The Turn of Midnight

by Minette Walters

  The bank was narrow beneath the defensive wall that surrounded the manor house enclosure but, even in the miserly light of a shrouded moon, Gyles was sure-footed enough to keep his balance. The raft moved with the current from Devil’s Brook and needed little effort to assist it on its way. He heard Adam Catchpole’s whispered acknowledgement as he passed beneath the western guard step and then, five hundred paces later, felt the touch of his brother Alleyn’s hand on his shoulder to tell him he’d reached the southern step behind the church.

  Neither he nor Alleyn spoke, for fear of alerting Father Anselm to their presence. This part of the moat was the least visible to anyone inside the enclosure, but they had no wish to make the irascible priest a witness to what they were doing. Gyles dug his heels into the moist grass of the bank and pulled on the ropes to draw the raft in, allowing the hemp to drop in coils at his feet. He heard the soft thud as John Trueblood eased himself over the wall and dropped to the ground beside him and then the rub of cloak against homespun kirtle as Alleyn swung Lady Anne across the parapet and lowered her into John’s waiting arms.

  Without a word, Gyles took the heavy leather bag that his brother handed down to him. He placed it on the raft and assisted John and Milady aboard before running the ropes through his hands to allow the vessel to drift towards the far bank. He watched a shadowy figure step from behind a clump of alders to catch the coils which John threw from the front and then raised his hand in acknowledgement when Edmund turned to signal that the raft was firmly moored to one of the alder’s trunks. He forgave John’s intemperate clasping of his son to his chest as soon as he stepped ashore—he would have done the same had one of his twins returned—but he prayed most earnestly that Edmund was free of the pestilence.

  The boy had shown himself to James Buckler some hour after the sun had passed its zenith. James, standing guard on the southern step, had been staring towards the woodland that bordered the cleared land to the south when the edge of his vision caught movement amongst the dried brown stems of vetch on a peasant strip some fifty paces from the moat. He thought it was a fox until he shifted his gaze towards the rustling plants and saw that it was a man. He lay flat on the ground, his britches and tunic so close in colour to the dead vetch that it would have been hard to make him out were his head not raised and his face visible. When he was sure he had James’s attention, the man placed a finger to his lips to urge silence and then rose to his knees. It was arguable which surprised James more—that the ‘man’ was fifteen-year-old Edmund Trueblood or that he had made his way across a quarter-mile of open land without being seen.

  James needed no prompting to hoist himself across the wall and slither down to the bank below. The mere fact that Edmund was alone suggested he had bad news to impart, and the fewer who heard it the better. He beckoned the boy to approach the far bank and urged him to keep his voice low. The Easter feast had yet to end but there would be some, already replete, who preferred to walk outside than stay in the great hall. Edmund, seemingly more aware than James of how his unexpected arrival might impact on Develish, positioned himself beside a small copse of alders, scanning above the wall for listeners and ready to duck out of sight should he see one. He spoke in short, clear sentences to be sure he was understood.

  Thaddeus had been taken prisoner outside Blandeforde the previous night by the steward, Master d’Amiens. His companions had escaped by following the River Stour, and were safe. They had camped overnight at a distance from Blandeforde, and Edmund had ridden south at dawn to consult with Lady Anne. She was the only person clever enough to advise them on how best to help Thaddeus. Should Edmund fail to return by noon tomorrow, his friends would act as they saw fit. Would Lady Anne come to the moat so that Edmund could speak with her? It would be wiser if she came after dark so that they could talk freely. He would wait amongst the alders for her answer.

  Despite the grimness of the message, James’s first emotion was admiration for Edmund’s courage and good sense. The lad must have ridden hard to reach Develish so soon, yet rather than cause alarm, he’d taken the time to leave the highway and circle around the valley from the north in order to approach the only guard step that wasn’t in constant view of the house. Such a feat was beyond most men. He raised a hand in agreement, motioning Edmund to take some rest inside the copse, then pulled himself back over the wall and went in search of Gyles. Together they sought out Lady Anne.

