‘But Brother Michael…“ Father Tomas protested.
‘Stay with him,“ Master Grene ordered, starting after Master Naylor. ”Pers and someone will be here.“
Dickon was already at his father’s heels, and Mistress Hercy and Frevisse followed, hurrying to keep up to the men’s long stride. In the screens passage Mistress Hercy gave curt order in passing to the servants there to be about their business, that breakfast would be wanted soon, whatever else was happening. Her pause let Frevisse go ahead of her so that she was close behind the men when Master Grene opened the door into the lamp-lit solar; and she saw over their shoulders Daved standing in the middle of the room, his arms around Anne and hers around him and, “Damn all!” Master Grene burst out. “In hell’s teeth, what are you doing free, Daved?”
‘Raulyn, let him escape. Please,“ Anne pleaded, holding tighter to Daved. ”Before Brother Michael comes back.“
‘Brother Michael is dead.“ Master Grene crossed to his desk and leaned on it, head hanging. ”He’s dead, and you’re loosed, and so it can be said you did it.“
‘No!“ Anne said fiercely. ”I freed Daved and only now!“
Gently loosening Anne from him but keeping her close with an arm around her, Daved asked, “How is he dead?”
‘Stabbed from behind,“ Master Grene answered bluntly. ”Not here. Outside the gate. In the street.“
‘What was he doing there?“ Daved asked with apparent surprise.
‘Leaving, I suppose. Hoping to slip through the streets and darkness back to Grey Friars. Or to find some of the bishop’s officers and bring them here to take you under guard. I don’t know.“
Master Naylor asked at Daved, “He left you here unwatched?”
‘Where was I going to go, bound hand and foot there?“ Daved jerked his head toward a heavy wooden chair to one side of the room, a sprawl of ropes on the floor beside it. ”He thought he could safely leave me for a time, I suppose.“
The ropes had been cut, Frevisse noted, and going forward past Master Naylor, she asked, “Where did you get the knife to cut the ropes, Mistress Blakhall?”
Anne, still with one arm around Daved, said defiantly, “His daggers are there.” She pointed to the desk where they did still lay from yesterday. “I used one.”
Master Naylor picked up one, then the other, taking a long look at both in the sinking lamplight before saying at the second one, “There’s blood on the blade.”
‘I cut a man in the fight yesterday,“ Daved said. And added dryly, ”I’ve not had chance to clean it yet.“
As Master Naylor set the dagger down, Frevisse asked, “How long ago did Brother Michael leave? And why?”
‘Someone came to the door,“ Daved answered. ”They didn’t come in, and I didn’t see them.“
That was possible, Frevisse thought. The door opened inward, would have been between anyone who stayed outside the room and Daved where he had sat bound.
‘How long ago?“ Frevisse repeated.
Daved stretched and twisted his neck as if it were stiff. “There was nothing to tell the time by. A fair while, but I couldn’t say certainly how long.”
She could not tell if he were lying much or little—or at all. Could it have been Anne at the door? Could she have somehow lured Brother Michael outside the gateway and then stabbed him? With one of Daved’s daggers, taken up from the desk without Brother Michael seeing it? Then slipped back into the house and freed Daved? All in the two little gaps of time Master Grene had been away from the gate?
That was too chance-ridden to be likely.
Unless Master Grene was part of it.
Or else Master Grene had done it all, and Anne had no part in it. Brother Michael might well have gone out of the room to talk with him. But out of the gateway?
Frevisse raced her thoughts through possibilities and, yes, Master Grene might have sent Pers to rest, then come to lure out Brother Michael—maybe by telling him the streets were quiet enough he should take the chance to slip away to bring men back for Daved.
Except she could not see Brother Michael leaving his prey behind him. Not for an unneeded skulking through dangerous streets in the dark when he only need wait for a more sure time. Nor would he have left Daved in Master Grene’s keeping, not when he had already said outright he distrusted him.
Or was it because of that distrust Brother Michael had meant to slip away unknown to anyone, counting on being back with help before Master Grene dared do anything? That did not set easily with her, either. But if Master Grene had killed the friar, then why hadn’t he freed Daved and seen him away?
