night Robin died. They said they didn’t call for help when they saw the body because they didn’t want be called as first finders. “The constables are not our friends,” said one. So they left the body for others to find at daybreak.’
With his swift loping stride he disappeared into the cloisters. More slowly Hildegard followed in his wake.
When she reached the door of the Chapter House, apart from the hooded figure of a monk reading a missal the place was deserted. A further door on the other side of the porch led directly into the Chapter House itself. It was closed. The stone arch above it was deeply carved with female figures portraying the virtues with depictions of the vices, male, writhing in agony at their feet. While she waited for Medford’s contact to appear Hildegard stared at them and tried to make them out.
The Scandal of the Skulls Page 16