  They found her in the steward’s office, taking time for herself while the great hall was cleared of the feast before being made ready for skittles and horseshoe throwing. She was writing in her journal and looked up with a smile when Gyles and James entered, but the smile died when she heard what they had to say. Nevertheless, they were surprised at how calmly she took the news, showing more concern for Edmund than for Thaddeus. Was the boy frightened? she asked James. Did he look in need of food? Should she come now to speak with him?

  James shook his head to all the questions, describing Edmund’s demeanour as composed and strong. ‘He’s a credit to Thaddeus’s teaching, milady. He’ll wait as long as he must to hear your advice—though I’m sure he’ll be glad of something to eat if we can find a way to send it across.’

  Lady Anne glanced again at what she’d been writing. ‘Did he say why the imposture failed?’

  ‘No, milady. Only what I’ve already told you. Shall I tell him you’ll speak to him?’

  She hesitated for several long seconds. ‘I’ve long feared this moment would come, and I’ve made a hundred plans for how to respond when it did. Yet even at my most hopeful, I didn’t expect to hear within hours that Thaddeus was arrested. At best, I thought a month would pass before we learnt of it. At worst a year.’ She turned to Gyles. ‘Is it possible to float the raft to the southern step once darkness has fallen?’

  ‘I see no reason why not, milady. What do you have in mind?’

  The ghostly shapes on the other side of the moat were quickly swallowed by darkness as they moved out onto the peasant strips, and with a sigh Gyles bound the ropes about his waist and hunkered down for a long vigil. Every so often, he heard the shuffle of boots on stone above him as his brother shifted position, but otherwise the only sound to accompany his thoughts was the soft ripple of water through the grass at the edge of the bank.

  Who was to say that Lady Anne’s decision was wrong? Certainly not he. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had reason to think her ideas misguided or foolish. His fellows on her council had urged him strongly to use his influence to make her think again, for they all knew she was acting with her heart and not her head, but Gyles had refused. He couldn’t agree that Thaddeus’s life was worth sacrificing for the good of all; and nor, he believed, would his sons or their friends. Nonetheless, he had raised no objections to one or all of the other fathers arguing their case.

  He heard John’s quiet call from the far bank sooner than he expected. ‘Make ready, Gyles. I’ve freed the moorings on this side.’

  Gyles rose to his feet and pulled on the sodden ropes to draw the raft back. ‘I’m sorry, my friend,’ he said with sincerity, as he reached out a hand to help the other ashore.

  John gave a dispirited shrug. ‘You were right and I was wrong. Neither listened to reason.’

  ‘Did Milady honour her promise to order the boys home?’

  ‘She did, and more forcefully than I thought she would. Edmund seemed taken aback that she would even issue such a command. He told her he’d come for advice, not to be ordered to forsake his leader.’

  ‘How did Milady reply?’

  ‘She asked him to hear my arguments before he heard hers, but Edmund said he and his friends would rather suffer the same fate as Thaddeus than play the part of traitors.’

  ‘It’s a fine impulse, John.’

  ‘Maybe so, but you know as well as I that Lady Anne is allowing her feelings for Thaddeus to cloud her judgement.’

  Gyles handed him one of the ropes. ‘I’ll need your help to tow the raft back to its moo
ring position beneath the northern step. We’ll be going against the current.’

  John stared at him in frustration. ‘Why does her foolishness not concern you? There’ll be no future for Develish without her.’

  Gyles lifted the sodden hemp to his shoulder and prepared to take up the slack. ‘She’ll be lost to us anyway if Thaddeus denounces her. Which he will. No man’s strong enough to stay silent while his legs and arms are broken on the wheel. Pray God Milady reaches Blandeforde before that happens. All Develish will be condemned otherwise.’

  Edmund led Lady Anne through the peasant strips to where he’d left the horses in a grassy clearing amongst the trees that bordered Devil’s Brook. To assist her across the rough ground, he held his right forearm rigid so that she could rest her palm on it while in his left hand he carried the heavy leather bag. He spoke only to warn her of ruts and tangled vetch, being too shy to voice his opinions on anything else, and she blessed his silence because it allowed her to fix her mind on staying upright in the darkness. It wasn’t part of her plan to make the poor boy regret her company even before they’d started.

