by Linda Sole
‘Are you offering to sell me the name of the people who have the child?’ The earl’s mouth hardened. ‘That is not what I expected when I wrote to your Bishop.’
‘My lord Bishop made no attempt to find your missing child. All I have done has been at my own expense and in my own time.’
The earl glared at him. ‘How much?’
‘Would a hundred silver pounds be too much?’
‘Fifty or I go to the Bishop. He will be shocked to learn that you sought to profit from information that should have been freely given.’
‘You are very generous, my lord. When will you have the money?’
‘I can bring it tomorrow.’
‘By the morning I should have an answer for you, my lord. I expect answers to letters I sent to Malham in a few hours.’
‘How do I know I can trust you?’
‘How else will you find your child?’
The earl swore and then looked shamed as he recalled that he was in the House of God. ‘Very well, but I make a bad enemy, Malham. I shall bring the money in the morning and I shall require the name of the people who have my child.’
*
‘Father Andrew was reluctant to tell me anything at first,’ Todd said when he found Marta cooking supper that evening. The smell of the food was delicious and it made his stomach rumble but his news was worrying. ‘When he saw how sound his roof was, he relented and told me that the Earl Devereaux was looking for his daughter. The Castle of Devereaux was attacked by the Earl of Montroy and his men, at about the time our Mary was born. The tale is that the countess disappeared into the night. Many witnesses saw her curse him before she left. Montroy was struck down by some kind of seizure and no one followed her. She was not heard of again, though a search was made for her by her the Abbess of the convent some thirty leagues distant.’
Marta turned pale. ‘I bought the goat from an inn near the Abbey of St. Innocent. I heard that it was inhabited by an order of nuns but I did not seek sanctuary there for the night, because I was allowed to sleep in the inn stable.’
‘Did you tell anyone that you were coming here?’
‘I don’t know. I cannot remember.’ The long journey to Winchester had been hard and seemed a lifetime away. Marta’s thoughts were whirling in confusion as she met her brother’s anxious gaze. ‘What will they do to us if they decide the child belongs to the earl?’
‘You stole the babe, Marta. They will take her away and they will punish us both.’ Todd’s mouth drew into a thin line. ‘We must not let them do that, sister. Mary is ours. She belongs to us. We love her and it would break our hearts to lose her.’
‘If she is an earl’s daughter…’ Marta did not know what to think. She felt guilty and ashamed of what she had done that night. Had she known the child belonged to the Earl Devereaux she would have taken it to him. ‘Why has he not claimed her before this day? It is more than eighteen months since I ran away with her.’
‘Father Andrew said that he was in Spain and then Gascony with Prince Edward.’ Todd looked frightened. ‘He is an important man, Marta. We shall be cast into gaol and may never see the light of day again.’
‘What can we do?’ Marta’s knees felt weak and she sat down on a bench suddenly. ‘I do not want to die in prison.’
‘Father Andrew told me who had set the inquiries going. He told him the child was here but I think he regretted it. The man is a monk but is not as others of his calling. He works as one of the Bishop’s clerics and I know where he goes at night.’
‘Why is he different?’ Marta looked puzzled. ‘What to you mean “where he goes at night”? Does he not stay in his quarters at the palace?’
‘Often at night he sneaks out to a whorehouse close by the tannery. I think he chooses that place because he does not wish the Bishop and his brother monks to know what he does.’
‘How do you know this, brother?’
Todd could not meet his sister’s eyes. ‘I have seen him coming from the house.’
‘Do you visit the whores there?’
‘When I have the need.’
Marta nodded. ‘I wondered where you went at night sometimes. How does it help us that you know where he goes?’
‘If Simon Malham were dead he could not betray us.’
‘Todd!’ Marta stared at him in horror. ‘You would not – murder is a mortal sin.’
‘I may burn for it in the fires of Hell.’ Todd did not flinch as he met her shocked gaze. He went to the cupboard in the corner and drew out a knife with a long thin blade, which he sometimes used for boning meat. ‘I will not stand by while this man destroys us, Marta. It is either him or us.’
‘But murder…’
‘Would you have them take Mary and spend the rest of your life in gaol?’
‘No! Is there no alternative?’
‘I have seen this man. I know that he is interested in material things. He is selling this information to the earl. We could not hope to match what the earl will pay him. Our only chance is to silence him for ever.’
Marta closed her eyes. Murder was a terrible sin. She could hardly bear to think that it had come to such a pass, because of what she had done. If she agreed to this plan, her brother would become a murderer and if his crime were ever discovered he would hang. She might also hang as his accomplice.
‘Perhaps if we gave her back…’
‘No!’ Todd took a step towards her, his expression so fierce that for the first time in her life she was afraid of him. ‘No matter what you say I am going to protect us. Do I have your word that you will never speak of this to another soul?’
‘You have my word.’ Marta felt her throat close with fear. At this moment Todd was dangerous. If she refused him he might kill her too. She had not understood how much he loved the child but if he would do murder to keep Mary there was no arguing with him.
‘I give you my word. May I die in agony if I betray you, brother.’
