‘I hear you have an answer for me.’
‘We do, my lord. John the Carpenter has done what he promised, he’s found the people who wanted Gertrude dead and arranged her murder.’
L’Honfleur raised an eyebrow. ‘People? There’s more than one?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Sir Mark continued. ‘It’s Sir Roland and Lady Gwendolyn.’
His face hardened. ‘Are you certain of this? You’re accusing my daughter of being responsible for the killing of her sister.’
‘It’s beyond any doubt, my lord.’ There was strength and regret, all tempered by sympathy, in the coroner’s voice. ‘Their steward has confessed. They were also responsible for the attack on you when you were hunting, and all the attempts on the carpenter’s life.’
John said nothing. What could he add?
‘I heard about the man at the church tower.’ He turned his head. ‘But you look whole.’
‘I am, my lord. God be praised.’
‘The carpenter has done his work on this, my lord. He’s the one who discovered the answer.’
John could feel l’Honfleur staring at him and looked down at the thick covering of rushes on the floor.
‘Where are my daughter and her husband?’
‘He’s gone riding, my lord, and Lady Gwendolyn is visiting,’ Strong said. ‘We don’t know where, but they’ll be back for this evening.’
‘Tell me, Carpenter,’ l’Honfleur said. ‘Do you feel you’ve earned your fifty pounds?’
He raised his eyes to look directly at the man. Lord or not, he had a debt to pay. One that had been witnessed.
‘Yes, my lord, I do.’
L’Honfleur took another sip from the mazer and stared into the cup for a few moments.
‘Bring me my daughter and her husband. Present me with the evidence then. Show me beyond a shadow of a question that they’re guilty and the money will be yours. That’s my decision.’
‘My lord—’ Sir Mark began, but the man waved his words away.
‘That’s my decision and it’s the end of the matter. You have proof, don’t you?’
‘Of course, my lord.’
‘Then it should be easy enough for you.’
John didn’t take his eyes off l’Honfleur. There was pain on the man’s face. He was caught between the two girls he’d fathered. One might have been his favourite, but he still loved the other. To accept she’d killed her sister would be to condemn her. What father could readily do that? He understood everything he saw in the man’s expression.
That didn’t make it easier for him. He’d dangled the reward. He’d used it as a goad. And now he was pulling it away again.
John clenched his fists, pressing them hard against his legs. He couldn’t let himself show anything, daren’t say anything. L’Honfleur had power. He was a lord, he knew the people who ran the kingdom. Whatever he chose to do here was law, and no one could gainsay it.
He turned as he felt something pulling at the sleeve of his tunic. Jeffrey, tugging lightly, urging him away. It was better to go now, before he lost control of himself.
‘I…’ Jeffrey began, once they were outside. The air seemed clean and fresh, but empty of hope. ‘I’m sorry, my friend. I expected better of him than that.’
‘There’s nothing you could do. He made his promise and took it away again. Who’s going to care that he cheats a poor man?’
‘Be careful if you use that word.’
‘What else would you call it? The coroner was there when he made his bargain. He heard the entire thing.’
Jeffrey glanced back at the house. ‘My cousin may be speaking for you now. Remember, though, he has to tread carefully here, too. A word to the king from my lord, and we could have a new coroner here.’
Perhaps one who’d leave him alone. His situation would have been no worse if he’d never undertaken all this. But he’d have known exactly where he stood, and there wouldn’t have been all these attempts on his life.
They pressed back as the gong cart passed, collecting the dung from the grand houses to spread on the fields. Pulled by a bullock, it moved so slowly, with a thick cloud of flies swarming about it, the stink rising clear to Heaven.
‘There is one thing you can do.’
‘What?’ He couldn’t imagine anything.
‘Bring in Sir Roland or Lady Gwendolyn. He couldn’t deny you then.’
‘How?’ John asked. ‘Even if I see them, I can’t pull them from their horses and march them to him.’ He shook his head. ‘No, it wouldn’t work at all.’
‘No,’ Jeffrey agreed after a moment. ‘I don’t suppose it would. And Sir Mark will have his men searching for them.’
‘I need to go and tell Katherine.’ He exhaled slowly. He was filled with sorrow and loss, while all around, faces were bright with anticipation of the fair. Once again, he was out of step with the world. It seemed as if it had been that way since he was young. Surviving the pestilence when so many died. Lost, alone, trying to find his way.
The great fortune God had granted to him was his wife and family. With them he could feel that all might be right in life. But now… now he had to tell Katherine about this.
‘Do you want me there?’
‘No,’ he replied. Kind as the thought might be, some things had to be done alone.
• • •
‘He doesn’t care about you.’ She’d raged and fumed and strode around the kitchen that was set apart from the house. ‘He only ever wanted to use you.’
What could he say? It was all true. He’d brought an answer l’Honfleur didn’t want to hear. One he couldn’t accept. And so he’d chosen to repudiate the offer he made.
They’d gone round and round on it before Katherine pushed her hands down against the table. She’d been kneading dough, and flour dusted her hands and face, turning them white as death.
‘There’s nothing for it,’ she said. ‘We’ll sell the house on Saltergate. It was always stupid to imagine we could be a family with money and security.’
