Kate Sedley - The Burgundian's tale

I smiled. ‘Very appropriate,’ I agreed. ‘But I don’t suppose all the husbands were as complaisant as yours, Mistress Jolliffe. Martha Broderer’s, for instance.’

Lydia Jolliffe shrugged. ‘But he wasn’t likely to find out, now, was he? He was Edmund’s cousin, so a family likeness was unremarkable. As for the boy who used to work next door, his mother was a widow.’

‘But I don’t imagine these three are the only bastards of Edmund Broderer, are they?’

The word ‘bastard’ brought the blood back to her face for a moment, but then she shrugged and laughed.

‘You believe in calling a spade a spade, my friend. No, I don’t suppose they were Edmund’s only by-blows. He was a very virile man. He enjoyed … copulation.’ Lydia looked me up and down provocatively. ‘Where is all this leading, chapman? I can’t believe you’re intending to tell my son. You’re not that sort.’

‘Certainly not,’ I assured her.

‘So?’

‘Was Judith St Clair — Judith Broderer, as she must have been then — aware of her husband’s — er — activities?’

This time Lydia threw back her head and laughed out loud, all her previous animosity forgotten.

‘“Activities”, is it? What a splendidly prudish word … I don’t think she could help but know. There were too many children around these parts who all had the same set of features.’

Like the royal palaces , I thought to myself.

I asked, ‘Didn’t this distress Mistress St Clair? Especially as she seems unable to bear children herself?’

Lydia pulled down one corner of her mouth. ‘I should think it probably did — it would distress any woman — but you’d never have got Judith to own as much. She was, and still is, very proud. Even today, she would most likely scorn such a notion as Edmund’s infidelity, if you put it to her.’

‘In spite of the evidence of her own eyes?’

‘I’ve told you: she’s extraordinarily high in the instep. She could never admit that Edmund was unfaithful to her. She’s a person who cannot tolerate disloyalty. One of the reasons she puts up with that oaf William Morgan, and allows him such licence, is because he is fanatical in his obedience to her wishes. She can do no wrong in his estimation, and I truly believe he would condone any action of hers, however bad. I believe he would kill for her, if necessary.’

I felt sure she was right, but did not say so.

‘The lad who used to work in the garden, Roger Jessop,’ I said, ‘told me that he ran away because he thought someone in the St Clair household was trying to murder him. What do you think of that?’

I should have foreseen that I would have to spend the next few minutes fending off Lydia’s queries as to how and when I had managed to speak to Roger, by what means I had traced his whereabouts; but finally, reluctantly accepting that I had no intention of betraying the boy’s confidence, she consented to answer my question.

‘I think it’s nonsense,’ she answered roundly. ‘Who would want to get rid of him? He’d grown up under Judith’s protection and he was a good worker. In fact, he was a better worker, probably, than he was allowed to be. I’ve heard him arguing with William Morgan on more than one occasion that he could be trusted to do more on his own. But William, typically, treated him like an idiot and followed the lad around the garden, supervising everything he did. It was always my opinion, for what it was worth, that Roger knew more about gardening than William. However, that might have been the trouble. William resented a child of that age being better at his job than he was.’

‘You don’t think, then, that the Welshman could have tried to get rid of the boy for that very reason?’

My companion shook her head decisively. ‘No. William Morgan relied on young Roger’s knowledge — goodness knows where the lad got it from: I suppose it was just a gift from God — to keep the garden looking as Judith wanted it, and to earn her praises. For there’s no doubt that William took all the credit. Judith was forever lauding his ability as a gardener.’

‘So, would there have been anyone else in the household who might have wanted Roger Jessop out of the way?’

‘No, of course not! Why should they? Godfrey and Jocelyn and Alcina could have had nothing against him. They may not even have been aware of his existence.’

‘Master St Clair was,’ I corrected her. ‘He mentioned the lad to me; mentioned, also, that he didn’t come to work in the garden any more.’

Lydia shrugged, and there was silence between us for several seconds. Eventually, she asked, ‘What has all this to do with the murder of Fulk Quantrell?’

I gave her my most winning smile. ‘I’m afraid I can’t divulge that just yet … Tell me, did Edmund Broderer possess a gold-and-agate thumb ring?’

Lydia looked startled and, suddenly, a little wary.

‘Did he?’ I pressed.

‘As a matter of fact, he did. It was something he acquired in the final month of his life. I remember remarking on it and asking him where he’d bought it. But he wouldn’t say. Just told me it was a gift and extremely precious to him. He made the remark very pointedly, in front of Judith. I’ve never forgotten because of the look on her face — a look that made me quite sure a woman was involved. But I really don’t see how you could know about the ring,’ she went on. ‘Edmund was wearing it the night he was robbed and thrown in the river, and his body was mother-naked when it was finally found. Not a jewel nor a scrap of clothing on him.’ She eyed me uneasily. ‘You don’t practise the dark arts, do you?’

I ignored this last question, but asked one of my own instead. ‘Are you certain that Master Broderer was wearing the ring the night he disappeared?’

‘Quite certain. Edmund called here immediately after leaving home and before he went off to the inn for an evening’s drinking — if that was, indeed, where he was going. He brought Brandon some new arrows for his bow from the fletcher’s in Turnbaston Lane. He was very fond of the boy.’ Lydia took a deep breath before adding, ‘Brandon was, after all, his son … So, I repeat, how did you know …?’

I interrupted her ruthlessly. ‘You said “if that was indeed where he was going”. What exactly did you mean by that?’

‘I–I don’t know. For heaven’s sake! It’s twelve years ago! How can I be expected to remember? Oh, very well! I just had this feeling — intuition, if you like — that he was going to see a woman. There was an air of … of suppressed excitement about him, and he was all spruced up in his best hose and his new red velvet tunic. Now, will you please tell me …?’

This time I was saved from answering by the opening of the door, and by Roland Jolliffe entering the room in his slow, shambling way, but with a martial light in his kindly blue eyes.

‘Why are you keeping my wife so long, Master Chapman?’ he demanded belligerently. ‘I won’t have her worried by all your questions. She’s not strong.’ (I’d have bet money on Lydia outlasting everyone around her.) ‘Come, my love.’ He offered her his arm, which she rose and took with the greatest reluctance. ‘I’ll bid you a very good morning, pedlar. I don’t look to see you bothering my wife again.’

Ihad intended to go next door, to the St Clairs’ house, as soon as I quit the Jolliffes’; but instead I returned the way I had come and struggled through the crowds, which had now become clogged with sightseers waiting to cheer the Duchess, to Needlers Lane, where I went straight to visit Martha Broderer, relying on the fact that Lionel would be across the street, at the workshop. I looked for Bertram as I went, but he had either not yet finished a protracted breakfast or we missed one another in the throng.