He prided himself on knowing a deceiver just by looking at him—perhaps because he wasn’t above a little duplicity himself when a customer was too green to know the value of what he was purchasing—and he had the feeling that none of the men who rode with or for Lady Anne was what he pretended to be. Yet he couldn’t place their class. They gave themselves too much licence to be peasants or mercenaries. The timid hesitancy of the Norman guards was in stark contrast to the Doreseteshire men’s confident threatening and disarming of the steward.
Out of the corner of his eye, Miller saw the mounted soldier, who had taken the captain at speed across the grass, pen the priest inside the angle made by the entranceway and the house. Ahead, he watched the approach of Athelstan. Andrew Tench had said he’d never seen so fine a noble, and Miller agreed. Athelstan’s height set him above the men around him and the calmness of his manner gave him authority. He appeared as unaffected by d’Amiens calling him a bastard serf as he was to have had a knife pierce his palm.
Yet Miller questioned whether lords were ever so forbearing of discomfort and insolence. Over the years, he’d watched many pass through the town and he remembered them more for their angry complaining and petulance than their patience. But there was no doubting the captain’s belief in the man’s nobility. Had his words to the steward not made that clear, the respect he showed Athelstan certainly did.
Jeremiah Slater, too, seemed persuaded, though Miller guessed his sudden intervention was inspired by some hastily whispered words from Lady Anne when the steward ordered the captain to send Athelstan under guard to the church and to escort Milady to his office.
The greybeard stepped forward and raised his voice. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ he called to d’Amiens, ‘but there are many on this forecourt who would wish to hear the reasons for this man being taken in charge. The guildsmen who accompanied the priest on Saturday night found no fault in him. Why do you?’
‘You will know the explanation once his status has been determined.’
‘By whom, sir? And on whose word? We can all see the gore on his sleeve and can guess he’s been badly injured. Is his attacker the same who accuses him of imposture? If so, he has the right in law to demand justice for himself first. The claims against him will stand for nothing if a jury decides his accuser had murderous intent.’
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd of townsmen and Miller watched angry blood suffuse the paler skin in d’Amiens’ face. But what offended him more? Miller wondered. To have his decisions challenged, or to see people he’d forsaken for so long speak with a single voice? Lady Anne had said it took courage and generosity to keep a community alive, and Miller saw that Jeremiah Slater had both. The greybeard showed more courage than younger men by once again drawing the steward’s attention to himself.
‘My friend speaks with knowledge, for he has served as a juryman in the manor court,’ Miller said, thrusting forward to stand with Slater. ‘All the townsmen here can claim a similar knowledge because of their obligation to attend—and some have seen it from the other side. You know this, Master d’Amiens, for it’s your duty to preside over the court and mete out fines for late payment of taxes.’ He gestured towards Thaddeus. ‘This man is entitled to be heard before twelve good men who will bring fairness and reason to their verdicts.’
‘But not in the manor court, which deals only with infractions against Blandeforde by-laws,’ d’Amiens snapped. ‘I remember you well, Miller. Your infringements have been many, and more often concern false description of goods than late payment of taxes.’
Miller laughed. ‘Hardly infringements, sir, since I never lost those cases. A bowl is a bowl whether it costs a groat or a farthing. It’s not the vendor’s fault if the purchaser’s a fool.’ He gestured again to Thaddeus. ‘Have you not laid the same charge against this man? There can be no falser description of goods than a bastard serf claiming the title of Athelstan and cousinship with Lady Anne of Develish. Why deny him the manor court when you were so generous in allowing me the use of it?’
‘There are other issues involved.’
‘But none so difficult that a jury of free townsmen can’t decide them. You’ve insulted our intelligence once, sir. Will you do so again? We are as able to understand argument as we are to read ledgers.’
‘Which you’ve still to show us,’ called Andrew Tench. ‘The convening of the manor court will give you that opportunity.’
Voices cried out in approval, and the captain stirred uneasily, perhaps worried that the fragile peace was about to be broken. Thaddeus laid a calming hand on his arm and addressed d’Amiens.