  He launched into words when the hobbled horses snickered at their approach, apologising for only being able to give her Killer to ride. ‘The twins thought you might permit their father to help us, milady. If we’d thought you’d make the journey, I’d have brought one of the ponies.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m grateful you had the foresight to bring any mount at all, Edmund. I don’t say you won’t have to lead me—and that I shan’t complain royally of soreness before we ever reach Blandeforde—but I’m sure Killer will make the journey less wearisome than if I had to do it on foot.’

  ‘I can lift you into the saddle so that you can sit sideways, milady. If you hold hard to the pommel, you’ll find Killer’s gait smooth enough at a walk.’

  She shook her head. ‘We need to travel faster than that, Edmund, at least when daylight comes. I shall ride astride.’

  ‘Do you know how, milady?’

  ‘My father taught me when I was very young.’

  She asked him to place the leather bag on the ground and knelt to undo the straps. ‘I’ve brought food for you. James Buckler tells me you must have been on the road since dawn.’ She handed him a package of bread and cold meat left over from the Easter banquet. ‘It was thoughtful of you to make your way around the valley to approach from the south, Edmund. A lesser man would have caused panic by riding at full tilt down the road from the village.’

  Had it not been so dark, she would have seen that her compliment caused a flush of pleasure to colour his cheeks. ‘It wouldn’t have helped Thaddeus to spread panic, milady,’ he said gruffly, tearing at the meat with his teeth. ‘He told us to keep cool heads before he ordered us to abandon him.’

  ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘Around midnight, milady.’ He described the events leading up to Thaddeus’s capture and the pledge they’d given him to avoid being taken themselves. ‘He handed me Killer’s reins when Joshua’s dogs became restless. Shortly afterwards we saw torches moving along the riverbank towards us. Thaddeus sent us into the forest, and he went on alone to meet the guards.’

  Lady Anne laid some folded garments on the ground beside her. ‘Did you see him being taken?’

  Edmund nodded. ‘They surrounded him the same way they did on the highway. He gave them his sword, and the captain asked where his men were. He said we were with the horses at the camp, looking to keep the steward’s attention while he escaped along the river.’

  She drew a sash from the bag. ‘And they believed him?’ ‘They must have done. No one came looking for us in the wood, though they’ll know he lied if they raided the camp later.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘The guards took Thaddeus back the way they’d come and we continued to follow the river. We came to a ford after about five hours. We waited there for dawn to break, and I left as soon as it was light enough to see the road.’

  Lady Anne replaced all the garments in the bag except for the sash and one folded item of clothing. ‘Did you know where you were?’

  ‘Only when I saw the first milestone, milady. It told me I was on the highway from Shafbury to Dorchester—the same one Develish is on. I couldn’t believe my luck. Do you think it means God doesn’t want Thaddeus to die?’

  She stood with a smile. ‘I’m sure it does. Will you be so kind as to turn your back so that I can pull on these britches and tie the hem of my kirtle about my waist? We’ll make better progress if I’m not hampered by skirts.’

  Confident that the night was dark enough for them not to be seen from the house, Edmund led Lady Anne through Devil’s Brook and across the pastureland to the highway north. He chose to go on foot, leading both horses, and she seemed happy to accept that their pace must be careful and slow while the moon was obscured. He was glad to see that she sat straight in her saddle once he’d adjusted the stirrups, but his doubts about taking her with him were very great.

  His companions expected to see Gyles Startout, and he knew they’d react as he’d done to having Milady wished upon them instead. Edmund had hidden his own disappointment well to her face, but it swelled and grew in his heart as he walked ahead of her. What good was a woman when they needed an experienced fighting man? How much time would they waste attending to her needs? How uncomfortable would she make them feel when she discovered how rough and hard it was to live in the open air and learnt that men behaved coarsely when they were alone?

