Michael Jecks: A Friar's bloodfeud

‘What was that?’ Simon snapped.

‘Just a fox or something,’ Edgar said calmly.

It was another three days before Hugh could hope to be mounted on a horse, and Simon did not, for the first time in his life, grudge him all the rest he needed. Jeanne helped him nurse his servant back to health, and when Hugh was at last able to stand and hobble about with a staff, Simon felt as pleased and rewarded as a man watching his son take his first steps.

Emma was not pleased by the recovery, apparently. Jeanne confided in Simon that she thought her maid had rather liked Hugh when she thought him dead, but now that he was on the path to health, she was happier remembering all the disputes and quarrels she had had with him.

‘She can’t even bear to be near him now,’ she said.

It was Edgar who explained the truth. ‘I don’t think Emma will return with you, if you give her permission, my lady.’

They were all sitting in the inn’s hall. It was smokier than usual, because of a green log that was too fresh, but as Jankin had explained, they had used almost all the stores of firewood this year, it had been so cold.

‘Why would she want to leave me?’ Jeanne asked, bemused. ‘She has always been happy with me. We’ve been together for ages.’

‘I think you may find she’s discovered a new interest.’

‘You are talking in riddles, man!’ Baldwin snapped. ‘You are as confusing as when you kept laughing to yourself while we …’ His face hardened. ‘You don’t mean she’s …’

Edgar grinned broadly. ‘If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me!’

‘Who?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘It’s Deadly,’ Edgar said, and then he couldn’t restrain himself, but burst into laughter. ‘You remember how flushed she was, how tired-looking? I found her in the arms of Deadly in the hayloft that night. Snoring fit to wake the dead, and as naked as the day they were born … it was a terrifying sight!’

Baldwin winced. ‘I can live without the details, thank you.’

‘Am I not to be allowed love?’ Emma said. She stood in the doorway, her face scowling and flushed as red as St George’s cross.

Baldwin was suddenly very still.

‘Emma, of course you are. I wouldn’t dream of stopping you from finding love — I am as happy as I could be with my husband, and if you have found a man whom you love, that would make me more than happy. But are you sure?’

‘He asked me to marry him, and we exchanged our vows,’ Emma said firmly.

Baldwin licked his lips anxiously and gazed at his wife.

‘That is wonderful,’ Jeanne said, although her tone betrayed a certain doubt. ‘But you have not known him for long.’

Edgar sniggered. ‘But you have known him very well in a short time.’

Baldwin glared at him furiously.

‘Madam, would you release me? I once knew love, and left him because you were coming here to marry. I don’t want to lose another.’

Baldwin held his breath. Jeanne looked at him and he tried to keep the hope from his eyes.

‘I shall miss you, Emma,’ Jeanne said.

And Baldwin felt as though the sun had suddenly burst through the ceiling and lighted the whole room with a roseate glow.

Perkin grunted as he pulled at a beam. It wouldn’t move, and he shook his head in disgust. ‘Hoi! Beorn! Get off your arse and help with this thing, will you?’

Already black with the soot that lay all about, Beorn wiped a hand over his forehead and snorted, hawking and spitting as he rose and walked through the fine ash to his friend. ‘Why you want to move that one?’

‘Don’t start, Beorn. Just help me with it, will you?’

‘It looks the wrong one to start with. I’d go for one of those on top.’

‘This is the one I want to move, all right? Just help me pull it out of the way.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘Christ’s balls, just pull!’

Beorn smiled accommodatingly, and bent his knees. He gripped the section of wood and grunted that he was ready. Perkin took the end again, and the two strained. There was a creak, and the beam shifted slightly.

‘That’s it! Come on, a little more!’ Perkin gasped.

‘I really don’t …’

‘Just bloody pull!’

Beorn shrugged, pulled, and the beam squeaked, then moved, and Perkin found himself falling backwards as it came out.

‘I told you!’ he said, and smiled. His smile grew glassy as there came a slight rumbling noise.

Beorn was already moving backwards. ‘And I told you so.’

‘Oh, bugger!’

The farther wall of the house suddenly sprang a crack. Where the beam had lain, a second had fallen on to the old cob wall, and where it had struck, the wall was slowly but surely collapsing.

Perkin took some quick steps backwards. ‘I didn’t think that would …’

The roar of falling stones and timbers drowned his words. He stood, staring dumbfounded, his mouth gaping as a hole appeared in the wall before him.

Beorn walked to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. A small cloud of ash burst upwards, and he narrowed his eyes against it. When it was somewhat dissipated, he sniffed with an air of satisfaction. ‘I reckon they’ll soon see the advantage of it, Perkin. Takes a genius to see that a house needs a new door. I wouldn’t have seen that myself.’

‘What’s all the noise? I heard a … Christ in a wine barrel, what’s happened here?’

‘Now, Emma, don’t you worry,’ Perkin said quickly. ‘Look, there was this bit of an accident, and the wall …’

‘She’s stepping towards you,’ Beorn said warningly.

Perkin held his hands before him. ‘Emma, please, it was just one of those … Emma!’

‘Just one of those things, eh?’ Emma asked. She bent and picked up a small lump of blackened timber. ‘I’ll show you one of those things, I will …’

Perkin took a look at the lump of timber in her hands and gave up any ideas of diplomacy. He darted back, and dived through the new hole in the wall.

Beorn looked at her. ‘Could you ask Davie to get his arse in here and help me?’

Emma nodded. She scowled at the hole Perkin had created, and tossed the timber through it, pretending not to hear the thump and cry of anguish. She wouldn’t let them know how happy she was here. They didn’t need to know that. She glowered at the men outside, before smiling at her Davie.

This place was perfect for her. Hugh’s old home was no good to him, but she would change this into a marvellous little house. When the new roof was up, she’d clean all the soot and grime from it, and Davie could start to fence in the pasture, and then they could spend a little of the money which Jeanne had given them on purchasing some good animals, an ox, some pigs, maybe some lambs too. They’d soon have this little place thriving.

Or she’d know the reason why.

Lady Isabel watched him all the time with suspicious eyes, but he didn’t care. He knew what she was feeling, because he knew perfectly well what it was like to love and to lose a love. She had lost her man; she wasn’t the only person in the world to have lost.

Although she sat still and her eyes were still regularly brimming with tears, he could give her his sympathy, but not his compassion. Why should he? He served her with her food, and she and Malkin took their meagre shares and began to eat.

It was an unspoken rule now that he would not speak to them. Nor would Isabel knowingly make any comment while he was within earshot, but he didn’t care. Her words would have been barbed, and he was happier to live in this silence.

She had been hoping that Sir Odo would return to her, apparently. When she heard from others that Sir Odo was dead, she had been disbelieving at first, then furious and almost lunatic, but that all changed when she heard the actual details of his death. She had flatly refused to entertain the concept that he might have been fleeing from Fishleigh without her. That, she asserted, was impossible. And since that was, the whole manner of his death was also impossible. Someone had made it up to fool her, and she wouldn’t swallow it. No, he had been going to come and fetch her at last. They would share their misery at losing their son, and could comfort each other.