After he left Hildegard pondered the fact that at one time she would have discussed the whole puzzle with Hubert and together they might have solved the mystery. Now, of course, it was the last thing she could do.
‘After the Sheriff and this fellow from Beverley left us,’ Agnetha told her as soon as the Circator had gone out, ‘they went down to the quay and after a bit of a search for something or other they continued beyond to where you helped fish poor Mark out of the water.’ She had had a profitable gossip with one of the lay-brothers in the refectory after Mark’s body was taken away. When Hildegard asked her what, if anything, the Sheriff had found out, she was less sure.
‘They returned to the abbey looking conspiratorial,’ was all she could add.
Names? Sandals? Or sandals then names? It didn’t matter in which order they pursued this line of inquiry. The Circator settled it by returning almost straightaway, waving a piece of vellum from the porters’ visitor records.
‘I’ll leave it with you as I have to attend the next Office and winkle out that journeyman to ask him to provide your drawing before I go in.’
He hurried off again.
Without them noticing it the evening mist had come down and was beginning to seal up the windows with its gauze.
In the subdued light Hildegard peered at the names the Circator had handed to her.
’Come, Agnetha, let’s light a couple of candles and have a look at this list. On it, if Fortune smiles, will be the name of Anselm’s murderer.’
By the flickering light they bent their heads over the yellow, scraped vellum roll with its spidery hand-writing as Agnetha murmured, ‘I wonder how he persuaded them to hand it over?’
‘He is a monk,’ Hildegard reminded. ‘The porters would have no qualms about handing it to one of their brothers.’
‘They trust each other. I can well see how alarming it must be to believe that one of their number is a murderer. Heavens! Imagine if one of us here, in our little nunnery, suddenly turned and murdered the rest of us in our beds!’
‘Such thoughts!’ Hildegard exclaimed, handing Agnetha the roll. ‘Now, what do you make of that? The names mean nothing to me.’
Agnetha’s lips moved as she read the slanting hand and, slower than Hildegard, it was some moments before she put the list down. ‘There’s only one name that stands out. The pilgrims are from further down the coast, Lynn, it says. I would think they had no interest in murdering a monk at Meaux. The fellow off the ship would have been at sea. But the agent –’ she glanced at Hildegard who was nodding.
‘That’s exactly what I thought. If any of them are involved he is the obvious one. I wonder who his master is?’
‘If he’s been here before the porters are bound to know.’
‘When they unlock the gates at Prime we might go and ask them.’
29
Hildegard was lying in bed, wakeful, aware of every sound in the night. Distantly the bell for matins had summoned the monks, a brief sound carried across the canal, followed by chanting and then that too faded leaving only the intermittent hooting of owls on the hunt. Every sound seemed separate and important and yet, as she listened, all of them sank back into the breathing silence. Unable to quieten her thoughts she got up for a few minutes and stood at the window.
The fog had swirled down in a thick mantle and even the garden wall, a few paces away, was a formless shadow. The shapes of trees and bushes loomed more darkly but with the evanescence of wraiths.
Climbing back into bed it was only a little later, after ceaseless tossing about with the cross-bow wound beginning to throb again, that she heard another sound insinuating itself into the night. Rats, probably. She tried to shut it out but the sound persisted.
A horse was being led. She tried to turn over but it was too painful so she turned back. Was it a horse? There came a sound like the creak of the gate, footsteps. Someone was very stealthily walking up the path to the door.
At once fully alert she slipped out of bed and went to peer through the shutters. Only a blanket of fog met her gaze. It had settled over everything, obscured everything, like a cloud come to earth.
Certain there was someone outside she rummaged in her bag for her knife and throwing on her cloak went to the main door. Carefully she lifted the flap over the grille and peered outside. A shape seemed to be standing motionless on the path.
In a sudden rage that the safety and privacy of her nuns should be compromised she silently turned the big key in the lock and making sure the chain was across, opened the door a crack.
