by Linda Sole
‘Murder! Bloody murder! Call out the watch…’
The shout sent a thrill of fear through Todd. He looked back down the street and saw the shapes of two men coming towards him out of the darkness. The man at the window continued to shout and cry murder and the dark shapes had begun to run towards him. Todd took off at a run, suddenly afraid for his life. He knew that his victim’s blood was all over him. If he were caught he would be hung. He was so clearly guilty that the townspeople probably wouldn’t even bother with a trial. They would simply hang him from the nearest gallows.
He was breathing hard as he fled, his heart pumping with fear. It had been so exciting the first time he killed but the monk had died easily; this victim had fought against death and the horror of the moment when he found himself being hugged by a dying man would haunt him.
He must seek absolution for his sins. Todd suddenly realised the enormity of what he had done. He had taken life twice and he would burn in hell for his sins. Why had he been such a fool? Death and Hell seemed very close as he pounded the dark streets, stumbling blindly through potholes and ruts made by passing wagons, desperately trying to escape from the shadows who relentlessly followed. He dodged down a little alley, hoping to shake them off. It was very dark here and he could hardly see where he was going.
Catching his foot in a deep hole, Todd stumbled and fell against a door. It gave before him and he staggered into a narrow passage between two houses. He closed the door after him and leaned against it, fighting to recover his breath. Hearing the sounds of voices shouting to one another, he realised that others had joined the two men who had begun the pursuit.
‘Where did he go?’
‘I saw him come down here.’
‘He has disappeared.’
‘He has to be somewhere. You go to the right. We’ll go left. We are bound to find him between us.’
‘I’m sure I know him. He was there the night the monk was murdered…’
‘If he has killed before he will kill again.’
‘Murder! Vile murder.’
‘We’ll hang him before this night is done.’
Todd shivered with fright. If they knew who he was they would go to his house and when he went back they would arrest him, take him to the gallows. He was confused, terrified, his thoughts going round and round in his head. For a moment he was too petrified to move, then he started to think clearly. It would be all right if he could get to his house before anyone went there. At the moment they were still looking for him in the street. He could go over the roofs and outbuildings leading from the back of these houses. That way his pursuers wouldn’t see him and he would have time to collect what he needed. He needed the money he had saved, some tools, clothes and food. If he wasted no time he could be on his way out of Winchester before dawn.
*
Marta woke as she heard something in the kitchen. She thought it must be Todd and it sounded as if he were drunk, because he had knocked something over. Sighing, she climbed down the ladder from the loft where she slept with Mary and went through the small hall into the kitchen. The sight that met her eyes was startling. Todd had overturned things in his haste. She saw that he was standing at the kitchen table, stuffing his possessions into a large leather pouch. He had a thick cloak slung over his shoulders and some of his best tools hung from his belt.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, shocked and anxious as she noticed the blood. There were dark stains on his clothes and his hands were smeared with dried blood. ‘What have you done, Todd? Have you killed someone?’
‘Mind your business, sister, and I’ll mind mine.’ Todd’s eyes narrowed in temper. She saw the heavy pouch, which he was stuffing into the bag and something told her it was his money bag. He didn’t intend coming back. He was deserting her and Mary.
‘What are you doing? If you take the money there will be nothing for us to live on this winter.’
‘You must fend for yourself,’ Todd said and his eyes flashed with anger. ‘If you hadn’t brought the child here none of this would have happened. You’re to blame for this, woman. You brought the trouble on us. Now get out of my way and let me be.’
‘You can’t take it all.’ Marta pushed herself in front of him, blocking his path. ‘Leave me something for pity’s sake. I need money to feed us…’
‘I said get out of my way.’ Todd brought his large fist back and then hit her in the mouth. ‘Let that be a lesson. You’re lucky I don’t do worse.’
The force of the blow split Marta’s lip. She could taste the blood as she stumbled and fell to her knees, where she remained as he pushed past and went out into the back yard. For a moment or two she stayed where she was, stunned and dismayed. What had happened that night? Why had Todd come back in a panic? Why had he taken everything he could and run?
She was reminded of the night she had run from Nicholas Malvern’s house in a panic, but she had done it for the sake of an innocent child. Her flight had brought her here. Now Todd blamed her for bringing trouble on him.
She got to her feet and began to straighten the kitchen up. Where had Todd gone? Had he gone for good? How could she manage alone?
Even as she struggled to come to terms with what had happened, there was a loud banging at the shop door. Marta jumped with fright. She wanted to ignore it but the people outside were shouting and the noise was getting louder. She went through to the shop and drew back the heavy bolts, opening the door to the street. As she did so, half a dozen men burst in.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, her heart jumping with fright.
‘We are looking for Todd Carpenter. He killed a man tonight – the keeper of the Earl of Montroy’s kitchens and a man of some importance. We have come to arrest him.’
‘Killed a man…’ Marta felt the chill spread over her. Her hands were shaking. She clasped them behind her, trying to control her fear. ‘How do you know my brother was the murderer?’
‘He was seen and chased. He got away but we knew it was him. Where is he?’
