Knight of Betrayal: A Medieval Haunting (Ghosts of Knaresborough Book 1)

by Karen Perkins

  ‘That will be all, Mable,’ Helwise said, and the girl scurried away. Morville glared at his wife.

  ‘Now I see why you insisted on coming to Cnaresburg, Hugh,’ Tracy said, his words becoming slurred. ‘Such a beautiful and young wife.’

  Helwise glanced at him, grateful he had commanded her husband’s attention.

  ‘My wife is beautiful too,’ Tracy confided very loudly. ‘Although no longer young.’ He laughed and drank again, then leaned forward to look past FitzUrse and Morville and addressed Helwise.

  ‘She is with child,’ he said, his face a picture of pride. ‘Borne me two fine sons already.’ He paused. ‘Olion and Oliver, both knights themselves now. Fine men, the pair of them.’

  ‘They are indeed,’ Brett said. ‘I last saw Oliver in Normandy before we departed for England. He has grown so strong, he bested me at a wrestle in no time at all.’

  ‘Verily. A fine warrior,’ Tracy said, holding his goblet up to toast but spilling most of its contents on to the sleeve of his tunic.

  ‘Pomperi,’ he said, oblivious, ‘my beloved wife. I hope to see her again.’

  His face fell, then he looked up. ‘I will see her again, will I not, Reginald?’

  ‘Without a doubt, William. Without a doubt.’ FitzUrse pulled a passing serving girl on to his lap. ‘Until you do, there are plenty here who would enjoy your attention, is that not so?’ He nuzzled the young girl’s neck.

  ‘Of course, My Lord,’ she squeaked before extricating herself and scampering back to the kitchens.

  The table of knights roared with laughter. Even Tracy smiled, drained what was left in his goblet then stared at the table in morose silence.

  Chapter 11

  Helwise was awoken by fingers fumbling beneath her shift. Her heart sank as she realised her husband was already awake and had recovered from the excesses of the previous evening.

  He had fallen asleep as soon as he’d lain down, but Helwise’s relief had turned to irritation as the volume of his snores did not diminish throughout the night hours. She felt as if she had only just fallen into slumber and was not yet prepared for the new day.

  She did not move or indicate she was awake, and kept her legs still and heavy, resisting her husband in the one way open to her. On occasion it had worked, but not this morn. Hugh de Morville would not be denied his wife.

  With a groan of frustration, he flung aside the bed covers, rose and knelt over Helwise, pushed up her shift and forced her legs apart.

  Helwise remained still and silent, taking no part in the act, then cursed herself as her body responded, despite her wishes and his sour breath.

  She clasped her legs around her husband with a moan, who reacted in both strength and vigour until they cried out together.

  Morville rolled away and levered himself off the bed. He poured a little water into a bowl, splashed his face, then pissed into the fireplace before donning hose, smock and cote.

  ‘Hurry yourself, Helwise. I wish to hear the progress made on the tower and ditch and view the work done in my absence. You would be my guide.’

  ‘Very well, husband,’ Helwise said, reluctantly climbing out of bed. She wished for another hour or two of slumber, but knew this would hold no sway with Hugh.

  She dressed in a long chainse with tight-fitting sleeves, then chose a dark-blue bliaut. It fitted snugly under her breasts, the voluminous skirts draping to the floor. She adjusted the sleeves until they were comfortable; closely tailored from shoulder to elbow then draping to the same length of the skirts.

  After donning a coif to cover her hair, then adding the face-encircling barbette that Queen Eleanor had made so popular, she added a fillet around the top of her head to secure everything in place. She fastened her emerald-green cloak at her neck and hurried down the spiral stairs to join her husband at the south tower.

  *

  Helwise found Morville in the inner bailey, surrounded by smiths, ropewalkers, carpenters and wood-turners. He turned to study the complete towers of the east, north and west gates, then stared to the south. No gate here at the top of the cliff, but the new defensive watch tower was less than half the height of the completed structures.

  ‘I had thought it to be raised higher by this time,’ he said.

  ‘The weather has been inclement,’ Helwise said, ‘making the quarrying difficult, affecting the mix of the mortar and turning the scaffolding treacherous. The masons have done well in the circumstances.’

