Michael JECKS - Squire Throwleigh’s Heir

‘Nothing more than the ravishing of Squire Roger’s wife.’

There was a shocked intake of breath from the gathering. Simon was quiet with anger. ‘You mean this?’

‘Oh yes, sir. James van Relenghes is a conceited fool who believes that no woman can reject his advances. You see, he wanted revenge on the squire. My master once captured a hostage and ransomed him, allowing him to go free. The prisoner was a French Duke, and the squire – your husband, my Lady – heard of this and forced the Fleming to repay all the money he had won. All hostages of rank were to have been sold to the King in order that he could ransom them himself, and he paid a reasonable rate, but van Relenghes was greedy. He wanted the lot. Squire Roger got the money and gave the Fleming some time to escape before he told the King – thus in van Relenghes’s mind Squire Roger cost him a king’s ransom and his career.’

‘So he was motivated by revenge?’ Simon said.

‘Yes, sir. The Fleming hated the squire, and wanted to mete out punishment on his wife and child. Well, I think he thought the best way to ruin the Lady Katharine was to show she was guilty of infamy, taking another man soon after her husband’s death. And he thought he could make her take him. I don’t think he wanted to merely damage her reputation. No, I reckon he thought that by showing her to be unfaithful to her husband’s memory, he could also hint that she was adulterous during the squire’s life, that he was cuckolded. That way the Fleming would get back at the man he really hated.’

‘And you chose to keep this secret?’

‘I remained at his side all the time to ensure my Lady was safe. Perhaps I was wrong, but if I had told of the scheme, my master must have found out that someone had spoken. It would not be hard to guess that I had opened my mouth. And I thought it better to remain with him, to see what else he would attempt. Especially since I had my own debt of honour to repay. I used to fight with the squire – oh, many years ago. So did another man with whom I have spoken.’ He saw no reason to say that the man who had given him much of his information was Thomas’s own servant, Nicholas.

Lady Katharine gave him another nod, slower this time.

‘And now, my Lady, allow me to make amends to you for my secrecy. Here and now, I accuse your brother-in-law of murdering Herbert, your son.’

‘You’ve been here all the time?’

In the stable, Nicholas winced as Anney wiped some of the blood from his nose. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled, his voice nasal and thick with pain. ‘I couldn’t go and see you, though, could I? What would you have done?’

‘Probably hit you, you bastard,’ she said evenly. It was true: she would have been happy to hit him if he was standing – but not now, not like this. Nicholas was a picture of dejection, sitting on the stool with his head tilted back so the blood wouldn’t flow down his shirt any more and would have an opportunity to clot. ‘I don’t think I’d have managed to get you so well as this, though.’

Nicholas wheezed through his open mouth. There was a dull ache between his eyes, and he had a desperate urge to scratch his ruined nose, but he daren’t touch it, not yet. ‘I’ll get the sod back for doing this.’

‘You think so? After he put four of your friends down and then you as well, you really think you’d have a chance against him?’ She patted away another dribble of blood from the tender, shattered skin, and felt him flinch as her damp cloth touched him, but not as much as when she said, ‘What happened to your wife?’

‘What of her? She left me.’

‘Left you?’

He curled his lip. ‘She got upset when she found me in bed with a strumpet.’

Anney leaned back and surveyed him. There was truth in his face; he wasn’t of a temper to lie, not now, and Anney, for the first time in the ten years since he had been taken from her, realised how lucky her escape had been. Nicholas was no more than a brute who would drink himself into oblivion whenever he had an opportunity, then beat his wife for any one of a number of imagined slights, and turn to a pox-ridden whore at the first opportunity to prove his virility.

It was hard to believe that she had spent so long pining after him, wishing he hadn’t been taken back to his first, legal wife. But he was still the father of her children, and Anney was content to look after his wounds because he was also the only man who had ever held her heart. And although she had no wish to discuss the affair with him, it gave her some comfort to know that the father of her dead boy was with her.

The boy whose death had been caused by that spoilt brat Herbert.

‘Eh? What’s that? You say you think I… The man’s mad!’ Thomas spluttered, puce in the face.

Godfrey ignored him and went on with his statement. ‘My evidence is this, Lady: he and his servant left us because he saw your maid Petronilla approaching and didn’t want to be overheard by her, or so he said. She came ambling idly along, and my master, who thought she might be able to give him information about you, tried to hold her up and talk. I had no wish to listen to his flattery and lies, so I took my horse a few yards away and left them to it.

‘Then there was a cry up on the hill, away near the top. When I looked up, I saw the priest thrashing about him with a stick at the furze, shouting out in the most unholy fashion about boys generally, but your son, and his friend Alan in particular. I had no idea why at the time, but I heard the priest shout something about slings. Now I think I understand why.’

Simon moved a little, so he could glance at the priest.

Stephen did not look up, but kept his head bowed as if in prayer, and the bailiff was convinced he was hiding something. And yet perhaps it was only this, that he had been near the scene of the boy’s death. He was thought to be a child-hater, so maybe he had decided to keep quiet in case he could be suspected.

Godfrey continued, ‘At the time, Thomas and his man were near the fork in the road, and I saw them stop there and glance back, so they obviously heard the shouting too. Petronilla did as well, and she scampered straight off up the hill to pacify the priest. I saw her. Just afterwards, Thomas and Nicholas carried on their way, but soon after they had disappeared around the curve in the road, I saw a figure dart across it. It was a boy.’

‘Was it Herbert?’ Baldwin asked immediately.

Godfrey gave a slight shrug. He wasn’t absolutely certain. ‘I’m no father; one boy looks much like another to me, especially when he’s been rolling in mud, which this one had, by the look of him.’

‘He always liked that. It was one of their games up on the hill,’ said Lady Katharine softly. There was a catch in her voice, and Stephen rested his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. ‘Chasing each other through the bushes and squirming their way through the peat all over the common. I used to scold him and smack him when…’ She buried her face in her hands.

‘My Lady, do you want me to be still?’ Godfrey asked.

After a moment, she lifted her head. ‘No, please tell us the rest.’

‘You don’t believe what this man says, do you? He’s only a whoreson mercenary!’ Thomas shouted suddenly. ‘Look at him! Would you trust his honour?’

Godfrey ignored his outburst. ‘The figure ran over the road, then I saw him dive into the bushes at the other side and disappear. I thought nothing of it at first. Oh, I assumed the lad must have done something to the priest up the hill there, but that was as far as I got. Beyond that, I had no thought for him. Then I heard the bellow of rage from him,’ he said, and pointed to Thomas.