Romancing Robin Hood

by Jenny Kane

  ‘Master Hugo was an unpleasant and objectionable man, but Sheriff Ingram knew of his war-forged friendship with Robert, so he consulted me on the matter of his death. He agreed to leave things alone. Having a member of this family implicated in this crime would not be in the sheriff’s interests at the moment.’18

  The rector’s mouth dropped open, ‘The sheriff is in your pay?’

  ‘We have a plan afoot, do we not? We will need Ingram on our side. Anyway, he is a friend who helps me out sometimes,’ John answered smoothly, ‘and now I think we need him to come here.’

  ‘No!’

  Fear was now visibly emanating from Richard. John, eyeing his brother carefully, raised his hand, telling the travel-weary Allward not to head straight out on his new mission.

  ‘Why not? Tell me, little brother.’

  Richard searched the remaining family faces for a glimmer of help, but every expression was closed and sombre. Eventually he spoke with bitter resignation. ‘You know full well why not. Ingram made it clear last time we met professionally that all my chances had run out. I don’t wish to meet the hangman’s noose.’

  John gestured to Sarah for some ale as he sat back at the long table, ‘I imagine I can persuade him not to stretch that neck of yours, but only if you tell us the truth now. I suggest you talk.’

  The reverend remained silent. To Mathilda it was as if his malevolent eyes were searing into her soul.

  ‘No? Then perhaps we should ask Mathilda?’ Pausing long enough to be sure that no response would be coming from the rector, John once again addressed Mathilda. ‘So who did kill Master Hugo?’

  Summoning up all her courage, Mathilda said, ‘I believe it was Geoffrey of Reresby, my Lord.’

  ‘Because?’ The original incredulity returned to John’s face, ‘I can see no reason on this earth why Reresby would risk his neck to kill Hugo?’

  Robert lowered his dagger a fraction, reassuring himself that his brothers weren’t about to let Richard flee. He moved closer to Mathilda, and gestured toward her girdle belt. ‘Would you be so kind as to remove your belt for me? And Allward, go and fetch the pitcher you collected from Bakewell.’

  ‘Explain yourself, Robert.’ John leant forward in his chair, his hand rubbing the stubble of his short, neatly trimmed beard.

  ‘This brings us to the matter that Coterel and Oswin suspected, and led Mathilda to stitch the two sides of this puzzle together. Whatever you thought of Master Hugo, he was an excellent craftsman. If you look closely at the belt, and then at the borrowed pitcher, you will see that they bear exactly the same design. As you know, I was presented with the leather belt as a gift from Hugo some months ago. He was indeed, gruff, uncompromising, and given to being surly, but he was my dear friend, he saved my life when we were comrades in arms on the fields of Scotland. I owed him a debt of friendship, and I stuck by him, paying that debt.’

  ‘A friend! You’ll burn in hell! It just so happens that someone did the area a favour and sent Hugo there early!’

  ‘Enough!’ Eustace was bored with the drama he’d previously been enjoying. The glare in his eyes told Mathilda that there were now two brothers who would like to wring the cleric’s neck there and then. Passing the belt to John, Robert took the pitcher from Allward ‘As you can see, the patterns are the same, even down to the leaves and vines that wind around the diagonal lines.’

  Giving everyone but the rector the chance to examine the identical designs, Robert continued. ‘When Mathilda worked at the market for Hugo she spotted Geoffrey of Reresby watching the stall. She believed that he was there keeping an eye on her. After all, he was responsible for the collapse of her family’s pottery business with his cheaper imports and his own decorative wares, and, always jealous of her father’s greater skill with clay, had remained a thorn in their side for some time.’

  Mathilda was grateful for the constant presence of Sarah, who kept a comforting hand on her shoulder, as John asked her, ‘Did Reresby speak to you, girl?’

  ‘No, my Lord. I did my best to keep out of his way. But I’m sure Master Hugo saw him watching the stall; and of course he knew I was wearing his belt. I can only assume that Geoffrey did see me, and noticed that my belt bore the same pattern as had so recently begun to appear on his pottery.’

  ‘Are you telling us that Hugo was murdered because of a pattern on a pot?’

