Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

Helewise bit back her protest. I cannot prevent this, she thought; this man Fitzurse has every right to search for his missing friend and if indeed Walter Bell did go to the Old Manor, there will not necessarily be any proof of that.

Every instinct in her demanded that she accompany the sheriff to Leofgar’s manor. But it was possible — in her case absolutely necessary — to deny her instincts. She had just absented herself from Hawkenlye for a day and a night and there was no justification for doing so again. Especially when she had a loyal friend who could go in her place.

Turning to Josse, she said, ‘Sir Josse, would you be prepared to ride out with the sheriff? After all, you know the way to the Old Manor, having just come from there.’

His eyes met hers. She tried to put her pleading into her expression — Josse, please do this for me! I need someone to protect Leofgar’s interests and there is nobody I trust more than you! — and straight away he said, ‘Aye, my lady. I would be happy to go, if Gervase is agreeable.’

‘I am,’ de Gifford said. ‘And right pleased to have your company, Josse.’

They set out at once. A horseman was waiting for them at the top of Castle Hill and as they drew level with him, de Gifford introduced him to Josse as one of his men. ‘Go and find Arthur Fitzurse, Matt,’ de Gifford ordered him, ‘and tell him to meet Sir Josse and me at the Old Manor.’

Matt gave a curt nod then turned his horse and cantered off down the track. De Gifford went as if to follow him but Josse said, ‘We can go by a route that does not pass through Tonbridge, if you wish; it is the way that the Abbess took me and, as she said, it avoids the attention of the curious.’

De Gifford smiled. ‘I do not mind that sort of attention, but I am happy to be shown another way. Lead on!’

Josse was relieved that the sheriff had been so amenable. His reason for suggesting that they take the alternative route was to avoid any chance of Arthur Fitzurse coming to join them on the ride to the Old Manor; he very much wanted the chance to talk to de Gifford alone. Recalling with only a little effort the tracks along which the Abbess had led him, he wondered how to go about raising the matter he wanted to discuss and concluded that, given de Gifford’s intelligence and perception, the direct approach was probably best.

So, soon after they had crossed the river, he turned in the saddle and said, ‘This tale that Fitzurse has spun for you seems unlikely to me, Gervase. From all that you have said, it sounds as if the man is of a very different quality from the Bell brothers, and yet he claims to know them well enough to be aware of this hypothetical quarrel they have with Leofgar Warin. You have told us that the Bells are villains and that Walter is a killer, and should that not tell us something about Fitzurse? If a man associates with dishonest men, is not his own honesty open to question?’

De Gifford had moved up to ride beside him. ‘Yes, Josse, I have been thinking much the same thing,’ he agreed. ‘Indeed, there can be no question about the nature of the Bell brothers. Although I know I should not express pleasure at any man’s death, I have to confess that I felt no grief upon seeing Teb Bell lying dead in the Abbey infirmary, and I cannot entirely suppress the hope that his brother stays missing and never turns up again to cause trouble and pain to innocent people.’

‘Then-’

But de Gifford held up a hand. ‘Josse, I know what you would say and in my heart I agree: why bother to try to find out what has happened to Walter Bell? But his brother has been murdered and now Fitzurse makes this accusation that implicates Leofgar. For all that Leofgar is the Abbess Helewise’s son, I cannot do other than investigate to the best of my ability.’

Josse let out a gusty sigh. ‘Aye, Gervase. I know that.’ He grinned grimly. ‘It was worth a try.’

De Gifford returned his smile. Then, kicking his horse to a canter, said, ‘Come on. Best to get this over with.’

They reached the Old Manor in advance of Fitzurse. Wilfrid came out into the courtyard to greet them and Josse introduced de Gifford and was on the point of explaining why they were there when the sheriff interrupted.

‘I must ask you, Wilfrid, whether you recall a visit from a stranger, round about the beginning of the month?’

Wilfrid’s calm expression did not alter. ‘No, sir,’ he replied. ‘I can’t say as how I do.’

‘A stunted, skinny sort of a man, rough-looking, gingery, unkempt?’ de Gifford persisted.

Wilfrid said, ‘No, sir.’

‘What of the other servants?’

‘There’s not many of us, sir, not who spend their days mostly up here at the Manor, leastways. There’s my lad who tends the yard and the stables and my wife who cooks and keeps house. There was a wet nurse but she was gone ages back, long afore the start of the month.’

‘Will you ask your wife and son to come and speak to me, please?’ de Gifford asked politely.

‘Certainly, sir. My lad’ll see to your horses.’

He strode off around the side of the house, returning a few moments later with his fair-haired wife and his young son, both of whom gave shy bows and greetings to Josse. Wilfrid said, ‘Now, Anna, now Simeon, just answer the question.’ Turning to de Gifford, he said, ‘Sir?’

De Gifford asked again. Both the woman and the boy solemnly shook their heads. Then the boy put out his hands for the horses’ reins and led them away. The woman, with a swift glance at her husband, bobbed a curtsy and hurried away, muttering something about fetching the visitors something to warm them up.

‘Will you come inside, my lords?’ Wilfrid asked. ‘I will light the fire for you.’

Josse, who was feeling increasingly awkward at what he felt to be an imposition on these courteous and welcoming people of Leofgar’s, spoke up. ‘We await another man, Wilfrid. We will remain out here, thank you, and please tell your wife that we do not need any refreshments.’

De Gifford apparently picked up his unease; he said with admirable brevity, ‘Wilfrid, the man about whom I’ve just been asking is missing and there has been a suggestion that he came here to see your master a while ago. We have come here to see if there is any trace of him. The fellow we’re expecting is a friend of the missing man and, indeed, it is he who is pressing us to search here for him.’

‘I see,’ Wilfrid said. ‘Please let me know what assistance I can give you, sir. I know the estate well, having lived here all my life.’ He glanced briefly from de Gifford to Josse and then back again. ‘I’ll be in the stables giving Simeon a hand. Call me when you are ready to begin your search.’ Then, with a bow, he turned away and walked off in the direction in which his son had led the horses.

It was cold. Josse was beginning to regret his embarrassed rejection of Wilfrid and his wife’s offers of hospitality and, from the way that de Gifford was shifting from foot to foot and wrapping his arms around himself, Josse guessed he probably felt the same. But then there came the sound of horse’s hooves on the hard ground and presently a man rode into view.

He was dressed in a heavy fur-trimmed cloak over a black tunic and his horse was a good one. He removed his hat to reveal a head of brown hair going grey. His eyes were dark in his sallow face and his mouth had a grim, discontented set to it as if he found it difficult to smile and perhaps, despite his apparent wealth and good health, considered that he had little to smile about. Taking all this in, one thing struck Josse more forcefully than any other detail: Arthur Fitzurse rode into the courtyard of the Old Manor staring around him with the proprietorial air of one returning to his own home.