Romancing Robin Hood

by Jenny Kane

  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Grace took herself downstairs, and braved a glimpse at the clock. She winced. It was only four thirty in the morning.

  Flipping open her laptop, Grace sighed. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me now, Mathilda.’

  Reading back through the last few pages of her story, Grace pushed her mind into fourteenth-century mode, and concentrated on asking and answering all the question she knew must be simmering in Mathilda’s head as she stood, half-undressed and vulnerable, in front of Robert in the Folville brothers’ draughty manor house hall.

  Mathilda tried to think. Why would the rector lie about the dagger? The obvious answer would be that he was the one who’d placed it in her cell ready to be discovered, but why would he do that? His reputation as the most ruthless brother, apart from Eustace, was well deserved if you believed the local rumours of rape and murder, although Mathilda was sure that he’d never been caught or tried for any of his crimes.

  Robert’s chair scraped against the dirty stone floor as he stood up, his feet still booted for riding, and his cloak grimy from so long in the saddle.

  Mathilda studied him properly for the first time that morning. He appeared sallow and strained, but then, she realised, he had just lost a friend. Although she couldn’t understand why Robert was friendly with such an unpleasant man. After only one day in his company, Mathilda had no problem with imagining Hugo upsetting someone enough for them to kill him, but she could see the situation had clearly rattled Robert more than he would ever be likely to admit.

  ‘Get dressed, Mathilda.’ Robert broke off each word as though he was snapping twigs with his voice. ‘Sarah, bring the girl to the kitchen. It is time we bought her up to date. Then we have a new mission for her.’

  The way he spoke, as if she wasn’t even there, sent shivers up Mathilda’s spine. He seemed a far cry from the Robert who had given her the fine girdle belt she now hung back around her waist. She felt his eyes on her, or rather on the leather belt, as she dressed, her fingers struggling not to fumble over the exquisite fastening.

  The kitchen was welcomingly warm compared to the open space of the hall. Allward was busily sorting out vegetables ready for Sarah cook up some broth for tomorrow, but when he saw the trio come into the room, he immediately stopped what he was doing, bowed to his master, and offered him some ale.

  ‘Thank you,’ Robert took the pottery cup. Mathilda immediately recognised it as one of Geoffrey of Reresby’s, and felt a stab of resentment. The Folvilles were expecting to receive the repayment of her father’s ill-advised loan, and yet they hadn’t even been bothered to buy his pottery to help him reach that aim.

  ‘Sit down, Mathilda. And you, Allward. We must keep this brief, for there is much to do.’

  Mathilda realised she didn’t understand this man at all. Robert may only have been the youngest son of a noble family, but it wasn’t usual for someone of his status to sit at the same table as the household servants, and yet he did it freely; although not when his brothers were around. Perhaps his Robyn Hode-inspired principles ran as deeply as he’d proclaimed after all.

  ‘Allward, explain quickly to Mathilda where you were after the noon bell yesterday.’

  The boy shifted uncomfortably, obviously as unused to being treated as an equal as Mathilda was.

  ‘Come on, boy, time is short.’

  ‘Sorry, my Lord.’ Allward sat up straight and turned his small round face towards Mathilda. ‘Acting on instruction from my Lord Robert I secretly rode to the household of your father, Bertred of Twyford, to observe their condition.’

  Mathilda gasped and turned to Robert, ‘My Lord, you did?’

  Robert concurred, ‘I thought you would be happier in your mind if you knew that your family were still safe and well. Besides, I owed you an apology, and this seemed a good way. However, in the light of recent events it seems my sending of Allward on this mission was timely. You understand the significance of Master Hugo being found so close to your family home, I am sure.’

  Mathilda inclined her head.

  With a nudge in the ribs from Sarah, Allward carried on his commentary. ‘I kept to the outskirts of the workshop and house. I did not wish to be seen.’

  ‘They looked well? Were they all there? Oswin, as well as my father and Matthew?’