‘We both know my arrest was unlawful,’ he said without animosity, ‘and were I able to lay my grievances before a jury of my peers—as is my right—I would do so gladly. Nevertheless, I have no quarrel with the good men of Blandeforde deciding my truthfulness. Do you hesitate to summon the court out of fear of having to answer questions yourself, Master d’Amiens? Or is it the priest who decides such matters?’
D’Amiens frowned at him, but whether in perplexity or dislike it was hard to say. ‘The court building is in the town and we heard a half-year ago that all the officers were dead. There’s been no manor court since, because verdicts reached by jurymen, not approved by officers, are deemed null and void. Is that your wish, Thurkell? To waste time arguing your case before men who lack the authority to free you?’
Thaddeus gave a grunt of amusement. ‘You give away your powers too easily, Master d’Amiens.’ He turned to Slater and Miller. ‘I’m in your hands, good sirs. Are you elders of this town? If so, I believe you have the necessary standing to select jurymen.’
‘We are, sire,’ said Miller without hesitation. ‘Master Slater is leader of our council and I am one of its members.’
‘Andrew Tench also,’ said Slater, beckoning the man forward. ‘In addition, Roger Wright—’ he pointed to one of the men beyond Thaddeus—‘and Mark Summerlee.’ He nodded towards his right. ‘We all have knowledge of the manor court, sire, and, with respect to Master d’Amiens, he is mistaken on how jurymen are selected. It used to be that the officers picked the names until rumours began that favourable verdicts could be bought with money. Thereafter, My Lord of Blandeforde decreed that the choice should be made by lot.’
Roger Wright, the man behind Thaddeus, spoke up. ‘You should know, too, that there’s no requirement for the court to sit in the town building, Master d’Amiens. I’ve attended three trials in the great hall here, and my father spoke of several being held on this forecourt. Your predecessor thought it right that as many as possible should be allowed to witness the workings of the law, and the courtroom holds a bare forty.’
Andrew Tench raised his hand. ‘As steward and presiding officer, you have but to call us to order and the court is convened,’ he said. ‘Your captain of arms can serve as bailiff and I as clerk of the rolls. I have a better script than most and will need but the use of a table, quill and parchment to make a true record of what is said. In addition, a Bible to take the oaths of truth. My Lord of Blandeforde summoned us in such a way five years ago and no questions were raised about the legality of the verdicts.’
Briefly, d’Amiens closed his eyes as if to shut out the townsmen’s words. ‘Do you have no care for Milady’s people?’ he asked Thaddeus. ‘You may save yourself by these means but not them. De Courtesmain accuses the whole demesne of crimes.’
‘Indeed. He glories in vaunting his self-proclaimed virtue . . . much like your priest.’ Thaddeus turned the dagger in his fingers and then dropped it back into his pocket. ‘The serfs of Develish will have nothing to answer for once de Courtesmain’s lies are exposed. The truth will release them from suspicion, as it will me.’
‘Then you can have no objection to my hearing what Milady has to say first. I will assemble the court here in one hour, and she may sit with me in the steward’s office until that time comes. The delay will allow the servants to carry tables and benches outside, and the townsm
en to draw lots.’ D’Amiens dropped his head in a small bow to Lady Anne. ‘Is that acceptable to you, milady?’
There was no hesitation in her reply. ‘Quite acceptable, Master d’Amiens, but my journey was long and tiring, and I would beg the courtesy of a moment or two in private with a maid first. May I ask for the kindly matron who brought me cordial? I will need a chaperone when I’m in your office and would have more confidence in an older woman.’
D’Amiens’ mouth twisted. ‘You seem to have managed without a protectress so far, milady.’
‘I haven’t needed one,’ she answered lightly. ‘Apart from my husband, you’re the only man who’s ever invited me to enter his chamber unaccompanied.’
He scowled ferociously as the forecourt erupted in laughter. ‘I was referring to your travelling alone with soldiers, milady.’
‘I didn’t doubt it, sir, but in truth I couldn’t have asked for more chivalrous companions. They have learnt their respect and courtesy from their lord.’ She turned to Thaddeus. ‘I wish we were meeting again under happier circumstances, cousin, but be assured I shall not reveal the details of our pledge unless you have done so already.’
