by Mel Starr
I completed a circuit of the castle wall and was beginning a second when I saw a glow in the sky to the east, over the willows which line Shill Brook and the mill pond. My mind was fixed upon the death of Thomas atte Bridge so the orange tint did not at first register upon my thoughts. ’Twas the moon, rising to the east, so I assumed. But on the north parapet, as I walked west I saw a sliver of new moon hung above Lord Gilbert’s forest.
My thoughts fused abruptly and I spun about to look to the east. The glow above the trees was brighter, and I knew what it must be that caused it, yet I prayed as I ran that it be not so.
I plunged down the parapet steps, burst through the door to the porter’s chamber, and shouted for the fellow to awaken. He did so with much spluttering. When I knew him to be alert and ready for instruction I told him there was fire in the town. He and his assistant must awaken the grooms in their quarters, and all must attend the blaze at once with rakes and hooks and buckets. But first he must open the gate and portcullis that I might leave the castle.
I ran through the forecourt in the dark to Mill Street, thence across Shill Brook. When I came to Church View Street I was joined by three others, for the cry of “Fire!” had spread quickly through the town and many converged on the scene. Galen House was ablaze.
Flames leaped from the thatching, and already men were attacking the roof with hooks, attempting to pull the flaming reeds to the ground where they might be more easily extinguished, and to prevent the flames from consuming the entire structure. If the thatching be pulled down the frame of Galen House might be saved.
This was not to be. The thatch was too dry. Although there had been rain but three days past, the summer sun had dried the reeds and they burned readily. Flames rose high into the night sky and sparks settled upon the roofs of neighboring houses. It was well the conflagration came when all was dark. Did any sparks alight on the thatching of a nearby house the glow was quickly seen. Men placed ladders upon such dwellings and took buckets of water from the well to splash upon these new threats before they could grow and consume another house.
Galen House could not be saved. Daub cracked in the heat and fell away. Wattles then caught fire, and after that the beams of the house were kindled. I shouted over the roar of the inferno that men should leave Galen House, which many were already doing for the intense heat, and seek out sparks which might set other homes ablaze.
As I spoke I felt soft hands upon my back. Kate had come. I turned to her and saw the tracks of tears upon her cheeks in the orange glare of the blaze now consuming our home. There was nothing to be done but to comfort each other, so that is what we did. Clasped in each other’s arms we watched as the beams supporting the upper floor of Galen House collapsed. As they fell a fresh shower of sparks and embers erupted into the sky. By this time the entire town was witness to the conflagration, I think, so any brand which fell where it might ignite another house was immediately found and extinguished. Small boys darted about Church Street and Rosemary Lane, as far as Broad Street, reporting to their elders when any sparks yet unextinguished were discovered.
The night was short, and the eastern sky ere long became pale. Soon the rising sun illuminated the scene of devastation before us. A pile of blackened beams, many yet ablaze and smoking, lay where once Galen House had proudly stood. My new chimney stood tall and unmarred at the south end of the smoldering heap; all else was ruin.
Kate and I had wordlessly watched the flames consume Galen House. What was there to say? When the sun lighted the scene she finally spoke: “Will you now continue your search for a murderer?”
I did not answer straight away. This question was in my mind since the hour I realized our home was ablaze. Was there a man in Bampton or the Weald who did not know we had abandoned our home and resorted to the castle for safety? Many had seen the cart transfer our goods to the castle, and I made clear to many why we had changed our abode. Was town gossip so weak that some, after near a week had passed, did not yet know of it?
This was not creditable. If the murderer wished to burn Galen House even if I no longer resided there, he must desire some vengeance beyond preventing his discovery. Destroying my empty house would not destroy me or cause a halt in my search for a felon.
Perhaps the man who set fire to Galen House was not of Bampton, so could not know I had changed my dwelling-place. Did Geoffrey Homersly do this thing? I could think of no other who might wish harm to both Thomas atte Bridge and me, and who might be from some distant place where my move from Galen House was not known.