‘Who is that? Show yourself!’ she demanded. ‘I should warn you I have a knife at the ready.’
A deep chuckle emerged from the fog. A figure loomed towards her and she was about to slip the chain off to go to meet it to defend her house with her knife raised when it lurched forward whispering, ‘Hildegard! It’s me!’
‘Who...?...Gregory?’
‘Yes. I thought you might be awake. I have news.’
Relief flooded over her. He was safe. ’Where have you been?’
He hulked in the doorway, woollen cloak wet from the fog, but his face alight. ‘Let me in. It’ll be permitted. Hubert’s eyes are going to fall out in astonishment when he hears this. He’ll forgive anything.’
‘I doubt it’s as good as that.’
The chain clanked to one side and she stepped back anyway and let him in. Relief that it was Gregory, that he was safe, that she did not have to use her knife against an intruder, swept over her and she stood for a moment, wondering what to do next
‘I think we’d better go to my chamber, to compound any accusations he’ll later make. The parlour is too close to my sisters’ sleeping quarters and we’d better not wake them. The shock of finding a man in the house would be too much for Sister Ann.’
‘This is something you need to know,’ he whispered. ‘I wanted to talk to you before the hearing. He did hold off, didn’t he?’
‘Hubert?’
‘I begged him not to start until I returned. I imagined I would go straight to Faxfleet and be back here within a day or two.’
‘And?’
‘I found nothing at Faxfleet except for a heap of stones as Egbert prophesied so I decided to go on to York. That’s why it took so long.’
‘Egbert was worried. He thought you’d fallen foul of brigands. He came out to find you.’
‘And find me he did. Someone at Faxfleet told him I’d taken the York road and he guessed I’d go straight to St Mary’s Abbey to spend a night or two with the Benedictines.’
After she lit a candle and placed it on the floor between them he pulled out the stool Hildegard indicated and stretched his long legs in front of him. His boots were covered in mud to the knees.
‘Let me take your cloak and hang it up. It’s dripping wet.’
‘There’s fog all the way from Beverley,’ he told her, handing over the soaking garment. ‘It was slow going, we could hardly see our hands in front of us. I’ve sent the others on to their beds.’
‘The others?’
He chuckled again. ‘Egbert and one other. It was a most profitable detour. I went to the house of Sir Bernard Vavasour.’
‘And found it empty? You know he’s here?’
‘I was aware of that. He was instructed to bring the members of his household here. I know that as well. And so he did – all except one.’
‘Is that who you’ve brought with you?’ Her face was alive with more than candlelight.
‘I’ll tell you a little but will save the rest for tomorrow.’
She could see he was tired and she, too hid a yawn behind her hand. But, agog to hear who was with him, she urged him to go on.
‘I went to the house and as you say, it was locked up. In the yard, however, I found a child playing among some ashes.’
‘Ashes from the fire, no doubt?’
‘I expect so. But listen, I went up to the child. It was as wild as an animal and actually bared its teeth at me! I wa
s taken aback, I can tell you! Nevertheless, I asked, “Are you a little fighting lad or a pretty little maid?” Truly I could not tell, under so much grime and knotted hair. Came the snarl, “What’s it to you?” I was given such an evil look I feared a spell might be put on me so I drew a piece of hempen cord I happened to have about me and made a little cat’s cradle like the ones the Norsemen make. She, or he, looked at it with proper contempt. “I can do that,” whereupon the rough little creature deftly took it from between my two hands with that looping movement that transfers the cradle into a more complex pattern round their own hands and the little wild-cat thought it had me there – but of course, there’s no-one to beat a Jerusalem knight at games so I looped my fingers in it and took it back. To my surprise the creature knew the next move. And so it went until we’d exhausted all our skill. The up-shot is we became firm friends bound in mutual respect for each other’s cunning. “So,” asked the little creature, tossing its head, “am I a girl then?” I replied, “I believe you to be the prettiest, most cunning maid in the whole City of York and if not, you’re the most handsome cunning knave.” I knew I’d won and she, a little maid after all, rolled her eyes at that and eventually said, “Go on then, ask me about Lady Avis.” “Was I going to?” I asked. “You should.” “Why should I?” “Because,” she replied mysteriously, making her eyes big but refusing to say more.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I had to pretend not to care but when I got up to go she asked me something that stopped me with one foot raised to leave. “What’s that?” I asked, spinning back. “I knew that would hold you!” she crowed. I was so convinced by her antics that I thought it worth persevering, so I said, “I beg you to tell me again what you said...Please, my little mistress. An innocent man’s life is at stake here.” She plumped down in the straw at my feet and crossed her legs like an elfen-tailor. And you won’t believe this, Hildegard –’
‘Go on.’
