A Maiden Weeping

by Jeri Westerson

  He strode forward and took his place before the bar, hands before him, gently crossed. Jack took his place by Nigellus and the clerk. The other witnesses were there: Hugh Buckton, Alison Keylmarsh. Even Helewise Peverel was there, biting her lip and looking worried. Jack had told him what the widow had related to him about the relic. And though unanticipated, Crispin was not particularly surprised by the turn of events.

  The recorder was reading a parchment and when he noticed Crispin he lowered it to his lap. ‘Very well. Guest is here. Your lawyer wishes to examine some of the witnesses and I have no objections to his doing so. I see we have a new witness … a Madlyn Noreys. Is she present?’

  ‘I am here, my lord.’

  Everyone in the room turned to look at the nervous woman at the edge of the crowd. Her silken kerchief softened her lined features. She was accompanied by an older man. Crispin assumed by the sneer he directed toward Crispin that he was William Noreys, the patriarch.

  ‘I do not see why my wife must be subjected to this,’ he said.

  ‘This is a court of the Common Pleas, Master Noreys,’ said Tremayne impatiently. ‘Unless you are called as a witness, kindly keep your comments to yourself. Madam, please step forward.’

  Crispin moved aside so that he wouldn’t crowd her.

  ‘Master Guest, your lawyer has requested to question the witness. Are you agreed?’

  ‘I am, my lord.’

  ‘Well then, proceed, Master Cobmartin.’

  Nigellus stood and preened like a barnyard cockerel. Crispin supposed that this is what the man lived for, this display of his lawyerly prowess.

  ‘Now, Madam Noreys, why have you come today of your own volition to testify for Crispin Guest?’

  ‘Because I know who the true culprit is, and my conscience and my soul will not allow me to be silent.’

  The sheriffs leaned forward. Crispin watched them but also kept an eye on the rest of the crowd. He wondered why Walter Noreys wasn’t present. Cobmartin had requested questioning him as well.

  ‘Who, then, madam? The court is anxious to hear and leave Crispin Guest blameless.’

  ‘This man is known in London for his vile treatment of women. For nearly strangling them. He has done it. He has killed. And the sheriffs turn a blind eye!’

  Both sheriffs jerked to their feet. Walcote spoke first. ‘This woman is a liar. She knows not whereof she speaks.’

  ‘My Lord Recorder,’ said Loveney. ‘We cannot allow the perversion of justice to continue. She cannot be allowed to speak.’

  The crowd burst into chatter and shouts of, ‘Let her speak!’

  Sheriff Walcote leapt off the dais toward her and William Noreys flung himself from the crowd to protect his wife. The serjeants didn’t seem to know whom to guard. Crispin moved instinctively in front of her to protect her, but the sheriff merely shoved him aside.

  ‘Confound it, give me order!’ cried Tremayne. He gestured toward the guards, but again, they were confused as to who their commands were directed to. ‘Protect that woman!’ snarled the recorder. ‘Sheriff Walcote, Sheriff Loveney, sit down and be still. This is the king’s court and I will have order!’ He waved to the crowd of men shouting. ‘You there. If I have to clear this room I will begin with all of you.’ The guards pushed the crowd back and threatened with their cudgels and swords. The sheriffs reluctantly returned to the dais and sat, looking at one another with grim expressions.

  Crispin resisted the urge to grin.

  John Tremayne resettled on his seat. ‘Now then. Madam Noreys, you were about to say …?’

  ‘Madlyn!’ hissed her husband.

  ‘I will not be silent, William! Too much. Too much has happened. I must speak.’

  ‘Let her speak,’ said Tremayne in a dull voice.

  She pressed a hand to her mouth before raising her face again. ‘It is not unknown that this man has a … proclivity of nearly strangling the women he … he comports with. All of London knows it. At least all in the Bread Street Ward do. He likes to pretend to strangle them. And he knew Elizabeth le Porter. It is Richard Gernon, alderman for the city of London.’

  The crowd erupted again. Tremayne stood and turned a glare on the sheriffs, but they were busy either hiding their faces or staring heavenward.

  Crispin found the antics more than amusing. The cat is now out of the bag. You should have known it would scratch you once released.

  There was no getting order. Tremayne motioned to the guards, and they moved toward the crowd, bashing heads and shoving the men back against one another.