  ‘Prior to my time working with Master Hugo I had not seen more of his work than this belt. I had assumed that he had stolen the pattern from Reresby, but I was wrong. It was the other way about. Reresby had stolen the pattern. The design is Master Hugo’s signature, my Lord. It seems he is known for the pattern. I have no doubt he saw Reresby’s taking of the motif as theft.’

  ‘Which is precisely what it was. Theft.’ Robert handed the girdle back to Mathilda. ‘To steal another man’s craft, and to take custom from him that way, is dishonourable indeed.’

  Refastening the leather around her tiny waist, Mathilda said, ‘I didn’t notice the connection at the time, my Lord. I was too worried about my meeting with the Coterels. It was only when I heard about the pitcher’s pattern from Oswin that I finally made the link between the patterns on the leather and the pottery.’

  ‘And how does this concern my brother, Father Richard?’

  ‘Allward told me that a man had visited my father yesterday afternoon. He wasn’t sure who this man was, as he’d not been there at the time. I sent Oswin to ask our father about the meeting. After some persuading, he told Oswin that the man was Geoffrey.

  ‘He was livid, apparently, and not knowing that I’d been staying here, he believed my father had sent me to work with Hugo to spy on him to gather proof that he’d stolen the pattern from Hugo, and to therefore get revenge for him taking most of our trade. He had assumed my father intended to blackmail him over the theft.

  ‘Of course my father had no idea what Reresby was talking about, and apparently their argument soon fizzled to a discussion, with my father having no choice but to confide that I’d been taken into service here.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mathilda; but I still can’t see what any of this meeting between Reresby and your father has to do with my felonious brother?’

  ‘My Lord, in the meantime Hugo had learnt that Reresby had been using his trademark pattern. This was the reason for his poor behaviour towards me. Not jealousy, but a suspicion that it had been my family who had sold or given the pattern to Reresby out of spite.

  ‘Fatefully, it was only moments after Reresby left my father that Master Hugo was on the road to the workshop to accuse my father of profiting from the theft. I believe they met on the road, argued, and a dagger was drawn with fatal consequences.’

  ‘That I can confirm, brother,’ Robert had the good grace to be a little shame-faced, ‘Hugo did indeed believe that Mathilda had been avoiding being seen by Reresby because she had a guilty conscience, and not because she disliked the man so much and didn’t want him to know of her family’s disgrace.’

  Mathilda, her whole being a mass of tension, took a swig from the mug that Robert passed to her while waiting John’s reaction to what had been said. John, however, wasn’t the first to speak.

  ‘You see!’ Triumph oozed from the cleric, ‘The brat herself says I didn’t do it. I wasn’t even there. And I don’t know Reresby beyond his name and trade.’

  Tilting his head to one side John scrutinized his brother for a long time, each heart thudding second feeling like an eternity to Mathilda as she took another sip of drink to ease the dryness of her throat.

  Robert, his expression calmer than it had been all day, said, ‘But you did stumble across a situation that you could use to your advantage, didn’t you. To use to blacken my name, and then to make yourself look good by appearing to clear it again! How was it, Father Richard? Did you come across a shocked and frightened Reresby with the body of Hugo at his feet, dagger in hand, wondering what in all hell he’d done? Did you offer to dispose of his blood-stained dagger, a dagger
very similar in style from those we all own, and make him indebted to you for the rest of his life, before working out how to use this situation for your own gain?

  ‘You’d already got Mathilda’s frightened father to spread a rumour about me that, if true, could see me cut off and sent to hell. What better way to capitalise on that situation and to destroy my reputation further, than by implicating the woman who you had suggested might be a companion for me, in a murder, by placing an almost identical dagger in her cell? What a shame for you that Mathilda here has more intelligence than you have cruel cunning.’

  In the quiet that followed Robert’s allegations, John signalled to Allward, who disappeared out of the hall, presumably to fetch the sheriff.

  ‘My Lord John,’ Mathilda spoke, unsure if she should break the cloak of wordlessness that had fallen upon the hall, ‘One point has not been addressed. Why was your holy brother was near my father’s workshop at that time in the first place?’

  ‘You know why?’