‘She looked me in the eye and said, “I remarked, dear monk, that my mistress is all a-smiling because she and the master have got away with murder.”’
‘She said that?’
‘She did. How so? I naturally asked. Said she, “Because when master set fire to the thatch and got everybody out of bed to quench the flames, his lady took her chance to cross the town to a house in Stonegate to make sure their victim was quite cold. Worried she was and would not settle. And he lost patience and said, Go then, woman! But don’t let anybody see you! I was dragged forth from my cosy corner and told to put on my cloak and go with her and the master’s man right across town in the dead of night while the thatch was being doused. And when we got there she said roughly to me, wait outside in the yard, you, until I come back! But the dogs had set up a horrible howling, like wolves they were and, fearing to be eaten alive, I crept inside the house without being seen.”’
‘And what then?’ asked Hildegard.
‘She told me it was dark inside except for a beam from the moon. Being frightened already she was frightened even more by what followed. “I heard mistress talking to somebody,” she said. And what was she saying, the exact words if you can remember them, say I. “I’ll tell you, dear monk. Come on, my fine lass, wake up! she says. Your lover is here and he’s burning for you. Don’t you want to see him? He’s hot for you, my lovely, wake up! Wake up! Then after a pause and a mutter she stepped over something like a sack lying in the hall near the stairs. I crept closer when I got the chance and saw from the moon shining in that it was a lady in a long white gown. Mistress went outside into the yard and called for us but I waited until she’d gone round the corner before I dare come out. The master’s man was standing by in the street, holding her horse for her. I was right afeared when I saw the lady lying still and was glad to get out of there. We set off back, she riding, me running alongside, and the man, one who sometimes was at the house, striding along to pay off the Watch should they stop us again. And all the time I was running it was coming to me what it was she’d been saying to the master earlier on, that had sent us flying out of the house in the night.”’
Gregory sat back. ‘Of course, I had to ask whether the lady was already lying at the bottom of the stairs when she arrived.’
‘And she was?’
‘She was.’
He rose to his feet. ‘Look, it’s late. They must have gone in to Vigils by now. But I wanted to give you reason to hope that we will save Ulf.’
‘But is this enough? It’s the testimony of a child and not even an educated one by the sound of it, not one who might be able to understand what was going on. They’ll run rings round her.’
Gregory was at the door. ‘That’s not all. Trust me. There is more.’
‘The serving man who went with them? He must be here with the rest of Sir Bernard’s household. Or was he left behind as well?’
‘Until later!’
In a moment he was gone with only a muddy footprint or two and a trail of vapour drifting in from the fog outside to show that anyone had been in the house at all.
30
Hildegard became obsessed by footwear. Everyone who entered the kitchens had her staring at their feet. They must think me excessively pious with my head bent all the time, she thought. She herself was still barefoot. No change there.
She noticed that the Circator was right about the lay-brothers – they were wearing pattens, clicking noisily about the tiled kitchen floors – and a brief look into the refectory to where the guests were sleepily drifting in to break their fast showed that they were mostly shod in leather boots.
