The Scandal of the Skulls

by Cassandra Clark

  Before she left to return to Salisbury she described most of what had passed between herself and Ysabella’s guardian.

  ‘Dearest child,’ she began. ‘Are you confident the countess has the affinity she claims? In a world where informants exist in every household, it is sometimes impossible to know where genuine allegiance lies. Take de Lincoln. You must know that he was in the service of Thomas Swynford and Swynford is Bolingbroke’s step-brother and a faithful lackey of the House of Lancaster - ’

  ‘And de Lincoln now claims he has left the House of Lancaster and resigned himself from matters of state, such as they ever were. But this is his usual self-important way of talking about himself. Of course I know that, mother! And I also know it may be a lie and he is still taking Lancaster silver and he is simply a spy in the house of the countess. All the more reason to say no to him!’

  ‘But your countess considers it to be a good enough reason to say yes - ’

  Ysabella was quick. ‘You mean so I can send back information to her?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Ysabella frowned. ‘I believe she’s on the side of King Richard. But I’m an unbeliever in many things - ’ she gave her mother a quick glance. ‘I find it difficult to believe anything without solid evidence. I know only what I’ve witnessed in her household. It’s true that there is never an unguarded moment. She is conscious at all times of what she says and to whom.’

  ‘And so?’

  ‘I want to believe she is honest - and I feel flattered that she shows me such kindness - and yet, it’s true, she could be playing a double game and I’m a mere pawn in a more devious contest.’

  She rubbed a hand over her face. ‘What do you think I should do, my dearest mother?’

  ‘I think you should not bother about all this. Resist de Lincoln’s proposal. You are too young to be betrothed. The countess has promised to let matters take a more leisurely course. Maybe by the time he becomes impatient and presses for an answer we shall know what is happening in Westminster and who has the upper hand? Gloucester’s rebellion against the king surely cannot long survive.’

  With further warnings to say nothing to anyone about her support for either side, Hildegard took her leave of Ysabella and set off for Salisbury. She rode down the now familiar track towards the highway, sharply conscious that if the countess was still at her window she could observe her progress and notice when she reached the turning onto the Roman road.

  Eventually, from the vantage of a little hill, the steeple of the cathedral could be seen. It rose pure and white and graceful and seemed to shine above the trees like a serene and eternal symbol of the greater world beyond the treacheries and follies of human life.

  The regular beat of her horse’s hooves on the track, the April sunlight, trees just bursting into leaf, every bush full of bird song, sent a sudden shoot of optimism through her.

  Things would get better. They must do. Sir Simon Burley would be freed. The king would regain his authority against his rebellious uncle and peace would be restored to the realm. For a while she rode on with a feeling that touched the edge of contentment until she reached the town gate.

  Armed militia brought her up short.

  ‘Dismount!’ barked an officer, dragging at her horse’s bridle. Without a word she slid to the ground.

  ‘Account for yourself.’

  His manner irked her but she thought it quicker to comply. ‘Hildegard of Meaux. Returning from Clarendon Palace. Lodging with the Benedictine nuns off Market Street.’

  The man eyed from under his bassinet as if he suspected - rightly - that she was less in awe of him than he would like. To show he was not taken in, he prodded her sleeves with the hilt of his broad sword. ‘Bringing in anything taxable?’

  ‘Nothing that I didn’t take out with me.’

  He eyed her with triumph. ‘Stand over there and wait your turn.’

  When she glanced across to where he pointed she saw a small queue of townsfolk leaning against a wall grudgingly waiting to have their belongings inspected by another armed constable.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ she asked when she joined the queue.

  ‘That murderer, the mason they took in, he’s got clean away,’ supplied a woman near the front.

  ‘He escaped from prison and now they think he must have escaped the town,’ the man behind her added.

  ‘What can we do about it?’ somebody else chipped in. ‘We’re trying to get in, not out.’

  ‘They won’t find him by causing us trouble. The sot wits,’ he added with a grimace of disparagement at the guard on the gate.’

