Candace Robb: The Guilt of Innocents

Jasper nodded, pleased to have impressed her. ‘I’m sorry for Hubert. He was devoted to his mother. She was very pretty.’

‘Do you wonder what you would be like now if your parents were still alive?’ Alisoun asked.

‘I’d be apprentice to a carpenter,’ said Jasper. ‘What about you?’

‘I don’t know. Betrothed to some farmer, I think, and hating the thought of it.’

Jasper was delighted to have her attention, and let her lead the conversation. He would make his plans for seeing Master Nicholas once he went to bed.

On their return from Osmund’s room, Owen and Alfred found Sir Baldwin and Lady Gamyll gazing down at the opened chest, quietly talking. Aubrey sat nearby with his head in his hands. Perhaps some answers might come out of this, Owen thought.

Their hostess came over to greet them, looking worn and anxious. ‘How did you find Master Osmund?’

‘He has been gone since dawn yesterday,’ Owen said.

Baldwin glanced up at that. ‘Since then? So soon after the fire?’ He shook his head. ‘My son is a riddle to me.’ He lifted a length of silk from the chest and let it drop back. ‘It is good you are here. We have much to learn from Aubrey and his son, I think.’

‘Shall I go for the boy?’ asked Lady Gamyll.

Sir Baldwin’s expression softened. ‘That would be best.’

As she passed Owen she whispered, ‘My husband showed the chest to Master Aubrey against my advice.’

‘I thought as much, my lady,’ he said.

She moved on.

‘You’ve seen some of that before?’ Owen asked Sir Baldwin, taking a seat near the chest.

‘All of it,’ said Baldwin. ‘It’s all from this hall. Aubrey, tell the captain what you’ve just told me.’

Aubrey slowly lifted his head, and when he looked at Owen his face was lined with suffering. Now it seemed less the pain of too much wine that tormented him than a more profound wounding.

‘My wife was ever bringing home small things from the hall when she worked here, as if her admiration for them made her foolish, unable to let go of them,’ said Aubrey. ‘I would find things and return them as soon as I might. It seems I was good at it, for Sir Baldwin was aghast when I confessed it just now, though now and then he’d noticed things gone missing.’

‘I never thought of Ysenda,’ Sir Baldwin said.

‘But this — ’ Aubrey gestured at the chest ‘- and her calling out for Master Osmund.’ He closed his eyes, his forehead pleated with suffering. ‘Were they his gifts to her?’

‘Perhaps because of Hubert, Ysenda felt she was owed more,’ Baldwin suggested. ‘The boy is my son, Captain. Aubrey took her to wife knowing that, protecting her honour.’

‘Her honour,’ Aubrey said with a bitterness in his voice. ‘No, I failed at that, it is certain.’

Owen poured a cup of wine, using it as a prop to excuse a few moments of quiet thought. ‘So the cross was just one thing of many that she’d taken.’

‘It seems so,’ said Baldwin. ‘When I returned from France, cook complained of many items that had disappeared, including two casks of wine and several silver goblets as well as a plate. I note the silver is not in this chest. Then I discovered that the circlet I intended to present to my lady on her first evening in our home was missing. Osmund expressed outrage and threatened to beat all the servants. My steward, having more sense than my son, instead searched all the servant’s quarters and the stable. Of course we did not find it. Nor is it in the chest.’ Baldwin rose with a curse and began to pace, but halted when he caught sight of his wife.

Lady Gamyll was crossing the hall, Hubert and the cat following close behind her. Baldwin sank back down on his chair.

‘Come, sit beside me, son,’ said Aubrey, patting his bench. ‘We are in need of your counsel.’

Bits of hay stuck out of the boy’s curls, and he’d looked half happy until his father spoke. Now he sat down too quietly and stiffly for a lad his age. Owen was glad when the cat leaped up onto the boy’s lap and curled up, awaiting no invitation. Hubert stroked the cat’s head as he looked around, then at the chest. Owen detected no spark of recognition in the boy’s eyes.

‘Son, do you remember when I asked you whether Master Osmund had accused your ma of thieving?’ Aubrey sounded weary and sad.

Hubert’s nod was jerky, hesitant, and he glanced at Owen and Sir Baldwin as if wondering why his father was repeating such a question in this company.

‘Now let me ask you this,’ Aubrey continued in an unsteady voice, ‘while I was gone last summer, did Master Osmund come to our home?’

Hubert stopped petting the cat and closed his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled.

‘Often?’

Hubert nodded.

‘Did he bring presents to your mother?’

Owen pitied the man, for by his questions it was plain the depths to which he suspected his wife had sunk.

‘Sometimes,’ said Hubert. ‘Jugs of cider, wine, a duck once.’ His voice was tight, but he’d opened his eyes and was gazing down at the sleeping cat.

‘When he came — oh, lad, just tell us all you can about his visits.’ Aubrey looked away.

Hubert looked round at all the faces watching him, then leaned towards Aubrey and said softly, ‘I tried to tell you last night, Da, I swear.’

Owen’s heart ached for both of them, the boy edgy and the man bowed, both ashamed.

‘Tell me now, son, and that will be good enough,’ said Aubrey.

Hubert nervously licked his lips. ‘There’s not much to tell because they sent me out when he came. When I’d return sometimes Ma was humming, but more often she would go out to gather firewood — I thought she was upset and wanted to walk.’

‘Did she ever talk about Master Osmund? Try to explain his presence?’ asked Owen.

‘She told me he reckoned he was responsible for us while Da was serving Sir Baldwin.’ His blush was witness to his understanding.

‘I know this is not easy for you,’ said Baldwin. ‘But I pray you, tell us how often my son visited your mother.’

‘He’d come a few days in a row sometimes, but more often once between Sundays. But the last time I was there when he came it was different. Ma told me to stay.’

‘When was that, son?’ Aubrey prompted.

‘The day before the fire.’ The boy described how he’d soon run out of the house. He expressed such regret despite his mother’s unseemly behaviour. He clearly felt somehow responsible for her, the child parent to his mother.

‘You told me yesterday about the man who sometimes came to the house,’ Owen said, ‘that you thought of him when Drogo took your scrip and wondered what treasure you’d stolen from her hoard, and that is why you ran.’

‘Hubert, is this so?’ asked Baldwin.

The boy nodded.

‘Do you think now that Drogo was the one who came?’ Owen asked.

Hubert looked up at Owen as if he expected to be struck. ‘I don’t know, Captain. He always wore a hood, and Drogo always wore that green hat.’

‘But there was something about Drogo that reminded you of him,’ said Owen. ‘Do you have any idea what it was?’

Screwing up his face, Hubert looked down at the floor, thinking. After a while, he looked up at Owen. ‘The way he held his head to one side,’ he tilted towards his left shoulder, ‘like this. And he sounded like he was holding his nose.’

‘His oft-broken nose,’ said Owen.

‘Long ago there was talk that Ysenda and Drogo had pledged marriage,’ Aubrey said. ‘But she always denied it. I saw her with him at the fair once, and once in Sir Baldwin’s woods when she said she was gathering firewood. But I’ve not seen him in a good long while.’

‘God bless you, Hubert,’ said Baldwin, smiling at the boy. ‘You’ve been a great help. I pray that Dame Ysenda can soon talk.’