‘Thank you.’ Todd offered a grim smile. ‘I am leaving now. If anyone calls to see me I am unwell and in bed. You do not want to disturb me. Let no one into the house.’
‘Yes. I understand.’ Marta watched as he left the kitchen. She decided she would eat her supper, because it might spoil before her brother returned. It was too frightening to imagine what he meant to do. Her thoughts were dark and tortuous and she blamed herself for what was about to happen. Had she never taken the child Todd would not be about to commit a heinous sin that would ensure his soul went to Hell.
Marta ladled some of the fragrant stew into a wooden bowl but when she sat down to eat it the food stuck in her throat. Hearing a whimpering sound from Mary, who was asleep on a blanket on the floor, she went to stand by it and look down at the child’s face.
She was so beautiful. Marta could not wonder that her brother refused to be parted from her. Yet she still felt that the earl might have been so pleased to know what had happened to his wife and to find his daughter thriving that he might have rewarded them rather than casting them into prison.
It was too late to wonder what might have happened if she had stood up to Todd. Besides, she loved Mary. She did not want to part with the child she had come to think of as her daughter.
Overcome with fear and remorse, Marta sank to her knees.
‘Please help us,’ she prayed. ‘Todd is not a bad man. He has been driven to this wicked deed by his love for the child. Please, God, will You in Your mercy, not show him the way?’
There was no answer, and yet it seemed to Marta that she could hear laughter, distant and faint, yet somehow chilling.
Marta rose to her feet. She was letting herself imagine things. Todd would not do anything terrible despite his bold words – would he? Mary should be in bed and she had some mending to do. Work would keep her mind from what was happening, but she feared that Todd would come to regret what he planned this night.
*
Todd stood in the shadows at the back of the whorehouse and waited. He knew that it was Simon
Malham’s habit to relieve himself in the yard before he went into the house to pleasure himself with the whores. The stink of the tannery was strong, carried towards him on the breeze and it gave him an acrid taste on his tongue. It had been a hot day and this part of the city was always more unpleasant in the summer than the winter. He was glad that his house was some distance away and that they did not often suffer the bad smells that people who lived here endured.
The hour was late. Had he misjudged his mark? He had imagined that the monk came every night to visit the whores, at least during periods of the Bishop’s absence. Briefly, he wondered if he should threaten Malham with exposure to the Bishop and let him live but in the next moment his resolution hardened. Malham needed money to finance the life he craved. He would sell the information and leave the Bishop’s employ. If he were not afraid for his immortal soul, threats would not give him a moment’s pause. Todd had only one option.
He froze, his heart thudding in his chest, as he saw the figure move silently into the yard. Malham tried to avoid being seen, because he liked to preserve his reputation as a pious man. Todd’s resolution hardened. One of the girls had once told him that the monk had some nasty habits. He would not be missed here.
As the man faced the wall and hitched up his robe to urinate, Todd struck. He covered Malham’s mouth with his left hand and plunged the long blade deep into his back with the right, bringing it up sharply so that it ripped through his victim’s chest. Malham grunted and then collapsed against him before sinking to his knees and falling flat on his face. Glancing down at his hands, Todd saw that they were covered in blood. He bent down and wiped them on Malham’s habit, wiping his knife and then replacing it inside his jerkin.
He looked down on Malham’s lifeless body and felt a thrill of excitement. His enemy was dead. Mary and Marta were safe and so was he. For a moment he glanced regretfully at the whorehouse. He would have liked to visit the woman he normally lay with, because the murder had aroused his lust. However, Malham’s blood must be on his clothes. He would be wiser to go straight home and burn them.
Walking swiftly from the yard, Todd was unaware that a man had come out of the house just as he walked away from Malham’s body. It was too dark for anyone to see his face; he was just a shadow in the darkness.
*
‘Malham has gone?’ Robert looked at the monk in dismay. ‘Are you certain? I had promised to meet him here this morning. He had information for which I was willing to pay.’
‘I am sorry, my lord. No one has seen Brother Malham today. He normally attends mass with us but this morning he did not join us. We have looked in his cell but there is no sign of him.’
‘Has he taken his possessions?’
‘We brothers have very little to take anywhere. Brother Malham’s Bible, a spare robe, his writing materials and correspondence are all as usual.’
‘Has a letter come for Brother Malham this day? He was expecting news that may interest me.’ Robert touched the purse at his waist. ‘I would pay to see it.’
‘I could not open any letter addressed to Brother Malham. He is the lord Bishop’s cleric and I might see something I should not.’
‘It is not the Bishop’s correspondence I wish to see, just a letter from Malham’s home village. He promised it might carry news of…’ He broke off as another monk came up to them and spoke to his companion in a whisper. ‘Is something wrong?’
The first monk looked at him gravely and made the sign of the cross over himself. ‘We have learned that Brother Malham has been murdered. God rest his soul.’
‘How? Where?’
‘He was stabbed in the back,’ the second monk offered. ‘In…the yard at the back of a whorehouse close to the tannery.’
‘Behind a whorehouse…’ Robert frowned. ‘He was not celibate?’
