The Turn of Midnight

by Minette Walters

  The captain gathered the chain and shackles into a pile on the table. ‘I’ll have to accompany him, My Lord. The steward won’t allow him to approach your cousin alone. There’s no knowing how she’ll react if he speaks to her of what’s happened here.’

  ‘She’ll learn soon enough.’

  ‘Maybe so, sire, but Master d’Amiens won’t want her inciting the townsmen. He fears the admiration they seem to have for her. We live in strange times. Such people wouldn’t normally accept the leadership of a woman.’

  Eighteen

  JOSHUA KEPT TO HIMSELF THAT he’d moved all the bags from Killer to one of the pack ponies before the descent into Blandeforde. This might be his only chance to pass information to Lady Anne and he had no intention of foregoing it. Yet the plan looked like coming to nought when the captain noticed there was nothing before or behind Milady’s saddle. He stood with Joshua inside the vaulted porch, waiting for the priest to end a prayer, and even with her skirts draping her mount’s loins, she was too slight and small to hide the absence of bulky leather packs. When he asked for an explanation, Joshua explained in a whisper that My Lord’s bags had been shared amongst his fighting men in order to give Milady a more comfortable ride. He gestured towards Edmund and Peter, positioned some fifteen paces behind Lady Anne, as the carriers.

  This information pleased the captain. He instructed Joshua to follow him down the great hall and through the archway to the kitchen. It was uninhabited except for Mistress Wilde and the maid servants who bobbed worried curtsies when they came in, only to resume their scrubbing in relief when nothing was said about their tardiness. The captain opened a door and ushered Joshua outside.

  ‘We’re at the eastern end of the house, and your two companions are well to the rear of the crowd. We’ll not be seen by the townsmen if we approach from this direction. You understand there’s to be no conversation. Your single task is to retrieve your master’s packs.’

  Joshua stared at the ground for a moment, wondering whether it was better to defy the man now or later. He raised his eyes to look directly into the captain’s. ‘I understand those are your wishes, sir, but My Lord gave no such instructions, and his is the only authority I recognise.’

  The man sighed. ‘Then I can’t let you fetch the packs. My orders are to keep Milady from Athelstan until the steward’s had time to question her.’

  ‘How does my speaking with my companions break that command?’

  ‘He looks to catch Milady in a lie and will believe you’re delivering a message from Athelstan if he sees you talking with any in her entourage.’

  Joshua hid his curiosity well, but his thoughts were racing. ‘I have no message to give except that My Lord has been wounded,’ he said slowly. ‘Is that the news Master d’Amiens hopes to keep secret?’

  ‘The wounds don’t interest him—only what was said in the church. He gave the order to keep them apart when he first learnt of Lady Anne’s arrival. It has to do with a pledge your master made to Milady. Only she can release him from it.’

  Joshua made a good pretence at puzzlement. ‘Then you have nothing to fear. Such secrets are never shared with fighting men. I seek only to repeat My Lord’s request that no more blood is to be shed. What fault would the steward find in that?’

  ‘None if he knew what you were saying.’

  ‘Then where’s the harm? You can tell him afterwards that that is all I said.’

  ‘He’ll not believe me unless Milady’s story conflicts with your lord’s.’

  Joshua measured the distance between him and Edmund. Twenty paces? Thirty paces? ‘He needn’t see me at all if you shield me from his view as we cross the forecourt,’ he said reasonably. ‘I’ll be well hidden once I’m between the horses.’

  The captain gave a grunt of derision. ‘And how do I achieve that? We’re of a similar height, and my girth is not so large that it will cover yours.’

  Joshua glanced into the kitchen. ‘A group of four women in skirts would hide me as long as I walk in a crouch at their side. Has Mistress Wilde the authority to offer cordial to Lady Anne? It would be what hospitality demands for anyone who’s ridden as far as she has this day.’

  ‘Mass is being said.’

  ‘All the more reason to show a small act of charity.’ Joshua searched the other’s face. ‘If you have no sympathy for Milady’s weariness, at least find some for My Lord. He was more than fair to excuse your guards from blame in his wounding. You owe him a debt of gratitude for that at least.’

