Iris Collier - Day of Wrath

‘I thought you had ways of making people talk,’ said Nicholas, who was standing at the window of the Sheriff’s office in Marchester watching the crowds surging round the nearly completed market cross.

‘I’ve done what I can, within the law. I’ve kept them in the dark and starved ’em. I can threaten them with the manacles but I can’t move them to Lewes to use them. We need some proper evidence. What about the ale-house keeper and his wife? Any joy from them?’

‘None at all. But I’m sure they know something, and in time, they will probably come out with it. But not yet. Everyone seems frightened; everyone’s clammed up. You know how it is. Who are all those people out there, Sheriff?’ said Nicholas, leaning forward to get a better look at the crowd outside.

‘God knows. They come to look at the cross, I suppose. They make a lot of work for us – thieves, vagabonds, muggers – ale-houses working all hours; more trouble when they close and the drunks roam the streets. People have heard that the King’s coming and rumours are flying around that he’s coming here to Marchester. What do you think, my Lord?’

‘I’m quite sure he’ll be giving Marchester a wide berth. All that business with the cathedral Precentor, Rodney Catchpole, has put him off coming here for a long time. Besides, we’re running a tight schedule. Because of the dangerous security situation, Southampton wants him off his territory as quickly as possible. I think we’ll get him to leave most of his retinue behind and ride to Portsmouth with just a handful of people he can trust. The King’s quite capable of riding the twenty miles to Portsmouth and back on fast horses. It’s probably safer keeping him moving than letting him lumber along in a coach where he could be ambushed. I know Southampton says he’s providing soldiers to line the route, but he hasn’t enough men to cover every square inch of the way. There’s bound to be gaps.’

‘Fitzroy wants to bring his men here. Says we’ll need extra men to guard the King. What do you feel about that?’

‘Tell Fitzroy to stay where he is until we need him. I don’t trust him; and neither does the King.’

‘My sentiments exactly. Southampton’ll give us enough men. He’s edgy enough as it is and wants to put bowmen all along the route and cannoneers at Portsmouth Point; much good they’ll be!’

‘They can be deadly if the ball lands in the right place.’

‘Let’s hope the beggars know how to aim straight. In any case the King won’t be standing on his own for long. He wants to see the fleet sail past – God willing. Let’s hope the wind changes direction by this time next week – it’s coming from the east at this moment, and that’s hopeless. Let’s hope, too, that it doesn’t give up altogether, or work itself up into a storm and scatter the fleet all over the Solent.’

‘Cheer up, Sheriff, I didn’t know you were such a pessimist.’

‘A pessimist? Aye, that’s the right word. It’s because I’m losing sleep over this visit. I don’t like it one little bit. The sooner next Thursday’s over, the happier I shall be. Then it’s back to the thieves and muggers again – child’s play! Oh, by the way,’ he went on, looking across at Nicholas sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry about this lass of yours. I hope she’s not too badly hurt. A pretty girl, if I remember rightly.’

‘Yes, she is. It was a wretched business; and what’s more, I don’t think it was an accident. Someone tried to kill her, Sheriff.’

‘Now that’s a bit far-fetched, isn’t it? No one takes a wench seriously.’

‘They do if she’s the one person a key witness is likely to talk to.’

‘You mean that old witch of yours. I thought you put her safely out of harm’s way.’

‘She’s under lock and key, but it now appears there’s more than one key, so she’s not entirely safe. Fortunately she’s still confused, but when she comes to her senses, it’ll be Jane she’ll talk to – provided nothing happens to her in the meantime.’

‘Better keep an eye on both of ’em then; just like I do with Bovet and Perkins. How is the lass?’

‘She’ll recover. I’m going to see her after I leave here, provided that old bear of a father lets me in. Now Sheriff, I’ve got something to tell you that’s going to shock you. But just hold still until I’m finished.’

‘Shock me? Sheriff of Marchester? Never. I’ve seen everything. Mind you, I was pretty shocked when Mortimer was arrested.’

‘Then you’ll be even more shocked when I tell you that I am beginning to think that our traitor, who took over when Mortimer was arrested, could be one of the monks.’

The Sheriff whistled. ‘Now that does take a bit of swallowing. And I hope to God, Lord Nicholas, you know what you’re doing. But you’ve got a good head on those shoulders of yours, even if you’re not too keen on using it. Now what makes you think that this fellow with the damn silly Latin name is one of the holy monks?’

‘Because, in the first place, they’ve got a motive. They’ve got a grudge against the King. Secondly they’re all literate and quite capable of carrying on a correspondence with Reginald Pole. They know Latin. They know the King’s coming, and they’re on the spot. And they know how to poison people with harmless-looking herbs, and they know they are above suspicion.’

‘And they’re also enclosed behind the monastic walls.’

‘Not all the time. The Prior’s very lax. They visit the sick, collect herbs in the woods, and one of them runs messages for me.’

‘Let’s hope it’s not the Prior?’

‘It’s possible, but I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s capable of murder. He’s far too easy-going. This Ultor, like Mortimer, is a ruthless fanatic. He’s not afraid to die if he’s caught in the attempt to murder the King. In fact, he’s probably training up someone else to take over should he get caught before the King arrives.’

‘This is bad, my Lord. And very worrying. Damn me, it’s time we got some good ale down our throats.’

He called for a servant who came with a jug and two tankards in hand. Both men drank in silence.

‘If you’re saying that our Latin friend is one of the monks, then why would he want to get rid of Agnes Myles? Bess Knowles, I understand. The poor lass was a witness. But Agnes Myles? Come off it, Lord Nicholas!’

‘Agnes Myles is a holy woman, a healer. She makes potions, balms for the whole village. She also knows about poisons. She buys valuable medicinal products from a merchant in Portsmouth. Everyone comes to her for some sort of healing. Now if anyone came to her for something a bit out of the ordinary, she’d remember. Then she might tell us if we jog her memory. And that person could be Ultor.’

‘Yes, I’m with you. But I don’t think Ultor would visit Agnes Myles on his own. He’d send someone else, surely?’

‘He wouldn’t if he’s well known to Agnes. And I think Ultor works alone. He does the planning, but uses others to do his dirty work. He also knows human nature, and knows how to work on the prejudices of the local people.’

‘But there’s no evidence that he is a monk. Hell’s teeth, Lord Nicholas, I can only work with evidence; not supposition.’

Nicholas sighed and drained his tankard. ‘No, no evidence at all. Just a hunch. However, anything can happen, and I want to be there when it does. Now I must be off. I’ve got to check up on Jane.’

‘I hope she’s soon better. And, by God, Lord Nicholas, I hope this fellow is one of your monks – he’ll be outside my jurisdiction until the Bishop passes him over to me for hanging!’

* * *

When Nicholas arrived at Jane’s house, she was out of bed and sitting in an armchair in the main living room, impatiently stabbing at a piece of embroidery with a needle. She got to her feet when Nicholas went in and he saw her wince with pain. He also saw her face flush with pleasure and thought how marvellous it was to be given such a welcome.