Or, if Daved had freed himself and killed the friar, why would he stay here, feigning he was just freed? Why not straightforward flight once the friar was dead? And why bother to put his body outside the gate?
But if Brother Michael had gone out the gate on his own and secretly, had he been chance-killed by someone passing by, or was Master Naylor’s guess at Master Bocking right? Yet how likely was it Master Bocking had lingered—or come back—to the place least safe for him to be, on a very narrow chance of somehow helping Daved, and chanced instead on the friar?
All of those might-have-beens were too full of chance and unlikelihood, and while she tried and failed to settle even one of them into her mind, Master Grene pushed himself upright from his desk with his braced hands and said at Daved, “Leave now. While you can. No one here will stop you.”
Master Naylor shifted, ready to protest that. Frevisse lifted a hand to hold him silent. Both Daved and Master Grene saw it; and Master Grene said—for whose benefit she was not sure—“After all, until yesterday I didn’t know you and your uncle were Jews. All I’ll be guilty of is ignorance and letting you leave here after I did know it, but in times like these, how great would my blame be for that?”
‘Slight, I should think,“ Daved said easily.
That was probably true enough, but that Master Grene had not known they were Jews… that was a lie. He had been appalled yesterday, yes, but at them being found out, not at finding they were Jews. The only exclamation at that had come from Mistress Hercy, who presently was standing in the doorway here, staring from Daved and Anne to her son-in-law and back again.
‘The trouble is,“ said Daved, ”that I’ve maybe nowhere to run. If my uncle has any sense, he sailed on the tide.“
‘He wouldn’t leave you,“ Anne protested.
‘We agreed long since that neither of us would play the fool and risk everything in pointless effort to save the other. Things being otherwise, I would have sailed and left him. And even if, for some reason, he hasn’t and I make it to one of the landings, there are likely no boatmen there to take me out to my ship or any other. They’ll have shoved off to keep clear of trouble. That’s one thing to the good of being a boatman,“ he added thoughtfully. ”You can cast off from trouble.“
‘At least leave here,“ Master Grene said impatiently. He looked at Master Naylor. ”Where you’re known.“
‘Where’s he to go? There’s nowhere safe in London just now,“ Anne protested.
‘There have to places safer than here,“ Master Grene returned.
‘Master Naylor is my man,“ Frevisse said. ”He’ll do as I bid.“ She hoped. ”Our present need is to keep safe here against any rioting there may come. For that, it’s better to have Master Weir with us. Yes?“ she added directly at Master Naylor.
‘Yes,“ he granted, though his teeth were maybe gritted on the word.
‘So you and Master Bocking are Jews,“ Mistress Hercy said from the doorway.
Daved made her a courteous bow. “We are,” he said.
‘Then I’ve heard much nonsense over the years,“ she said briskly and came forward into the room, saying to everyone, ”Now see, there’s trouble enough outside we need make none in here. No one here had aught to do with the friar going out the gate and getting killed. That’s what matters. That, and that there’s nothing we can do about it for now. So Raulyn, go you to Pernell. She n
eeds to hear from you what’s happened and see that you’re unharmed.“
‘In a while,“ he said. ”Not just now.“
‘Just now is when she needs you,“ Mistress Hercy said. ”And all of us need to break our fast. We’ll all be the better for food. Going hungry won’t make anything better.“
Master Grene gave a shaken laugh and stood up. “Food and something strong to drink. You’re in the right. That will help all of us.” He started toward the door.
Past him to Daved, Mistress Hercy said, “Best you stay in here, though. There’s no one in the household knows certainly what this business between you and the friar was…”
She broke off with a questioning look at Master Naylor, who said, “We’ve answered all questions by saying we couldn’t say.”
‘Good,“ Mistress Hercy approved. ”So better you stay here, Master Weir, away from questions. Anne, best you come with us. Pernell will need you.“
‘No,“ Anne said.
Daved made to step away from her, saying gently, “The farther you keep from me now…”
‘No,“ Anne repeated flatly.
Master Grene turned in the doorway. “Anne, he’s right. You’re better away from him for now.” The stubborn set of Anne’s look at him told her answer without she need say anything, and Master Grene shifted his own look to Daved and said, deliberate at it, “Do you know that she fasts two days a week as penance for what she does with you?”
