Mel Starr - Rest Not in Peace

“And when you last counted all were present?”

“Aye.”

“When was that?”

“Afore Whitsuntide. Just before Rogation Sunday. Lord Gilbert was to have guests at ’is table that day an’ wished to be sure all would have proper knives an’ spoons, as some might not have their own, not bein’ gentlefolk.”

The pantler turned to his youthful assistant and, with as much anger as his aged voice could muster, demanded why he had not been told of the theft when it occurred.

“Who’d ’ave believed me if the lady said otherwise? An’ when she saw that I’d seen what she’d done she gave me such a glare as I knew I’d be in trouble did I accuse her.”

“But the spoons and knives are gone,” the pantler said. “That would be evidence of your truthfulness.”

“She’d ’a said I took ’em… that she saw me in the screens passage with ’em an’ thought I was about me work.”

“The lad speaks true,” I said. “Lord Gilbert is a just man, but he’d sooner believe the daughter of a knight than his page.”

“What you gonna do?” Humphrey asked of me. “You bein’ Lord Gilbert’s bailiff, it’d be your business to see to the return of ’is silver. And the portpain.”

I had wished that knowledge of the missing portpain should remain between the pantler and myself, but now the page also knew of it. I turned to Andrew and faced him with my sternest expression.

“You will not speak of this with any other soul,” I said. “Not the stolen silver nor the missing linen. You understand?”

The youth swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing like one of Kate’s hens pecking at the ground, and nodded understanding.

“You will need to be about preparing for Lord Gilbert’s dinner, so I will leave you to your work. Remember, not a word to any man of what has gone missing.”

The two, aged and young, nodded, silent, evidently in awe of my fearsome visage. Here was much change in my life. Five years past I could not have summoned a scowl which would have frightened a nursling. Now, after serving some years as Lord Gilbert’s bailiff, I was learning the potency of an occasional peevish frown.

I would be untruthful if I wrote that the experience was unpleasant, but I must guard against the subtle but inexorable onset of pride, for holy writ proclaims that the vain must soon fall. There are Oxford scholars I remember from my youth at Baliol College who are overdue for a tumble.

Ileft the screens passage and sought my employer in the solar. I found him there, with Lady Petronilla, entertaining Lady Margery and Lady Anne. Lord Gilbert was out of his element, for when John Chamberlain announced me at the door to the solar I found the three women plying needle and thread at some embroidery whilst m’lord sat stiffly beside the cold hearth. When I asked if I might speak privily to him he leapt to his feet as if freed from captivity.

He may also have thought that my desire for confidential conversation indicated progress in discovering a murderer. I had to disappoint him. And rather than solving one problem for Lord Gilbert I laid another before him.

“The Lady Anne?” he said in disbelief when I told him of what Andrew the page had seen. “Why would the lass take my silver?”

“You said Sir Henry was destitute. Perhaps Lady Anne was tired of wearing the same worn gowns and desired new.”

“Aye,” Lord Gilbert agreed thoughtfully. “Well, she’ll not have one by way of my silver. You must see that the spoons and knives are returned.”

I had feared he would give the task to me, for ’twas sure to be unpleasant. But that is why gentlemen employ such as me: to do those disagreeable things they would prefer not to do themselves.

“But do not,” he continued, “retrieve them in so impolitic a manner that Lady Margery will be embarrassed.”

I nodded understanding and my employer concluded by saying, “You can be a tactful man, Hugh, when you put your mind to it. I have every confidence that you will see the silver returned with little fuss.”

“Prying stolen spoons and knives from a thief of gentle birth without annoyance will be like taking bacon from a pig with no squealing.”

“Hah,” Lord Gilbert laughed and swatted me across the back. “I shall be pleased to learn how you do it.”

And with that he returned to the solar, his wife and guests, one of them a thief, there to await dinner.

Confronting a beautiful lass with her felony would not be a pleasant task, especially so as she was of rank and I am not. So, as Lord Gilbert had presented the task to me, I decided to bestow it upon another. I sought Walter, Sir Henry’s valet, and found him crossing to the hall from the servants’ quarters, intent upon his dinner. He would not enjoy it much when he learned what he must do.

I greeted the fellow, but he was not interested in conversation. His eyes went from me to other castle servants who, like him, were hurrying toward the hall and a meal.

“I will not detain you long,” I said, and went straight to the heart of the matter. “I have learned that Lady Anne took four of Lord Gilbert’s silver knives and two spoons from the pantry four days past.”

“What? Lady Anne? Surely you are mistaken. She…”

“She was seen. I have just this day learned of the theft. Lord Gilbert knows of it and demands that his silver be returned promptly.”

“Who saw her do such a thing? The man lies.”

“He does not. The silver has been counted and the missing pieces numbered. You are to speak to Lady Anne this day, at dinner, and tell her that her theft is discovered and the spoons and knives are to be returned immediately. Tell her that an hour after dinner the screens passage will be vacant. No man will be there. She is to leave the stolen goods upon the floor beside the pantry door, where Lord Gilbert’s pantler may find them and return them to their place.”

“But what if she denies the theft?” Walter said. “I cannot believe it of her.”

“Tell her that much unpleasantness will follow before this day is done if she does not do as I require. Remind her that the sheriff of Oxford is resident in the castle.”

The valet made no reply for a moment, I think trying to invent some reason whereby my accusation might be impeached, or, failing that, to find some way to avoid the task I had laid upon him.

“Aye,” he said finally, and I nodded toward the hall, releasing him to his dinner and his duty. He would appreciate neither this day.

I followed the valet, sought Humphrey, and told him that one hour after dinner ended neither he nor Andrew must be near the screens passage, nor the hall nor the kitchen, either. I did not tell him why I asked this of him, for fear Lady Anne would resist and the precaution would be for naught.

I took my meal in the hall again that day. It was a fast day, so Lord Gilbert’s table featured baked herring, viand de leach, brydons, blancmange, sturgeon, salmon in syrup, and a void of sugared apples, wafers, and hypocras.

I once again sat at the head of a side table, from which place I could observe Lady Anne at the high table and Walter, far down the opposite side table. Walter appeared to have little appetite, and it is true that he did not enjoy the delicacies which we of higher estate consumed, but I believe his abstinence due more to the task I had assigned him than to the quality of the stockfish and maslin loaf before him.

The Lady Anne ate well and conversed freely with Lady Petronilla, beside whom she sat this day. I noted that several times Lady Anne’s eyes met those of squire William, although when this occurred they both looked quickly back to their meal. And was it my imagination, or did a winsome pink blush spread across Lady Anne’s cheeks after one of these exchanges?