Michael Jecks - The Tolls of Death

That, Baldwin felt, was the grossest irony. To have to watch your woman bloom and blossom into motherhood, and know that the child was not your own. Nicholas must surely be within his rights if he wished to kill the steward for this cruel treachery.

He remained in the bailey contemplating all he had learned for some while after Warin left him. The man on the wall found him of little interest now his master was gone, and returned to staring idly over the land about the castle.

Clouds raced by, although there appeared little wind in the bailey itself. Baldwin stared up at them, catching glimpses of stars every now and again, and wondering what to make of all the hints he had heard.

‘You all right, Baldwin?’

‘Simon! I thought you were asleep. There seemed little point in waking you.’

The Bailiff sniffed. ‘So you could speak to Warin alone, you mean?’

‘You saw us?’ Baldwin grinned.

‘I woke when he came back just now. So what’s it all about? Why did he want to talk to you?’

Baldwin sighed and gazed up at the stars. ‘I don’t know whether to believe him or not. He’s thrown us a dainty tidbit: Nicholas. Gervase is a womaniser and untrustworthy, as we know, but Warin alleges …’ Baldwin hesitated. He disliked slandering a woman, but if she had taken part in an adulterous liaison, she had only herself to blame. ‘He said Lady Anne bears not Nicholas’s son, but Gervase’s.’

Simon stared. ‘Well, swyve me with a blunt bargepole! Are you sure? I mean, do you believe him?’

‘He may be right. He’s an astute fellow.’

Simon considered. ‘It’s not unknown, is it? I can think of a few widows who’ve gone for their steward as soon as the old man pops his clogs.’

‘No, it is not unknown,’ Baldwin said. ‘But usually the woman has the decency to wait until her husband has died.’

‘Is it so rare?’

The soft voice sounded almost sad, and as Simon turned to greet Lady Anne, any embarrassment he might feel at being discovered discussing her adultery was wiped away by his fascination with her.

Although Simon preferred his wife, Meg, to any woman he had ever met — and if were to state his preferences, he would choose a blue-eyed blonde like her — this Anne, with her blue-black hair, oval face and slanting green eyes, was a sorely beautiful temptress.

Drifting nearer on feet which were still light, for all that her belly was enormous and her back bent to balance her, she said quietly, ‘Yes, I heard you both.’

‘Did Squire Warin send you to me?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Yes. He said you’d want to speak to me, and I agreed. If not, he said he’d tell Nicholas to command me to come here.’

‘Better now than at the inquest,’ Baldwin said harshly.

‘If I tell you all I can, would you swear to save me such a public humiliation?’ she asked shyly.

‘My lady, I would save you any embarrassment I can,’ Baldwin said, but his tone was brittle, and he continued, ‘but I cannot do so if there is any risk to an innocent, no matter how lowly. If by withholding anything tomorrow, I put the wrong man’s neck in the noose, I shall speak.’

She paled as he spoke, and her hand went to her breast, then down to her belly. ‘I suppose that is reasonable. But there is nothing I know which could put a man’s life at risk. I can’t believe that.’

‘Tell us all you know, and we can judge it for you.’

She led them to a small stone seat near the gate, from where they could see the entire bailey. Sitting, she surveyed the whole of the area as though distrusting the very ground to hear her words.

‘It is difficult to speak of this,’ she said, putting her face in her hands. When she took them away, there were streaks down both cheeks. It made Simon feel guilty, but he knew that a small detail from one life could sometimes explain the most confusing murders.

‘I was born near Fowey. During the famine I was orphaned, and must find a new home. My father died in Exeter, I believe, on his way to the Scottish wars. I was forced into a common house — a brothel. I remained there some weeks, but food was scarce, and so were customers, so I was told to go. I resolved to see my father’s grave.

‘On the way, I met with a group of travellers, one of whom was a friar, who tried to rape me. It was only the arrival of another man which saved me, and when we came here, I realised I was secure at last when I saw that I had won the heart of my husband.

‘Nicholas is a good, kind man. I love him. He saved me from the rapist, he gave me his name, his honour, and he treated me like a lady. He thought me beautiful.’

She looked up then and met Baldwin’s stern face unflinchingly. Simon immediately felt a tingle run up his spine. This was the practised acting of a woman who knew that her looks could win over any man. She was not to be believed, he thought, but surely Baldwin would be moved by her beauty. Baldwin was always easily swayed by a dark-haired woman.

Simon opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Baldwin said, ‘Come, Lady Anne, you do not expect me to respond when you test your skills as a flirt. Tell your story and give us less of this coquetry.’

Her face hardened. ‘Very well. I see that chivalry plays little part in your life, Sir Baldwin. Yet the point remains he thought me beautiful. He wanted me, and he persuaded me to give him my hand and my heart. He hoped that his love for me would produce an heir for him, and so did I. I was grateful to him, because he had saved me from that friar. I was glad to take his hand when he offered it to me, and I am pleased to give him an heir.’

‘Except this heir is a cuckoo,’ Simon said.

‘You could say so.’

‘He knows you carry another man’s child, yet will allow that man to remain here?’ Simon burst out in horror. ‘Sweet Christ, I couldn’t support my wife knowing she carried another man’s bastard or-’

‘This wasn’t meant to happen!’ she protested. ‘I was desperate! Nicholas was away with the King’s host, and I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. I thought he must be dead, because else why was there no message? I needed comfort!’

Dimly Baldwin comprehended. ‘You thought he had deserted you, or died?’

‘The only other man I have ever loved was my father,’ she said with an air of pride, and then her voice grew cold and harsh. ‘And he died and I never saw him again. I thought the same thing had happened, that I was again alone. I wanted him back, but if he was dead — and I had heard nothing for months, remember — then what was to become of me? This castle wasn’t his, it was Sir Henry’s, so I might lose position, wealth, my home, all in one swoop, if I was widowed. All I did was seek the protection of another man. What else was there for me? The brothel again?’

Simon looked away. It reminded him of his thoughts about Meg, were he to die. His reflections were not pleasant.

‘What did you do last night?’ Baldwin asked after a moment.

The change of topic startled her. ‘Last night? I was here at the castle, of course.’

‘Was your husband with you?’

‘He slept with me.’

‘Before that he was in his hall?’

‘Why, yes. Except he went out for a while on his horse.’

‘Do you know where he went?’

‘He often rides for exercise. What of it?’

‘He could have been in the vill; he could have murdered Serlo,’ Baldwin said. ‘What of Gervase?’

‘I do not know.’

‘And now he is a fugitive.’

‘I know!’ she sobbed suddenly. ‘It’s my fault! He wanted me to go with him, to find a new life — but how could I leave my husband?’

‘You have lost your protection, Lady. If you depended upon Gervase, you erred.’