Paul Doherty - The Devil's Hunt

‘Sir Hugh,’ Lady Mathilda spoke up. ‘The night is drawing on, we are all tired.’

Corbett got up, trying to hide his confusion and fear at the menacing threats of the Bellman.

‘Little can be done now,’ he said. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’

‘I would like to have words with you before you go,’ Lady Mathilda said. ‘Sir Hugh, I am, with my brother of blessed memory, the founder of this Hall.’ She stared defiantly at Tripham. ‘I demand to have words with you!’

The Vice-Regent looked as if he was going to protest but instead, gesturing in exasperation, left the chamber. The others followed. Lady Mathilda asked Ranulf and Maltote to stand outside with Master Moth. She locked and bolted the library door behind them and then returned. She sat down at the table and flicked her fingers for Corbett to sit opposite her.

‘We can’t be heard here,’ she whispered, leaning across. ‘Sir Hugh, you must have been told that the King had a spy at Sparrow Hall?’

Corbett just stared back.

‘Someone who tells the King what happens here.’ Lady Mathilda pushed back the sleeves of her dress. ‘I am that spy, Sir Hugh. My brother was the King’s man in peace and war. This Hall, this callege — ’ her voice rose slightly, and spots of anger appeared high in her cheeks ‘- this place was founded for learning and now it has become a mockery!’

‘Did the King ask you to spy?’ Corbett asked.

Lady Mathilda’s sallow face relaxed, her eyes still glittered with anger.

‘No, I offered my services, Sir Hugh. Don’t you know my history? As a damsel, I played cat’s cradle with de Montfort’s knights.’ Her face softened. ‘In my day, Corbett, I was beautiful. Men begged to kiss this bony, vein-streaked hand. The King’s knights often wore my colours in the lists and tournaments.’ She grinned, her face becoming impish. ‘Even Edward Longshanks tried to enter my bed. I suppose I was the King’s in war and peace,’ she added wryly. She clasped her bejewelled fingers together. ‘Those were great days, Corbett. Days of war; of armies marching and banners flying, of spying and treachery. If de Montfort had won, a new king would have sat on the throne at Westminster and the likes of me and my brother would have gone into the darkness. You have heard the story?’

Corbett shook his head, fascinated by the intensity of this old but vibrant woman.

‘At Evesham, at the height of the battle, five of de Montfort’s knights tried to break through to kill the King. They hacked down his bodyguard and burst into the royal circle — but my brother Henry was there.’ She lifted her face, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘Like a rock he was, so the King said; feet planted like oaks in the ground, his great two-handed war sword whirling like the wind: those knights never reached the King. My brother killed them all. Afterwards, that night in his tent, Edward swore a great oath.’ She closed her eyes, her voice thrilling, “‘I have sworn a great oath and I will never repent of it”, the King declared, his hand over a relic of Edward the Confessor. “Whenever Henry Braose, or any of his family, seek my help I shall not forget”.’ Lady Mathilda opened her eyes. ‘My brother did not kill de Montfort,’ she continued, ‘to see his great enterprise here overturned by pompous scholars. So yes, Corbett, I volunteered my services to the King.’

‘And what have you found?’

‘It’s not a question of finding,’ she retorted. ‘Sir Hugh, I have lived here for years, and I have seen Masters come and go but… this group!’ She sighed. ‘Old Copsale was a true scholar but as for the rest! Passerel was fat, living only for his belly. Langton was a mere ghost of a man, who won’t be missed in death just as he wasn’t noticed in life. Barnett’s a drunkard who likes pretty whores. Churchley’s so narrow-minded I don’t think he even knows there’s a world outside Oxford.’

‘And Tripham, your Vice-Regent?’

‘Oh, Master Tripham is a viper,’ she replied. ‘A cosy snake who’s coiled himself round Sparrow Hall and wishes to make it his. He wants to become Regent. He’ll not weep at Passerel’s or Langton’s death. He’ll slither about ensuring that his cronies are appointed to the vacant positions. He’s a parvenu!’ she spat out. ‘A thief and a blackmailer who tramples over my brother’s memory…!’

‘Why a thief?’ Corbett interrupted.

‘He’s also the treasurer,’ Lady Mathilda explained. ‘And the Hall receives revenues from many quarters: a field here, a barn there; manors in Essex; fishing rights at Harwich and Walton-on-Naze. The money comes in piecemeal. I am sure some sticks to Master Tripham’s fingers.’

‘And a blackmailer?’ Corbett asked.

‘He knows all the little sins of his fellows,’ Lady Mathilda replied. ‘Barnett is well known to the whores. Churchley likes boys, particularly young men from Wales. You’ve met the loud-mouthed David Ap Thomas? I’ve seen Churchley pat his bottom. A bum squire, born and bred.’

‘And Appleston?’

Lady Mathilda’s eyes softened.

‘Leonard Appleston’s a good Master: a fine scholar, skilled in logic and debate. The scholars flock to his lectures in the schools.’

‘But?’

‘He has secrets from his past. Master Tripham tries to ingratiate himself with me.’ She sniffed. ‘Anyway, Appleston is not his real name.’ She pulled at the corner of her mouth. ‘His name is de Montfort. Oh, no, no.’ She waved a hand at the surprise in Corbett’s face. ‘Born the wrong side of the blanket he was: a bastard child.’

‘Does the King know this?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what happened?’

She shrugged. ‘Appleston cannot be arrested simply because he was the by-blow of a traitorous earl.’

‘And his sympathies?’

‘He keeps himself to himself. Once I caught him in the library amongst my brother’s papers where there are some of de Montfort’s proclamations. I passed him before he turned the book over, and I saw the title. When Appleston looked up, he had tears in his eyes.’

‘So he could be the Bellman?’

‘Anyone could be the Bellman,’ Lady Mathilda retorted. ‘Except Master Moth.’

‘He slides like a ghost round the hall.’

Lady Mathilda tapped her head. ‘Master Moth is not a madman, Sir Hugh, but he finds it difficult to concentrate or remember anything. Remember, he can neither hear, nor speak or read and write.’ Lady Mathilda rose to her feet, cocking her head to one side, as if listening to something. ‘I don’t know who the Bellman is, Corbett. You’ve met Bullock the Sheriff?’

Corbett nodded.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘there’s a man who hates us! And, of course, there are the students — you must not think they are as poor as they look. Many of them come from very wealthy families, particularly the Welsh. Their grandfathers fought for de Montfort and later their fathers and elder brothers fought the King in Wales.’ She came over and touched the greying locks on Corbett’s head. ‘Like the lovely Maeve, your good wife!’

‘Aye, God bless her!’ Corbett rose. ‘She’s in bed and so should I be, Lady Mathilda.’

He grasped her cold, thin hand and kissed it.

‘Are you frightened, Corbett?’ she asked. ‘Will the Bellman’s threats keep you awake at night?’

‘In media vitae,’ he replied, ‘sumus in morte! In the midst of life, Lady Mathilda, we are in death.’ He walked to the door then turned. ‘What concerns me is what the others will say about you?’

Lady Mathilda laughed, the age and pain disappearing from her face. Corbett glimpsed the beautiful young woman she once had been.

‘They’ll call me an interfering, sinister, old witch,’ she replied. ‘Do you know what I think, Corbett?’ She paused, fingering the tassel of the cord round her waist. ‘I think the Bellman’s coming. He might come after you, Sir Hugh, but, remember, I am Sir Henry Braose’s sister.’ She drew herself up. ‘I know he will not let me live!’