  It took a while, but the rabble finally settled down. The recorder scanned the crowd when his gaze settled on Crispin who tried to keep his face as passive as possible. It was no use. The recorder blamed him. He stepped off the dais and approached. Once he stood right before Crispin with only the bar between them, he spoke in low tones so that his words would not be heard above the continued noise of the hall. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘I discovered it yesterday.’

  ‘We will not bring the alderman into court,’ he hissed.

  ‘Then you would hang an innocent man.’

  He paused to suck in a breath between his teeth. ‘Damn you, Guest. I would be pleased to see you hang. To see you endure the punishment denied you all those years ago. I do not suffer traitors. It would only be your just deserts.’

  ‘And then a murderer would continue his foul practices on London’s citizens. How else can he be stopped?’

  They were nearly nose to nose when the recorder suddenly pulled away and stomped back to his dais.

  ‘Quiet!’ he cried. ‘I will have order!’

  The crowd quieted again, grumbling their protests. Some nursed bloody noses and bruised heads. But they stayed, thirsty for the entertainment.

  Fixing his demeanor into something as neutral as he could, the recorder leaned toward Madlyn Noreys. ‘Surely this is only hearsay, madam. You must have proof. Witnesses.’

  ‘And so I do. For Elizabeth le Porter told me herself that she had had trysts with the gentleman in question. He gave her coins and trinkets. She behaved as his mistress, and she was jealous of his other exploits. She sought to stop them and resorted to extortion.’

  ‘Wait. Madam, you say Mistress le Porter told you this?’

  Cobmartin raised his hand. ‘My lord, before I proceed to that question, may I ask a question of one other witness?’

  ‘Go on,’ drawled Tremayne.

  ‘Master Buckton!’ Nigellus turned toward the eel monger.

  The nervous man jerked his head. Plainly he had not expected to be called upon.

  ‘Do you testify that you saw Madam Noreys here going into the lodgings of Elizabeth le Porter not once but several times?’

  Buckton nodded his head. ‘Aye, my lord.’

  ‘Thank you, Master Buckton. So you see, my lord, she was acquainted with Elizabeth le Porter, as this witness says.’

  ‘But how is this so?’ insisted Tremayne. ‘She was the maid of Helewise Peverel, was she not? How do you know her?’

  ‘My lord,’ said Cobmartin. ‘I have another witness to call forth. Walter Noreys, the son of our lady witness here.’

  ‘Good Christ, Cobmartin. Have we not made a circus of this already?’

  ‘Justice must be served, my lord. Would you not extend every path to make certain an innocent man were not destroyed due to our negligence?’

  Tremayne clasped his chin, mouth open in astonishment. He said nothing. Cobmartin must have taken that for assent, for he turned to the crowd. ‘Will Walter Noreys be brought forth!’

  There was a commotion at the door. Crispin craned his neck and saw Walter Noreys being dragged in with a serjeant on each arm. They pushed through the crowd and shoved him forward. He stumbled before righting himself and stood meekly next to his mother.

  ‘Yes,’ said Cobmartin. ‘Master Noreys, did you know Elizabeth le Porter?’

  ‘No!’ he said sourly.

  ‘Come, come, man. I have a wit
ness that saw you at her lodgings many a time. Do I bring back my witness to counter your testimony?’

  ‘All right! Yes, I knew her! This is ridiculous.’

  ‘And how did you know her, Master Noreys?’

  Walter made a scowling grimace and nearly charged the lawyer. ‘That’s none of your business.’

  Tremayne stomped his foot. ‘It is the court’s business. You will answer.’

  Tremayne’s words seemed to frighten him at last. And though he gritted his teeth, he replied, ‘Because I … I wanted to pay her.’

  There were oohs and aahs from the crowd before the lawyer raised his hand to them. ‘Pay her for what, Master Noreys?’

  He kept shaking his head, looking at the floor. Madam Noreys touched his shoulder. ‘Walter,’ she said softly, though her face showed her anguish. ‘Pay her for what?’ Plainly she had not heard this before. Crispin glanced toward Noreys’s father and the man covered his face with his hand.

  ‘Master Noreys,’ urged Nigellus.