He placed his hands on her shoulders, stroking the flesh through her gown. He knew what this cost her. She was letting go of the place where she’d grown up, where her memories crowded in every corner. They’d still be in that house if not for Martha. Old Martha, who’d become a part of their family and left them this place.
Martha had been a woman with money. Her husband had been a successful cutler, dead long before John ever arrived in Chesterfield. She’d taken him under her wing, loved Katherine and the children. And in return, they’d looked after her as she grew older and infirm. Maybe their little Martha would have the old woman’s spirit and humour.
‘If we’re paid a fair price it’ll help for a few years. Things might be better after that.’
Might. Maybe. That was no way to live, moving from uncertainty to uncertainty. But only those with money had security. It built a wall around them. He’d wanted that for his family. But it wasn’t to be. God had been good. He’d given all this bounty. To want more… that was churlish.
But whichever way he tried to think about it, the disappointment tore at him. He felt as if it was hollowing him out. And there was nothing he could do about it.
The hammering on the door stopped him saying more. It was loud enough to hear in the kitchen, even though Juliana came running through to tell them.
It was the man from the coroner’s guard. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered.
‘Sir Mark sent me to fetch you. We’ve spotted Sir Roland and his friends. They’re coming back towards Chesterfield.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Someone spotted them out past Calow and came to tell us.’
Calow. Where it had all begun.
‘The coroner is going to meet them at the bridge over the Hipper.’
‘And then?’
The man’s voice hardened. ‘We’ll take him to my lord and he can answer for what he’s done.’
They were marching past the churchyard and down Soute
rgate, the hill that led to the bridge. The smell of leather filled the air as shoemakers and their apprentices worked hard. The fair meant that the town would be full of people for the next week. They’d have money to spend. New shoes, new boots… it could be a rich time of year for them.
The coroner and two other guards waited by the bridge. They rested at the side of the road, allowing traffic to pass. So many people arriving in Chesterfield. Chattering and full of anticipation. The fairground would be crowded with people tonight.
‘I thought you’d want to be here for this, Carpenter.’
‘Thank you, Master.’ It was Strong’s way of apologising for the way l’Honfleur had treated him. A chance to be one of those bringing in Sir Roland. If that happened, it would be impossible for my lord to deny him the reward.
A horseman came galloping, raising a thick plume of dust as he moved along the road. He reined in by the coroner and spoke softly into his ear. Strong frowned as he listened, then nodded. The man rode off again.
‘Roland’s seen us, or someone’s told him we’re waiting. He and his friends have ridden off again. They’re heading north, as if they’re going to Whittington or Unstone. You and you,’ – he pointed at two of his men – ‘fetch your mounts and follow me. Carpenter… I’m sorry. I’ll send word as soon as we have him. You’ll be there when we present him to my lord. My word on it, and I hope you believe me.’
He did. The offer was generous.
John trudged back up the hill with the guard who’d escorted him.
‘You don’t ride?’
The man shook his head. ‘They scare me. I tried once; I was so high up I couldn’t move. Someone had to help me back down.’ He shook his head. ‘Foolish, isn’t it?’
‘No. I think it’s very sensible.’ He looked up and saw the spire of the church rising high into the sky. ‘Tell me, how are you on something solid?’
• • •
‘Master,’ the guard said, ‘how safe are we up here?’
‘Very,’ John told him. No need to tell him that the spire was only held on by its own weight; that would send him scurrying back to the ground.
They could see so much from the top of the tower. The way the fields spread out, each of them hundreds of acres and divided into wide strips. The roads and tracks dipped and wound along. By rivers, through woods.
The guard pointed as he recognised the coroner’s horse, then two others heading away from Chesterfield to find Sir Roland. No sign of him and his companions, though. They could see for miles from the tower, but too much was obscured.
‘There, Master, do you see? Off towards the horizon.’
He had to squint. Even then, he could only make out shapes. Three men on horses; he couldn’t have been more exact than that. They were riding hard, but that proved nothing at all.
‘Is it them?’
‘It is. They’re putting on quite a pace. If they keep on like that, they’ll be in Yorkshire and Sir Mark won’t be able to touch them.’
‘What?’ John asked. ‘Why not?’
‘They’re not wolfsheads, Master, not outlaws. Not yet, at least. He can’t pursue them everywhere. His coroner’s writ only runs in Derbyshire.’
‘Ah.’ He’d never known, never needed to think about it. Soon enough they’d be gone from view. ‘We should go down.’
‘What about Lady Gwendolyn?’ John asked as they walked through the nave. ‘She’ll be back in Chesterfield soon.’
‘There’s a man at their house, Master. We’ll be ready when she returns.’
‘What now?’
The guard turned to him. ‘We wait.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jeffrey was sitting at the table in the hall teaching the children a game that came from somewhere in his mind. They were caught up in it all, attentive and captured. Even Richard was smiling and happy, and that was something so rare these days.
John and Katherine sat together at the other end. Their heads were close and they spoke softly, only looking up at the laughter and shouts of the children.
‘But if he runs off like that, doesn’t that mean he’s guilty?’ she asked.