‘I do not know,’ the first monk said and glared at his companion for saying too much. ‘It would be unwise to jump to conclusions. Brother Malham may have been there for a perfectly innocent reason.’
‘I do not care why he was there. He promised me information about my missing daughter. I demand access to his correspondence.’
‘It is beyond my power to allow you to see Brother Malham’s letters, my lord. Only my lord Bishop can grant such permission.’
Robert stared at him in frustration. The monk’s closed expression told him that he was determined not to budge on this issue and, unlike many, was above bribery. To be so close to finding the truth – perhaps to finding his daughter - was agony for Robert but there was nothing he could do for the moment.
‘Your Bishop will hear from me,’ he snapped and turned on his heel. He was angry as he walked away from the Bishop’s palace, passing the fine, two-storied buildings that housed the richer merchants and dignitaries of the town, then the smaller, less well built dwellings mainly constructed of wood and inhabited by craftsmen and labouring men. These houses were vulnerable to fire and were often burned to the ground, causing panic and even death.
He strode on towards the quarter where the tannery, cloth dyer, slaughterhouse, forge and other manufactories could be found. Because it was summer the smell of decaying filth in the gutters at the side of the road was strong. The streets in this part of town were nothing more than hardened earth and little eddies of dust, caught up by the breeze, settled on carts, shutters and the boots of those who walked this way. Robert hardly noticed his surroundings or the stench. His mind was focused on one thing, the recovery of his daughter. Perhaps the whores might have heard something. Men were known to talk of their private business when in the company of such women.
He wondered why the monk had been murdered. The cleric would not have had much money on him so it would hardly be robbery. Yet it was plain the man had a need for money. Malham had offered to sell him information that a man in his position ought to have given freely. It was possible that he had learned things as the Bishop’s clerk that he could use to blackmail prominent citizens. Blackmail was an unpleasant crime and might make someone angry enough to murder him.
Surely it could have nothing to do with the information he was about to sell to Robert? Would a man kill to keep a child he knew did not belong to him?
Most folk had too many children. Some sold them to a master as soon as they could work, because they could not feed them. Robert would have rewarded the couple if the child thrived. No, he could not believe that the murder had anything to do with him or his daughter. It was just unfortunate that Malham’s enemy had chosen to strike before the vital information was in Robert’s hands.
He stood outside the whorehouse and looked at it. The windows were shuttered and it was obvious the inmates had closed themselves away, possibly afraid of the consequences of what had happened in their yard the previous night. Whores were a necessary convenience and usually tolerated but something like this might turn the townspeople against them. They had closed their house lest they be driven from the town by righteous goodwives seeking to be rid of ungodly women.
‘Dark deeds were done there last night,’ a voice said from behind Robert. ‘Murder – and the victim a man of God.’
‘He weren’t very godly,’ an old woman’s voice cackled from behind them. Robert turned and looked at the crone. She was filthy, her hair long and greasy, her face wrinkled and brown like a dried up walnut. ‘If he hadn’t been there he wouldn’t ‘ave been killed. It’s God’s punishment. He were struck down as a sign.’
A man carrying a basket of loaves on his head stared at her and made a cross over his heart, looking faintly guilty. Yet another of the whores’ customers, Robert guessed.
‘I doubt it was God’s hand,’ he said. ‘Did the monk have enemies?’
‘Who knows?’ the baker shrugged and walked on, followed by the old woman.
‘He were a sly fox,’ the first man remarked. ‘I reckon he would have had more than one enemy.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just an observation. I had some business with t
he Bishop and I had to pay two silver pennies to speak with him.’
‘You paid them to Malham?’
‘Aye. He had no business denying me an audience but I was forced to pay or go away.’
Robert nodded. ‘Such a man would have enemies.’ He glanced at the shuttered windows of the whorehouse and sighed. There was no point in asking the women inside, even if they would open their door to him. Malham was unlikely to have passed on a secret he considered valuable.
Turning away, Robert decided that his business in Winchester was nearly done for now. He would not give up his search for his daughter but he would have to speak to the Bishop in person. Malham had been definite that his employer was not interested in the earl’s search. However, even a bishop might change his mind for a sizeable amount of gold.
Jonathan would have taken Montroy’s bride to Craigmoor. It was time he joined them there. Once this business was settled, Robert would go to London and seek an audience with Prince Edward. If anyone could bring the Bishop into line it was the prince.
Robert’s men were waiting for him at the inn. He would not keep them waiting any longer.
*
‘Are you certain? Who told you Sir Henry Morgan was dead?’ Robert’s gaze was keen as he studied the face of the man who had brought the news. He had been about to leave for Craigmoor when one of his men rode into the inn yard, clearly in some haste. Throwing himself from his horse, he went down on his knees before Robert. ‘And why did you not await me here as I bid you?’
‘Forgive me, my lord. I took the chance to visit my cousin while you were on business in Winchester. His wife told me that he had been called upon to make a coffin for the body of a knight that had been cruelly slain by Lord Montroy.’
‘Your cousin takes care of the dead?’ Robert crossed himself, his face ashen. ‘God forgive me. I sent Morgan to his death.’ He recalled the way the man had begged for mercy, which in his anger he had refused to give.
