Candace Robb - The Cross Legged Knight

As Thoresby resumed his seat and the others followed, he noted that Guy was last to settle, glancing round the room with a wild look in his eyes. Thoresby caught Owen observing the clerk as well. Their eyes met and Owen gave him a nod so slight that Thoresby wondered whether he had imagined it. But he whispered to Michaelo that all doors should be well secured against anyone attempting to flee. Michaelo slipped away to spread the word among the guards, Hempe and Stephen Pagnell straining to observe his circuit round the hall.

‘Are we to be enlightened as to the cause of the boy’s attack?’ Wykeham asked.

‘As to the immediate cause, it might be best left to another time, My Lord Bishop,’ Owen said. ‘But Matthew has come to take his place in this negotiation and to explain his part in the recent fire at your house.’

Lady Pagnell turned in her seat to study her trusted steward. He cradled his wounded arm against his torso and kept his eyes on the table edge before him, avoiding the curious stares set on him from all angles.

‘We did not wait for you. We have settled on the land,’ said Lady Pagnell. ‘The clerk is copying the deed. What is this about, Matthew? Were you involved in that tragedy?’

‘If I might begin before the event,’ Matthew said. ‘On the morning of that day.’

‘Can’t this wait?’ Stephen demanded. He looked at Wykeham. ‘You spoke of my father’s ransom.’

‘This is part of the tale,’ Owen said.

Stephen sat back. ‘Go on.’

Matthew nodded. ‘My Lords, My Lady.’

Thoresby motioned to a servant, ordered honey water for Matthew. He would not speak long with such a hoarseness.

‘As I examined the deeds to the properties you have just discussed, I noticed changes in one of them. Several numbers and other items concerning the rents had been scratched out and redone, and in several cases it was quite clear from the spacing that what had gone before had been of a different length. One might have been evidence merely of a scribal error, but three numbers and other items of rent were clearly evidence of intentional changes. I examined the deed in different lights. The changes had been made with great care. But the lettering was not precisely the same. In fact, it looked familiar. I checked the letters regarding my lord’s ransoms, and there I saw the same hand. So I went to Guy.’

‘I have told them all this,’ Guy said.

‘I have not heard it,’ Lady Pagnell said coldly.

‘I pray you, let him speak,’ Thoresby said.

‘I told Guy I knew something he would rather keep quiet. He told me to meet him in the undercroft, that the bishop kept a coffer there from which he would pay me well.’

‘I trusted you!’ Lady Pagnell exclaimed.

‘My Lady, I meant to present you with the letters, the deed and the money as proof of the man’s guilt,’ Matthew said.

‘You fool,’ said Stephen Pagnell. ‘He would have taken the deed.’

‘But a woman appeared at the door as we were counting the coins,’ Matthew continued.

‘She did,’ Guy interrupted, ‘and it was plain he feared she had heard him bragging of his importance in the Pagnell household, of how it was but a matter of time before he won the widow. Her appearance put everything he had worked for in jeopardy.’

‘What do you mean, “won the widow”?’ Lady Pagnell murmured.

‘I did fear that, I will not deny it.’ Matthew raised his battered head. ‘But then I realized she was not paying attention to me, she was looking at him.’

‘That is not true,’ Guy said.

‘She said she had not known he was in York. He said he had not known she still abided here.’

‘I did not even know her,’ Guy protested.

‘She asked about his sister. I felt a great anger in him and fear in her, and I was afraid. I grabbed the documents, but he already had one of the straps in his hand and was moving towards her. I should have intervened, but the sounds coming from him — he was raving. God help me, I ran.’

‘Ran right for her,’ Guy interrupted. ‘He was desperate to silence her …’

‘Quiet!’ Thoresby roared. ‘You have told your version of the night, let Matthew tell his.’

‘The documents were unwieldy with but one strap, they began to fan out and one rolled out. In turning to catch it — ’ Matthew stopped, looking at all the eyes trained on him. ‘Tell me that she was dead before the fire, tell me I was not responsible.’ His face was covered with sweat, the blood seeping again from the wound on his forehead. He looked a demon.

‘You knocked over the lamp,’ Owen said.

‘Even then I did not stop.’ Matthew gave a strangled sob. ‘Even hearing the struggle. I turned — but seeing his wildness I kept running.’ Tears coursed down his cheeks.

Owen turned to Guy. ‘Why did you take the time to place the strap just so, centred on her throat, crushing it? Was she not already dead?’

Guy was watching Matthew, not Owen. ‘You set the fire to kill me.’

‘Was she already dead when you placed the buckle over her throat and pressed, Guy?’ Owen asked again, hoping to trick him into a confession.

Now Guy turned to him. ‘Why do you believe his word over mine? My lord bishop will vouch for me.’

‘God help me if I ever trust you again,’ Wykeham said in a choked voice.

‘Matthew, why did you do it?’ Lady Pagnell asked. ‘You had only to ask for all you needed.’

Matthew turned away from them, heaving with sobs. ‘The money was not for me. I sought to prove his guilt.’

‘Easily said,’ Stephen muttered.

‘What is this play-acting?’ Guy said. ‘Will his lady comfort this steward knowing what he did? How he grabbed the woman and wrapped the strap round her neck, tightening it so quickly that her scream died in her crushed throat?’

Thoresby saw in the man’s eyes that he was reliving the act, not narrating the act of another. ‘Last night you said you ran. But now you describe her murder as if you were there.’

‘That is how it must have been, Your Grace, it is plain,’ Guy said in a more subdued tone.

Lady Pagnell, her face chalky, fumbled with her chair and rose with a moan. Michaelo quickly helped her to withdraw from the table, leading her towards Thoresby’s quarters, her servant hurrying behind. Stephen Pagnell rose halfway, uncertain whether to follow or stay.

Guy searched the faces round the table, and seeing no support he flung back his stool and ran for the retreating couple. Thoresby shouted for the guards, but Owen had been watching, ready to spring, and spring he did, tackling the clerk to the ground. His fists pounded into the man, pounded, pounded, until the bailiff drew Owen off.

‘Guy is a man of the cloth, no matter what his offence,’ Wykeham cried.

Thoresby had seen this bloodlust in Owen only once before, when they had fought side by side at a manor near Ripon. The woman Cisotta must have meant much to Owen. He was glad the bailiff had been there after all.

Wykeham looked bewildered as he bent to Guy. ‘This man’s justice belongs in the ecclesiastical courts.’

Owen’s lungs felt as if they would burst as he worked to catch his breath. His knuckles burned. Guy, his face bloody and his body limp, moaned as Hempe and a guard lifted him on to a bench to be carried out of the hall. Owen’s fever of rage had died as suddenly as it had flared and he thanked God he had not killed the man. It was the Church’s duty to dispose of him.

‘Here, drink this.’ Thoresby thrust a cup of brandywine into his hand. ‘Then leave the grounds. Do not let Wykeham see you tonight. I shall send for you when he is calmer.’

Leaving Wykeham to deal with Lady Pagnell, Thoresby told Stephen Pagnell to summon his companions.