  ‘Your father was in the workshop. He was, if the sounds travelling from the window could be trusted, stacking the kiln with fresh pots for firing. He was also talking to someone, but beyond being able to tell you that his companion was male, I know nothing more. I saw no one, and I did not hear him reply. Your brother Matthew could be seen through the kitchen window, and from his grumbles about having to do women’s work, I suspect he had taken on your duties. I saw no sign of Oswin.’

  Mathilda was silent for a second, and then addressed Robert, ‘Thank you, my Lord. I am indeed easier in my mind for knowing they are well, and that my father hasn’t given up hope, and is still working to pay his debts.’

  ‘But you wish you knew where Oswin was.’

  Mathilda didn’t ask how Robert had guessed this. It was obvious. ‘I do. May I ask, what time did you leave them, Allward? Long before the death of Master Hugo?’

  ‘By at least two hours, if not more. I’m not good at timekeeping. I saw no sign of the leatherworker or any of his household in the area.’

  ‘And you saw no one else nearby?’

  ‘There was a horse tethered in the orchard, but I assumed that to belong to whoever was in the workshop with your father. There was no one else around until I got back to the heart of the village, and then it was just locals going about their business. Nor were there any about when I returned to Twyford this evening, after news of Master Hugo’s attack had reached us.’

  Robert was grave, ‘Thank you, Allward, you may get on now, two such trips in one day will have made you behind with your work.’

  Evidently relived to be able to excuse himself, the boy disappeared out of the kitchen.

  ‘You are wondering who was with your father in the workshop around noon?’ Robert’s thoughtful gaze landed on Mathilda. ‘Do you recall if any clients were due to visit him this week?’

  ‘There were none expected when I was last there, my Lord, but of course, that doesn’t mean new orders couldn’t have come in.’ Although, even as she said it, Mathilda knew that to be unlikely. If there had been money coming in soon, she was sure that her father would have pledged it to the Folvilles when he was informed that his daughter had been taken in lieu of repayment of debts, as so Robert would have been aware of it already.

  ‘And you can think of no one it could have been?’

  Mathilda shook her head dumbly.

  ‘Then perhaps I should tell you what I think, Mathilda.’ Robert banged his cup upon the table. ‘I believe that after only a day in your company one of my friends is dead. And this came only hours after he reported to me of how badly you behaved while you worked for him. How you were late to your duties, and how you refused to serve one of his most important customers.’

  Sarah put a restraining hand on Mathilda’s arm as the girl opened her mouth to protest, and somehow she swallowed her words as Robert went on.

  ‘I have sworn to my brothers that you can be trusted, and here I am in an impossible position. Richard is convinced you had a dagger with you in the cell. My dagger, I assume? Where is it now?’

  Mathilda swallowed. ‘It was in my cot. I put it under my mattress when I got back from Bakewell ready to return it to you. When I awoke after falling asleep in the cell it was by my feet. I swear upon Our Lady herself that I did not have it with me when I went in.’

  ‘That does not answer my question, Mathilda. No one knew I had given you the dagger, unless you told them about it.’

  ‘Only Sarah knew, and only because she saw it in the cell when she bought me some broth.’

  ‘This is the truth, my Lord.’ Sarah rose from her seat and went to the cutlery store. Checking around her to make sure no one el
se was watching, she reached a hand to the very back of the cupboard, and pulled out a rag-covered bundle, which she passed then to Robert.

  Unwrapping his dagger, examining it for signs of flesh and blood, of which there were none, he spoke more quietly. ‘And you truly did not have this with you when we returned you to the cell?’

  ‘I swear.’

  Robert was quiet for a moment. ‘I am grateful to you, Sarah, for stowing this.’ He picked up the blade. ‘I will return it to its rightful place.’

  No one spoke for a while, and Mathilda began to fidget in her seat. She was thinking harder than she ever had before. Who could have put the dagger in the cell? And why? ‘May I speak, my Lord?’

  ‘Go on.’ Robert positively oozed suspicion, but he held his tongue while she spoke.

  ‘Perhaps whoever put the dagger in the cell wanted to add credence to your belief that I did wrong by Master Hugo. It could suit whoever that person is to paint a black picture of my character.’