‘I do not know. I haven’t seen him since he went out last evening.’
‘If he is here you could go to gaol with him for lying. He is murderer and the penalty for conspiracy to murder is hanging.’
Marta raised her head. Her heart was thumping wildly but there was nothing she could do.
‘Search the house,’ she invited. ‘I do not think my brother is here. There is just my daughter and me…search if you wish.’
‘We intend to,’ one man said and glared at her. ‘Todd Carpenter will swing by his neck before the day is out if we find him.’
Hearing a cry behind her, Marta saw that Mary had somehow clambered down the ladder from the loft by herself. It was the first time she had managed it and she was crying, clearly distressed by all the shouting. As the men poured through the shop into the kitchen, Mary screamed, terrified by the loud noise and all the strangers.
Marta snatched her up and held her, comforting her as best she could, though she herself was shaking with fear. The men threw everything to the ground, smashing pots and overturning stools as they made a thorough search of the kitchen and shop. Two of them climbed the ladder to the loft and went up to search there. One of the others came into the kitchen with what Marta recognised as Todd’s money chest. It was empty, though she was not certain whether they had taken some of the money or whether he had taken it all himself.
‘He isn’t here,’ one of the men came back into the kitchen from the back yard. ‘If he came here he has long gone.’
‘He hasn’t been here,’ Marta said. ‘I told you he hadn’t – why did you not believe me?’
The ringleader glared at her, clearly angry at being thwarted. ‘You watch your mouth, woman. Your brother is a murderer. If you help him you are as guilty as he is. If he is seen coming here you could be hung with him.’
‘If he is a murderer he deserves to hang,’ Marta said, rubbing Mary’s back as she screamed and cried. ‘We are innocent. We know nothing of what he
does when he goes out at night – besides, how do I know that you are telling the truth?’
‘Believe me, we know it was him,’ the man said and glared at her. Some of the others were leaving and his gaze followed them. ‘Just remember you could hang as an accomplice.’
He threw the last threat at her and then hurried after the others through the shop, slamming the door behind him. Marta stared round at all the mess. Todd had knocked over a few things in his haste but these men had deliberately destroyed anything they could. She sat down on a wooden bench still holding the child in her arms. For the moment she couldn’t even think of clearing up. Anything of any value had been destroyed, all her pots and the glazed platters and bowls that had once belonged to her mother were gone. There was hardly anything she could use to eat or drink out of and no money in the house to buy more.
What was she going to do? Marta held the child to her as she sobbed, her cries softening to a whimper now that they were alone. Marta held her, kissing the top of her head, rubbing her back to soothe her.
‘It will be all right,’ she whispered, as much to comfort herself as the child. ‘You’ll see, Mary love, we’ll manage.’
Marta soothed the child until her tears stopped, then set her down in her crib. It was too small for her to lie down in now and Todd was not here to make her a bigger one. Mary stood and watched as Marta began to straighten the furniture and pick up the pieces. One or two wooden bowls had survived thankfully and one pewter mug was undamaged. She could still manage to put food and drink on the table – but where was the money coming from to buy that food?
Marta stood in the kitchen and looked about her. If she stayed here she had a roof over her head and there was wood in the shed outside to keep the fire going but she had no way of buying food. Unless she could find something of value to sell, she would have to find work – or starve.
SIXTEEN
‘The master wants to see you, mistress. He is in his private chambers.’
‘Thank you, Cedric. I shall go to him at once,’ Anne said and put down the tapestry she had been working on. It depicted a hunting scene and she planned to use it to cover the coffer in her room.
Anne was thoughtful as she walked towards her husband’s chambers. Some ten days or more had passed since he was attacked and she believed he was feeling better, but she had seen little of him. She wondered if he was still angry with her for opening the book he guarded so fiercely. It had given her an uneasy night or two but she had tried to put it from her mind. Perhaps Nicholas was right and the book needed to be guarded by a good man, which she felt deep down he truly was…even if the book did tempt him. Would he ever use its secrets? Had he done so already? He had denied it but she was not sure that he had been entirely honest with her.
As she reached the rooms Nicholas kept private from his servants, Anne saw that the door was open. She could hear voices inside and her spine tingled as she caught the words.
‘I should have done it before. You are certain that it will be granted?’
‘Innocent has agreed to your terms. His price is deep but if he pardons you they cannot move against you in law…’
Anne drew a deep breath. For what did Nicholas need a pardon? She should not be listening to this for it was private. Pushing back the door, she went in, discovering that the man with Nicholas wore the clothes of a merchant. By his hair and clothes he appeared to be a wealthy Jew.
‘You sent for me, husband?’
Nicholas turned his head, startled, as if he had not expected her so soon. He stood up and offered his hand.
‘You must meet my friend, Signor Giovanni Fedora. Signor Fedora is a goldsmith of some standing and he is travelling on business and thought to visit us. He has some beautiful things to show us, Anne.’
‘Oh…’ Anne sensed that Signor Fedora’s business was not only gold but she did not question. ‘You are welcome, signor. Will you dine with us?’
