The Squire’s Tale

by Margaret Frazer

  ‘Until there was the outcry in the yard after Benedict’s body was found, yes,“ he said, and Master Skipton nodded in agreement.

  There would still have been too many people on the move just then for him to have risked moving Benedict’s body between parting from Robert and going to Master Skipton’s room. That left only the question of whether Master Skipton was correct that Master Verney had not left during the night, and that hung on how deeply Master Skipton actually slept—deep enough for someone to move about his room without he knew it, or not?—and just now she could think of no way to find that out and stood with bowed head, considering what else she might ask but all that came to mind was, “Benedict had no enemies you know of who might go to the length of killing him?”

  ‘The greatest enemy he had,“ said Master Verney grimly, ”was in some ways his mother. I don’t know anyone else.“

  ‘Master Fenner?“ she had to ask.

  ‘No!“ Master Verney and the steward were both vehement at that, though it was Master Verney who went on, ”What you’ve seen between them ever since you came here… that’s not how it’s been. Robert never pretended to be Benedict’s father or Benedict to be his son, but they were friends. Good friends.“

  But so was Master Verney, to both of them; that could color what he said, and she tried Master Skipton, asking, “Is that how it seemed to you?”

  ‘Master Fenner is a good man and Benedict was a good lad. They liked each other. There was never bad trouble between them until now.“

  And then Benedict’s loyalty had all turned to his mother, backing her claim to that manor, agreeing with her that he should have Katherine, crossing Robert…

  Katherine. For whom Robert felt… what?

  Briefly, before she could shove thought of it away, Frevisse wished she had not heard him cry out Katherine’s name on the stairs the way he had…

  But he would not have set her to find out Benedict’s murderer if he was guilty.

  Unless he needed to be found out and chose this way because he could not say the words himself.

  Unless…

  All that was pointless wondering. Until she knew more, until she had answers to her other questions from Gil and from Master Skipton, she had as yet no reasonable way to look.

  Except at Robert, her mind said again.

  Nowhere to look that made any sense, she thought and held to the thought as she thanked Master Skipton for his help given and to come, dismissed him, looked once more around Benedict’s room, and told Master Verney she was done here.

  Chapter 18

  They came out the stairway door into the yard and the bright late morning of a sweet-aired spring day. A general drift of men toward the hall said it must be near to dinnertime but on her own part Frevisse had no urge for food. The fair day was too strongly contrary to all the darkness of Benedict’s death and in echo to her own feelings Master Verney let out a deep-taken breath and said, “We’re no further on than we were, are we?”

  They were not, though Frevisse held back from saying so, said instead, after a pause, “You’ll go into dinner now?” “No. Will you?” And when she shook her head, said, “You’re going on with your questions?”

  ‘Yes.“

  ‘The crowner will be here maybe within the day. You think you can do better than he will?“

  It depended on the crowner, she did not answer. Through the years she had had to do with crowners who ranged from good through a wide band of indifferent to bad, and all she answered now, with the lowered eyes of a humble nun, was, “Robert asked me to learn what I could.”

  ‘What he asked you to do,“ Master Verney corrected sharply, ”was to find Benedict’s murderer. You…“

  What else he might have said was interrupted by Mistress Dionisia making flurried appearance from the nursery stairs’ doorway not many yards distant. She hastened toward them, or more likely toward the chapel beyond them, Frevisse supposed, because she pulled up short with surprise at seeing them in her way, then came on at greater speed, gasping out, breathless with her haste, “Is Master Fenner in the chapel? Do you know where he is?”