He waited long enough to see by the sudden blankness of Daved’s face that he had not known. Then he left, and Mistress Hercy, after a quick frowning look at both Anne and Daved, followed him. And Anne spun immediately to Daved and cried out, “You have to get away from here. Now! What if Brother Michael was coming back when he was killed, and someone else knows now?”
Frevisse felt an instant fool for not having thought or that possibility but said before Daved made any answer, “You’d have him go with no one knowing whether he’d murdered Brother Michael or not?”
Anne turned on her. “He couldn’t have done anything until I cut him loose, and the friar was dead by then.”
‘The question has to be,“ Daved said quietly, ”when did you cut me loose, my love.“
‘They came in just… “Anne caught up to where Daved already was. Her voice went flat. ”There’s only our word.“
‘And our word is suspect, my heart,“ Daved told her.
‘Therefore, you have more than one reason to stay until some manner of answer is found,“ Frevisse said.
‘Or until you can give up pretense and surrender me to the Church?“ Daved asked.
That was a fair challenge, fairly given, and Frevisse answered straightly back, “I have no quarrel with you that you’re a Jew.” But was surprised to hear herself saying so, not having known it for certain until then. “Nor do I intend to tell anyone that you are. I likewise order my men to keep silent on it.” She looked at Master Naylor, daring him to refuse her; but he gave her a curt nod of acceptance, and she returned her look to Daved. “But murder is another matter altogether. If you leave before we learn who killed Brother Michael—or determine that it was no one here—you would have to be hunted.”
Daved regarded her steadily for a long moment, then said, “I reserve the right to run if it comes down to that or being taken prisoner.”
Frevisse thought he was a little laughing at her but bent her head slightly in agreement. “You’ll run if need be,” she said. And thought how little she would like finding out he was, after all, Brother Michael’s murderer.
Chapter 21
Dame Frevisse left, her two men with her, closing the door behind them, and Anne spun on Daved, demanding again, “Never give mind to what she said. Leave London. Hire a horse and go to some other port and sail from there. Leave!”
Daved laid his hands on her shoulders. “Is it true about the penance?”
Meeting his deep look, Anne forced herself to answer straightly, “Yes.”
‘You confessed to a priest about us, and he laid this penance on you?“
She lifted her chin. “I couldn’t confess what I fully mean to go on doing.”
‘Then why…“ His voice was very gentle. ”… do you do this penance?“
Very gently in return, she said, “Because it’s sin, what we do between us.” She gave herself suddenly to sad laughter and took his face between her hands and drew him down to her. “But I’d rather do the penance than cease the sin.”
She kissed him lingeringly, a kiss that he returned; but as he drew back from her, he said, “Anne, my heart, this penance, it…”
‘It’s nothing. I never meant for you to know of it.“ It was not nothing. Except when constrained by being in company and wanting to keep her secret, she had only bread and ale to eat and drink on her penance days; or in bitter winter weather, hot broth. She was not trying to break her health, only admit to God that she knew there was wrong in her loving with both heart and body where she should not love at all, and it was with that love she now said desperately, ”Daved, never mind. Or what you told the nun. Leave before you lose the chance to. None of Raulyn’s men will stop you. Please, go! You’ll be safer in the streets than here.“
‘Oh, my heart, I might well be, but what of you? How safe will you be? If I didn’t kill the friar, then almost surely someone else here did.“
If that was true, she might have been frightened but, “He wasn’t killed here. He was killed in the street, trying to leave.”
‘And so you’d have me try to leave, too?“
He was silently laughing at her, and she knew it and slapped his arm, impatient at his lightness. His courage was among the things about him that she loved, but this was not when and where she wanted it. She wanted him away from here and out of England. Daved caught her hand and kissed it.
“Think,” he said, still easily. “How likely does it seem that Brother Michael would leave me unguarded or decide to go back to the friary or anywhere in the middle of the night? How likely is it he had no more than stepped outside the gate than someone came up behind him and stabbed him dead without so much as word or struggle?”
Anne tried, “It could have happened,” and heard her own lack of certainty even as she said it. She tried again, more strongly. “Master Bocking could have been waiting for him, could have been lying in wait.”