  Morville harrumphed and led the way through the doorway to climb the spiral staircase, then scrambled out on to the scaffolded platform at the top.

  ‘My Lord,’ the mason said in surprise, finished tamping down the stone he had placed, then laid down his tools. ‘I bid you welcome.’

  Morville nodded. ‘How goes progress?’

  ‘We are making the most of the break in the weather, My Lord.’ He nodded towards the treadmill. ‘That was damaged in the last storm, but as you can see is working once more.’

  Morville said nothing, but watched the two men inside the contraption walking the wheels around. Presently, a plank carrying a load of sandstone rose over the edge of the platform and was manhandled on to the platform to be sorted by colour. The strongest dark-grey stone would be used for the facing and structure of the wall, which would be infilled with the reddish and softer yellow stones, giving great strength to the thick defences.

  Morville ran his hand over the faced stone of a completed section and nodded in satisfaction at its smoothness.

  He peered over the edge to examine the ditch below. More quarry than dry moat at this time, it was abustle with activity; men quarried stone, the rhythmic clanging of the masons’ chisels facing the blocks for the inner and outer skins as well as the steps for the spiral stair was as effective as a drummer marking time for rowers or marching soldiers.

  ‘It is quite a distance down, is it not, Hugh?’ Helwise said at his side.

  ‘It is indeed,’ Morville said, happier now despite the lack of height of the tower. Any attacking force would be more than daunted by the height of the cliff and depth of the ditch, and even at this low elevation, he had a view of the valley for miles in all directions. Although there was plenty of ammunition for siege engines about the quarry, there was no flat ground for them to be situated and used against him. Cnaresburg Castle was in no danger from the south.

  He glanced up at the sun, then turned to his wife. ‘It is near time for dinner, Helwise, let us re-join our guests, see how they fare this day.’

  ‘I am concerned for Sir William, Hugh. He seemed ill at ease last evening.’

  Morville made a sound of disgust. ‘He is weak of heart, blaming all but himself for his present circumstances.’

  ‘He misses Pomperi,’ Helwise said.

  ‘Bah. He has two fine sons yet continues to bleat about his wife and the child she carries. It is unnecessary.’

  ‘He is concerned, Hugh. It is good to witness.’

  Morville glared at her, and she spoke no more but followed him away from the construction of the tower and back to the keep and great hall.

  Chapter 12

  19th June 2015

  ‘Thank you, everyone, for coming,’ Helen said. ‘I know our last rehearsal was a little – strange – and am relieved none of you have given up on our production.’

  ‘To be honest, Helen, we’re all a bit freaked out,’ Paul said. ‘We can’t explain what happened, and the possibility it was real scares the shit out of me, and I think everyone else, right guys?’

  He got a few nods, but not from everyone, yet pushed on regardless. ‘Was it worth dabbling in things we don’t know, and to be honest, shouldn’t know or have contact with in this life?’

  ‘I appreciate your concern, Paul, and apologise to everyone – I had thought the spirit board was a way to allow you to tap into your psyches and your creative cores, to channel your characters, and become them when you’re on stage. I honestly did not expect what happened.’

&nb
sp; ‘How’s your arm?’ Alec asked.

  ‘Broken wrist. It could have been a lot worse. Was anyone else hurt?’

  ‘No,’ Sarah said, ‘just you.’

  ‘Okay then, shall we start?’

  Helen sat in the middle of the front row of seats; no gods, no boxes, no circles, just rows of seats on one level, more like an assembly hall than a theatre, yet it hosted a wide variety of acts and plays.

  ‘We need to plan the sets – they’ll take the most time to create – as you know it’s mainly a two-hander between Henry and Becket, and they’re rarely together geographically so we have to get creative.’

  ‘Huh? How will that work?’ Dan said.

  ‘We need a set to represent a castle in Normandy for Henry’s scenes, and Canterbury Cathedral for Becket’s – and of course, most of their arguments and fallings out happened when they were separated by the English channel, and done by messenger, but that won’t work in a play.’

