Ghosts of Yorkshire

by Karen Perkins

  ‘There are few commissions of this size to be had. He is very happy indeed.’

  ‘And so shall many families in Cnaresburg be happy,’ Stoteville said with a wry smile at Morville’s cunning. ‘Which will go a great way to restoring your good name.’

  ‘Let us pray it is so,’ Morville said. ‘If I can turn the hearts of Yorkshiremen, turning the heart of an Italian pope shall be a simple task in comparison.’

  Stoteville laughed as Morville kicked his horse on into the ford through the River Nydde at Hampsthwaite, and followed him into the shallow water.

  A few yards further and Morville pulled up his mount to the right, where the current chapel was situated. ‘We shall replace this shack. Those woods shall supply the timber for the fitments, it is near the heart of the village and by the crossroads, so also easy for the folk of Clint to attend,’ he said, glancing around at the abundant green fields and woodland, and the small wooden structure already standing.

  ‘But it is not on a rise,’ Stoteville objected.

  ‘No,’ Morville said. ‘I do not want to put my church above the village.’

  ‘Becket’s Church,’ Stoteville could not help but correct.

  ‘Indeed,’ Morville said.

  ‘The ideal spot. Ah, here is Robertson now.’

  *

  ‘That went exceedingly well,’ Stoteville said on their return journey to Cnaresburg at dusk.

  ‘Yes, Robertson is very pleased with the opportunity – especially as I did not object to the number of masons he wishes to employ,’ Morville said.

  ‘If it brings harmony back to Cnaresburg Castle, it is a low price to pay,’ Stoteville said.

  ‘Yes, my thoughts exactly. Although I am concerned about how many carpenters Foster will foist on me when he hears of it.’

  ‘Your pockets will be much lightened,’ Stoteville observed with a smile.

  Morville sighed. ‘What price Heaven, William? For let us face it, that is what I am buying.’

  Stoteville could find no answer and they rode in silence.

  *

  ‘What’s that?’ Morville exclaimed as he topped the rise of the hill leading to Bond End.

  Stoteville joined him. ‘God’s bones – fire!’

  Both knights kicked their spurs into their horses’ flanks and galloped into Cnaresburg.

  The marketplace, surrounded by flimsy thatched timber buildings, was well ablaze and both men stared in shock.

  ‘Go to the castle!’ Morville shouted. ‘Raise the garrison, maybe we can save the rest of the town.’

  ‘But what if it’s a trap?’

  ‘It’s no trap, William, hurry!’

  ‘But Percy or even Courcy could have instigated this to weaken your defence of the castle.’

  ‘They would be more direct, William. Tarry no longer, to the castle with you!’

  Morville jumped off his horse, giving the rump of Stoteville’s a hearty smack as he did so.

  ‘Hurry, before I have to rebuild the whole town,’ Morville shouted, then joined the line of men and women passing buckets.

  Stoteville galloped down Butter Lane and Castle Gate to the gatehouse, his horse spooking at flares of ashes and airborne embers.

  As he led the garrison back out, he remembered Morville joining the line of peasants and shook his head. He had underestimated his brother-in-law.

  Approaching the marketplace at the head of a column of men-at-arms, Stoteville spotted Morville, black with soot and dirt, grasping the arm of an equally encrusted man, and he grinned. Morville had done much to repair his reputation and standing this day.

  A thought flitted across his mind. He dismissed it but it would not leave him be. Had that been Morville’s plan?

  Chapter 36

  26th July 2015

  Helen looked at her watch. ‘Well, we can’t wait any longer, let’s get started.’

  ‘How can we rehearse Becket’s exile scene without Becket or Henry?’ Ed asked.

  ‘Not very well, clearly,’ Helen snapped, then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Sorry, Ed. Everything just seems to be falling apart.’

  ‘It’s the ghosts.’ Mike chuckled.

  ‘Don’t laugh, love, it probably is,’ Sarah said, her hand on Mike’s knee.

  Helen sighed again. Nothing had changed much since Donna’s cleansing – not enough, anyway. ‘We’ll talk through all the practical stuff, use this time to get everything sorted.’