  With a shrug, the captain stepped back into the kitchen. ‘But not you,’ he warned. ‘Remember that when the steward orders your arrest.’ He paused. ‘You’d be wise to take off your tabard. You might pass for a servant in tunic and britches.’

  Well to the rear of the crowd, Edmund had felt no obligation to feign interest in the Mass. Instead, he’d spent his time studying the house and the land around it. From where he was positioned, he could see both the guards’ quarters and the church tower and, though he didn’t know what function the smaller building performed, he made a good guess when the captain hurried towards it and two liveried men opened the door to him. After a brief conversation, another appeared in the opening with a ring of keys in his hand.

  It was a small step to connect the keys with imprisonment. Edmund recalled an occasion from his childhood when Peter’s father, the Develish blacksmith, had forged and hammered iron manacles into hinges for the latrine door after Sir Richard issued an edict that they were never to be used again for the purpose of punishing serfs. Few believed Sir Richard had known what he was signing, but everyone took pleasure in watching the hoops being converted to better use.

  Had the captain returned with chains as well as keys, Edmund would have believed they were intended for Joshua, but keys alone suggested unlocking rather than locking. And the thought occurred to him that Joshua and his dogs had somehow effected Thaddeus’s release. If the irritating churl had said once that his dogs were worth an army, he’d said it a hundred times, and Edmund pictured him strutting like a cockerel as d’Amiens’ guards trembled before ferocious teeth. He watched the entranceway to see who emerged, though in truth he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to see Joshua come out in triumph or with his tail between his legs.

  A quarter-hour passed before he caught the flutter of women’s skirts out of the corner of his eye. He looked to his right and saw a strange procession make its way from the side of the house towards him and Peter. A matronly servant, carrying a silver goblet, was at the head and three young maids, clutching flagons and bonbons, followed close behind. They approached so close to Peter’s mount that the animal became restless and Edmund had only the briefest impression of a figure slipping from their midst as Peter laid a soothing hand on his horse’s neck.

  ‘Face forward and say nothing,’ whispered Joshua, dropping to a crouch between him and Peter. ‘All will come to nought if the steward knows I’m here.’

  Edmund did as he was bid, watching the servants move in front of Lady Anne’s and the twins’ horses. Across the heads of the crowd, he saw that d’Amiens’ gaze was upon them and, while the steward frowned at their offering of cordial to Milady, he made no move to prevent it. Perhaps he feared the townsmen’s reaction if he denied her refreshment. She was most gracious in her acceptance, winning smiles and curtsies from the women.

  ‘I have messages,’ Joshua breathed next. ‘Thaddeus is wounded but not dying. His attacker was Master de Courtesmain. The guards seem to have a liking for Thaddeus because his shackles have been removed. The servants, too, since they wish to tend his cuts. Thaddeus has told them all that he wants no more blood to be shed and this has increased their sympathy for him. Lady Anne should play on that while remaining wary of the steward. He looks to catch her in a lie by questioning her before she has a chance to speak with Thaddeus. I am told by the captain that the issue concerns a pledge Thaddeus made to Milady and from which only she can release him. But I’m guessing Thaddeus fabricated the story
and Milady will be as ignorant as I of what this pledge concerns.’

  Edmund leant forward to adjust his horse’s noseband. ‘Why did the Frenchman attack Thaddeus?’

  ‘I don’t know; perhaps anger that the guards are treating him as a lord. De Courtesmain’s own status seems much reduced since we last saw him.’

  Edmund watched the matron gather the maids together again. ‘Make ready,’ he muttered. ‘The servants are returning. Stay sharp, my friend.’

  ‘You, too,’ came the whispered response before Joshua’s stooping figure was hidden once again amidst the swirl and rustle of skirts.

  The next Edmund saw of him was when he and the captain came out through the entranceway. Joshua, fully dressed again in livery, hurried to the pack ponies to remove Thaddeus’s crested leather bags and then hastened back inside the house. The captain turned to follow, but not before dropping to one knee and crossing himself as the priest began the absolution.