‘I would think so. But I don’t know the law, and I can’t tell what’s in my lord’s head.’ He grimaced and snorted in disgust. ‘After all, I believed he was an honest man.’
She squeezed his hand and he tried to smile. But it was hard when he felt so bitter. To have everything right there, then snatched away on one man’s whim, simply because he had that power.
The hours were passing. They should have eaten dinner a long time before, but only the children had appetites. Katherine had fed them. John sipped ale and nibbled pieces of bread. He was alert for any sound, a cheer outside, a knocking at the door. Anything at all that would mean something was happening.
And finally it came. The same guard as before.
‘Sir Mark’s back. He wants to see you.’
They marched through the town, across the market square and out past West Bar. Chesterfield seemed to grow busier with every moment. Was it like this every year when the fair began? He couldn’t remember, but he didn’t believe it bustled quite so much.
The coroner’s clothes were thick with dust. He strode around his hall drinking thirstily from a mazer, crunching the rushes as he walked.
‘We didn’t catch him, Carpenter. I had to give up once I knew he was in Yorkshire.’
‘What can you do now?’
‘An innocent man doesn’t flee like that,’ Strong said. He put the cup on the table and pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve sent one of my men on to Conisbrough Castle with my seal.’ He rubbed the finger where his signet ring had been. ‘They’ll be able to start searching.’
‘I don’t understand, Master,’ John said. ‘Does this mean he’s an outlaw now?’
The coroner shook his head. ‘Not without a court case. But unless he appears and shows his innocence, it seems inevitable. I want him found and brought back so he has to answer before a jury.’
‘Has Lady Gwendolyn returned?’
‘Not yet. My men have been asking. No one seems quite certain where she went.’
‘What can I do?’
‘Nothing.’ He exhaled and clapped John on the shoulder. ‘It might take time for Sir Roland to be declared a criminal. He’s a knight, so he’ll have to be tried at the King’s Bench. His title demands that. But when it happens, I don’t see how my lord can deny you the reward.’
He’d find some way, John thought. But it was safer to nod once and keep his mouth closed. Anything he said might come back to haunt him later.
‘I’d like to join the hunt for Lady Gwendolyn.’
‘If you want,’ the coroner agreed after a moment. ‘You can work with my men. I warn you, though, it could be an exercise in frustration. She might have run, too.’
Perhaps she had. But doing something would be better than sitting at home and waiting. Instead he was marching with two other men who wore the coroner’s badge and green livery, calling on houses of the wealthy around Chesterfield.
It was a thankless task. They weren’t welcome, even at the back doors that the servants used. Three, four, five different places and there was no sign of the woman. Finally, at the sixth, an admission that she’d been there during the morning, before dinner.
‘How long did she stay, Mistress?’ John asked the housekeeper.
The woman stared down her nose at him and sniffed.
‘Long enough, not that it’s your business.’
He was happy to ignore the insult. There was a chance to follow her and he was going to take it.
‘Please, do you know where she was going from here? Both the coroner and my Lord l’Honfleur want to know. Lady Gwendolyn’s father is eager to find her.’
‘Then why hasn’t he sent his own men?’
‘Mistress, he knows we’re looking. He has others searching elsewhere.’
A shameless lie, but he didn’t care.
‘She didn’t say
. You’ve had a wasted journey, Masters.’
Maybe it was true. Or perhaps the woman had said and the housekeeper chose not to tell them. Either way, it amounted to the same thing. They didn’t know.
Coming out into the light, he glanced across at the stable. A boy was grooming a roan, brushing it with loving care as he talked to the animal.
‘Give me a moment,’ John said to the guards.
He approached the youth with a smile. ‘You like your work.’
No answer, just a nervous nod in reply.
‘Do you enjoy horses?’
Another nod, his eyes flickering between John and the guards.
He squatted down so that his face was level with the boys.
‘Did you see the woman who was here this morning? She probably looked like she had money. I’ll wager she had a good horse.’
‘Yes, Master.’ The boy broke into a smile. ‘A beautiful little mare.’
‘Did you talk to her at all?’
‘She thanked me for looking after her horse while she was inside.’
‘Did you hear where she was going from here?’
A shake of the head. His words had vanished. It had never been more than a distant hope, anyway. He stood and ruffled the lad’s hair, then started to walk away. A thought struck him and he turned.
‘Did you see which way she turned at the gate?’
The boy pointed to the left. Away from Chesterfield. It didn’t tell them much, but it was something.
‘Who lives out that way?’ John asked one of the guards.
‘No one, Master.’ He shrugged. ‘None of the names Sir Mark gave us. You can travel across the roads and go to Cutthorpe, but that’s it. We don’t have anywhere else to go.’
They hurried back to town. The spire was always in sight, a beacon. Home. The roads were full. He heard people chattering in different dialects and languages he couldn’t understand. They seemed to sweep him along. But their excitement and eagerness couldn’t touch him.
Where had Lady Gwendolyn gone? Had she run? Something in his gut told him she was on the verge of it. But not quite yet. He felt that she was still around somewhere, watching, waiting, wondering how she could help herself.
The Anchoress of Chesterfield Page 21