  ‘He’s there, yes,“ Master Verney answered. ”What’s toward?“

  ‘Lady Blaunche.“ Even breathlessness could not keep the desperation out of Mistress Dionisia’s voice. ”She wants the children again. She’s trying to go to them and she mustn’t. She’s…“ Fear as well as barely contained desperation were driving Mistress Dionisia’s words. ”She’s terrible. She’s even ordered Master Geoffrey away from her. Master Fenner has to come.“

  ‘I’ll bring him,“ Master Verney said, already turning away toward the chapel. ”You go back to her and do what you can. You, too, Dame Frevisse.“

  Frevisse would have gone without his order and at another time would have resented that he gave it but this was not the time for resenting anything. That Dame Claire had failed to find a way to hold Lady Blaunche quiet meant the matter could be desperate indeed.

  And so it was, she found at the top of the nursery stairs as she jerked back to keep from bumping into Mistress Dionisia brought to a sudden stop by Nurse bursting out of the nursery door, saying back, “You keep them here, Anabilla, no matter what,” at the same time as Lady Blaunche shrieked out in the other room, “They’re mine! I want to see them!”

  ‘Not like this,“ Dame Claire answered, sounding as desperate as Mistress Dionisia had in the yard, and Frevisse coming in on Mistress Dionisia’s heels behind Nurse found her struggling to hold Lady Blaunche back by main force of a grip on her arms and shoving while Mistress Avys and Emelye huddled in the tower doorway wringing their hands and noisily weeping to no purpose but at least blocking the way of the men crowded and staring behind them.

  Wild-haired and wilder-eyed, Lady Blaunche had probably given them more to stare at when she passed through the solar but, heedless of them, she was fighting to break free of Dame Claire, insisting, furious, “Mine. They’re mine,” while Dame Claire gasped back, “Lady Blaunche, listen to me!”

  Frevisse made to push past Mistress Dionisia, to go to Dame Claire’s aid, but Nurse was already at Dame Claire’s side and into Lady Blaunche’s way, saying with hands on hips, feet braced apart, and ferocious patience, “Lady Blaunche, this is no way to behave. You aren’t to let the children see you like this. Stop it right this instant.”

  For a wonder Lady Blaunche did, went still, still braced against Dame Claire’s hold but staring at Nurse until, all of a sudden, her face and all its fierceness crumpled, taking her strength with it, and she sank out of Dame Claire’s hold to the floor and began to sob as piteously as a heart-rended child. And Nurse, letting go her own fierceness, stood over her and stroked her head, saying, exactly as to a child, “There, then. That’s better. That’s better, isn’t it, my lady?

  Tears are best for times like these. You go ahead and cry it out.“

  At the same time she gave a look across the room that sent the men in the doorway swiftly out of sight and made Emelye and Mistress Avys gulp to silence on their own tears. Dame Claire used the respite to draw backward to Frevisse who whispered under Nurse’s continued crooning to Lady Blaunche, “Where’s Master Geoffrey?”

  ‘She sent him to the chapel to see what was being done with Benedict,“ Dame Claire whispered back. ”He’d only just gone when she turned wild with wanting to see the children again. But she shouldn’t when she’s like this. We don’t dare let her.“

  The sound of feet taking the stairs in long leaps broke Nurse’s spell; as Robert burst into the room, Lady Blaunche lurched to her feet, ready to be wild again, but Nurse flung out a hand at Robert to stop him where he was without taking her eyes from Lady Blaunche and went on saying, “There. There’s no need, my lady. It’s only Master Fenner. Bide still now. Bide still.”

  Lady Blaunche bided still but, wide-eyed and piteous, begged softly, holding out her hands to him, “Please?”

  Stiff with a wariness he was probably trying not to show, Robert crossed to her, too
k her out-held hands, and said with the same quieting gentleness as Nurse, “Please what, my lady?”

  Lady Blaunche’s mouth trembled. “The children. Please. May I see them?”

  Robert flashed a look to Nurse who gave refusal with a slight sideways movement of her head; but Robert looked back to his wife, into her pleading eyes, then to Nurse again and asked, “Robin?”

  Lady Blaunche gasped and clung more tightly to him, lighting with hope. Nurse hesitated, her gaze flickering from Lady Blaunche to Robert and back again before she gave a single, unwilling nod.

