Chapter 16
THE STREET URCHINS
The week of hot dry weather continued but I was beginning to sense a subtle change in the wind. As I looked back from the top of the town over the abbey below me white fluffy clouds scuttled maniacally, so it seemed to me, across the otherwise clear blue sky. As they did so the west end of the abbey church, now completely encased in scaffolding for Samson’s towers, cast intermittent shadows over Palace Yard, the space through which Isaac ben Moy would be brought for trial in three days time. Just three days to save a man of whose innocence I was more and more convinced.
The scene outside Isaac’s house as I arrived was more or less the same as it had been the previous week. The sturdy little captain of horse was still there but had been joined by two more soldiers who were guarding the doorway to Isaac’s house. I noted with dismay that several pieces of vegetation had been flung at the door and were lying rotting on the doorstep but otherwise it had remained unmolested. The ‘whining wenches’ as I had privately come to think of the Knieler women were back and still on their knees outside the house babbling in what I now knew to be Gaelic and not heavenly ‘tongues’. Their presence was drawing unwelcome attention to the house inciting curiosity and ill-will in equal measure against the family – which no doubt was their purpose. It was just a pity I did not know another Scot who might be able to challenge them in their own language and put an end to their ridiculous blathering once and for all. Someone had put them up to this and I was sorely tempted to tackle them on the spot to find out who. But confrontation would simply cast them in the role of victim while doing nothing to help the Moy family. All I could do was bide my time and pray for some miracle to remove them.
In contrast to this and adding a welcome note of levity to an otherwise dismal scene was a gaggle of half a dozen street urchins who were clowning about, having fun mimicking the women’s attitude of devotion and inventing a very plausible gobbledegook of their own. It crossed my mind these might be some of the waifs Mother Han had referred to in the gaol. The captain certainly was enjoying their antics and the ones who particularly took his fancy were rewarded with the occasional quarter-penny which he flicked high into the air for them to catch. It must have been very irritating for the Knieler women to have these human hornets buzzing around their heads and being unable to swat them but to do so would have meant they’d have to reveal themselves for the charlatans they were. Still, I had to admire their forbearance in the face of such provocation. Some passers-by slowed their pace to watch the fun but most seemed content merely to hurry by leaving the captain and his men with little else to amuse them on this sultry afternoon.
‘These young tykes, brother,’ chuckled the bearded captain as I approached. ‘They put on a good act. That one with the mizzened hand is a born showman. I’d wager he’ll be in one of the Easter plays before he’s much older. His face is as pretty as a girl’s, make a bonnie wife for one of Noah’s sons. Ha ha, look at him! Here, a whole penny this time.’ He pinged the sliver of silver high in the air whereupon all six scamps dived for it. But it was the boy with the mizzened hand who managed to catch it despite his handicap.
‘See?’ grinned the delighted captain. ‘He may have half the limbs of the others but he has twice their wits. He gets the coin every time.’
I laughed too, but I was more interested in one of the Knieler women who was evidently in not quite so blindly euphoric a state as the others for although she didn’t stop her gabbling I noticed her eyes followed the line of the captain’s little shiny charm as it arched its way through the light-filled air. This gave me an idea.
‘Why captain,’ I said, beaming at him. ‘A penny’s a paltry reward for such excellent sport. Let’s raise the wager a little.’ I reached inside the purse that I had taken from Chrétien and withdrew a handful of coins. ‘Here boys,’ I yelled holding out the pile temptingly. ‘Something this time for everyone.’
Upon saying, I scattered the coins high in the air so that they rained down like a sparkling shower of Italian comfits landing all about with a very pleasing tinkling sound on the ground. This time it wasn’t just the urchins who scrabbled in the dust for the money but one or two of the watching adults also. But still the Knieler women held their ground and stoically carried on their charade of pretend-gibberish. So I tried another handful of Joseph’s bounty and then a third just for luck. I would have thrown a fourth but I didn’t need to. First one, then a second, and finally all four Knieler women, their nerve finally gone, were screeching and scratching and shoving each other and the urchins out the way to get at the money. Wimples askew, hair flying, they fought like dockyard drunkards to scrape up the money accompanied by much shrieking and spitting in both Gaelic and English.