“I must,” I finally replied to Kate. “Else we may never rebuild this house. As soon as we do the felon will burn it again.”
“Even if we reside in the castle?”
“Even so. Unless Thomas atte Bridge’s murderer is from some far place he will know Galen House was empty this night. Setting it ablaze could do me no injury, yet he burned it.”
“You believe this is so?” she asked. I saw tears once again leak from the corners of her eyes.
“Nay. I think our home was burned by some man who thought we slept this night under its roof.”
Kate turned to inspect the charred beams and ashes which were once a home and shuddered.
I required of Kate that she return to the castle. This she was loath to do while I remained on Church View Street, but I convinced her that she could do little but stir the ashes. Her most important work this day and for many months to come was to give life to our babe. I would search the rubble, when it cooled, for anything of value we might have left behind when we removed to the castle, or for any clue which might identify who had done this thing. While I stood before what had been our door Hubert Shillside approached.
“’Tis well you had foresight to abandon the place,” he observed.
“Aye. But I thought to save my house by leaving it. A man could not murder me by burning my vacant house.”
“Should’a kept watch a few days longer,” Arthur muttered, joining the conversation. “But who would’ve thought the knave would seek to burn an empty house?”
“Who wishes revenge upon you, Hugh?” Shillside asked.
“A bailiff makes few friends,” I replied, “but I can think of none I have injured so much this would be their response.”
“But it must be so. Else why burn the place if you were not meant to die in the flames?”
“Perhaps I was.”
“You think the felon unaware you were abed in the castle?”
“Aye.”
“Well, whoso the villain may be, he might have destroyed half the town seeking harm to you. Do you discover who has done this, it will go hard for him when he is brought before hallmote.”
Arthur had wandered away while we spoke. He found an unburnt rafter, pulled from the roof when it was hoped the blaze might be checked. With this he began to probe the cooling ashes of Galen House for bits of iron, nails, hinges, and anything of worth which the fire might not have consumed. Shillside and I joined him, poking about the edges of the blackened beams which once supported a fine house. It was yet too hot to enter the center of the pile. How little effort it takes for one man to destroy the hopes of another.
Six grooms joined us in sifting the ashes. I did not wish to spend the day waiting for the pile to cool, so set four to work with buckets, hauling water from the well to toss upon the embers. Each bucket produced an upwelling of smoke, ash, and steam, but after an hour of this work the results of each new bucket of water became less dramatic as the remains became soaked.
Near mid-day I led the grooms to the castle for our dinner. We reeked of smoke, but as it was my intention to return and finish the work of picking through the ashes after the meal I did not demand the men change their apparel. Washing of sooty hands and faces must serve.
Nothing of value remained of what had been Galen House but for scraps of iron and the new chimney. The bricks were well made and the mortar strong and neither suffered great harm from the heat. My face, hands, chauces, and cotehardie were
black with ashes and soot when I gave up the search and returned to the castle with Arthur and the others. All were black as me, for none stinted in the work. I was some relieved that nothing was found in the ruins, for that meant that Kate and I had been thorough in removing our possessions. Unless we had overlooked some burnable object, in which circumstance, who would know?
After a light supper I sent to the castle kitchen for a dozen buckets of hot water. I filled my barrel with these and soaked away the soot and stench. Even so, my clothes were so saturated with the odor of burnt wood that our chamber reeked. We could not clear the room of the smell until my clothing was gone. Kate bundled the lot while I soaked, and took the sack to the scullery for washing next day.
I resolved next morn to travel to Oxford and seek Geoffrey Homersly. I would first learn where he stabled his horse, and discover if the beast’s stall had been vacant the night Galen House burned. I found Arthur and told him what I intended, and that he and Uctred would once again accompany me, then sent word to the marshalsea to prepare our mounts after dinner. I told Kate that my intention was to return the next day, or in two days at the latest. She, meanwhile, I asked to remain within the safety of the castle. Kate would be curious about what remained of Galen House.