‘I should be delighted, my lady.’ He had risen to his feet with Nicholas and now beckoned her forward. Spread out on the board before them was a roll of black velvet and on them lay jewels that made her exclaim in delight.
‘How beautiful,’ she said and moved closer, looking at the array of gold and precious stones. There was a heavy gold chain of flat links with a circular pendant; carved with strange markings and signs it was intriguing and beautiful. A cross of gold with cabochon garnets and pearls took her eye and she asked if she might pick it up. It lay in her hand until she replaced it and picked up an emerald ring.
‘The emerald has few inclusions and is clearer than most,’ Signor Fedora told her. ‘It was brought to me from India. The gold earrings are from Parthia and made some years after the birth of Our Lord. The pendant is Byzantine, pierced and engraved, fine work from the sixth century AD. The bangles are Roman gold – and the necklace of gold amulets and hardstone beads are Egyptian. I have many more treasures such as these, as well as jewels crafted more recently. There is a fine diamond pendant if you wish to see it?’
‘I have not seen work as fine as this,’ Anne said and picked up the Byzantine pendant. ‘This is truly lovely, but the garnet and pearl cross is simple and has an elegance all its own.
‘Then you must have it as a gift,’ Signor Fedora said. ‘Nicholas may buy you a chain to wear with it if he cares to but the cross shall be my gift to his wife, as a mark of friendship.’
‘Oh…I did not mean…’ Anne stopped and blushed. ‘You are very generous, signor. I hardly know how to thank you for such a gift.’
‘I have no need of thanks, my lady. Your husband once saved the life of someone very dear to me. I shall be forever in his debt – and yours if you will accept my humble gift.’
‘Then I shall wear it with pleasure,’ Anne said and looked at Nicholas. ‘Did you wish me to have a bed prepared for our guest.’
‘He will sleep here on the couch,’ Nicholas said. ‘As I do sometimes. We have much to talk about, Anne. I think I shall buy the emerald ring for you. Emeralds have the power to protect their wearer from harm. It would please me if you will wear it.’ He picked up the ring and slid it on to the middle finger of her right-hand. ‘There, it fits as if it were made for you. We shall dine in an hour.’
Anne felt she had been dismissed. She looked at the ring on her right-hand as she walked towards the kitchens. Why did Nicholas feel that she needed the protection of an emerald ring – and what was the true nature of Signor Fedora’s business?
*
Anne had been playing with her daughter before the great hearth in the hall, where there was always a fire though it be winter or summer. She glanced up as Nicholas entered.
‘Has Signor Fedora gone?’
‘Yes, Anne. He sent his good wishes to you and hopes to see you again next year.’
‘Does he come often to see you, Nicholas?’
‘Perhaps once a year. He brings me news of my business and letters. The sending and receiving of letters is a matter of trust for you must be able to place complete trust in those who carry certain messages.’
She saw that Nicholas had some papers in his hand and he was frowning, as if his mind were preoccupied.
‘What have you there, husband?’
‘It was amongst the papers sent to me from Italy – some verse written by the Goliards. Have you heard of them, Anne?’ She shook her head. ‘They are a group of clergy who write satirical poetry in Latin, often students at the universities of France, Germany and Italy. Even here in England they are known to mock the Church.’
‘Why would someone send you such verses?’
‘They are scurrilous, even blasphemous,’ Nicholas said. ‘I have heard it said that these men dance in the church choir dressed as woman and sing wanton songs. They play dice on the altar and run and leap through the church, behaving in all manner of indecent ways.’
‘Then why do you read their writings?’
‘I do not, Anne. The Goliards have been condemned by the Church more than once.’ He th
rew the papers into the fire. ‘To have verses like these amongst my papers would lead others to condemn me – and mayhap to prove that I mock the Church.’
‘Your enemy?’ Anne gasped, her face turning pale. ‘You think it may be a trap?’
‘Perhaps.’ He shrugged. ‘If it was meant for that purpose it has failed for it has served to warn me to take more care with my papers and to put away anything that might be used against me. I do nothing that the church could condemn as sorcery, Anne, but my writing might be seen as blasphemous.’
Anne shivered. She rose to her feet going towards him with outstretched hands. ‘We have so much, Nicholas. I do not want to lose all that is ours.’
‘Marcus Aurelius once said: “There is a sort of river of things passing into being and Time is a violent torrent, no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.” And so it is with all things.’ Nicholas smiled and reached out to touch her cheek. ‘We cannot hold back that rushing tide, Anne. We must go with it and take pleasure in the ride.’
‘Yet I sometimes feel that a dark shadow sits at our shoulders and I fear that I may lose you…’ Her clear eyes rose to meet his. ‘I am but a foolish woman. I am not sure that I could survive without you, Nicholas.’
Nicholas drew her into his arms, his lips against her hair. ‘If ever we are parted and you are in fear or pain think of me, Anne. I shall always be with you. If I may not come to you in the flesh I shall come to you in spirit.’
‘Oh, Nicholas…’ Anne felt the laughter sweep up inside her. ‘You must think me such a foolish woman.’
