Mel Starr - Rest Not in Peace

“At Sir Geoffrey’s hand, you think?”

“Suppose so. Been tryin’ to think who else could’ve done the murder.”

“And…?”

“Don’t see anyone else as havin’ reason or chance to do it.”

“Not Squire William?”

“Thought at first it might be ’im as slew Sir Henry. Sir Henry was about to dismiss ’im, I think.”

“Because he was unhappy that Lady Anne esteemed the lad?”

“Aye. An’ was he away there’d be one less retainer to provide for.”

“And a loss of reputation in the eyes of his peers. No knight would willingly keep fewer knights and squires in his household.”

“Suppose so. Don’t know much of that sort of thing amongst gentlefolk.”

“I am told that Sir Henry angered many folk around Bedford. He was a Commissioner of Laborers, charged with enforcing the Statute of Laborers, as you will know. ’Tis said he was unjust in the fines he levied.”

“Don’t know about that,” Walter said. “Wasn’t my business. Who said so?”

I made no reply, but thought it odd that Lady Margery’s ladies-in-waiting would know more of Sir Henry’s affairs than his valet, and that Walter would not speak of the fine his father had been required to pay some years past.

“Will the sheriff arrest Sir Geoffrey?” Walter asked.

“If there is evidence of his guilt,” I replied.

“Does evidence point to any other?”

“Some does,” I said. I did not wish for the valet to think the matter resolved, when I was yet uncertain myself. At that moment I did not believe Sir Geoffrey guiltless, but thought another might be involved. Who, I could not say. And without more proof the King’s Eyre would likely set him free. I might send a commoner to the gallows with the evidence I had, but not a gentleman. Not even a gentleman who was once of the commons.

Isent Walter on his way and returned to the solar. For what I wished to do next I would need Lord Gilbert’s aid. I wanted to interrogate Lady Anne.

“What did you learn from the valet?” Lord Gilbert asked.

“He saw Sir Geoffrey in the corridor outside Sir Henry’s chamber, just after Sir Henry had consumed the sleeping draught.”

“Sir Geoffrey’s chamber is there. Where else would he be if he was going to his bed?”

“He told Walter to say, did anyone ask it of him, that ’twas Sir John he saw… said he would do well by him if he did so, but the valet would find trouble if he told the truth.”

“Why, then, did he do so? Does he no longer fear Sir Geoffrey’s wrath?”

“My thoughts also,” I replied. “Walter said Sir Henry was a good lord and deserved better.”

“So he will now speak the truth when he would not six days past?”

“So he said.”

“You believe this?”

“I’ve no reason not to.”

“And what of the sleeping draught? You said much of the herb was missing from the pouch. Did Walter provide it to Sir Henry?”

“He said not.”

“Then who did?”

“Perhaps Sir Geoffrey went to Sir Henry, found him yet awake, and offered to fetch more wine so he could take more of the potion.”

“Would Sir Henry take this act of kindness from a man he knew wished to steal his wife?”

“Why not? He had already perhaps consumed some of the crushed lettuce seeds, to no effect, good or ill, so would have seen no reason to reject such an offer.”

“What if, when Sir Geoffrey returned with the wine, he had put some other substance into it?”

“Poison?”

“Aye.”

“When I tasted the dregs in Sir Henry’s cup I could detect no off flavor.”

“Are there no poisons which are tasteless?” Lord Gilbert asked.

“There are some. But if he poisoned Sir Henry’s wine, why pierce him with a bodkin?”

“Wanted to be sure of Sir Henry’s death, I suppose. But you think poison unlikely?”

“Aye,” I said. “I do. The increased dose of my potion would have sent Sir Henry to a deep sleep, so that a man might do him to death without awakening him.”

“Then arrest Sir Geoffrey and let’s be done with this matter. Send him to Sir Roger and let the King’s Eyre sort out the details.”

“I have yet a few questions.”

“For whom?”

“Lady Anne. Would you send John Chamberlain to request that she join us here?”

“What do you expect to learn from her?” Lord Gilbert asked.

“If I knew her replies I would not need to ask of her.”

“Oh… aye, just so. Very well. Seek John and tell him to request Lady Anne’s presence in the solar.”

I did so. John was easily found, but he must have had some difficulty locating Lady Anne, for I returned to the solar and with Lord Gilbert waited nearly an hour before Lady Anne appeared.

Wealth can stiffen a man’s spine, and a maid’s also, I think, but poverty will undermine confidence. Sir Henry and his daughter were needy. John Chamberlain ushered Lady Anne into the solar and her apprehension was clear.

Lord Gilbert and I stood, and my employer motioned to Lady Anne to take the best chair. He dismissed John, and I seated myself on a bench while Lord Gilbert resumed his place.

Lady Anne had stolen the silver of one of the great barons of the realm, and even though the goods had been returned, was now facing him and his bailiff. Neither I nor Lord Gilbert had spoken a word but in greeting, yet a tear appeared upon her cheek, glistening in the light as the afternoon sun slanted through the solar windows.

Lord Gilbert looked to me and folded his arms across his broad chest. No doubt he also saw Lady Anne’s reaction to this encounter. Good. Fear may be, in my experience, a great encourager of truth, especially if one fears being caught in a lie by a powerful lord, or even his bailiff.

“Six days past,” I began, “you helped yourself to Lord Gilbert’s spoons and knives. When you were found out, and the return of the silver was demanded, you wrapped them in linen and left them in the screens passage, near the pantry, as was demanded.”

Lady Anne made no reply to this review of the matter, which I took to mean that she had no objection to the truth of the accusation. Lord Gilbert must have thought the same. He spoke next, and bluntly.

“Why did you take my silver?”

Tears coursed down both of Lady Anne’s cheeks. She bit her lip, and then answered.

“I did not plan to do so.”

“Then why?” Lord Gilbert said.

“I went to the screens passage to seek the butler,” she sniffed. “Lady Margery wished an ewer of wine in her chamber and her ladies were all about other duties. I saw the pantry open, and a box there with silver, and no other person about.”

“So you took the opportunity to seize m’lord’s silver,” I said, “but a page saw you leave the pantry.”

“Aye,” she agreed.

“You were found out. Why did you not return my silver then?” Lord Gilbert asked.

Lady Anne hesitated. “Thought as he who saw me was but a youth, and I a lady, he might not be believed if he did accuse me. I was ready to charge him with the theft.”

“Why did you not do so?” I asked.

“My conscience troubled me. If Lord Gilbert was like my father, the page would hang if I was believed.”

“If you thought Lord Gilbert might be like your father, why risk such a theft?”

“I am a knight’s daughter, but have nothing. I once owned jewels. Not many, but I had some. Father sold them all to pay against his debts. Since the great death, crops fetch little and tenants demand reduced rents. I’ve had no silk or linen for a new gown these two years… nor even wool.”

“Your want overcame your fear of discovery?” I asked.

“Aye. I’d no sooner returned to my chamber with the silver than I regretted the deed. But I did not know what I was to do.”