Thaddeus bent forward, touching his fingers to his forehead in order to hide the relief in his eyes. He had no idea how Milady had come by this knowledge, but he blessed her cleverness in raising it. ‘I have not, dear friend. The pledge between us was a sacred one and only you have the right to speak of it.’ He raised his head. ‘Nevertheless, I would urge you to keep your counsel. Blandeforde’s proxy has no better right than de Courtesmain to know my reasons for entering Develish last spring in the guise of a peasant called Thurkell.’
She was as adept at hiding understanding as he was. ‘Is it but a year that has passed? So much has happened since that it seems longer.’ She switched her attention back to d’Amiens. ‘Shall we proceed, sir? I would hate to keep these good townsmen from their work longer than is necessary.’
Once inside the privacy of a chamber, Lady Anne took Mistress Wilde’s hands in hers and searched her eyes. The woman must have some sympathy for Thaddeus, she thought, or she wouldn’t have lent herself to Joshua’s passing of a message to Edmund.
‘Did my cousin speak of me to you, mistress?’
‘He did, milady, and most highly. Everyone in the household has learnt of your care for your serfs and how you have saved them from the pestilence.’
Everything about her reminded Lady Anne of Clara Trueblood—her stocky stature, her smiling, plump-cheeked face, the straightforward way she spoke—and she followed her instinct that the woman would not betray her to the steward.
‘I need your help, Mistress Wilde, but we have a short time only before I must present myself for questioning,’ she said.
‘What would have you me do, milady?’
‘Tell me all you can about Master de Courtesmain. What does the household gossip say about him? How and where does he pass his days? Have promises been made to him in return for accusing my cousin? What happened here this morning? Why did I see him chained to a pillar in the great hall?’ She gave a small laugh. ‘But all this must be told in the few minutes it takes for me to use a chamber pot and rearrange my gown.’
Mistress Wilde laughed in return. ‘There’s no need to trouble yourself in that regard, milady. The steward’s arse is so tight it takes him a quarter-hour to pass a turd. I’ll remind him of that if he chafes at your tardiness.’
She shepherded Lady Anne towards a low chair with a hole in the seat and a chamber pot beneath it, and then brought forward a bowl of water, some cloths and a hairbrush, which she placed on a stool beside the seat. All the while she talked of what she knew. The priest had allowed the Frenchman through the gates some dozen days earlier when a guard reported a messenger speaking of heretical practices in My Lord of Blandeforde’s vassal demesnes. A maid had overheard a later conversation between the priest and the steward which suggested the heresy concerned the illegal freeing of serfs. The Frenchman had remained seven days in the church before being given a room inside the house. He had shown great distrust of the servants and had been overly arrogant in the demanding of washing water and victuals.
On the evening of Easter Saturday, a messenger had come from the bridge to report the arrival of one who called himself Athelstan. Shortly afterwards, the priest, the steward and some twenty guards had proceeded down the driveway with flaming torches. The priest was clothed in the steward’s attire and the steward was hiding his disfigured face inside the hood of his cloak.
As to what happened during the rest of that night or on Easter Sunday, Mistress Wilde couldn’t say. Being head of the kitchen, her task had been to prepare the Easter feast. A rumour said that a prisoner was lodged in the guard house, awaiting trial once the Holy Day had passed; another that he was brought to the house after dark to prevent him corrupting the guards. Both rumours may have been true, because the servants were banned from showing themselves in the great hall or on the forecourt from nightfall on Sunday for fear they, too, would become corrupted by the prisoner’s lies and blandishments.
The first Mistress Wilde knew of that morning’s happenings was the steward’s ranting at his captain of arms for showing cowardice before a woman. So loud was his voice that it could be heard in the kitchen and she had been curious enough to peep through the archway. Imagine her surprise when a tall, handsome man, laden with shackles, had come through the entranceway and chastised the steward for his intemperate speech, saying it wasn’t the captain’s fault if Lady Anne of Develish had refused his terms.