  ‘Very well,’ he said tightly. ‘I wanted to pay her to steal a relic … from that woman!’ He pointed straight-armed at the Widow Peverel. The woman looked on unsurprised, chin raised proudly. ‘To steal it back. It belonged to us. To my family. And now my brother is dead because of that man’ – and he swiveled his arm toward Crispin – ‘and you bring my mother into this sorry mess. I wish to God I had never heard of the Tears of the Virgin!’

  Madam Noreys hugged her child, dropping her head to his shoulder and weeping.

  Tremayne shook his head. ‘What does this have to do with anything?’

  Nigellus pressed his hands together and faced the recorder. ‘My lord, these circumstances seem to surround this relic, the Tears of the Virgin that was in the care of Helewise Peverel, which is why I exhorted the sheriffs to take it into their possession for safekeeping.’

  ‘And where is that damned relic?’ said the exasperated recorder. ‘Wasn’t it supposed to be brought to court?’

  The sheriffs sat uneasily. Walcote spoke. ‘My lord … there was a problem. The, er, relic … was stolen.’

  ‘What? God in Heaven! When? When had this trial gotten away from me? It’s stolen. Do you know its whereabouts?’

  Loveney shook his head. ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘God forgive me for what I am thinking,’ Tremayne muttered.

  ‘May I go on, my lord?’ asked Nigellus.

  Tremayne looked up. ‘Truly? You wish to go on? You mean there is more?’

  ‘Oh yes, my lord.’ He swiveled back toward Walter. ‘You tried to pay her to steal the relic. What did she do?’

  Walter gently pushed his mother back and pulled his cloak taut. ‘She refused.’

  Madam Peverel made a loud noise, and Crispin saw her bury her face in a kerchief.

  ‘How many times did she refuse?’

  ‘What difference does it make, you tiresome man? She refused. But I think she was lying. I think she gave it to Guest for safekeeping.’

  Crispin couldn’t help himself. ‘And so you burned down my house in retribution!’

  ‘Burned down your house? I never!’

  Crispin reached for his dagger but Nigellus lurched toward him and stayed his hand. ‘Pray silence, Master Crispin,’ he whispered. ‘Now is not the time.’ Running his hand down his dark gown, Nigellus returned to the center of the floor. ‘Let us put that aside for now. As you’ve heard, the sheriffs confiscated the relic while Master Guest was incarcerated. And in the same instance, the relic was stolen. Obviously, Master Guest has naught to do with it. Did you take it, Master Noreys?’

  His eyes widened. ‘I did not!’

  ‘Are you certain? Perjury is a very serious charge.’

  ‘I … did … not!’

  But Crispin was studying Walter hard, seemingly for the first time. He stalked toward him, and the man took a startled step back, shielding himself behind Cobmartin.

  ‘I have a question for the witness,’ said Crispin tightly.

  Cobmartin pondered him with raised brows.

  ‘I promise to behave myself,’ Crispin said softly.

  Nigellus nodded and stepped aside.

  Crispin faced Walter. Though he cowered at first, Walter raised himself and stared down his nose. ‘Well?’

  ‘Do you know who I am?’

  He chuffed a laugh and looked around the hall as if to say, This man is an idiot. ‘Of course I know who you are,’ he said witheringly.

  ‘When did you know?’

  ‘What sort of question is that?’

  ‘A pointed one. When had you heard of me? Last week?’

  He shook his head and frowned. ‘No. Earlier than that. I cannot tell when. Everyone knows who you are.’

  ‘And so, presumably, you also knew my character, for one follows the other.’

  ‘Yes, yes. What of it?’

  ‘So you knew that, among other things, I find lost objects, that I am trustworthy, that I would never kill without a good reason.’

  Walter rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘And you knew all that on Wednesday, fourteenth October.’

  He wiped at his mouth. ‘Yes. For God’s sake.’

  ‘Why then did you go to the Boar’s Tusk with the express intention of hiring me to kill Elizabeth le Porter?’

  ‘I … I …’

  ‘There’s no more reason to deny it. You gave me a pouch of coins with instructions to kill her. But you knew who I was all along. You knew I would not in fact kill her but warn her. You wanted only to frighten her, didn’t you?’