  ‘If my father had carried out the rector’s wishes and spread rumours about Master Hugo and my Lord Robert, I doubt we would have sold much leather at the market that day. No one wants to buy goods from a man who goes against God in the manner implicated, and yet we sold well that day.

  ‘I asked Oswin to enquire further of my father. It appears he didn’t tell anyone what the rector asked him to say. He had no stomach for such gossip, choosing instead to pay the full amount due. It is my suspicion that the rector was on the way to my father to discover why his evil rumour was not flourishing as well as he’d hoped.

  ‘I know he never reached my father to make his enquiries. I believe that on his way to the workshop he came across the scene of death described, and saw a chance to do more damage than mere rumour can do.’

  John steepled his hands before him in contemplation before he spoke. ‘Sheriff Ingram was only telling me the other day how the Crown needs a new force of arms to send into battle with the French. He has been charged to provide a force, and is at liberty to send felons alongside honest men, instead of them sending them to gaol. I believe he’ll appreciate your holy ruthlessness swelling his numbers.’

  ‘No, John!’ Richard’s face went far whiter than Mathilda’s as he protested, ‘I can’t go back to that life, I’ve not long returned, and …’

  ‘You will go.’ John pointed to Walter and Thomas. ‘Take our reverend kin to the cell. He can wait for Ingram there.’

  ‘But it’s true! Richard spluttered as his brothers escorted him toward the door, ‘Hugo loved Robert wrongly!’

  This time it was Mathilda that put out a restraining hand to Robert before he could plunge his knife into Richard’s heart. ‘He did love Robert; but he loved him as a friend. Fiercely and loyally after their time fighting together, seeing horrors no man should see. Perhaps you didn’t know that Hugo gave the girdle to Robert as a gift to pass on to the woman of his choice? I fear you understand the nature of affection and kindness between comrades, as little as you understand it between brothers.’

  ‘And whose fault is that? Hers!’ The rector of Teigh pointed at Sarah, the accusation in his voice full of a twisted bitterness. ‘She made me this way!’

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Only John, Eustace, Robert, Mathilda, and Sarah remained at the manor. The arrival of the sheriff and two of his men an hour ago hadn’t been the noisy attention attracting affair Mathilda had thought it would be.

  Ingram had come in, his dour face solemn. Curtly acknowledging all those present, the sheriff had had a private word with John, who had presumably filled him in on events, before his men were despatched to find Geoffrey of Reresby. Then the sheriff had enlisted the services of Thomas, Walter, Laurence, and Allward to help escort their now mutely sour brother from the premises, accused of covering up a murder.

  Mixing together a stickily inviting honey tonic into a small pottery bowl, Sarah passed it to Mathilda. The housekeeper was still fuming as she passed it to Mathilda. ‘I can’t believe he had the nerve to blame all this on me! And to use a murder to do it as well! Whatever happened to the church’s teachings on forgiveness and understanding? I tried to treat you all equally. I tried but …’

  Eustace, who’d been berating John from across the table for not having let them despatch Father Richard there and then for all the trouble he caused, shook his head. ‘He’ll blame anyone but himself, woman. The blame is not yours. Take no heed.’

  Rising to his feet, Eustace pulled on his riding gloves, ‘I think I’ll go and make sure our holy kin has reached the holding cells at Leicester. I don’t trust him not to have Bible talked his way out of trouble, and made a run for it. Anyway, I need a gallop to take the nasty taste left by our clerical brother from my mouth.’

  ‘Please, my Lords,’ Mathilda peered through the fringe of hair that had fallen over her face from where she’d been staring at her drink without really seeing it, ‘Why wasn’t Richard bought up here by Sarah, like the rest of you? I’m sorry, Sarah, but this really does seem to be the source of the rector’s rancour.’

  John shrugged, ‘It’s what happens. The eldest takes the title and runs the home and the younger brothers join the King’s forces, help run the manor, find a trade, or are sent into the church.’

  Sarah was still muttering to herself as she moved around her kitchen, ‘How can I help it if he has developed a taste for causing harm! I blame that church of his. It’s one thing to go in an unbeliever and learn to believe, but to take every word as zealous righteousness so any evil deed you do is all right …’ She crashed the jug she’d been carrying onto the table with such a thud that Mathilda feared it would crack.

