‘He came back two or three times to see her. Always, I was sent out. But once I got back early and they weren’t in the parlour; they came down the stairs in a bit of a hurry just after I came in. Must have heard me saying, Where’s madam? to one of the maids. Robert Wyse came back home not long after that and Henry Howard left Kenninghall and went back to his home, wherever that was. But by then, she’d missed a course. I was her personal maid. I’d know, wouldn’t I?’
‘God’s teeth!’ said Brockley softly.
‘Well, I’ve been happy with Ezra but I hear things about her; she hasn’t mended her ways, don’t you think it, and no wonder her husband grew so stark and hard with his family. Keeping her on a tight rein, he was, I don’t doubt it, and not always succeeding, either! Not that all of it’s her doing, I grant you. Why men have to behave like wasps falling into a jam pot, I’ll never know. Well, I’ll leave you to your meal.’
She whisked out of the room, leaving us to finish the serving ourselves. We stared at each other.
‘What caused all that?’ Brockley said. ‘What made her burst out like that, all of a sudden, and to strangers?’
‘She may feel it’s safer to talk to strangers,’ I said. ‘She’s still bitter, that’s plain enough. Ezra probably tries to make her be discreet. But strangers wouldn’t be so likely to spread talk round the district.’
‘There’s been talk already,’ said Brockley. ‘Remember the gossip we heard last time we were here? There’s something odd about this. Something’s changed. It’s as if the very name of Mistress Wyse makes our landlord’s wife angry, in a way she wasn’t last time. What’s happened?’
‘Maybe Agnes has been making eyes at Ezra?’ I suggested.
‘After all these years?’ said Dale reasonably. ‘She must have known him most of her life.’
‘Getting desperate now she’s getting older, perhaps?’ Brockley offered. ‘Or maybe Ezra’s changed – started to stray.’
‘Let’s eat,’ I said.
We finished our meal. Brockley went to arrange rooms for us, and came back saying that Ezra seemed irritable and almost brusque, but a couple of rooms were to be had, the same ones that we had had before.
‘And now,’ I said, ‘let us talk to Agnes, if she’s home.’
‘But even if Roland Wyse wasn’t fathered by Master Wyse, what difference can that make to anything?’ Dale grumbled as we set off on foot to Agnes’s house. ‘Mistress Cobbold can’t have been murdered because of that! Even if she’d found out and he thought she might spread the news around, why should Roland care? He’s a man with a position at court and don’t tell me he’s the only one there who isn’t quite sure who his father was!’
‘Maybe he’s in love with some lass whose parents think the son should be burdened with the sins of the father,’ hazarded Brockley as we reached Agnes’s house and I applied the knocker. ‘We haven’t gone into Wyse’s romantic life.’
‘Since he proposed marriage to me,’ I said with asperity, ‘I hope he hasn’t got a romantic life at present! Still – yes, we could ask Agnes about his love affairs, if any.’
He and Dale nodded. The door was opening to reveal a youthful maidservant, probably the Lucy who hadn’t been in evidence during our previous visit. She showed us into the parlour, where we found Agnes rearranging ornaments on a shelf next to a tapestry wall hanging that hadn’t been there before. ‘I think I shall have to have this shelf moved,’ she remarked, by way of a greeting. ‘It distracts the eye from the tapestry. The theme of that is the death of Cleopatra. Very dramatic – don’t you agree? It should have the wall to itself.’
I looked at the tapestry and thought it not merely dramatic but repellent. Cleopatra, inadequately clothed, lay on a couch in a limp, dying attitude. With one hand she held a snake to an exposed breast, while the other caressed the reptile in a loving manner. Two other women, also minimally clad, knelt weeping beside her. Weakly, I said something about the excellence of the workmanship. Beside me, Brockley exuded disapproval and Dale was embarrassed by Cleopatra’s nakedness. I didn’t even have to look at them to know that; I knew them both far too well.
‘It’s very pleasant to have visitors I can show my fine new things to,’ said Mistress Wyse, probably taking their silence for admiration. I noticed that she was wearing what, from its pristine appearance, was surely a new gown, and a silk one at that. It was black with silver and green embroidery on the sleeves and her ruff was edged with the still fashionable Spanish blackwork. The ensemble suited her.