  ‘I don’t see why they can’t be here,’ Alec grumbled. ‘We’re all giving up our time and Paul and Charlie have the leads.’

  ‘I’ll ring again, see if I can find out what’s going on,’ Ed said and left the theatre to find a signal.

  ‘I think we need to expand plan B,’ Helen said. ‘Just in case things don’t get any better.’

  ‘They can hardly get worse,’ Alec said.

  ‘What do you have in mind?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Understudies,’ Helen said.

  ‘You have got to be joking, Paul and Charlie have the leads!’ Mike echoed Alec’s earlier words. ‘Most of the play is the two of them! It’s not the same as understudying Dan.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Helen retorted. ‘Cancel the show?’

  ‘No way, being part of feva is massive for us, I’m not walking away from it,’ Alec said.

  ‘Are you willing to understudy then?’ Helen asked.

  Alec sighed and looked around at the others. ‘I guess so,’ he said. ‘I know Henry’s part best, I’ll learn Paul’s lines. But that means somebody else will have to understudy Dan.’

  Helen breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Alec. Mike, how about you? It’s you or Ed for Becket.’

  ‘What about me or you?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I’ll take one of the knights’ roles if need be,’ Helen said.

  ‘John or Kate might take one on,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Yes, fantastic.’

  ‘Why can’t I play Becket?’ Sarah asked again.

  Helen stared at her. ‘I think we can get away with women playing the minor roles, but having a woman playing a medieval archbishop won’t go down well.’

  Sarah pouted and sat back in her chair, arms crossed, but didn’t argue.

  ‘I’ll do it if Ed refuses,’ Mike said grudgingly. ‘But with work and all I’m not going to have much time.’

  ‘Thanks Mike, I appreciate that. We’ll ask Ed when he comes back in, but to be honest we’ve got some serious work to do to pull this together for opening night.’

  ‘Plan A or plan B?’ Sarah asked, still petulant.

  Helen was saved from having to answer by Ed running back into the auditorium. ‘They were all arrested last night!’

  ‘What?’ the others shouted, all but Sarah who frowned and shook her head.

  ‘Tell us, Ed,’ Helen said, fighting the urge to weep as she saw everything she’d worked so hard for fall into ruin.

  He gave them the story, then added, ‘They’ve been charged with drunk and disorderly, but wouldn’t accept a caution, the stubborn idiots. So it will go to court. They’ve been knocked around quite a bit apparently – Paul’s spitting feathers, talking about suing Wetherspoons and the police.’

  ‘Bloody typical,’ Alec muttered.

  ‘How badly hurt are they?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Not sure to be honest, Paul was too busy ranting about the police.’

  ‘They’ll be fine then,’ Sarah said. ‘And Dan?’

  Ed shrugged. ‘They’ll be here soon. You can ask him yourself.’

  ‘I need a coffee,’ Sarah said and stood. ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘I need a bloody bottle of wine,’ said Helen and everyone laughed. ‘I guess coffee will do for now though.’

  *

  Sarah led the way back into the theatre. ‘The convicts are coming,’ she said amid peals of laughter. Her husband, Paul and Charlie followed, carrying the coffees and scowling.

  ‘Give it a rest, Sarah,’ Helen said, noting the expression o
n Dan’s face in particular. ‘How are you doing, guys?’

  ‘Battered, bruised, knackered,’ Paul said. ‘How do you think?’

  An awkward silence fell on the group.

  ‘At least you’re here,’ Sarah said. ‘Why don’t you sit down and have your coffee?’

  Dan glared at her, but the others took seats at the front by the stage.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Helen asked.

  Charlie shrugged. ‘We have a court hearing in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘What, like a trial?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘No, just a hearing. I think we just say not guilty, then it will go to trial a few months later.’

  ‘A few months? So after feva?’ Helen said.

  ‘Yes, after feva, Helen,’ Paul said, sarcastically. ‘The show won’t be affected.’

  ‘Sorry, Paul. If there’s anything we can do to help, you only have to ask. And honestly, the show’s already been affected,’ Helen said.

  ‘We were just talking about plan Bs,’ Alec said. ‘I’m to be your understudy, Paul, you know, just in case anything else goes wrong.’