The captain’s eyebrows shot to the top of his head. ‘Well, I’ll be damned! You know, I thought there was something fishy about those women.’
Fishy being the operative word for these herring-gutters, I thought to myself. We watched the women for a few moments more all pretence now abandoned as petticoats flew and fingers scrabbled for the remaining few half-pennies, much to the amusement of the men watching, some of whom threw up their own few coins just to keep the entertainment going.
I turned away with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction. ‘Captain, I’ve come to see the Moy family again. I’m the chief investigator in the murder case. You remember I was here a few days ago.’
‘Aye,’ nodded the captain. ‘I remember you, and the fuss you caused last time.’ He nodded toward the fracas on the road. ‘Seems havoc has a habit of following you.’ He signalled to the soldier by the door to let me through the gate.
‘I’ll try to be less bothersome this time,’ I said kicking aside a rotting cabbage that was lying by the door. ‘And thank you.’
*
The gruff-looking, late-middle-aged woman dressed entirely in black who I had seen on my last visit let me in.
‘You are Matilde? The Moys’ servant?’ I said as she shut and bolted the door behind me.
‘Oui, mon frère,’ she bobbed politely.
Her reply in French took me momentarily by surprise until I remembered what Isaac had told me that three generations of her family had served the Moy household. In all probability they had hardly been out of the house in all that time and had no lives of their own, passing on their skills and ancient version of the language from one generation to the next. I had heard of such servants before but usually they were of Arab or African descent, never French.
‘I have come to see your mistress on a matter of some urgency,’ I articulated as clearly as I could. ‘I do not have time for the usual courtesies so I would be grateful if you could just tell her I am here. I am sure she will see me.’
She seemed to understand well enough my purpose and led the way to one of the side rooms on the ground floor.
I couldn’t help noticing as I walked through the dark and empty hall that the house was still as shuttered and cold as it had been the last time I came, giving the house a depressing but serene atmosphere as though it were waiting for something to happen. The side room turned out to be a sort of scullery not a living room at all. There was no window and the only light was from a single candle that sat on a table in the middle of the room. Next to it, huddled together on a wooden settle, sat Rachel Moy who was cradling the two little girls, one in each arm, while the boy stood close by. It was a moment or two before my eyes adjusted sufficiently to see them all properly.
‘Mistress Moy,’ I said, slightly shocked by her appearance. ‘Are you all right?’
At first she seemed not to hear me, her eyes glazed and unseeing. But then she curled her lip to reply. ‘They throw missiles at the house,’ she said in a voice empty of emotion. ‘Shout at night. Sometimes they try to get in. We are safer in here.’ She leaned over and kissed the heads of the two little girls.
My heart filled with desolation and compassion at her words. She sounded so hopeless. ‘Rachel, is there nowhere you can go? Surely now to your
husband’s family in Norwich? For pity’s sake – for the children’s sake?’
She snorted. ‘Who would carry us there? You?’
I looked at Rachel Moy’s face. It was the face of a rabbit caught in the jaws of a stoat, hypnotised and resigned to a fate that was beyond her understanding or control. I didn’t know what to say to her.
‘If it is any comfort, those women outside are gone now. I don’t think they will be back.’
She merely snorted. ‘They have done their work. Everyone knows we are here now.’
There was a sound behind her and I stiffened as I realised that there was a fifth person in the room standing so far back in the shadows that it was almost impossible to see him. He must have seen me start for he came forward and I could see from his attire that he was a rabbi. I wondered how he had got in to the house for I doubted if the captain would have allowed him to pass. But then I guessed he must have come in through the secret shaft at the side of the house leading to the cellar and in so thinking it occurred to me that that was probably the reason they had kept the shaft and the cellar clear. The Abbot’s ordinances against Jews living in the town extended to visiting rabbis. This way he could come and go discreetly. The man now stepped between me and Rachel holding out his hands protectively.