  ‘I’ll bring him,“ Katherine said from the doorway and Frevisse looked back to see she was there with Master Verney and Master Geoffrey, the two men shifting from her way as she turned back toward the nursery.

  ‘But you must be very quiet,“ Nurse insisted at Lady Blaunche firmly. ”If you’re not, you’ll frighten him. You don’t want to do that, do you? So you have to be very quiet with him. You understand?“

  Lady Blaunche nodded that she did while taking her hands from Robert and a pace past him, nearer to the doorway, her eyes fixed on it. Across the room Mistress Avys and Emelye were keeping now as still as everyone else, no one wanting to do anything that might set Lady Blaunche off again, everyone hearing a murmuring from the nursery before there was a pause and then Katherine returned, leading Robin by the hand.

  At sight of him Lady Blaunche gave a cry and sank to her knees, holding out her arms. He hung slightly back, seeming not to want to be there, and looked for assurance to Robert who nodded encouragingly while Katherine pressed a hand between his shoulder blades, urging him forward. Still reluctant, he went, edging toward his mother, watching her warily, having apparently overheard more than he was meant to, but Lady Blaunche seemed not to notice, beckoned to him with her out-held hands and when he was in reach snatched him to her in a smotheringly close embrace against which Robin neither struggled nor eased before she abruptly set him off from her, her hands lingering on his arms, rubbing up and down them as if to reassure herself he was there, while murmuring to him, far more calm than Frevisse had expected her to be, “There, little love. You’ve been crying, haven’t you? So have I. We love him, don’t we? You and I and John and Tacine. We’re all going to miss him terribly, aren’t we?” Still crooning, she slid her hands gently up over his shoulders, still stroking, toward his neck, still crooning, until somehow, between one moment and the next, her hands were to his throat, their gentleness one, her thumbs beginning to press…

  Robert, Nurse and Frevisse all moved at once, Nurse grabbing Robin away just as he began to cry out with surprise and the start of pain, Robert and Frevisse laying hold on Lady Blaunche from either side, pulling her arms down, pinning them to her side as Nurse swept Robin from the room and Katherine and Master Verney both moved to block the doorway after them while Lady Blaunche began to scream and with the strength of rage flailed free before Dame Claire could join in helping to hold her. She stumbled backward away from Robert grabbing for her again, somehow kicked free of her skirts and fled toward the tower doorway where Mistress Avys and Emelye were no use in stopping her, were shoved aside first by Lady Blaunche, then farther aside by Robert and Frevisse.

  It was two men in the solar who blocked Lady Blaunche’s going, less by will than because they were standing in her way as she burst into the room and, startled, did not move out of it before Robert overtook her, caught her by one arm, jerked her around and, as she started to collapse toward the floor again, grabbed her up into his arms, cradling her un-tenderly, crushing her against himself so hard her breath broke from her in a gasp, stopping her words, and he gave her no time to get them back but carried her away up the stairs.

  Dame Claire and the other women hurried after him. Frevisse moved aside to let them, wanting nothing to do with helping to settle Lady Blaunche to bed or whatever Robert would do with her, but her sidewise move put her nearly in the way of Drew come from among the still startled men to catch Katherine by the hand, away from the women, saying to her, “Don’t go, my lady. She isn’t safe. Keep away from her.”

  ‘I have to go,“ Katherine answered, but she was near to tears and let him draw her aside, only casting over her shoulder to Frevisse, ”Go instead of me, please.“

  And after all, where else was there to go, Frevisse thought, or what else to do until Master Skipton and Gil brought her some answers? Regretting that, she followed in Master Geoffrey’s wake, leaving behind Master Verney whose voice making some manner of explanation to Sir Lewis and the others followed her up the stairs.