  ‘Be careful, Sarah,’ Robert hadn’t spoken since they’d watched the Sheriff, his unwilling guest, and his entourage disappear out of the stable yard. His expression remained grave despite the removal of the man who’d caused him so much trouble. ‘That sort of talk could land you in trouble.’

  ‘I know.’ The housekeeper visibly sagged, and for the first time Mathilda could see that Sarah was probably a lot older than she appeared to be.

  Exchanging a glance with Robert; and as if they were in unspoken agreement, Mathilda said, ‘Sit down for a moment, Sarah. Have some of this, it’s already made me feel much better. Thank you.’ Mathilda passed her the remains of the honey drink.

  Seeing that Robert and Mathilda so obviously understood each other without the need to speak restored the confidence of the housekeeper, and with a dip of acknowledgment to John at the head of the table, Sarah sank down. ‘I’ve done my best. And I know I should care for Richard as much as the rest of you, but somehow he’s just not …’

  John came to her rescue, ‘Sarah, he’s a blight on the face of this family, and I for one will be very glad when Ingram has got him safely out of the country. Let the cursed French deal with him for a while! Now,’ John scrapped his chair back across the stone flags, ‘I should get back to Leicester. Robert, perhaps you’d accompany me to the stables. I think it’s time we made some improvements to his place, brought it up to the standards of the Leicester house. I’d appreciate your thoughts.’

  Mathilda watched the men leave the kitchen. There was no mistaking the fact they were brothers, despite the decade that had divided them from birth; sandy-haired and emerald-eyed, they stood shoulder to shoulder. John was perhaps a fraction broader in the back, and stouter around the belly, and his face had the lines of care etched into it that came with being the eldest of such a high-maintenance family, but otherwise he and Robert could have been twins as well as brothers.

  Feeling the gaze of Sarah on her, Mathilda turned her attention back to the housekeeper, ‘Why are you smiling at me like that?’

  ‘I hoped he’d come to like you. I believe my hope has been realised.’

  Mathilda blushed, ‘It makes no difference though, does it?’ Getting up from the table, she collected the spent ale mugs, ‘What has happened today changes nothing. Geoffrey killed Hugo in a fit of anger.
All the rector did was use the situation to his advantage; it was an opportunity he saw and he seized it. The death was a happy coincidence for him, an extra way to add polish to the slander he’d already set in motion anyway to blacken Robert’s reputation and get you to love him as much as the others. My family, whether they were duped or not, still have a debt to pay off.’

  Observing Mathilda as she moved to the water bucket and began to fill a bowl to clean the men’s drinking cups, Sarah said, ‘There is one good thing that has happened because of Father Richard’s vicious meddling, though.’

  ‘What’s that?’ ‘He brought you to us.’

  A treacherous thought at the back of Mathilda’s head took the smile from her face. But what if they never let me go again?

  The Folvilles may have been unusual gaolers, but whether she’d grown fond of Robert or not, which, Mathilda realised with a start, she had, the fact remained, gaolers was exactly what they were.

  She had no idea why she liked Robert. He was a felon who had believed her capable of taking part in a blackmail plot. He was a robber, a kidnapper, had planned the death of Belers, and had maybe even taken part in that murder … He was nothing but a criminal. But then so was Robyn Hode, and he was a good man … mostly …

  Breaking the quiet that had fallen across the kitchen, Mathilda smiled at the housekeeper. ‘Did you know you scared me when I came here? I’d never been made to bathe like that before. Was that really only a few days ago?’

  Sarah laughed, ‘Feels like an age has passed since then doesn’t it? Sorry I was less than friendly, but I’d just been saddled with a girl who Father Richard had described to me as “the useless daughter of a malicious debtor.” When Robert asked me to treat you like the lady of the house for a while on top of all my other jobs, when I firmly believed you to be from a family who’d spread wild gossip about him in the first place, I was resentful. Of course, I didn’t know then, that the rector’s snide suggestion that you be used to show the world Robert had a woman had been a plan to fan the flames of gossip.