Michael JECKS - Squire Throwleigh’s Heir

‘Thanks,’ Godfrey said simply. ‘I’m only sorry I missed seeing your defence of him.’

Hugh shrugged. ‘He’ll need that wound stitched.’

‘Yes, well, someone can do it later. It’s not a hard job,’ said Godfrey easily.

Hugh turned away. Baldwin and Simon were already on the steps which led back to the hall, and Hugh was about to follow them when Godfrey touched his arm.

‘I threatened you, when you were trying to serve drinks in the hall. I’m sorry about that. After you protected my master I can’t help feeling we owe you something in return.’

Hugh stared at his feet. He wasn’t used to accepting gratitude from others, and didn’t know how to respond.

Godfrey grinned crookedly. ‘Don’t worry, I can’t promise you money…’ Hugh’s morose expression deteriorated, ‘… it’s only this: I know your master and the knight have been trying to find out what happened that day…’

‘If you know something, you should tell them. I’ll only get it all mucked up.’

‘Very well.’ Godfrey glanced down at his master. ‘How is he, Miss?’

‘He’ll live.’

‘Let’s see your master now, then.’

Hugh nodded, and shouted to two stablemen at the other side of the yard. They ran over and, under Hugh’s supervision, dragged or assisted his assailants to the barn before taking a door off its hinges and lifting the Fleming onto it. Godfrey stopped them carrying him into the hall. ‘I doubt whether the Lady wants to see him like that. Take him to the kitchen, it’s warm enough, and he can’t come to any harm.’

Hugh walked slowly back to the hall. Strangely, although he was aware of a sense of pleasure at having beaten so many men, a satisfaction which was made more intense by the fact that he had done so to protect a man who would loathe owing him a favour, Hugh felt something else as he walked over the threshold.

It was a feeling of profound sadness, as if some doom was about to be laid upon the house and all who dwelt within it, and as he passed into the hall, Hugh shuddered with the premonition of evil.

Margaret crossed the floor with Simon, and stood a little to the side of Lady Katharine. The bailiff’s wife couldn’t help noticing that the latter was strangely animated, and although the red-rimmed eyes and bright nose gave her a feverish look, her posture was regal, especially in her disdainful treatment of Thomas, who sat near the fire with another cup of wine in his hands.

When Hugh came back in, Margaret took a jug and filled a pot, handing it to him, smiling. ‘Well done!’ she said warmly. Hugh shrugged ungraciously, but with real pleasure, while Simon filled more pots and passed them around to all those assembled.

‘I ask you all to drink to Hugh,’ he boomed, ‘a hero among servants! Hugh!’

Margaret returned to the side of Lady Katharine and poured wine for her. The bereaved woman drank deeply, holding the cup with both hands to steady it. She needed to steel her nerves for the inevitable confrontation with Thomas, Margaret thought, and it was only when she had refilled Lady Katherine’s pot that she allowed her attention to wander around the room again.

Anney was nowhere to be seen. She had been out with the others to witness the fight, but still hadn’t returned, and Margaret clicked her tongue at such dereliction. It was especially important that she should look after her mistress on a day like this, when she had not only buried her child but had also endured the shame of a fight between guests at the funeral party. Margaret tut-tutted silently. She would have to speak to the steward about Anney.

The priest huddled at the back of the hall near the door, even more pale than usual, his eyes dull and listless. Catching Margaret’s eye, Brother Stephen gave her a ghastly smile.

Scarcely knowing what he was doing, he raised his drinking pot to his lips and took a deep draught. It felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on him; the place was stifling with all these people! He knew he was in enormous danger still, even though Petronilla had gone and destroyed some of the evidence. There were too many who had seen him up on the moors that day… and he was unpleasantly aware of Godfrey’s cool gaze on him. Then Godfrey looked away, and with a freezing feeling in his bowels, Stephen saw him look from Sir Baldwin to the bailiff.

Simon was insisting that Hugh should drink all his wine and have another cup to wash it down. In the midst of his delight it was some time before he noticed the grave-looking servant standing behind Hugh. ‘Are you all right, Godfrey?’ he cried bluffly. ‘Your master’ll recover from his scratch, never fear! I’ve seen much worse.’

‘So have I, Bailiff. Many times,’ said Godfrey drily. ‘That wasn’t why I was quiet. I wish to make a statement in front of the whole company, but am not sure how to begin.’

The Lady Katharine had returned to her seat by the fire; her steward stood behind her, gripping his staff once more. Her expression was one of deep shock, as if after burying her husband and her child, and then witnessing the small battle at the very entrance to her hall, she was close to collapse.

Stephen saw the vacuity of her expression and walked to her side. He touched the cross at his waist, his face filled with compassion, then reached out towards her, but his hand hovered a few inches from her shoulder, as if he did not dare interrupt her thoughts.

Simon felt that in that simple, humble gesture, Stephen had given him more of an insight into his character than all the sermons he had heard the cleric give or the conversations he had held with the man. The priest might appear cold and unfeeling, even perhaps cruel sometimes, but he was still a man, and perhaps, Simon thought, watching him from the corner of his eye, perhaps he was a man with the same desires as any other, no matter what his oaths implied. For there was a hint of reverence in his way of standing there next to his mistress, like a knight who has been overwhelmed by the beauty of a lady.

Lady Katharine looked up at last, noticing the silence that had gradually fallen all about her. Seeing Godfrey at its centre, ready to make some sort of announcement, she gave a small frown and waved her hand. ‘Do you wish to speak, Master Godfrey? Please go ahead.’

‘If you are sure, Madam,’ he said, and shot a look at Thomas.

‘I doubt whether there is anything you could say which would surprise me. Is it about Thomas trying to make me sell off parts of my land?’

The merchant was sitting upright now, and had fixed him with a piercing – no, Godfrey amended, a threatening stare – but one in which the fear of personal discovery was all too evident. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide,’ Thomas said gruffly.

‘On the day your son died, my Lady, this man arranged to meet my master. Sir James demanded that I should be present, in case of any risk to himself, and I thus overheard their entire discussion. I think Sir James has already told you the general tenor of what they discussed.’

She nodded, with a contemptuous glance in her brother-in-law’s direction. ‘Yes. Thomas demanded money in order to persuade me to sell parts of my land to van Relenghes. My brother-in-law was prepared to sell his nephew’s birthright for his own gain.’

‘That’s right, my Lady,’ Godfrey acknowledged, and lowered his head. ‘And I confess that I held my tongue about it, and for that I beg your pardon. There were two reasons, my Lady: first was the consideration that I was paid by my master, and for a man like me that consideration must carry weight; but second was my belief that something odd was being planned by my master. If I were to leave his service I could not have discovered what he intended.’

‘Which was?’ Simon interrupted.