  ‘I … I did no such thing. My Lord Recorder, must I—’

  ‘Yes,’ growled Tremayne. ‘You must. Now answer the question. Did you go to Master Guest with a pouch of coins and hire him to kill Elizabeth le Porter?’

  ‘But he wasn’t going to kill her …’

  ‘By Christ’s toes, man! Did you hire Master Guest?’

  ‘Oh for … yes. It was a stupid, foolish thing to do. But I knew no harm would come to her.’

  ‘Although,’ put in Walcote, ‘everyone also knows that Crispin Guest is in sore need of funds. A little murder for so many coins. And who would know?’

  Crispin turned his glare on him. Damn the man and his perversity.

  Cobmartin took the opening. ‘But we have proved, even with this contrary witness, that he knew that Master Guest would cause no harm. Walter Noreys was in fact the catalyst for all these events to transpire.’

  Tremayne leaned forward, his arm on his thigh. ‘I don’t understand. You accuse the alderman Richard Gernon of the murder and yet you bring in all these other facts and witnesses that have little to do with it. Madam,’ – he turned to Madlyn Noreys – ‘I ask again, how did you know this maid of Madam Peverel’s? What had you to do with all this?’

  Madlyn Noreys leaned away from the recorder so far she looked likely to fall. But instead of her son helping, Crispin moved in and took her elbow. Walter finally noticed and pushed Crispin back, taking her arm for himself.

  ‘Madam?’ asked the recorder. ‘I am waiting for an answer.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Because … because she is … was … my cousin, and I sent her to the Peverel household to spy upon them in order to … to … steal the relic.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  Monday, 19 October

  Crispin watched the room dissolve into chaos. There was Nigellus, who hadn’t expected to hear those tidings. Tremayne, who looked completely befuddled and frustrated. The sheriffs, with equal parts shock and indignation. And Jack, though surprised, seemed to be forming his thoughts into something orderly. Good, Jack, good. Now we know why Mistress le Porter left Madam Peverel’s employ and why she had her own temporary lodgings.

  One thing was clear. This was a distraction from the obvious. Richard Gernon was guilty, but Tremayne didn’t want to bring him in. But if he didn’t, Crispin couldn’t depend on the confusion of the jury to acquit. The sheriffs wouldn’t help in that regard – a
nd thank you, Sheriff Walcote, for your hearty endorsement, he thought sourly. He needed that man. And he knew just how to trap him. He’d need a delay. Another day at least. He hoped that either he or Nigellus could accomplish that.

  He was about to speak when the lawyer beat him to it.

  ‘My lord,’ he said loudly above the noise of the crowd. ‘It is very clear to me that we need another day to discover this suspect, the man known as Richard Gernon. He must be found and questioned. If he is responsible for the deaths of the women in the ward then it is our Christian duty to find him and bring him forth. And if not, then it is also our duty to exonerate him and restore his good name.’

  Crispin could tell that there was nothing of Christian duty on Tremayne’s face. The man seemed to have something else in mind, but he held his tongue.

  ‘By God!’ grumbled the recorder. ‘I see no alternative but to adjourn for the day. However, if you have gotten it into your head somehow to arrest Richard Gernon’ – and Crispin noted that he was addressing Crispin rather than the sheriffs – ‘excise it at once. I saw no evidence to indict any more than there will be to convict. Bring me a witness and I shall consider it.’

  ‘Convenient, when all his witnesses are dead,’ muttered Crispin under his breath, but not quietly enough that the recorder did not hear.

  He frowned. ‘I’m warning you, Guest. I need hard evidence. And someone find that damned relic! Get out, all of you!’

  Crispin waited for the serjeants or the sheriffs to retrieve him, but when it looked as if they had no intention of doing so, he wondered again at his miraculous release.

  Soon the hall was cleared, leaving only Jack, Nigellus, and the clerk who paid them no heed as he collected his parchment and rolls.

  ‘This is certainly a disagreeable situation,’ said Nigellus.

  ‘You have a talent for understatement, Master Cobmartin,’ Crispin sighed.

  ‘Dear me, forgive me, Master Crispin. This has all been very disagreeable for you, I fear.’ He looked around at their solitary condition. ‘But I am still confused as to why you are free from your fetters.’

  ‘It is a puzzle. But we must take advantage of it … while it lasts.’