‘We are all praying that Isaac will soon be back and this nightmare will be at an end.’ He gestured towards the door for me to leave. But I had no intention of being so summarily dismissed.
‘Rabbi, I have to ask her some questions,’ I insisted.
‘To what purpose?’
I bristled. ‘In order to fight, of course. You can’t just do nothing.’
‘I told you, we are doing something. We are praying.’
‘I too am praying,’ I said. ‘And I think God has partly answered my prayer. He sent me a messenger with some unexpected information that I believe may be critical. I asked Isaac about it but he was reluctant to discuss it. I want to see if Rachel can throw any further light.’
‘Forgive me, brother, but that is your desire. It is not Rachel’s. And from what you say it is not Isaac’s either. So please, leave now. You cannot help.’ He stepped forward with his hands held out to usher me away.
This was maddening. What was wrong with these people? Why were they being so defeatist? It was almost as though they welcomed their own martyrdom.
‘I just want to ask,’ I insisted, ‘did the murdered boy Matthew come here to the house? I mean, I know he did but I need to know why.’
‘You already have the answer to that. He came to be crucified by the Christ-killers.’
The phrase infuriated me. It could have been uttered by Egbert. ‘I don’t believe that,’ I frowned. ‘And I don’t think Rachel does either. There has to be another reason.’
‘Then you are the only one to think it.’
From behind the rabbi Rachel spoke at last, though not to me but quietly as though reminiscing to herself. ‘At first he came to sell us earth – the clay of Adam’s body. It was a kindness. Useful.’
She was referring to the fuller’s earth used for cleaning clothes. I understood that. ‘Yes?’ I said encouragingly. ‘That’s right. The earth. But something else. Some other reason for his visit. What was it?’
‘They became – friends.’ She curled her lip and spat the word again. ‘Friends!’
‘Matthew and Isaac. Yes, yes. Go on. What passed between them?’
Her mouth smiled but her eyes showed her mind was elsewhere. ‘The Devil passed. He comes in many guises, old Ned. Sometimes with the sweet face of innocence.’
The rabbi swung round. ‘Say no more, Rachel. Your duty is not to this man but to your husband.’
‘Please,’ I was almost begging. ‘Don’t stop now.’ But it was no good. Rachel’s face crumpled as Jacob put his arms around his mother and she broke down in silent sobs clutching her children to her. I knew I would get no more from her. With all the stress of the past days her wits had finally left her.
The rabbi looked almost as distraught as she. ‘You must go now. Can you not see you only distress her more with your questions? Her mind is in turmoil. Leave her to grieve in peace.’ We had reached the door which Matilde stood ready to open. As she did so the rabbi stepped back into shadow so as not to be seen from outside.
‘Grieve?’ I snorted angrily as I paused on the threshold. ‘You speak as though Isaac were already dead.’
I could not see the rabbi’s face, only hear his words: ‘Isn’t he?’
*
Outside the air seemed clean and the day bright. I felt angry, frustrated, useless. I’d been so close to knowing the truth and in the end I was thwarted. What had passed between Matthew and Isaac? What was their secret? My temper wasn’t improved by once again having the feeling that I was being watched. Frustration finally got the better of me.
‘Come on!’ I yelled spinning round. ‘Show yourself!’ I ran to a corner but there was no-one there. I ran back again. I squinted hard into the bright sunshine and shook my fist impotently in the air. ‘Coward!’
‘Feeling better now?’ said the captain once I was a little calmer. He must have thought I’d lost my senses. ‘I think I preferred it better with those wailer women. Here.’ He held out his hand in which there were half a dozen of the silver pennies. ‘I found these among the weeds. These little rascals will have the eyes from your head if you let them.’ He nodded to the street urchins who were still hanging about waiting for the next opportunity to present itself.
‘Keep them,’ I said dismissively. I could hardly care less for the money.
The captain shook his head. ‘No, it’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘Why should it matter?’
He shrugged. ‘Who knows? I’ve been a soldier for a long time, fought in the King’s wars in Palestine – King Richard I mean, not this new one,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘I’ve learnt the safest road is the straightest one. Do your duty, don’t ask questions and act dumb, that’s my rule. It’s thinking that does for people.’
