Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

Andrew had been near the stands. Why? Then another thought struck him and he drew in his breath sharply.

‘What, Sir Baldwin?’ the Coroner asked.

‘We have heard of the stands collapsing during a tournament. What if a man saw his family die there? Wouldn’t he want revenge against those who killed them?’

‘Perhaps. You suggested that earlier.’

‘It would be justification for killing the men who profited by using rotten wood. There were three of them: the banker, Benjamin, the carpenter, Wymond, and the architect, Hal.’

‘I see what you mean.’

‘No – I must be wrong,’ Baldwin said. ‘If Hal’s body was going to be put into the tent as a message, surely the killer sought another victim?’

‘If he wanted to leave a message. But the placement could have been merely symbolic, to show that the killer had murdered again for a purpose, for revenge,’ Coroner Roger said.

Just then they heard the scream and all three men rose simultaneously. ‘What in God’s name… ’ Coroner Roger began.

Simon had paled. ‘God’s bones! Please, not another murder!’

‘Come on, Hugh! Just a quick wander down into the arena. It can’t hurt.’

‘Your mother said no. She said to stay here in the castle.’

‘That’s so unfair! Why should she tell me what I can and can’t do? I’m not a silly little girl.’

‘Stamping your feet won’t make me change my mind. Your mother gave me orders and I won’t disobey her. Especially after the look of those men in the ber frois . It’s too dangerous.’

‘That was yesterday !’ she said scathingly. ‘Just because that man was found dead. We’ll be all right today. They’ve had time to sleep on it.’

‘You think an English mob forgets after one night’s sleep?’

‘Hugh, don’t be sarcastic! No, but most of them don’t know who I am anyway. It won’t matter to them having a young girl walking in their midst.’

‘Mistress Edith, if only one of them takes it into his head that you are the daughter of the Bailiff, you could be in danger. It’s not right.’

‘I want to see my friend. He’s just been knighted – knighted ! Can you understand what that means to me? I want to congratulate him.’

‘When Master Simon says so.’

‘I love him, Hugh.’

‘You only think you do.’

‘Don’t patronise me!’

‘Eh?’

‘I love him as surely as you love your wife.’

‘That’s different!’

‘You can deny it as hotly as you wish, Hugh, but I do.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘By the beating of my heart; by the lightheadedness when I see him; by the certainty that the sun is brighter when he is near; by the sense that I am languishing every moment that I am not with him.’

‘You’ve got poetic.’

‘I feel poetic at the thought of him. Is it so wrong that I should love him? He would be a good husband, Hugh, a knight.’

‘Yes, well, I’ve known knights.’

‘But William is different. He’s strong and kindly and generous and honourable and courteous and… ’

‘That’s what you think.’

‘Don’t be so short, Hugh. I still love you, too – I always will. You were my closest friend when I was young, but I am an adult now.’

‘Not what your mother says.’

‘She’s a crabbed old woman and jealous of me!’

‘You think so?’

‘Of course she is. She’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love.’

‘She loves your father.’

‘Oh, that’s different. That’s old love. It’s not young and fresh and full of life like mine. She’s too old to appreciate my sort of love. I feel I should burn if my love were to touch me, Hugh. Do you think my mother feels that when Father touches her ? Of course not! I would burst into flames if William should come too close to me, though. The sight of him makes me tremble from head to foot. The thought of kissing him is… is… ’

‘Your mother said no,’ Hugh said flatly.

They were standing on the wall above the chapel, Edith leaning out to try to catch a glimpse of the jousting field, but failing, Hugh standing, glowering, nearby. His voice, usually so full of sullenness, was today filled with melancholy to Edith’s ear. Somehow she was sure that he was the unwilling servant of Margaret’s wishes. He himself had found love late in his life and detested being gaoler to his favourite charge.

She sighed once more, giving up on the view (it was impossible to see through the trees and round the hill to the stands) and fixing him with her doleful expression. ‘So I am to be restrained by you?’

‘I can’t ignore my Lady Margaret’s instructions,’ he said shiftily.

Edith screwed up all her determination, bringing to mind her favourite pony, who had been killed three months ago when he fell in a rabbit hole and broke his leg. Simon had taken one look and had fetched a huge axe, taking off the pony’s head with one blow. The memory of the gout of blood brought a genuine tear to her eyes. Speaking huskily, she said, ‘So that is that, then.’

He nodded glumly, but turned away to avoid catching her eye as the tears began to fall.

Instantly she whirled around and pelted across the wall to the door. Before Hugh fully appreciated what she was doing, she was through it, had hauled it shut, laughing quietly, and fled down the stairs to the main yard. There was no one to stop her, and while the dismayed Hugh watched from above, she ran to the gates and out.

At the castle’s foot where the tented camp lay, knights were standing and swinging arms encased in bright steel, ensuring that their armour allowed full movement.

Edith had to slow her steps at the sight. It looked as though there were hundreds of men there, the knights in armour, their chainmail showing beneath their gypons , and plates of armour of all sizes and colours gleaming in the sun. Some were grim, grey metals, but others were bright peacock-blue or silver; some even had dazzling, swirling patterns.

She recovered herself and hurried on along the road, lifting her skirts as she heard Hugh shout from the castle’s gate.

Filled with elation, knowing that she would be in severe trouble when the reckoning came, yet rashly not caring, she darted between men, women and animals. One old wife cursed her loudly, but a man called, ‘Shut up, you old whore. She’s a lady, and don’t forget it!’

The thought that she would see her man was overwhelming. Edith had never felt like this before about anyone, but the way William smiled at her made her knees go wobbly; the way his nose moved as he laughed made her want to kiss it. And his lips were a temptation in their own right. She longed for him to put his arms about her again, as he had yesterday after he rescued her at the stands. Not that it was much of a rescue, really. Some fellow had made a coarse comment as she came down the steps, and William had told him sharply to be quiet. Then they had walked and chatted, through the long grasses at the other side of the river. That was all. All innocent.

Not that Edith wanted that state of affairs to continue. She was done with innocence.

She had passed almost all the way through the market now, and came up against the gate to the jousting field. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw Hugh hurrying red-faced towards her. With a small squeak of alarm at his speed, she took off towards the river, hoping to evade him.

There was a line of trees at the river’s edge, and she must avoid the thicker bushes of gorse and bramble which lay beneath, for they would catch at her and slow her down (and make a mess of her clothes, which she could ill afford moments before seeing her lover). She saw a gap in the bushes and pelted towards it, even as she heard a man call out, asking whether she was in danger. Another voice took up the cry and as Edith jumped over a small bank and landed on the shingle, she realised that Hugh was being accused of trying to molest her. Peeping up over a tuft of grass, she saw him arguing with a group of belligerent-looking squires.