  Deus, Pater misericordiarum, qui per mortem et resurrectionem Filii . . .

  Edmund nudged his mount towards Peter’s. ‘How do we close the gap between us and Lady Anne without making the steward suspicious?’ he murmured. ‘We must give her the messages before the service ends. There may not be a chance afterwards.’

  Peter nodded. ‘A spooked horse won’t raise suspicions,’ he said, studying the fifteen-yard distance. Without warning, he slid his left boot from his stirrup and drove a sharp kick into the soft flesh between the chest and foreleg of Edward’s mount.

  Idiot, thought Edmund, as the animal skittered sideways instead of forwards. It took all his skill to turn the creature’s head and dance it broadside on towards the rear of Ian’s horse while making a pretence of trying to calm it.

  The nervous scraping of hooves infected Killer, and Ian turned with an angry order for Edmund to bring his horse under control before Milady was thrown. Edmund made to obey but his handling of the reins was so inept that the animal was alongside Ian’s before he had enough command to drop from the saddle. He ducked beneath its neck to make a clumsy bow of apology to Lady Anne and then, with his back to the steward, took hold of its nose collar and ran a soothing hand down its shoulder.

  ‘Can you hear me, milady?’ he whispered.

  Thaddeus locked his gaze with Hugh de Courtesmain’s as he gripped the haft of the knife and pulled the four-inch blade through his palm. He needed the other’s hatred to act as a spur because he knew before he began that the pain would be severe. Yet no amount of imagining had told him how severe. The rawness of the wound, dulled by the length of time he’d kept his hand rigid and unmoving on the table, blazed to life again as the steel ripped through already clotting blood. He was unaware of how pale he became as his mind reacted in shock to this second slicing of tender flesh but he made no sound as he placed the knife on the table and clenched his fist around a balled linen braie to stop the flow of blood. He took satisfaction from the disbelief in de Courtesmain’s eyes. If he’d achieved nothing else, he’d demonstrated to the Frenchman that, in a battle of wills between them, his was the stronger.

  He allowed Joshua to ease the left sleeve of his coat down his arm and then do the same with his embroidered jerkin. Beneath, the white fabric of the shirt showed seven saturated tears on the upper arm and shoulder where the blade had penetrated. Thaddeus shook his head when Joshua urged him to draw his arm from that sleeve as well. ‘Let’s wait for Mistress Wilde and her bandages. The wounds are no more than pinpricks thanks to the thickness of my coat and jerkin.’ He stirred the knife with his right hand. ‘Did you steal this or was it given to you?’ he asked de Courtesmain. ‘I see that the haft is embossed with a cross.’

  When De Courtesmain remained silent, the captain, who was standing to Thaddeus’s right, ordered him to speak.

  ‘I’ll not answer questions from a slave.’

  ‘You’ll wear these if you don’t,’ said the captain coolly, jerking his chin at the shackles on the table. ‘My Lord’s not alone in wanting answers. You involved my men in your madness when you attacked their prisoner.’

  ‘They should have remembered what he was when they chose to sit at the table with him. A prisoner should know his place and so should the men who guard him.’

  The captain eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. ‘You’re strangely arrogant for a would-be murderer,’ he murmured, leaning forward to push the shackles and keys across the table. ‘But you’re right to remind me that a prisoner should know his place.’ He beckoned to the young guard to pick them up. ‘Wrap the chain around a pillar before you secure the manacles.’

  From outside came the blessing. Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus.

  Lady Anne watched the townsmen rise to their feet and clasp each other’s hands in friendship. How clever d’Amiens had been to call a Mass, she thought. Knees might be sore and creaking after an hour at prayer on hard ground, but animosities and grievances were forgotten in the spirit of forgiveness that came with absolution and blessing. Several of the men glanced towards the sun, recalling tasks that needed performing, then turned towards the driveway in preparation for departure. Even if she knew the words that might persuade them to stay, she doubted the wisdom of introducing a woman’s voice into the solemn quiet that possessed them. The respect they’d shown her in the town would not be replicated if she assumed the right to speak in a place which, however briefly, had served them as a church.