‘What a sad comment on the state of humanity,’ I said with sincerity.
‘Aye, mebbe. But I’m forty-seven now. In three years time, God willing, I shall retire with enough money to marry my sweetheart, buy her father’s assart from his lord in Lincolnshire and build a little cottage to see out our days.’
I managed a smile at that. ‘Good for you, my friend,’ I said sincerely. ‘It is cheering to hear a glad tale in these sorry times. I wish you well indeed.’ I laughed and took the proffered money returning it to the purse and intending to put it in the poor box and say a prayer for the captain and his family. ‘Will you be here tomorrow?’
‘I will. Tomorrow, Monday and for three days after the trial.’
‘Ah yes,’ I nodded. ‘For the judgement. Well, I must be getting back to the abbey, there is so much to do. I’ll bid you good day.’
‘Good day to you too,’ he sniffed looking up at the sky. ‘Doubtless we’ll be seeing each other again.’
He was right, we would indeed be seeing each other again, but in circumstances I would have given the bag of coin and half my own wealth not to be.
*
I was beginning to build up a picture of the boy Matthew whose character was slowly coming into focus. The image of the child saint who could do no wrong was gone, replaced by something far more complex, far more human. Something had passed between Isaac and Matthew, but exactly what my imagination could not fathom. Rachel said they had become friends, but what sort of friendship could it have been between a fourteen-year-old boy and a man old enough to be his father – indeed, who was a father of a boy of the same age? Matthew had begun visiting the Moy house, Rachel had said, to bring them fuller’s earth. This in itself would have been theft since the mill and all its produce belonged to the abbey. It seems Matthew was making a little extra income illicitly. But that, surely, would not be sufficient motive for murder.
Matthew had gained entrance to the Moy house �
�� that much had been endorsed by Sir Richard de Tayfen and by Rachel’s somewhat more ambiguous replies. Having thus won their confidence he continued to visit them. Why? And what happened next? Did they have a falling out? Was that what led to Matthew’s death? Over what? And by whose hand? And what had Isaac’s testament to do with all this? The more I pondered the conundrum so the mist seemed to return to obscure the scene. I needed time for the picture to clear further but time was rapidly running out.
As I walked down the hill towards the abbey I became aware that I was being followed this time not by my phantom shadow but by the same street urchins who had been tormenting the Knieler women outside the Moy house. They had been watching, I noticed, when I came out of the house and must have seen the captain give me back my money. Perhaps they were hoping I’d give them some more. Now like jackals on the scent of a kill they were keeping pace with me but just a few feet behind. I stopped and turned. They stopped too but maintained their strict distance of two or three feet just out of arm’s-reach. If I took a step or two towards them they melted back again. I shrugged and continued nonchalantly on my way but after a few more steps I turned suddenly and roared towards them like a lion so that they squealed in fright and scampered away in all directions. I stood in the street with my arms akimbo laughing as one by one half a dozen faces reappeared from behind walls and bushes. They were like a troupe of monkeys and a variety of ages and heights they were too. No doubt this was how they survived by being ready to take any opportunity as it presented itself. I noticed the boy with the mizzened hand was still among them. Doubtless his deformity made his life even more of a struggle than the others. But he was still alive and thriving, Deo favente.
‘Who deserves a penny?’ I grinned round at them. That drew them a little out into the open though they still kept their distance.
‘All right,’ I said fishing out the coins that the captain had returned to me and holding them out in my tightly-clenched fist. This tempted the bravest of them closer until one, the bravest, finally came right up to me and tried to prise open my fist with his grubby little fingers. I was astonished at just how determined and persistent he was. It was a struggle but I managed to keep my fist closed. Frustrated by their friend’s failure, the others now tried too biting, scratching, pinching – anything they could think of to wrench my fingers apart. But though pained and scratched I just proved the stronger and managed to keep hold of the money. Eventually they pulled and twisted my hand so hard that I went down, laughing and panting, onto my knees where, being now at their eye-level, I decided to remain.
Unholy Innocence Page 18
