Kate Sedley - The Wicked Winter

I could picture it, the two most important members of the domestic hierarchy, gossiping cosily together over a nip of something warming, discussing their latest petty triumph or grievance.

'But was the housekeeper in Tostig's room all morning?'

'No. She was around the house, too. She came into the kitchen about an hour after breakfast and said that if she was needed, she would be in the dairy. She was muffled up against the cold, and I saw her ten minutes later, from an upstairs window, crossing the outer courtyard.'

'Did you see her enter the dairy?'

'Yes. But after that, I turned away and went to cover my lady's bed. The next time I clapped eyes on Mistress Talke was when I saw her leaving Tostig's room again, some while after.'

'How long after?'

'I couldn't be certain. But I'd say she'd been with Master Steward for quite some time. She was a little tipsy. It surprised me, for I'd never known her have too much to drink before.' I made no reply to this, merely commenting, 'You haven't yet mentioned Maurice.'

'The young master!' She considered for a moment, her head tilted to one side. 'He broke his fast in the great hall with Sir Hugh the same as always. Ethelwynne, who waited on them, remarked that he was in a better mood than he'd been for the past two days, and Mistress Talke laughed and said we all knew why that was.'

'And why was it?'

'I suppose because Master Disney would be home that evening.' This time there was no trace of colour in her cheeks.

She was indeed growing used to my company.

'Do you think Maurice knew that his stepmother had sent for Brother Simeon?'

'I think everyone knew. My lady made no secret of it. "And when he arrives," I heard her tell the Master, "you will all get your just deserts. You will be called to account by the Church and very likely find yourself excommunicated."'

'And what did Sir Hugh reply?'

'He just laughed and said something like, "If adultery were punishable by excommunication, there'd hardly be a man left in England for the Pope to command. Certainly not the King and his court, by all that I hear."

My lady replied, "You should be afraid for your son, if not for yourself," and then she went away. I think she went out to the tower.'

Very possibly, I thought. It seemed to have been her constant place of refuge.

'Is your master fond of his son?' I asked.

My informant gave this her gravest consideration, not answering immediately. But at last, she said slowly, 'Yes. Yes, I think he is.' The admission seemed to surprise her and she frowned. 'They argue a lot, not over anything very serious. Silly little disagreements, like whether or not Master Maurice has borrowed his father's best boots without asking, or stayed in bed too long, or been rude to my lady. But… yes, I do believe that they are fond of each other.'

'If Sir Hugh had been offered a choice between the life of his son or that of his wife, which one of them, do you think, would he have favoured?'

'Oh, Master Maurice,' she replied, this time without any hesitation, and once again looked astonished at her own percipience.

I nodded. The picture Audrey painted was one of father and son at odds over something far deeper and more important than the petty quarrels which were their outward manifestation; something which neither would mention or acknowledge openly, but which remained an irreconcilable difference between them. In the end, however, the bond of blood was too strong to be broken. Sir Hugh's pride of family, and the honour of its good name, were all bound up in Maurice, but there was also an obstinate streak of affection in the older man for the child to whom he had given life. He would not allow danger to menace his son if he could help it; and if the removal of that threat marched hand-in-hand with his own more personal desires, who could say for certain what might have happened?

I realised that I must be looking grim, for Audrey was staring up at me, her little face furrowed with anxiety. I smiled at her, laying a hand on her arm.

'All's well,' I reassured her. 'Don't worry that you've said too much, or done harm to any you might wish to protect.

Now, can you tell me where Mistress Lynom is to be found? If she'll condescend to give me a hearing, there is something I want to ask her.'

Audrey looked at me with a mixture of respect and concern for my foolhardiness. An itinerant pedlar did not usually speak so lightly of questioning someone of Ursula Lynom's importance.

'She's probably still in the guest chamber. She was served her dinner there. Ethelwynne was grumbling about it, saying what a deal of extra work it throws upon her and the rest of them, especially with Father Godyer still abed. Mistress Empryngham's none too pleased about it either, for she can't use her own room while Master Gerard's body remains there, and has to sleep in the common dormitory with the rest of us women.'

'Then the guest chamber is where I shall look for Mistress Lynom,' I said. 'And if she's not to be found, I shall search elsewhere. She must surely still be within the manor pale, for I don't think her ready to leave just yet. The thaw isn't sufficiently advanced to make travelling anything but hazardous for the present. Tomorrow may well be a different story. Indeed, I think another twenty-four hours will see Sir Hugh left in peace to make arrangements to bury his dead and consider the life ahead of him, now that he's a widower once again.'

'But what of your suspicions concerning my lady?' Audrey Lambspringe asked reproachfully as I rose from the bench. 'Do you intend to quit Cederwell without finding her murderer?'

'I believe I already know who it is,' I replied. 'In my own mind I'm certain, but whether or not I can persuade others is somewhat doubtful.'

'Who is it?' she demanded. 'Only tell me his name and I will take a knife to him myself.'

I grinned at her. 'Well, well! What a bloodthirsty little creature lurks behind that timid face. All the better if you don't know, I fancy. You'd best leave matters in my hands, for as yet there are still one or two questions to be answered. Which is why I must speak to Mistress Lynom, and perhaps once again to Father Godyer.'

'And what will you do when you have the answers?' The soft lower lip stuck out belligerently. 'Will you then be able to convince the rest of us of what you say?'

'How can I tell? The outcome is in God's hands. It is for Him to decide what happens next. He has brought me here. He has laid the facts before me. When the time comes to confront my villain, I must be guided by His wisdom and hope that He will put it into my head what to do.' I stooped and kissed her cheek. 'Now, I must be on my way and seek out Mistress Lynom.'

I descended the stairs and crept as silently as I could past the half-closed kitchen door, where the clash of dishes and the hiss of steam told of work in progress; of dirty plates being washed and of the preparation of food for the evening meal, still several hours away. I had no wish to be confronted by an irate Martha Grindcobb demanding to know where I was bound or what I was doing.

Out of doors, the noonday sun revealed a rapidly changing landscape. The magical white world of faerie was slowly being transformed into mundane winter browns and greys.

Roof slates showed patchily beneath their frosty covering and distant trees thrust twisted, disfigured limbs through the concealing bandages of snow. The ground was still unyielding, but the steps leading to the covered gallery were wet and slippery with melting ice. I trod carefully. I could ill afford another accident.

The platform was also showing signs of the impending thaw, with little puddles of water collecting here and there in the shallow depressions of the boards. The doors to both the guest chamber and the women's dormitory were tightly shut against the cold, and no sound came from within either room.