  The woman in front turned to him. ‘It’s just an excuse to throw their weight about. You know how they are. Give ‘em a sword and they think they own the place.’

  The townsman gave a resigned shrug. ‘He’ll have found sanctuary somewhere until it’s sorted out - that’s if he’s got any sense.’

  ‘Me, I missed all the excitement on a visit to my grandam,’ a young fellow butted in.

  The woman ahead was already being allowed through and it was his turn next. He handed over four eggs carefully wrapped in a cloth, from his grandmother’s hens, he explained when he was asked to account for them.

  The constable poked at them. Then said, ‘I’m taking one of these in payment.’

  ‘Payment for what?’

  ‘Payment.’ He put the egg to one side. ‘Move on.’

  They found nothing to steal from Hildegard and she was soon through and took her horse by its bridle.

  So Frank was compounding his guilt by absconding. They would call him to appear before the court and if he failed to appear three times he would be declared outlaw. Liable to be legally beheaded on sight.

  She imagined how Master Gervase was taking this and wondered how much his faith was being shaken by his beloved lad.

  After delaying the matter of Ysabella’s betrothal as best she could, she had told the countess that she had useful information to bring back to Salisbury about the murder of Idonea’s betrothed. In fact it amounted to nothing more than a feeling that the truth of the matter was being hidden and not only by the perpetrator and that she must do something about it to prevent a miscarriage of justice. There was certainly something unadmitted by Master Gervase and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  After leaving the ostler’s she headed not towards the master mason’s establishment nor to her lodgings but in the direction of Mistress Treadwell’s little cottage. Cautiously she knocked on the door. ‘Mistress?’ she called.

  After a while, deep within, she heard a voice croak, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Hildegard of Meaux. I visited you in the company of Sister Elwis - ’

  ‘Push open the door and come in.’

  Mistress Treadwell was sitting in the same chair as before. If anything she looked even more deflated as if more life had been sucked out of her. The glance she turned on Hildegard was listless. All light had left her eyes.

  ‘I am not well, domina. There is nothing you can do. Nothing I want. Kind of you to think of me but it is too late for me.’

  ‘May I sit with you for a minute or two?’

  ‘Do what you will.’

  ‘I haven’t come to be a nuisance. Is there anything I can get you?’

  ‘Idonea has seen to me this morning, bless her. Sister Elwis will no doubt call later to force food down my throat. What other help do I need?’

  ‘Perhaps it will assuage your grief by talking about Robin?’

  Mistress Treadwell gave a huffing kind of sigh and was plainly not convinced. ‘Nothing will bring him back. What use is aimless prattle?’

  ‘I’m sorry I never met him. I’ve heard such good reports of him. He was well loved.’

  ‘Aye, he was, for the good it’s done him. Where were those who loved him when he needed them?’

  ‘Life is often unfair.’

  ‘God, you mean?’

  ‘It can be put like that. Sometimes we cann
ot understand why the good should suffer, the innocent, and children, and those who mean well. We ask ourselves, why should they suffer? Did God intend it? If so, why? What sort of God would make the innocent suffer? We do not know. Nobody can answer that question. We are forced to live in ignorance of any greater design.’

  ‘If there is one.’ Mistress Treadwell huffed again. ‘I don’t want prating religious folk telling me their lies.’

  ‘Do you class me as such?’

  After a long, considering stare, when a flicker of interest showed in her eyes for a moment, she said, ‘I withhold my judgement.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Hildegard gave a quick smile. ‘I hope I will never tell you lies.’

  ‘So have they found Frank Atkinson yet? I heard the hue and cry out last night.’

  ‘As far as I know he is still at large.’

  ‘He did not do it. Idonea is wrong to suspect him.’

  ‘Does she truly think her brother would do such a thing?’

  ‘She imagined so at first but now she’s calmed down a little she’s beginning to doubt it.’

  ‘Because of his friendliness towards Robin?’