Melisen was wearing a pretty pair of kid boots with rabbit fur burgeoning at the cuff. Others wore an assortment of outdoor riding boots, some well-greased with pig fat to cope with the damp of the Autumn lanes, others wore soft leather house-boots. Of course it would be too cold for any but monastics to be walking around in sandals.
Having shown her sisters the drawing Osmund had made as directed by the Circator, she had encountered only blank stares and a shaking of heads.
‘That’s a different style to the ones round here,’ one of the lay-brothers remarked when she showed the sketch to a group of them busy in the kitchens.
‘The monks make their own and their cobbler uses a very plain design as the abbot refuses to allow his monks to indulge their vanity. “Plainess in all things,” he said when somebody wanted a different design. It was a bit hard, like, as he only wanted to distinguish his own from others, but Abbot de Courcy’s unswayable once he’s set his mind on a plan of action.’
The lay-brother gave a helpless shrug. ‘Why do you want to know about sandals, domina?’
‘Maybe you would be better asking the Circator if you see him. It’s not for me to say. My gratitude for your help, however.’
‘My pleasure,’ he remarked with a smile as he turned to get on with laying out some loaves.
‘I’ll take those through.’ She picked up the willow basket and entered the refectory.
Hubert was coming in from the garth as she emerged from the kitchens. He stopped when he saw her. His glance went to her bare feet and travelled slowly up to her face as if pulled against his will and when their eyes met he turned his head as if she were no more than a tree.
Flames at such an unexpected encounter swept in burning coils up her body.
Nothing much had changed then, she saw, as, ignoring her completely he went over to the long trestle that had been set up in the middle of the chamber.
He turned to face everyone as if ready to make an announcement.
‘Welcome to Meaux. We have a change of plan and shall convene in the Chapter House at once. Come now if you will.’
Two monks had followed him in and they went over to Sir Bernard who still had his eyes half-shut as he fumbled for the wine jug. They asked him formally if he wished to continue with his accusation against Ulf of Langbar in the matter of the death of his niece, Eunice, wife of the accused.’
‘Do I? Of course I do! Why do you thi
nk I’m still here? Where’s that Sheriff?’
‘He’s already waiting in the Chapter House, Sir Bernard.’
‘Is he, indeed. He’s quick off the mark. Has he broken his fast?’
‘He has.’
‘And that Coroner they brought in?’
‘He too, Sir Bernard.’
‘Well, I haven’t. Do I not eat? Am I a monk myself?’ He deliberately reached for a chunk of bread and stuffed it into his mouth and might have chewed on it at leisure if he hadn’t noticed Lord Roger get up as soon as the abbot spoke to him and follow him to the door.
‘There they go. Not a leg to stand on. All right. Let’s get this over with then we can get him back to York and have him swinging by his neck come night-fall.’
Hildegard was unsure whether she would be turned away by Hubert’s guards if she tried to enter but as soon as he left, again with no acknowledgement of her existence, she pulled on her boots and followed.
Early morning fog was still thick around the cloister garth as she crossed to the double doors of the Chapter House. Lay-persons were allowed in at certain times and had to stand at the back but the monks themselves were seated on stone benches built against the walls with a separate space for the abbot in his carved wooden chair. The accused and accuser and their supporters would face each other from opposite sides of the chamber.
Gregory and Egbert were already in place, the former with a sheaf of notes resting on top of his leather scrip on the lectern and when he saw Hildegard enter to join the rest of the servants at the back he gave her an encouraging smile.
The Sheriff and the Beverley Coroner entered and stood close enough to Sir Bernard to imply agreement and one by one she ticked off those present as her glance drifted over the rest of his supporters.
Lady Avis, face flushed, eyes with a glitter of premature triumph in them, her maid standing next to the housekeeper from Stonegate, Osmund, not looking at anyone, with, no doubt a piece of Sir Bernard’s silver in his pouch, all standing on one side with Sir Bernard’s followers jostling behind them.
Murder at Meaux Page 22