  ‘Master Hugo has never had cause to lie to me, Mathilda. I suggest you tread very carefully with what you say next.’

  Sweat was gathering on Mathilda’s forehead as she ploughed on with her desperate theory, ‘Perhaps it was an act meant to add to the suffering of my family. It does seem as if someone is trying to blacken my family’s name and reputation. I am here, my father is in debt, and my brother is missing, and now a body has been found near my home.’

  ‘There is another possibility, of course.’ Sarah stared meaningfully at Robert while gathering the vegetables prepared by Allward to peel. ‘Someone could be out to blacken a name all right, but not yours, Mathilda.’

  Robert stared at the housekeeper carefully, ‘Go on.’

  ‘My Lord, it was you who proclaimed a trust of Mathilda to your brothers – a trust you have been made to think was broken. I know it was not. Also, it is your friend who has died. A man who, if you will forgive me saying so, was not held in high esteem by many. He was an excellent craftsman, without doubt, but his personal habits were often rumoured to be questionable. I wonder if it was not Mathilda who is being framed as the target for unpalatable attention, but you, my Lord.’

  Mathilda could feel her pulse race as she added, ‘Our Lady save us, my Lord! It was your dagger planted in my cell.’

  ‘Tell me, Mathilda, on your soul, and that is not a threat I make lightly, did you tell me the truth? Did Master Hugo send you the wrong way as you claim? Did Coterel help you return to spite the man?’

  ‘I promise my Lord. I promise you that is the truth.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  ‘We have another pressing issue aside from Master Hugo’s death. More pressing perhaps.’

  The following morning Mathilda found herself standing, once again, across the table from Eustace and Robert in the main hall, but this time without the reassuring back up of the housekeeper, who was catching up with her work. She couldn’t begin to imagine what could possibly be more important than clearing her family name of murder. Or at least establishing if it was threatened in the first place.

  The set expression on Eustace’s face however told her he was in deadly earnest. Robert and Eustace were joined by the younger brother Walter, whose expression was carefully blank. The tension, which always radiated throughout the hall, seemed heightened somehow as Eustace continued, ‘The message you collected from Coterel, Mathilda, means that the time for action is almost upon us. In the light of recent events however, it would be foolish for myself or any of my family to be seen in the region intended.’

  Wary of asking questions she’d be better off not knowing the answers to, Mathilda decided to not enquire what that message had meant beyond the obvious arranging of a meeting, Mathilda placed her hands over her belt in an attempt to be calmed by its beauty. For the first time she wished she still had the dagger Robert had loaned her. She had an unpleasant premonition that she was going to need it.

  Glancing briefly at his brothers, Eustace continued, ‘This means that we require your assistance once more. Mathilda, Robert has assured the three of us that you did act as you claimed during your last visit to Derby after all, and so we are inclined to trust you again.’

  The three of us. Did that mean that the absent brothers, John and Richard, did not trust her? Where was the rector anyway? Mathilda wasn’t sure if his absence was more or less disturbing than his presence. Aware that she really didn’t want to find out, Mathilda listened anyway, in the hope that further explanation would be forthcoming, along with news of her family and the hunt for Master Hugo’s murderer that must surely underway by now.

  For every second of the past twelve hours Mathilda had expected the sheriff’s men to come knocking at the Folvilles’ front door; but so far there had been nothing. Were the brothers expecting a visit from the authorities as well? Is that why they wanted to be seen to be here, rather than roaming the countryside with messages they shouldn’t be replaying? There was certainly an air of unease that had taken the edge off their usual self-assured arrogance.

  ‘At midnight tonight I am due to meet Coterel myself to speak of future matters. This is no longer possible. I wish you to go in my place, and meet him to present a gesture of my trust, and rearrange a new time and place to marshal our plan and make sure of each other’s intentions.’

  The way Eustace chewed at his words, his fists clenched against the table, made it all too clear how angry he was at having to reschedule whatever he’d been plotting. The blood drained from Mathilda’s face as she realised she was going to have to represent the most feared Folville. ‘Me? How, my Lord?’