The maidservant was hovering. ‘Cakes and wine, Lucy,’ said Agnes, waving her out of the room, and us into seats. ‘It is kind of you to call,’ she said. ‘Is there any special reason for it, or were you just in the district? Have you news of my son?’
‘We did just happen to be in Kenninghall,’ I said, feeling my way. ‘We have seen nothing of Master Wyse lately but thought we might take news of you back to him.’ Asking my questions, I realized, was something to approach with caution. Polite social exchanges had better come first. ‘How are you faring? How is your cousin Blanche?’
The effect of this harmless enquiry was remarkable. Agnes’s face went pale with anger, and in her lap, her fingers curved like claws. I noticed for the first time that she kept her nails unattractively long. ‘Blanche!’ She fairly spat the name. ‘That saucy, ungrateful, impertinent fool! I’ve no idea how she is and I don’t want to know, either.’
‘But … whatever is the matter?’ I infused my voice with sympathy. ‘What has Blanche done? I see that she isn’t here just now.’
‘I gave her a good home here, every kindness. All I wanted from her was a little gratitude and to know her place and not push in and put herself forward when I had company! She’s run off, that’s what she’s done. She’s run off with that Gilbert Shore! They set it all up without my knowledge. The deceit of it! Oh, it was all legal! Banns called and everything, the way the church likes, but called where I couldn’t hear them! Sly! Deception!’
She broke off as Lucy appeared with a tray. Lucy took one look at her mistress’s furious face, put the tray down in haste, bobbed and fled. The rest of us sat still. As soon as Lucy had vanished, Agnes resumed as though there had been no interruption.
‘Do you know what that pair did? No, of course you don’t. Gilbert went to stay for a while with his parents in the next parish and had the banns called there. He rode over to his work every day. Must have got up at dawn to get there on time. Then one market day, out goes Blanche to buy needles and silk thread, so she said. But she didn’t come back, just left me to worry and panic and ask the neighbours if they’d seen her!’
Her sense of grievance, her bitter indignation, were pouring out in a torrent. ‘And then a messenger boy arrives!’ she said furiously. ‘With a note to say she and Gilbert are married – over in his home parish – and she’ll be living from now on in a cottage somewhere in this village. Well, I hope she won’t regret it, that’s all, but I’ve no doubt she will. Blanche hasn’t got what’s needed to hold a man, mark my words, and Gilbert’s no catch. Just works on the land! My husband was a lawyer, a professional man! I suppose she snatched at one of the few men who looked at her twice. Well, more fool her!’
I could think of nothing to say and from her silence, nor could Dale. As for Brockley, his distaste could almost be smelt but his voice was as smooth as cream as he said: ‘I can understand why you wanted someone better for your cousin. After all, yours is a well-connected family, is it not? Isn’t Roland the son of an earl? Earl of Surrey, I believe. Did you have Roland in mind for Blanche? These days, you wouldn’t need a dispensation for the marriage of cousins. I believe some vicars still object, but not all.’
Agnes’s mouth opened. Or rather, her jaw dropped, while her eyes widened. ‘So she’s talked! That woman Cat Spinner! Cat by name and cat by nature, that one. She said she would but I told her, won’t people wonder why you never told what you know before? But she’s not one to think clear, oh no, not her. She’s just angry be
cause I won’t let her bleed me any more. That’s what’s wrong with her!’
‘Bleed you?’ I asked.
‘Yes, bleed me. Of money! Ever since Robert died. Not till he was gone – she was frightened of him; everyone was, me as well. I never wanted to marry him but he had money and a profession and when he came courting, my parents said I had to take him; I’d never catch a better bridegroom. I was terrified of him. I was only fifteen when I was married. He was a hard man. Henry Howard was kind, smiling, affectionate. I was still only seventeen when he fell in love with me and I needed some kindness. And then …’
Agnes’s mouth twisted sourly. ‘Robert knew who Roland’s father was. There was servants’ talk and he could add up the months, could Robert, and he knew when he saw Roland that here was no baby born early. He didn’t do me any harm over it; oh, I’ll grant him that. He was hard but he was decent and he wouldn’t beat a woman who was suckling a child. But from then on, he never melted. Always cold, he was. Polite and a million miles away. Used me when he wanted to, got two daughters from me and then lost interest. He wouldn’t let me tell Roland the truth and I thought it best not to myself, but that was the first thing that woman Cat Spinner threatened to do; tell Roland. So then I did let him know the truth. After all, why shouldn’t Roland know that his father was an earl, and the Duke of Norfolk his half-brother?’