  ‘So what do you suggest?’ Ed asked.

  ‘One set split into two. The left-hand side as the audience looks on will be a Norman castle’s great hall, the right-hand side Canterbury Cathedral. Most of the play will focus on these two locations – often at the same time.’

  ‘But how will that work?’ Sarah asked. ‘We can’t have two locations on stage at the same time.’

  ‘I think we can – one stage, two locations. Henry in his, Becket in his, and use lighting to distinguish between the two. So when Henry makes Becket archbishop, the Norman castle and Henry are spotlighted, whilst Becket and Canterbury is dark. Then when Becket denounces his chancellorship, Canterbury is lit and Normandy dark. The lighting will switch between the two, following their dialogue. Is that possible, Alec?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. It will take quite a bit of setting up to programme, but there shouldn’t be any problems.’

  ‘Great,’ Helen said. ‘What about sets? Do we have enough time?’

  ‘Just about,’ Ed said. ‘But they’ll be rough – I can’t go too detailed in the time we have. I think we can manage with one backdrop in a masonry design, so we can use it for the final scene too, then use different furniture and props to show the difference between castle and cathedral.’

  ‘Okay.’ Helen paused, knowing she had to ask the next question. ‘So, does anybody feel any ill effects after what we did last week?’

  ‘Aside from your broken wrist, you mean?’ Alec said.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Helen said.

  Silence.

  ‘We didn’t close the board,’ Sarah said. ‘The woman in the shop, Donna, said we had to close the board.’

  ‘I think the board closed itself, babes,’ Dan said, and Sarah glanced at him in annoyance at the annoying pet name.

  Chapter 13

  THOMAS BECKET (CHARLIE THOROGOOD)

  Great Hall, Archbishop’s Palace, Canterbury Cathedral.

  So here I be, yesterday a layman, today the Church’s highest authority in the land. What is my friend Henry thinking? And why does he not take my advice in this of all things?

  (Sits at desk with quill, ink pot and parchment)

  I may have no say in the archbishopric, but I shall resign as Chancellor, if only I could find the words to express my ire at Henry.

  ‘Okay, stop there, Charlie,’ Helen called. ‘This is where we need to get to know Becket as a man. Who is he? What’s his character?’

  ‘Why don’t you hold another séance and ask him?’ Dan said, sarcastic as ever. Helen glared at him, then softened.

  ‘Not one of my better ideas, I admit,’ she said. ‘Where is the board, anyway, has anyone found it? I think we should burn it.’

  Dan look surprised. ‘I thought you’d taken it.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Not me, anyone else?’

  Sarah, Mike, Ed, Alec, Paul and Charlie all shook their heads.

  ‘Well, never mind, I’m sure it will turn up,’ Helen said and brought her attention back to Charlie on stage.

  ‘Becket’s an important man. Up until now he’s been the closest man to the King, Charlie.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘And now he’s a priest, with no choice about the matter, I get it,’ he said.

  ‘Do you? He likes the finer things in life – clothing, food, hunting, women,’ Helen said.

  ‘Should fit right in then,’ Paul said with a laugh. ‘The bishops can go hunting together!’

  ‘Ah, that they may have done, My Lord. But that shall not follow now I am the Primate of All England.’

  ‘That’s it, Charlie! You’re getting it – you sound just like Becket,’ Helen said, striking her knee with her good hand in place of clapping.

  ‘My thanks, fair maiden,’ Charlie said, bowing to his director.

  ‘Thomas, my friend, thee must leave the ladies of the kingdom alone now,’ Paul said, mounting the steps to the stage.

  ‘Ah, so that is why thee foisted this most unwelcome honour on me. Thee is scared of the competition!’

  Paul laughed and clapped his friend on the back. ‘Not at all, Thomas. With thy help I shall bow the Church to my will and the will of England. No more of this petty squabbling that has become so arduous.’

  ‘But Henry, thee has given me a great duty. As Archbishop of Canterbury, I must serve God above all else.’

  ‘Thee serves me, Thomas,’ Paul said. ‘Me, thy King.’

  ‘Of course, Sire,’ Charlie said. ‘I serve thee after God.’