  Paul said nothing, his face unreadable.

  ‘And who’s to be my understudy?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, it’s between Ed and Mike,’ Helen said. ‘And I’m sorry guys – it is only plan B. So much has already gone wrong, I’m just trying to be prepared.’

  Nobody said anything until Ed broke the silence. ‘I’m happy to do it – not that I expect I’ll be needed,’ he said, looking at Charlie, who nodded.

  ‘So who’s my understudy?’ Dan asked.

  ‘Helen,’ Sarah said, not quite hiding the glee in her voice at the dismay on Dan’s face. There was a reason Helen stayed offstage.

  Silence again.

  ‘Shall we get on then?’ Paul asked. ‘Can’t sit around here gossiping all day.’

  The resultant laughter broke the tension and Helen gave him a grateful smile before briefing them.

  ‘Becket’s exile,’ she began, but Paul interrupted.

  ‘The year’s 1164 at Northampton Castle. Becket’s gone too far and thinks Henry is a tyrant. Henry is determined to bring him to heel. Becket’s conduct has crossed into treason with a lot of insults and bickering. Nothing is achieved. Becket’s been embezzling – which reminds me, Charlie, have you done those accounts yet?’

  ‘Sod off, Paul, I’ve been a bit preoccupied of late, I’ll bring them next time.’

  Paul nodded then turned back to Helen. ‘Where was I? Oh yes, embezzlement. Attack and counter-attack. Vicious war of words, Becket grovelling.’

  ‘Hardly grovelling,’ Charlie said. ‘Making sound legal argument and proposing excellent compromises.’

  Paul waved his friend’s words away. ‘Then Becket – guilty coward that he is – flees to France.’

  ‘It’s a little more complicated than that—’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Helen interrupted. ‘You know the scene, do you want to take the stage and run through it?’

  ‘See – you’re worrying about nothing,’ Sarah said, leaning toward Helen.

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  Chapter 37

  ‘No, guys, that’s not high enough,’ Helen said. ‘I want Henry overlooking the murder, saying the words that drove the knights to Canterbury. He needs to be higher, overlooking the entire scene, almost godlike. I want to draw the parallels between the two great influences over everybody in England – the Church and the Crown – and the conflict between them.’

  ‘But you said the platform just needed to be raised a bit,’ Alec protested.

  ‘It doesn’t sound like that was what she said. Just admit it, you cocked up!’ Ed said. ‘All that work for nothing.’

  ‘Don’t go putting all the blame on me,’ Alec said. ‘You were there too.’

  ‘No I wasn’t, I was off getting the swords and other stuff.’

  Helen held up a hand to forestall further protests. ‘I don’t care whose fault it is, we don’t have time for blame. Opening night is in one week – we need a higher platform. Henry needs to be above the heads of everyone else – the position he believed he held.’

  ‘But that’s a massive job,’ Alec protested. ‘Can’t we just make do?’

  ‘Make do? Are you kidding me?’ Ed shouted. ‘All the work we’ve put in and you want to make do on the final scene – the scene it’s all been building up to?’

  Alec shrank back from the venom in Ed’s voice. ‘Sorry, it’s just . . . I don’t know how we’re going to do it in time, along with everything else.’

  Before Ed could tell Alec exactly what he wanted him to do, all three were distracted by more acrimonious voices backstage.

  ‘Stay here and work it out,’ Helen said and dashed off towards the sounds of the screams and shouts, leaving Ed and Alec bickering despite the commotion.

  *

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Helen demanded, rushing to Sarah who sat on the floor in a huddle together with John and Kate. She looked to Dan for an explanation, but he stood silent, fists clenched and face red.

  ‘Mum asked Dad for a divorce,’ Kate said solemnly. ‘Dad didn’t take it very well.’

  Speechless, Helen looked from Sarah to Dan and back again. They’ve done this now? And in front of their kids? What the hell is wrong with everyone?

  Helen’s blood ran cold as the thought registered, then took control of herself. ‘Dan, go and help Ed and Alec, they have a problem with the set for the final scene and need an extra pair of hands.’

  Dan didn’t move.

