Mel Starr - Rest Not in Peace

Arthur was correct. Whilst swaying upon my palfrey’s back a plan had come to my mind to discover if Walter the valet had slain his lord. If he had not, my scheme would tell that, as well.

I halted my journey at Galen House and sent Arthur on to the castle with the horses. I had been four days away from my Kate and Bessie. Solving Sir Henry’s murder could wait another day. He would not mind.

Next morning I rose early and arrived at the castle before Lord Gilbert’s chaplain had concluded mass. I waited at the entrance to the chapel, and when the service was done approached Walter as he departed the chapel with the other valets and grooms of Sir Henry’s household, following the folk of quality. I beckoned to the valet and nodded toward the hall, indicating that I wished for him to follow. He did so, and a moment later I sat upon a bench pushed against the wall and motioned for him to do likewise. In a voice barely above a whisper, so as to cause the fellow to believe us conspirators together, I told him that I had returned the day before from Wootton, and laid out a case against Sir Geoffrey.

“I am not surprised,” Walter said when I had done. “The man was baseborn and baseborn he remains, for all his airs. When will you arrest him?”

“Soon. Perhaps this day. But I would be well pleased to have more evidence against him. Testimony which might send the commons to a scaffold is often not enough to convince the King’s Eyre of a knight’s guilt.”

“You wish my aid in the matter?” Walter asked, seeing where the conversation was going. Or thinking he saw its direction.

“Aye. ’Tis my belief that Sir Geoffrey also slew Sir John. Sir John awoke and fought when his attacker pierced him, and this I know for his blood spattered upon the wall of his chamber. Some of that gore must have sullied Sir Geoffrey’s clothing when he did the murder, but although I’ve closely examined his cotehardie whenever he is near, I see no evidence that blood has ever spotted it.”

“What, then?” Walter asked. “Has he another garment?”

“Surely. But I think it more likely that he wore only chauces and kirtle when he stabbed Sir John.”

“How will you discover this?”

“With your aid.”

“What must I do?”

“When all castle folk are at dinner you must go to Sir Geoffrey’s chamber and seek a bloody kirtle. Look in his chest and under his mattress. It has been three days since Sir John died. Perhaps he has discarded the stained clothing, but if not, if your search is fruitful I shall have him. I ask you to do this because, as you are of Sir Henry’s household, ’twould not appear odd to see you enter Sir Geoffrey’s chamber, as it would for me or some other man in Lord Gilbert’s employ. You will miss your dinner, but ’tis a fast day and stockfish will be your meal. I’ll see that the cook holds some back for you.”

“Aye,” Walter said without hesitation. “I have told you, Sir Henry was a fair master and I would see his murderer punished for the deed.”

“Excellent. With your aid, before this day is done, I may have a murderer in hand. Now, you must not go near Sir Geoffrey’s chamber this morning. I would not have him see you loitering about and take fright.”

“Does he suspect that you think him guilty?”

“He may. I do not wish this bird to take flight and escape my snare.”

“I will do as you ask,” Walter said, then bowed and bid me “Good day.”

“And a good day to you, also,” I said. If my scheme succeeded, and my new suspicion was just, it might be the last good day the valet would ever know. Justice is a beautiful thing. Seeking it may be ugly.

I sought Sir Geoffrey next. He and Lady Margery had followed Lord Gilbert from the chapel, so I thought perhaps they had joined him in the solar, there to await dinner in light conversation. As light as conversation may be with two corpses hanging over it.

Lady Anne was present in the solar also, but not Lady Petronilla. Lord Gilbert sat with his back to the door, but when he saw Lady Margery glance in my direction and curl her lip in distaste he turned to see who it was who had annoyed her. Annoying Lady Margery does not require great effort. Nearly anyone is capable of doing so, but I have special talents in that regard.

“Master Hugh,” Lord Gilbert greeted me, “I give you good day. How may we serve you?”

That gentlemen and ladies might serve a mere bailiff is a fiction, but gentlefolk do have their pretensions of duty to the commons, and this serves, I suppose, to justify to them their position. Well, we all seek to vindicate our deeds. If we found that we could not, we might behave otherwise. But as men generally refuse to change their ways through many years, it must be that we have discovered means whereby to excuse ourselves for the evils of this world in which we share.

“I would speak privily to Sir Geoffrey,” I said.

The knight looked to Lady Margery and she rolled her eyes in disgust. What the woman thought of me was of no consequence. Another woman, whose shoes Lady Margery was unfit to lace, thought well of me, and that was all that mattered. But her display of disrespect did anger me, I must admit. The Lord Christ said that we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free, but mayhap knowledge of the truth may upon a time make us angry as well.

Sir Geoffrey was not pleased to be asked to leave the solar, and of this his countenance left no doubt. He knew, I believe, that he was suspect in two deaths and surely had some concern that I intended to question him sharply. Five days past I would have done. I might yet.

When we were safely away from the solar I stopped to face the knight, who had followed me from the chamber. The corridor was dim, but I could see Sir Geoffrey’s lips drawn thin below scowling brows.

“What’s this about?” he said.

“I wish to inspect your chamber,” I replied.

“What? Absurd. What do you expect to find?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t need to examine the room, would I? Actually, it is what I do not expect to find that should concern you.”

“You wish to inspect my chamber for something you believe is not there? Bah, you speak in riddles.”

“I have been told this before.”

“Just what is it you think you will not find in my chamber?”

“Evidence of murder,” I said.

This concentrated Sir Geoffrey’s thoughts and I saw his jaw work as he clenched his teeth.

“Whose murder?” he said after a pause.

“Sir John’s.”

“So you will inspect my chamber for things you do not believe you will find?”

“Exactly. Shall we go?”

I turned from Sir Geoffrey and led the way to his chamber where I stopped and waited for him to open the door and enter. He did so.

The space was well lit, the window admitting the morning sun, now bright and warm over Bampton Castle’s south wall. Sir Geoffrey’s face was full of anger as he stood aside his door and waited for me to enter the room.

“You believe I slew Sir Henry and Sir John?” he asked. “Many do, I know. Lady Margery has heard the talk.”

“Nay. A week past I thought differently. Today I believe you to be foolish, greedy, and corrupt, but no murderer.”

“Then why seek evidence of murder here, in my chamber?”

The knight made no defense of my accusation that he was foolish, greedy, and corrupt. Perhaps he thought these were minor infractions when compared to murder, which he had worried might be the charge against him. Or perhaps he agreed with my judgment.

“Because what is not here now may be so before this day is done.”

Sir Geoffrey’s mouth dropped open. “You will find no evidence of murder in my chamber, now or later, this day, or any other.”