  From disappointment, he moved to anger, for he felt he’d been given no choice but to assume responsibility for her after she’d announced her intention of accompanying him. He should have been able to appeal to his father, but John had been too intent on persuading him to obey her first command to bring his companions home. He’d lectured his son about common sense and obligation to Develish, and the right moment never came for Edmund to say that he and his friends wanted Gyles and not Lady Anne.

  Perhaps Lady Anne guessed at his conflict, for she spoke once they’d breasted the hill out of Develish valley. ‘Did Thaddeus suggest how you might rescue him, Edmund?’

  ‘No, milady, but we made some plans of our own while we waited for daylight.’

  ‘Bold ones, I’m sure.’

  ‘Bold enough, milady.’

  A smile entered her voice. ‘Your fathers feared as much. They know how courageous you are. Thaddeus also. Tell me how he persuaded you to give him your pledge when your more natural instinct was to remain at his side.’

  ‘He said we’d have a better chance of helping him if we were free, milady, though, in truth, I think he was more worried about what the steward might do to us.’

  ‘With good reason,’ she answered. ‘There’s no quicker way to force the truth from a man than to put his friends to the torture in front of him.’

  ‘We’d not have confessed to anything easily, milady . . . and nor will Thaddeus.’

  ‘I know that.’

  He waited for her to say more and, when she didn’t, he spoke more curtly than he should. ‘What plans do you have to rescue him, milady?’

  ‘Only one, Edmund. To enter Blandeforde this day and demand that he’s tried for the crimes he’s said to have committed.’

  They made faster progress once the sun was above the horizon. Better able to see the road ahead, Edmund mounted his own horse and led Killer at a fast trot. He called to Lady Anne to relax into the saddle and allow herself to rise and fall with the charger’s extended gait, but the strain in her face when they were within a half-mile of the ford told him the ride had been an uncomfortable one. He slowed to a walk.

  ‘We’re nearly there, milady. Would you like time to compose yourself?’

  She summoned a smile. ‘Will your friends think less of me if I arrive on foot?’

  ‘I’m afraid they might, milady. They’re hoping to see the twins’ father.’

  ‘Then I must endeavour to play the part of an experienced horsewoman. Will you b
e so kind as to pass me the reins, Edmund? I shall be greatly obliged if you stay at my side and keep Killer from bolting. I shall look very undignified if he throws me by the wayside.’

  Edmund could only admire her fortitude when they reached the ford and his companions emerged from the woodland to greet them. He well remembered his own blisters and bruises the first time he rode any distance, and he wondered that Milady was so able to dismiss hers. She accepted his help in dismounting and took his arm gratefully as he led her towards where his fellows had made their camp; but not once did she stumble or show distress at the looks of despair on the faces that greeted her.

  The sun had been up a bare hour when the peace of Develish was rent by high-pitched screams. Clara Trueblood, organising work in the kitchen, clapped a hand to her chest in shock. ‘Mercy me!’ she cried to the other servants. ‘What in heaven’s name is going on?’

  ‘It’ll be Harold Talbot up to his tricks again,’ said one of the women.

  Clara looked for Eva Thurkell. ‘Come,’ she said, hurrying her through the door to the great hall. ‘You’re all that stands between him and instant death. I’ll smother the old brute myself if we find him molesting a child.’

  But whatever the trouble was, it was happening elsewhere, for they were greeted with looks of puzzlement from the serfs in the hall. Most were tying their rush mattresses into neat rolls, making them ready to stack along the walls, and all had paused to listen to the screams. Some crossed themselves for fear the Devil was nigh; others looked towards the stairs which led to the upper storey, as if to say the sound was coming from above.

  This was proved true when the screams gave way to thumps that drummed on the wooden ceiling. Seizing Eva’s hand, Clara shouldered her way through the crowd, instructing mothers to take their children outside and men to follow her to the stairs. She had no idea what the confusion of sounds represented, but they spoke of violence and seemed to be coming from Lady Anne’s chamber. Her first instinct was that Harold Talbot had lost complete leave of his senses and was attacking Eleanor; her second that Eleanor had lost leave of hers and was venting her rage on Milady. In either case, she didn’t doubt that murder was being done.