Perhaps the cook realized that my mood was sour and so attempted to improve my disposition with a meal. For dinner that day he prepared mussels in broth, parsley bread and roasted pork. I was not much hungry when I sat in the hall to begin my meal, but the pleasant fragrance as the dishes were placed before me soon set my stomach to growling. I had eaten nothing that day to break my fast.
Arthur, Uctred, and I went straight from the hall to the marshalsea, where our beasts were ready for travel. Kate blew a kiss as I rode Bruce under the portcullis. I hoped she would heed my direction to remain within the castle precincts. Perhaps Geoffrey Homersly, or whoso sought my life, might yet lurk in some hidden place about Bampton. If the man would burn my home to injure me, he might also strike at my wife. I nearly drew Bruce to a halt at the thought. As it happened I need not have troubled myself with worry. Not with that worry, anyway. Other worries would soon prove trouble enough.
From Aston we traveled the north road through Yelford and Hardwick. We neared Sutton when I saw a figure approaching upon the road. The man strode furiously, his head down, as if he mistrusted the way and thought to keep it under close observation lest he stumble.
I gave the man little more thought until we were nearly upon him. He had heard the fall of horses’ hooves and the squeak of our saddles and so moved to the verge to make room for us to pass. Horses usually mean knights, and such folk dislike moving aside to make way for the commons. Their dislike is often translated to action, which the common man who does not step from the path will rue.
I was nearly upon the traveler when he looked up, to see, I suppose, was he far enough aside to clear the way. I thus looked into the face of my father-in-law, Robert Caxton. I yanked upon the reins to halt Bruce, and Caxton was so startled at my appearance that he stumbled and nearly fell headlong. I soon discovered why this was so.
“You… Hugh!” he exclaimed. “You are not dead? And Kate? Is she… I was told…”
“Dead? Nay. I am well, as is Kate. Why would you think otherwise?”
“I was told so but this morn.”
“You were told falsely, but an attempt was made two nights past to murder us in our beds. I would hear more of this.”
I dismounted so I could speak more readily to my father-in-law, and asked what he had been told, and when, and who it was who brought him the news.
“This morn,” he began, “I had just raised the shutters and opened the shop when a young gentleman entered my door. I thought he sought parchment or ink. He was no scholar, but wore the garb of a wealthy young burgher or knight.
“I bid him good day, and he replied that it was indeed, for some, but not for me. His words were a mystery to me. I asked, ‘How so, good sir?’
“‘You have a daughter, wed to the bailiff of Bampton Manor?’ he said. ‘Is this not so?’
“‘It is,’ I answered.
“‘Word has come this day that your daughter and her husband have perished. Their house burned night before last, and none escaped the flames.’
“I asked the fellow how he knew this. He said ’twas spoken of by many.”
“Did the gentleman visit your shop to make a purchase, or was it only to give you this sad account?”
“He made no purchase… turned and was gone after he made his report.”
“Do you know the fellow? Have you served him before?”
“Seen him about Oxford. Think he may have done business with me, but ’twas a long time past. What of Galen House? Did it burn, as the man said?”
“It did, and whoso set it afire thinks Kate and me dead in the ashes and ready for a place in the churchyard.”
“Set it afire? But… why would a man do such a thing?”
“Come, ride behind me. You have walked far and fast, and Bruce is a sturdy animal. We will speak more of this while we travel to Bampton. You will see Kate well enough, and in six months’ time she will make of you a grandfather.”
Caxton’s somber expression was gladdened at this report. I mounted Bruce and gave a hand to my father-in-law to assist him up behind me.
“I did not wish Kate to go to the churchyard without me there to mourn her,” he said, “or if she and you were already in the ground I thought to pay the vicar to pray for your souls.”
“We are both safe,” I said. “I moved Kate and our goods to the castle, because there had already been other attempts to set fire to our house. I thought this would preserve it. Who would destroy it if I no longer lived under its roof?”