  ‘Thomas, I warn thee now, consider thy actions with care,’ Paul said, balling his fists. ‘I have not risen thee so high to stand against me. That does not follow. Does thee hear me, Bishop?’ The last word was a sneer.

  ‘Verily, Sire, and I shall bring all my powers to the task of tallying my spiritual duties with those demanded by thee.’

  Paul opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by clapping from the auditorium.

  ‘This is going to work, isn’t it?’ Dan said. ‘This is really going to work.’

  Helen grinned. ‘Oh yes, and a great bit of improv, guys. Can we try again with the scripts now? Scene three, from the top.’

  Paul moved back to his position, and Charlie readied himself to restart his monologue.

  THOMAS BECKET/CHARLIE THOROGOOD

  I cannot fathom why my king has forced this upon me. Archbishop of Canterbury and Chancellor of England? Nay, ’tis too much, how do I reconcile such conflicting differences in my duties? I cannot.

  ‘Hold it there, Charlie,’ Helen said. ‘You’re wooden again.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the monologue,’ Sarah said. ‘It just isn’t natural. Why don’t you combine this scene with Paul’s monologue in scene four? Have them both on stage and interacting – we can use that trick with the lights and sets you talked about.’

  Helen pursed her lips in thought, then nodded. ‘Okay, let’s try it. Just improv for the moment and I’ll rewrite.’

  ‘Sire, ’tis with great reluctance, with not fear nor favour, that I must tender my resignation as your Chancellor,’ Charlie said, pretending to write as he spoke. ‘I find my pastoral duties too great to be able to fully apply myself to both positions.’

  Paul crossed to the table and grabbed a piece of paper. ‘Need a prop,’ he said by way of explanation, then retook his position, cleared his throat and pretended to read.

  ‘By God’s eyes,’ he exclaimed. ‘I am betrayed and by my greatest friend in the nation! Is he now to be my most formidable enemy?’ Paul appealed to the audience, arms spread wide.

  ‘I fear I have angered my king,’ Charlie said, head in his hands, then he sat up straight. ‘But he has brought us to this pass.’ He stood and approached the audience, putting Becket’s case forward.

  ‘Did I advise him to follow this road? Nay, I did not. Did I not warn him against taking this step? Indeed I did. Did he listen?’ he said, voice rising, then softened once more. ‘Of course, he did not.’ Charlie gave a small laugh and shook his head.

  Paul stepped forward. ‘Betrayed!’ he shoute
d. ‘Betrayed by my most faithless friend! Whom now shall I trust? Who now is deserving of their king’s favour?’

  Silence.

  ‘Indeed,’ Paul said softly. ‘No man in England is worthy of my faith, no man but myself.’

  ‘I don’t think they need that rewrite, Helen,’ Dan said. ‘They seem to be doing pretty well on their own.’

  Helen nodded. ‘Well done, guys, time for the pub, first round’s on me.’

  Chapter 14

  The Borough Bailiff was one of the oldest pubs on the High Street. Named for the stewards who collected the rents for their lords, it was friendly, down-to-earth and a favourite of the Castle Players.

  ‘Same again?’ Dan asked and grabbed a twenty from the pooled money in the centre of their long table.

  ‘Keep ’em coming, mate,’ Mike said and laughed.

  ‘Are you okay, Mike?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Fine, Sarah, just peachy,’ Mike said, leaning back on the bench seat and dropping his arm along the back of it. ‘They did well today didn’t they?’ he added, leaning into Sarah’s shoulder.

  ‘They did. Though I don’t think Helen is too pleased that her script went out of the window.’

  ‘Too bad. The improv came across natr . . . nature . . . smoothly,’ Mike said.

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Well, you don’t think it had anything to do with that spirit board, do you?’ Sarah asked quietly.

  ‘No, that was just a bit of silliness.’

  ‘But the way we all fell! Helen broke her wrist – that’s more than silliness.’

  ‘Power of suggestion,’ Mike said, finding it easier to get his words out with a little concentration. ‘That’s all, don’t worry about it.’ He stroked Sarah’s hair and left his arm about her shoulder.