She spoke of Thaddeus with respect, describing him as calm and unafraid even when the Frenchman attacked him for saying that wickedness wasn’t the cause of the pestilence. In truth, few of the servants had thought it was, since there were many more spiteful and cruel folk in their midst than the four who had succumbed. She added that few believed either that the town was as steeped in sin as Father Arisitide claimed.
‘Most of us have family there . . . or had,’ she said, laying aside the brush with which she’d neatened Lady Anne’s hair. ‘We’ve never been allowed to know their fate, or the fate of those the priest expelled, but it’s hard to think of any of them so wicked that God would want them dead.’ She assisted Lady Anne to her feet and knelt to arrange the folds of her gown.
‘What reason does Father Aristide give for so few in the household dying?’
‘His daily reciting of the liturgy of the hours and the giving of general absolution, milady. By such means he sanctifies the land inside the wall and cleanses us all of our wickedness.’
‘Does he sleep in the church?’
Mistress Wilde shook her head. ‘The tower’s cold and he likes his comforts too much.’
‘Was My Lord of Athelstan told of the cleansing rituals?’
‘I believe so, milady, for he said Father Aristide has been less than honest in his explanations about why the house remains free of the pestilence.’ She stood with a grunt of satisfaction. ‘You are truly beautiful. No one would think you’d made a journey this day.’
Lady Anne pulled a wry smile. ‘I could wish my tired wits as easily refreshed, Mistress Wilde. I’ll need a sharp mind if I’m to avoid the traps the steward and priest set for me.’
The matron chuckled. ‘You’ll be more at ease than they, milady. The priest’s knowledge of women is limited to the confessional, and the steward’s to chastising us for wastage. They’ll not know how to handle one such as you.’
Lady Anne reached for the woman’s hands again. ‘I have asked that you stay with me as my chaperone. Do you feel able to do that? I have no wish to cause difficulties between you and Master d’Amiens, but your presence would give me confidence that what he says is truthful. He will surely hesitate to speak falsehoods before a member of the household.’
Mistress Wilde gave her fingers a tight squeeze. ‘It’ll not cause difficulties, milady. He has too much need of me in the kitchen.’ Her eyes gleamed with sudden mischief. ‘And
if he or the Father wander from the truth, I’ll let you know by crossing my wrists in front of my kirtle. It’s past time some light was shed on the secrets of this house.’
The priest stood in a corner of the office and the steward behind the desk with his back to the window. Both faces were in shade, and Lady Anne wondered if this was deliberate when d’Amiens invited her to sit on a stool which was placed in such a way that she must look towards the light. With a smile, she requested Mistress Wilde to move the stool into the corner on the other side of the window from the priest, begging the steward’s pardon for obliging him to turn around.
‘I’m sure you’re better able to stare into the sun than I am, Master d’Amiens,’ she said, settling herself on the stool and giving a nod of acknowledgement to Aristide. ‘How may I help you, sirs?’
The priest spoke first. ‘Master de Courtesmain has brought us alarming tales of Develish, milady. He speaks of an abandonment of God, thievery and murder by a serf called Thurkell, and bonded men and women claiming to be the equal of lords. He reserves his worst accusation for you, saying you practise heresy.’
‘How very strange of him.’
‘These are serious charges, milady,’ said d’Amiens.
‘Indeed,’ she answered gravely. ‘As serious as the charges Sir Richard made against you some five years since, when you miswrote Develish’s taxes. It was fortunate our steward of the time noticed the error before you departed. Sir Richard would have been obliged to raise the matter with My Lord of Blandeforde otherwise.’
‘It was a small mistake in calculation, milady.’
‘Hardly small, sir. By recollection you left twenty gold nobles out of your addition. Sir Richard would have ordered you flogged for thievery had I not persuaded him that error was more likely than deceit. He was quite convinced you planned to pocket the nobles yourself.’
D’Amiens eyed her with dislike. The knowledge he had of her now told him it was she who had seen the inaccuracy and sent her husband to rage against him. ‘There was no deceit, milady.’
The Turn of Midnight Page 33