I opened my mouth to ask how Cat had managed to go on bleeding Agnes, once Roland knew of his paternity, but Agnes had merely paused to gulp in a breath, and now overrode me, surging on.
‘At least Roland gained from knowing. The duke came to his house here in Kenninghall now and then. Roland got to know him somehow and let him know of their relationship. I’d told Roland this and that about his real father; things Henry Howard said to me, about his family, details most people couldn’t know, and that’s how Roland got the duke to realize they really were brothers. They became friends. They never made anything public, but Roland had studied law and the duke helped him to his first post at court. Not a big one; just a junior in Walsingham’s office, but that was his start. The Duke of Norfolk, God rest his soul, was a better friend to my Roland than Robert ever was, for all he pretended that Roland was his. He was always harsh to the boy. Always!’
Not all that surprising, I thought. Most men would find it hard to be kind to the cuckoo in the nest, though admittedly, I pitied the cuckoo.
‘Roland was fond of the duke,’ said Agnes. ‘He was near falling ill with sorrow when Norfolk was executed. He works for that man Walsingham because it’s a position with prospects but he hates Walsingham for hounding his brother to death. And now that Spinner woman …’
I got my question in at last. ‘But if your husband was dead and Roland knew of his parentage, then how could Cat Spinner have gone on bleeding you, as you put it?’
‘No one here in Kenninghall knew! The duke and Roland kept even their friendship quiet, let alone their being brothers. I said they never made anything public. That Cat said she’d tell the world if I didn’t pay her, every month, on the first. There’d been gossip about me already, just because I make an effort to look well. Cat said she’d have all Norfolk knowing for sure I was an adultress and knowing about Roland, too. It was all right for him to know, but do you think I wanted the whole world to hear about it? So I paid her, and paid her high, as well! Her husband knows all about it, I fancy. That inn’s a mighty prosperous place!’
‘Does your son know anything about this?’ Brockley asked. ‘Surely, you’ve told him? Can he do nothing to help you?’
‘I didn’t dare tell Roland.’ There were tears now in Agnes’s eyes. ‘I was afraid of what he’d do. He can be violent. While he was still just a lad, my husband beat him often, but when Roland was fifteen, he put on some muscle and then, when Robert tried one day to take a whip to him, Roland turned on him and knocked him down. Knocked him out, as a matter of fact. And since he’s grown up and gone out into the world, he’s grown harder. He’d be so angry about the Spinners that he might do anything! I hardly know him these days. He doesn’t tell me things any more; he’s not open the way he used to be. I know nothing of his friends, nothing of his interests. I’m just glad of the money he sends me. It keeps Cat quiet. Kept her quiet. Not now!’
‘What has happened to change things?’ Brockley asked.
‘I’ve kept up appearances as best I could,’ said Agnes angrily. ‘For five years I’ve only had one maidservant and no new dresses. I got tired of it, just tired of it, and two weeks ago, I told Cat to tell the world if she liked; I’d pay her no longer. She didn’t like that! Just then, money came from Roland – he’s generous enough that way – and for once it didn’t go to put silk on Cat Spinner’s back or buy pewter goblets for them as drink at the White Hart. This time, it went on a tapestry and this new gown for me! If you do tell the world, I said to Cat, I’ll tell people why you’ve kept silent all this time. So as to extort money from me! I’ll hold my tongue as long as you hold yours but no longer. She tried to defy me. You won’t do that, she said to me. If you do, then the world’ll know you really were unfaithful; that I’ve not made it up. You wouldn’t have paid me a penny else. Well, she was wrong. If she’s started pointing her finger at me, then I’ll point a finger at her! Yes, I will! I will!’
Abruptly, Agnes’s tears overflowed. She turned her head away to sob into a cushion. We all looked at each other, embarrassed.
‘I’ve remembered something,’ I whispered, careful to make sure she couldn’t hear. ‘Roland Wyse witnessed the execution of his half-brother Norfolk, as I did. I saw him there. It’s true he was very upset. He cried.’