  ‘Go, now Dan. I’ll sort everything out, just go and help the guys.’

  Dan finally looked at her, nodded, and left, all without saying a word.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Mike rushed over to Sarah. ‘Love, what happened?’

  In answer, Sarah’s sobbing increased. Mike took her face in her hands and drew in a breath through clenched teeth. ‘He hit you again, didn’t he? The bastard! I’ll sort him out!’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort, Mike,’ Helen said. ‘Stay here and look after Sarah. John, Kate, can I have a word with you?’

  The teenagers looked to their mother – a silent question if she was okay – then followed Helen. Kate was shaking, John trembled with rage.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ Helen said, and led them out to the auditorium, choosing seats out of earshot of everybody else. The argument between Ed and Alec was still going strong on stage – she wouldn’t be overheard.

  ‘I know everything’s a mess, but don’t blame your parents,’ Helen began.

  ‘Are you serious?’ John asked. ‘Dad hit Mum – in front of us, we saw him.’

  ‘And it’s not the first time,’ Kate said. ‘Mum keeps getting bruises and lies about them.’

  Helen took a deep breath, shocked that things were far worse than she’d realised. ‘Your dad isn’t well,’ she said, then stopped at the looks of scorn from John and Kate.

  ‘It’s difficult to explain,’ she tried again. ‘But this is my fault and I’ll fix it.’

  ‘How is it your fault?’ John asked.

  ‘When we started rehearsing, I tried something a bit different to help everyone get into character.’

  ‘Oh, the spirit board,’ Kate said. ‘Yeah, Mum told me about that.’

  ‘You’re not serious? Why are you messing about with that stuff?’ John asked.

  Helen sighed. ‘I know, it was stupid, but – as with most bad ideas – it seemed like a good one at the time.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell us that Mum and Dad are what – possessed?’ John asked incredulously.

  ‘Not possessed exactly,’ Helen tried to explain. ‘But I think the spirits of their characters have . . . attached themselves to everybody.’

  ‘Attached? What does that mean?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand it properly myself, but somebody is trying to help me sort it out.’

  ‘So you’re saying that Dad is really F
itzUrse, and Mum is Richard le Brett?’ John asked.

  ‘Well, in a way, yes. For the moment.’

  ‘Does that mean Mike’s gay?’

  Despite herself, Helen choked a laugh and the teenagers joined in.

  ‘I doubt it, everything is just . . . mixed up at the moment.’

  ‘What do you want us to do?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I want you to get out of here – can you go and stay with your grandparents for a while? Your nan’s in Harrogate isn’t she?’

  ‘Um, yeah, we’ve been staying there anyway but I’m sure she’ll let us stay longer. What are we supposed to tell her? Hi Nan, Mum and Dad think they’re medieval knights and we’re scared to be around them?’

  Helen laughed again, then realised it was inappropriate and stopped. ‘Maybe not that – just say your parents need some alone time.’

  John nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘But what about the costumes? I’m helping Mum with them and we haven’t finished,’ Kate said.

  ‘Don’t worry about it – I’ll help your mum finish them. I just want you both out of the way and safe.’ Helen reached over and gripped their arms. ‘Trust me. I will fix this. Then your mum and dad will be back to normal.’

  ‘Promise?’ Kate said in a small voice.

  Helen took a deep breath then nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. Shit, what have I just said? she thought.

  Chapter 38

  August 1171

  ‘Horsemen!’ The lookout on the tower of the east gate shouted, and the cry was echoed to the inner bailey where Morville was going through his paces with sword and Mauclerk. He stepped back and removed his mail hood.

  Mauclerk panted with exhaustion for a few seconds and followed suit, but his lord was already running to the tower, despite his mail tunic and recent exertions, to see for himself.

  Up in the battlements he peered into the morning sun. ‘Can you make out who it is?’ he asked his sergeant-at-arms.

  ‘Not yet, My Lord. Maybe when they approach Brig-Gate.’

  Morville pointed; children were running towards the castle, their faces and voices excited and hearty. ‘They are friends not foes. Open the gates.’ This last a shout, and minutes later the heavy gates were unbarred and swung open, the portcullis was raised, and the drawbridge dropped.