“Who indeed?”
“Some man who knew not we had changed our residence,” I replied. “Or someone so filled with malice that he would do me harm in any way he might.”
“Why would a man be so spiteful?”
I explained to Caxton the death of Thomas atte Bridge, and told him of the many folk in Bampton and the Weald he had harmed. Yes, and in Cote, also. I spoke of my belief that the attacks upon Galen House were an attempt to murder me and thus halt inquiry into atte Bridge’s death. I told him that my mind was to travel to Oxford this day and seek Sir Simon Trillowe’s squire, to learn, if I could, had the youth been absent from Oxford two nights past.
By the time Bruce ambled past St Andrew’s Chapel, Robert Caxton knew all. I wonder if he was now less pleased about his daughter’s choice of husband than he once seemed. If so, he spoke no word of it.
Kate was astonished to see her father, and nothing would do but to repeat his tale of the visitor – for customer he was not – who had told Caxton of our deaths. While he enlightened her I considered his account and came to a conclusion regarding the matter. I was very nearly correct.
“The man who burned Galen House is from Oxford,” I said when his report was done. “This is why he did not know we were abed in the castle when he set it alight. He did not desire vengeance, he wished to do murder.”
“And believes he has done so,” Kate added solemnly.
“Indeed.”
“Who is the man?” Caxton asked.
“I believe it must be Geoffrey Homersly. He resides in Oxford, had reason to murder Thomas atte Bridge, and is squire to Sir Simon Trillowe, who has little love for me or Kate.”
“How may this be proven?” Kate asked.
“When I set out for Oxford after dinner it was my thought to find Homersly and observe him as he goes about his day. He will accompany Sir Simon much of the day, but soon or late he will visit a stable where his horse is kept. A silver penny or two may persuade the keeper of the mews to say if Homersly’s horse was absent the night Galen House burned.”
“Perhaps it was this Homersly who visited my shop this morn?”
I thought at the time this was likely so.
“When the fellow told you of Galen House burning,
was he pleased or sorrowful?”
“He was not distressed. Now I think back upon it, the report seemed agreeable to him.”
“I will seek Arthur and Uctred and tell them to make ready to leave again for Oxford in the morn. You may sleep in a guest chamber this night. We will sort out this business, and should the youth not wish to admit his felony, Arthur and Uctred are brawny and a scowl from them will persuade him to confess all.”
We broke our fast early next morn with a wheaten loaf, cheese, and ale, and before mid-day passed Osney Abbey and crossed the Thames at the Hythe Bridge. We stabled our horses at the Stag and Hounds. My father-in-law insisted he had room and enough above his shop for us all to sleep.
Arthur knew Sir Simon Trillowe. After a dinner of roasted capon at an inn on the Canditch I sent him and Uctred to prowl the streets and watch for the knight. If they found him they would follow to see where he dwelt, then report to me at the castle.
I set off for the castle. Sir Roger de Elmerugg, newly made Sheriff of Oxford, was a friend of Lord Gilbert and had been of good service in the matter of Master Wyclif’s stolen books.
Chapter 13
The stone-walled passageways of Oxford Castle are familiar to me. I went unhindered to the clerk’s anteroom, where I found several other men waiting also to see Sir Roger. I introduced myself and my office and told the clerk I sought audience with the sheriff upon Lord Gilbert Talbot’s business. Although I, a mere bailiff, did not outrank the prosperous burghers who were before me, Lord Gilbert surely did. I hoped such announcement would gain me quick access to Sir Roger, and I needed but little of his time.
At the mention of Lord Gilbert the clerk, who until that moment seemed unimpressed of my appearance and office, became more alert. When I had done with my appeal he rose from behind his table, cracked open the door behind him, and in a low voice delivered my request.
I heard a chair scrape against the flags of the sheriff’s chamber and a moment later Sir Roger appeared in the narrow opening. His eyes were crinkled in a smile beneath his shaggy brows.