  ‘Oh they weren’t friends. Anything but. They had a big falling out four years ago when they were little more than children. If you were local you’d know about it.’

  ‘I am at a disadvantage. It must have been over something serious.’

  ‘Death and betrayal. Nothing would induce Frank to give my Robin the time of day after that. Both of them stiff-necked beyond belief. Frank blaming Robin for what happened and Robin seeming to make light of it. Not that he did so. He was heart-broken but he’s not the sort - he was not the sort,’ she corrected carefully, ‘to let on about his deepest feelings, not to anybody.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  In a desolate voice Mistress Treadwell went on, ‘They have no more sense than a gaggle of geese, these lads. Taking sides when they know nothing about either side, in truth. Apprentices. They need controlling. I’m with Master Gervase on that.’

  ‘The Master seems of the opinion that Frank could not have been involved in the second murder which makes it likely that he would agree with you over his involvement in the first.’

  ‘Gervase! Him!’ Mistress Treadwell gave a derisive laugh. ‘Frank did have his dreams. And why not? All smashed to pieces now though!’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  She gave Hildegard a sharp glance. ‘Idonea told you he was looking for a husband for her since he became head of the family?’

  ‘She said something - ’

  ‘It was Master Gervase he thought of doing his matchmaking with - Gervase and Idonea. The idea!’

  ‘I gather Idonea was against it too.’

  ‘Indeed she was. True to Robin despite her flighty ways. Not that he’d have done her much good, but that’s lads for you, and I say it despite the fact he’s my own.’

  ‘Was Master Gervase amenable to the idea?’

  ‘A young and pretty maid of sixteen? And he over thirty with five children? What do you think?’

  ‘I see. But can you tell me, mistress, what was the falling out between Robin and Frank about?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’ There was a long pause when Hildegard refrained from countering this view. Eventually Mistress Treadwell admitted it was what she called a lad’s point of honour over things that did not concern them.

  ‘The result was two of Robin’s friends were hanged because of it. He got off, being too young to hang, and Frank has never forgiven him for the deaths of the other two.’

  Encouraged to say more she clamped her lips together and stared into the fire. ‘All past now. All finished.’

  Hildegard stayed a little longer. She heated some water and added it to the beaker of wine standing in the hearth, refused the offer of a drink herself, and then, when Mistress Treadwell sank into a torpor before the fire, she let herself out of the cottage with a promise to return.

  The mistress raised her head at the last moment to call, ‘Make sure you do.’

  This was the second time some disagreement between Frank and Robin had been mentioned, followed by a refusal to say more.

  Gregory was still away at Netley Abbey and Hubert and Egbert were presumably at either Beaulieu or Lymington. Hildegard was conscious of her status as an outsider here in Salisbury. Who was she to go poking around asking questions? What had it to do with her? Hadn’t she enough to think about?

  What it has to do with me - she told herself - is that a miscarriage of justice is about to take place. An innocent man, if found, will be hanged for a crime he did not commit. With the two hangings four years ago, and Robin and Jack Winter and possibly Frank if he was not saved in time, it would be five young men in their prime to meet their deaths. And no clue as to what it was all about.

  She went to see Master Gervase. He chanced to be at home and did not look pleased when his old housekeeper, grey hair in wisps about her lined face, shoulders bent as if under a thousand woes, shuffled into the solar to announce her.

  The ties of the master’s shirt were unloosed and he was unshaven, not at all the spruce fellow she had first encountered. He did not get up when she entered.

  ‘Forgive my intrusion, master. I beg you to help me. I’m puzzled by certain things and I believe only you can supply the answers.’

  When he failed to make any reply she added, ‘This is to do with Frank and the dreadful accusation against him.’

  ‘He’s absconded. That proves his guilt.’ He gazed angrily into the hearth with its weakly flickering logs. ‘Don’t bother me with this.’

  ‘But he could not have murdered Robin, at least not without help and planning, and the likelihood of him murdering Jack, one of his closest friends, does not fit with what I’ve heard.’