  The priest understood this well, for he remained where he was, head bent in prayer and hands folded about the bejewelled cross that he wore on a chain around his neck. Lady Anne wondered if he’d sought permission from his bishop to adorn himself with such a showy ornament or if the idea had been his. Either way, his continued communion with God prolonged the townsmen’s sense that the forecourt was a holy place and deterred any from approaching him. Seeing this, d’Amiens did the same, closing his eyes and pressing his palms together beneath his lowered chin, and within minutes the men at the margins of the crowd began to disperse, their appetite for confrontation dispelled as they walked past Lady Anne and Thaddeus’s companions towards the driveway.

  ‘If the rest leave, we must go with them,’ murmured Lady Anne. ‘To stay will be to accept the power of the priest, and through him the governance of Church law. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, milady,’ said Ian, Olyver and Edmund in unison.

  ‘Then make ready. My hope is the steward is eager enough to speak with me to request that we stay; I can make better terms with him than with the priest.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t, milady?’ Ian asked anxiously. ‘Who will tend Thaddeus’s wounds?’

  ‘He must manage them himself.’

  ‘What of Joshua?’

  ‘He must stay with Thaddeus. There’ll be no bargaining either’s release from a position of weakness.’

  She took Miller and his supporters as her guide. When they began to stray from the forecourt, she instructed Ian to follow. He paused only to beckon Peter forward and order him and Edmund to retrieve Joshua’s horse and the pack ponies before nodding to Olyver to draw Killer into a turn. The dirt road was behind them, and they had barely circled their mounts to face it when a guard hurried across the gravel to address Lady Anne.

  ‘The steward forbids your departure, milady.’

  ‘Has he ordered you to make me your prisoner?’

  ‘I’m ordered to prevent you leaving, milady.’

  ‘Then you have my sympathies,’ she said. ‘I trust he will be understanding of your failure.’

  The man reached nervously for his sword but thought better of it when Ian shook his head. ‘Only a fool starts a war for no reason,’ he murmured, listening to the stamp of hooves as Edmund and Peter came up behind them. ‘Be good enough to step aside. You’ll not survive a trampling from eight horses.’

  The guard retreated in front of them, creating enough of a delay for d’Amiens and the remaining guards to make their way around the forecourt and form a
line across the driveway. By doing so, they split the townsmen into two groups, with Miller and his supporters on one side and the rest on the other. Ian wondered whether this was by accident or design. Did the steward hope to intimidate those confined with Lady Anne? If so, he prayed that Miller, yet to round the bend in the road, would look back to see what was happening.

  D’Amiens sketched a small bow. ‘Why this sudden urge to depart, milady?’ he asked in French. ‘Was the Mass not to your liking?’

  She answered in English, her voice carrying well in the still air. ‘It was hardly a Mass, Master d’Amiens. In Develish, our priest would not deny supplicants the Eucharist for want of unleavened bread.’

  ‘Father Aristide is obedient to the teachings of Christ, milady.’

  She smiled. ‘Yet I don’t recall Jesus telling us what form the bread should take. All the gospels use the same words. He took bread and when He had given thanks, He brake it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body which is given for you.” Is Father Aristide’s Bible different from mine that he thinks yeasted bread forbidden?’

  D’Amiens refused to be drawn. ‘I asked about your sudden urge to depart, milady. It’s but two hours since you were demanding entrance. What has changed?’

  ‘My hope that you can ever be an honest judge, sir. You led me to believe you would bring out your ledgers for inspection, but instead you summoned the priest to denounce the townsmen as wicked. For what reason unless to divert attention from your own guilt?’

  D’Amiens watched the crowd turn their heads to listen more closely. ‘Most seemed comforted by the Mass, milady,’ he said in French. ‘Only you appear troubled by it. Could it be you heard your own sins mentioned by the priest?’