FIFTEEN
Encounter in a Second-rate Inn
‘Well,’ I said as we walked back to the inn, ‘our questions have been answered before we even asked them. Agnes knows little or nothing of her son’s friends or interests, and most of those, these days, are surely in London. I should have gone there first and sent you off to Norfolk without me, Brockley. My mistake!’
‘We do now know what’s made Agnes and Cat so talkative,’ said Brockley. ‘Only two weeks ago, Cat lost what by the sound of it was a healthy slice of income, because Agnes ran out of patience and told her so. They’re both sore and spitting.’
‘I don’t like either of them,’ said Dale primly.
‘Nor me,’ Brockley agreed. ‘No wonder Ezra never wanted people to gossip about Agnes! Once some really juicy gossip was circulating, there’d be little point in Agnes paying the Spinners to keep quiet! And now he’s probably afraid that Agnes will tell the world about the extortion, so he’s still trying to get Cat to hold her tongue. My God, what a pair! Well, we’ll deal with them.’
We had spoken further to Agnes before leaving her, explaining that it was quite possible that Cat had not talked to anyone but us and if so, we thought we could make sure it stopped there. We parted from her on quite friendly terms. When we reached the inn, Brockley, in the kind of voice that isn’t easily gainsaid, declared that we must speak to Cat and Ezra in private. Accordingly, they showed us into a very small room which, to judge by its ledgers and the ink stains on the scarred little table, the chipped earthenware writing set, the pot of spare quills and the small abacus with the cracked beads, was where they did their accounts and made lists of things to be done and stores to be purchased. It was quite difficult to squeeze us all in. Clearly, Agnes’s contributions to their income hadn’t been spent here. Brockley closed the door. Then he spoke.
‘We have a warning for you,’ he said to the Spinners. ‘A warning that you should take very seriously.’ His voice held authority, although looking at him, I noticed once more that he looked very tired. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept. ‘We know that you have been wringing money out of Agnes Wyse, by threatening to spread scandal about her, and about the parentage of her son. She has now refused to pay you any more, and quite right, too. Extortion is a very serious crime indeed and carries some terrifying penalties. Agnes
told us that she has had to pay high for your silence. No, she didn’t tell us the amount but we had already noticed how prosperous your inn seems to be. There must be no more of this.’
They stared at him without speaking, their faces half defiant and half frightened. Ezra’s chins were wobbling and there was sweat on his forehead but his eyes were angry. Cat’s were sly, and the locks of dark hair flowing down the sides of her face suddenly gave me the creeps. They reminded me of Agnes Wyse’s nasty tapestry, with Cleopatra caressing a snake. The hair lay in sinuous curves that made me think of snakes.
‘Never attempt to take money from anyone again, by threats,’ said Brockley. ‘Agnes will not report you as long as you are silent from now on. We have her word on that. I hope that we were the first you tried to feed with scandal. If you’ve talked to anyone else, I advise you to find a way to retract, to say you were mistaken.’
‘I warned you, Cat. I said, don’t talk about her; she’ll find a way to get back at you.’ Ezra glowered at his wife.
Cat glowered back and said: ‘She took the earl’s fancy away from me. Maybe it was best in the end but no wench would like it. She brushed me aside as if I were nothing.’
‘Over thirty years ago,’ I said. ‘Time to let it go, surely. Don’t dare to rob or harm Agnes again. Leave her alone.’
‘There’s talk about her without us!’ Ezra snapped.
‘Then you’d best contradict it,’ said Brockley. ‘You’ve always forbidden it in your inn, haven’t you? Go on forbidding it. That was a way of guarding your private pot of gold, I suppose. No use threatening to tell what’s already being said! You’d be wise to go on defending Mistress Wyse’s good name. We’ll leave in the morning. No doubt you would like us to leave now but it’s too late in the day to get far. I recommend you to see us as good business. We’ll pay our bill as we should. You can hardly complain about that. That’s all.’
He turned on his heel and both Dale and I followed him out of the congested little office. We made our way to the stair that led up to the gallery at the nearest point to our rooms. As we were about to separate, Dale suddenly said: ‘What is the penalty for extortion, Roger?’
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