  ‘Facts, domina. We have to look at the facts. Not listen to rumours. His gouge was found beside the body.’

  ‘Precisely so.’ She stood for a moment. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

  He gestured ungraciously towards a bench.

  When she was sitting she leaned forward. ‘I may be dull witted but it’s surely obvious to everyone that Frank could not have bound Robin to the windlass rope by himself - ’

  ‘Quite right,’ he sighed ostentatiously. ‘He had an accomplice. Jack.’

  Hildegard remembered how their mutual acquaintance, the master mason Sueno de Schockwynde, would not accept anything a woman had to tell him even when the truth was staring him in the face and that he would have to be led to it as if he had discovered it for himself. Maybe this was a common characteristic among master masons, living in a world where men were chief.

  She controlled her irritation and gave him a level glance. ‘So?’

  He gazed at her with an expression that told her she was a dolt. ‘So? So, my dear lady, he then stabs Jack, his accomplice, to shut him up. Clear?’

  ‘It certainly sounds plausible until we take certain other facts into account.’

  ‘Such as - in your revered opinion?’

  Hildegard ignored the sarcasm.

  ‘I’m told - and perhaps you can bear this out - that Frank and Jack were the best of friends. Does it seem likely that he would turn on him?’

  ‘Yes, if he was afeared for his life. It seems very likely he’d take that step to save himself. Most men would do the same. Not that it’s right. I’m not saying that. But men do things they know in their hearts are not right. But they are driven, or so we must believe, and act in haste, without forethought with maybe the Devil himself, driving them on.’

  ‘The Devil aside, even a child would realise that to kill an accomplice would drag a guilty man more firmly under suspicion.’

  Gervase jerked his head as if stopped by something. Then he recovered his previous manner.

  ‘A knife in the back to shut him up. No evidence against him, don’t you see? Except for the accident of dropping the accursed implement.’ He shook his head at the stupidity of women.

&nb
sp; ‘And the men on the windlass - ?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Working at midnight?’

  Gervase avoided her glance.

  ‘Unheard of.’ She added, ‘except perhaps by order of the king if he had a desire to see something finished on time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I assume that was not the case here.’

  ‘I told you, we have our mysteries. Nothing to do with you - or anybody outside the Guild, come to that.’

  ‘But you gave them permission to work into the night?’

  ‘What are you driving at?’

  ‘What do these windlass men say?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About working over-time?’

  ‘What should they say?’

  ‘Were they both there that night?’

  ‘They work together.’

  ‘And they both say the same thing?’

  ‘They both agree.’

  ‘So, two of them. One supports the other in his story.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’

  ‘If they were in the steeple at that time then they must have been the ones to winch the body up.’

  ‘They know nothing about it. I have their word.’

  ‘If they were not in the steeple someone else must have used the windlass.’

  ‘They were there. They said they were there.’

  ‘One corroborating the other.’

  ‘So? So? What are you saying? That they’re lying? That they were in a tavern somewhere?’

  ‘Is that impossible?’

  ‘I’d kill them if they lied to me. And they know it.’

  ‘Perhaps someone else had already threatened to kill them and really meant it?’

  ‘Why would anybody do that?’

  ‘To force them to do as he said?’

  ‘Who? Who? What are you saying? Are you trying to drive me mad? I know my lads. I know them all. Why would they lie to me?’ He avoided her glance.

  ‘Gold is a great inducement,’ she suggested.

  ‘They’re paid Guild rates well enough and besides, who would want Robin dead? It’s a nonsensical question. Nobody wanted him dead. There was a bit of horse-play that went wrong. We know that. The rest is nothing to do with us. Frank was there on the ground. He has not denied it. That’s all he did. Then he left. My lads saw nothing.’ He glared. ‘Who would think of such a way of getting rid of a fellow? Who could do such a thing? And more to the point, who would want to?’ He gave her a challenging stare.