  In the parlor Robert set Blaunche ungently on her feet and would have gladly pushed her from him but she clutched his doublet’s front with both hands, clinging too hard to him, weeping and furious and broken altogether, his hands under her elbows seeming to be all that kept her on her feet as she wailed at him, “Why did you stop me? Why? Don’t you see how better it will be when it’s over with? To have it done? To…”

  ‘To have Robin dead, too?“ Robert asked, furious. ”Because Benedict is dead, you want Robin dead, too? And John and Tacine?“

  ‘Don’t you see?“ She tugged at his doublet as if to shake sense into him. ”When they’re dead, there’ll be no more waiting for it to happen. It will be over. No more waiting and being afraid. No more waiting, no more fearing. Just the grieving. Just the grieving, just the grieving…“

  Robert shoved her roughly away, breaking her hold on him, said at Master Geoffrey, who happened to be nearest, “Take her into the bedchamber,” and to Dame Claire, “Do something with her,” then turned his back and crossed away to the window, not watching them take her, collapsing with tears, away but having to hear Mistress Avys follow after them insisting tearfully to no one in particular, “She wouldn’t have done it. She wouldn’t have hurt Robin. She knew we’d stop her. She wouldn’t have.”

  Distantly, Robert wondered if she believed that or only wanted to.

  ‘Please, sir,“ Emelye said almost at his side, and if he had had any strength left with which to be startled, he would have startled. As it was, the best he could manage was to lean his head toward her, showing he had heard, letting her say, ”Please, sir, might I go pray by Benedict? There’s none of us there just now, and…“

  ‘Go,“ Robert said and when she was gone and he knew, too, that the bedchamber door was safely shut between him and Blaunche, he let go the rigid set of his spine, let his shoulders and back slump, and doubted he would ever have strength to pull himself up straight again, he was so blindingly tired beyond anything he remembered ever being, mind and body both. And here, beyond the window out of which he was almost blindly staring, was everything that had been there yesterday, everything that had been there last week and last month and would likely be there a year from now and the year after that, no matter who was or wasn’t alive to see it, and maybe there was comfort in that, though not today, because in his mind he was seeing something there had been once and would never be again—his first sight of sleeping, newborn Robin. And what he was remembering was the upswelling certainty he had had then that nothing could ever matter so much again as keeping that small morsel of life safe.

  That same surge of love had come on him with newborn John despite, contrary to Robin, he had been red-faced and squalling through all his first month of life. And again with Tacine who, contrariwise, had lain in his arms staring up at him with her newborn eyes as solemnly as if judging whether or not she approved of him. He expected it would come on him again with the child Blaunche was bearing now—that all-consuming, ever-renewing love. Not all the bother that came with babies and only seemed to worsen as they grew into small children—frightening rashes, scraped knees, clothes outgrown before outworn, last winter’s fearsome siege of coughing sickness—had made any difference to his vastness of love for them.

  And all Blaunche presently wanted was to end them so she would not have to be afraid of her own pain anymore.

  Beside him, Dame Frevisse said quietly, “Robert. I need to
ask you something.”

  He turned his head toward her, only vaguely aware of what she had said, only vaguely seeing her as he said, more to something in himself than to her, “I can’t love her anymore. I can’t go on pretending that I do. Not even to myself. Let alone to her.” He turned to stare blindly out the window again, saying dull-voiced to the trees or sky or something, “Whatever happens after this, between us it’s finished.”

  Part of him expected Dame Frevisse would deny that, would say something meant to be comforting or quieting or even encouraging, God help him. Instead, she said in a voice as level and low as his own, “I’d keep Katherine away from her, too, from now on.”

  Jarred at mention of Katherine, Robert saw her this time as he looked at her and asked, “What?”

  ‘I’d keep Katherine away from her.“ Dame Frevisse repeated it steadily. ”Out of even Lady Blaunche’s sight.“

  ‘Why?“

  ‘Because we tend to hate the things we fear.“

  ‘Why would she fear Blaunche, let alone hate her?“