‘And the thought my uncle stabbed him in the back doesn’t bother you?“
‘He meant to do worse to you,“ she said fiercely.
‘I swear my uncle will have sailed by now.“
‘The attack on Brother Michael yesterday,“ she said, trying again. ”That was surely Lollards meaning to be rid of him, and some of them could have been waiting for whenever he would come out again.“
Daved laughed aloud. “Anne!” he protested.
Stubbornly, she insisted, “They could have been. Or even just one.” Because that would be by far the best of answers.
Daved granted, still near laughter. “It could have been Lollards, yes.” Then the laughter was gone and there was steel behind his words as he went on, “But against that I have to ask who came to the door here? Who did he go away with? Because almost surely that’s who killed him.”
He was right, and only slowly Anne said, “It could have been me.”
‘It could have been,“ Daved agreed. ”I know if I had been the friar, / would have let you lure me from the room. Even gone out the gate with you and maybe put my back to you.“ He drew her to him. ”Though it’s not my back to you I want.“ He took his time over another kiss that left her wanting to cling to him with her body as well as her lips; but he set her back from him and said, ”But would Brother Michael?“
Anne looked up at him, silent for a moment. In that while they had clung together, she had felt in him more than only his passion for her. He was taut with the pleasure of the fight he was in, and she was left as shaken at understanding that as by his kiss; but she gathered her wits, lifted her chin, and answered his question, “He
might have done, yes.”
‘It is somewhat more likely than lurking Lollards,“ Daved granted. ”So. Was it you who did for him?“
Anne knew he was jesting and—determined to show as brave as he was, however much she wasn’t—she jested back at him, “If I did, I’d not admit it.”
Daved laughed, and she was happy to have made him, but in her fearful need to have him safe she went on, fighting and failing to keep her voice steady, “It doesn’t matter who was at the door. What matters is for you to be away.”
‘What matters, among other things, is that I don’t leave you here where there’s a murderer.“ He laid gentle hands on her shoulders. ”Nor leave you with no certainty in your mind that I am not. After all, you and no one else knows that you found me with the ropes already cut when you came in here. Nor can you know how long I had been unbound. It might have been long enough to kill that friar and dump his body in the street.“
‘If you’d done that, why not just go on? Why move his body at all? Why not kill him here and escape and be done with it?“
‘I’ll do what I can to think of reasons, if you like,“ Daved offered. ”It won’t be easy. In the meanwhile, I want to see the friar’s body.“
‘Daved!“ she exclaimed, but he had already started away from her, and without any quick reason that would stop him, she followed him. In the hall two maidservants were setting out bread and cheese for breakfast on a trestle table. They looked a little confused at seeing him and one of them even a little frightened, which meant something was being said through the household over what had happened yesterday, but when Daved paused to ask them, ”Do you know where they’ve put the dead friar?“, one of the women answered readily enough, ”In the cellar, master.“
As Daved went on, the other said, protesting, “Master Grene said you were staying in the solar.”
Daved threw her a smile over his shoulder, said cheerily, “But as you see, I’m not,” and was out of the hall.
Avoiding their eyes and any question they might have asked her, Anne kept after him. There were two sets of stairs at the rear end of the screens passage. One led down to the kitchen and the rearyard, the other to the cellar under the hall. Because goods of his own were sometimes stored in the cellar, Daved did not need to ask the way, or even to pause at the heavy door since it stood open to the wide, deeply shadowed cellar stairs. Daved took them without hesitation, but Anne had never been this way and went more slowly, holding to the rope strung along the wall for railing, until she turned the stairs’ corner and found herself nearly at their bottom, with enough candlelight ahead of her to show her way better despite the sweep of Daved’s shadow back at her, large among the close-set stone pillars holding up the beams of the hall floor too near above her head. Crowded farther off in the shadows were thicker darknesses that would be the stacked bales of cloth and chests of other goods stored here for safety, but the candlelight was straight ahead, spread out from several fat tallow candles set on prickets thrust out from stone pillars, lighting a square between four of the pillars where Brother Michael’s body must be.
15 The Sempster's Tale Page 21