  Robert took over from Eustace, while all the time the eyes of Walter remained fixed on Mathilda, making her wonder if the man ever blinked. ‘There is to be an exchange. A gesture to show that we each understand and agree to this frustrating need for delay. It will be a show of good faith on both sides. Nicholas Coterel will give us a signal or an item we desire to see, and in return we will give him something. Something you will carry to them for us.’

  ‘But …’ her forehead furrowed with confusion.

  ‘Mathilda, there has been a murder.’ Robert snapped through her sentence, ‘The victim can be connected to this household, and at least one member of this household has made no secret of his dislike of Master Hugo.’

  ‘Father Richard, my lord?’ Mathilda whispered the words, not quite sure if she was permitted to speak or not; but every instinct in her telling her she was right.

  ‘Indeed.’ Robert’s brow darkened as he spoke, ‘And although Hugo was a loyal friend to me, my Godly brother felt unable to exercise the forgiveness men of the cloth are so often spouting, deciding instead to damn him to hell for his inclinations. Inclinations he never actually had. He was fiercely loyal, and coveted exclusiveness to his friendships, but that was all.’

  ‘Inclinations?’ Mathilda searched the faces of the men sat before her. Each one was carefully blank.

  Ignoring her enquiry, Robert continued, ‘you will be escorted, but from the shadows. To all intents and purposes you will appear to be alone.’

  There was a silence, and Mathilda took her chance, ‘The item I am to deliver?’

  ‘It is a package. Only small. You’ll easily be able to conceal it about your person.’

  As nothing was to be achieved by arguing, Mathilda decided to be practical, ‘But surely I am to be accompanied by someone else as well as my hidden escort? A woman out on her own so late at night will cause suspicion.’

  ‘It will be me alone.’ Robert walked towards the fire to warm his hands, ‘I will be keeping to the trees. You won’t see me, but I will be there at all times. The route you need to take is wooded on either side. My concealment will not be difficult.’

  ‘And what of the concealment of others? Outlaws are not unknown between here and Bakewell, I could be taken by them, or by the sheriff’s men if they identify me as my father’s daughter. I have no doubt they will suspect him of having a hand in Master Hugo’s death.’
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  Robert bristled. ‘I have given my word that you’ll be kept safe. That should be enough for you.’

  Mathilda said nothing else, hoping that his Hode-style surveillance would be enough to keep her safe. Unconvinced that Robert had completely stopped believing all the poison fed to him by Master Hugo prior to his death, she couldn’t help thinking that she’d be safer if Eustace was shadowing her.

  ‘May I ask what I might expect to transport back in return?’

  ‘I will tell you as we travel.’ Robert nodded to his brothers for confirmation, inviting them to add anything he may have missed to Mathilda’s instructions.

  Addressing Mathilda, Eustace said, ‘Be careful, girl. It isn’t only your safety wrapped up in this mission. Your family owes me. Money, it is becoming increasingly clear, as each day goes by, isn’t something they can easily repay. Your services are becoming a more permanent form of payment. If harm comes to you, and you are no longer able to provide those services, then I will need to extract another form of payment from you father. I am sure that is not something you want.’

  ‘No, my Lord.’ Mathilda looked at her feet. The threatening tone of Eustace’s voice was replaced by Robert talking again, but she no longer heard what was being said, as she attempted to marshal her thoughts, and get a grip on the thought that was beginning to nag in the back of her head.

  Allward had reported that her father had been in the workshop talking with someone before Hugo’s death. So, who was the visitor? A new customer? It had to have been. Their regular customers had all but disappeared thanks to Geoffrey of Reresby and his fellow importers.

  And where was Oswin? Was he out trying to acquire more money to pay off the debt quicker? There weren’t many ways to earn enough extra income that were worth leaving the family business for; and none she could think of that were legal. Mathilda’s blood chilled as she considered some of the risks Oswin might be taking to help the family. If he was still alive? She closed her eyes. That was an idea she didn’t want to consider.