The Prodigal Son (12 page)

‘What was that? Somebody you know saw John Jericho and someone else abroad the night of the murder? In the woods around here?'

She looked stricken. ‘I shouldn't have told you. I don't know what made me say it. I've never uttered a word to anyone else before, not even to Edward.'

‘You mentioned a name, Ronan.'

‘My brother,' she admitted. ‘Ronan's always been fond of a bit of poaching with his mates. Still is. Nothing much,' she added hurriedly. ‘A rabbit or two. Maybe a pheasant now and then. It's just for the thrill of it. He gives what he snares to his ackers. His friends,' she corrected herself as she fell into the local vernacular. ‘He daren't bring anything home. Father would half kill him. Ronan's been doing it for years and so far he's never been found out.' She clasped her hands together in real perturbation. ‘I don't know why I've said anything now. Promise me, please promise me that you won't tell anyone. That you won't mention it to my husband!'

I saw my chance and, meanly, took it. ‘I won't say a word if you'll undertake to introduce me to your brother.'

I
was taking advantage of her, and I knew it. Talking to a stranger, she had been betrayed into making a confidence which, with someone she knew, she would have guarded against. She had had no idea of any personal interest on my part in Jenny Applegarth's murder, although I had admitted to Bristol's general concern over the fate of John Wedmore and the lack of a charge against him.

She turned to look at me, her little face sharp with suspicion. ‘Why do you want to meet Ronan?'

I searched for a reasonable explanation.

‘I like mysteries,' I offered at last, rather lamely. ‘I'm curious to know if this young man at present in the Bristol bridewell is truly the John Jericho who disappeared six years ago, or if Dame Audrea and your husband could possibly be mistaken. If your brother did indeed see John Jericho in flight on the night of his escape, there might be something he could tell me, some small piece of information, that could give me a clue to the truth.'

‘I don't see how.' Rose was defensive.

I didn't really see how, either, but where murder is involved, I have always worked on the principle that no scrap of information is too trivial for consideration. Ronan Bignell might well have nothing to impart worth the telling, but I knew I couldn't afford to ignore an opportunity so fortuitously dropped into my lap. But persuading his sister to introduce us was going to take all my charm and tact.

I sat up straight again on our rustic seat, removing the barrier of my arm and thus allowing Rose room enough to nestle close once more if she so wished. She didn't wish; in fact, she edged in the opposite direction. She no longer trusted me. In her eyes, I had somehow tricked her into revealing a secret about her brother and was now prepared to use it as blackmail. I had to reassure her.

‘Look,' I said urgently, ‘of course I won't breathe a word of what you've just told me. I give you my solemn promise. It's just that if I could speak to your brother, I'd be most grateful.'

She hesitated, glancing sideways at me. I assumed my most trustworthy expression with a hint of soulfulness thrown in. Well, that was what I intended, but I probably looked just plain constipated, because Rose burst out laughing.

‘All right,' she conceded, her faith in me partially restored. ‘Dame Audrea has given me permission to visit my father's shop in Wells tomorrow morning. Edward will be busy, as I told you, and one of the outdoor servants was going to accompany me. But if you offer to be my escort, I don't suppose any objection will be raised.' She eyed my ankle, suddenly doubtful. ‘If you can walk so far, that is.'

‘Oh, a night's rest will work wonders,' I answered confidently. ‘And if you'll be so kind as to moderate your normal fleetness of foot to my stumbling gait, I've no doubt we shall do extremely well.'

‘You do sound pompous sometimes,' she giggled.

So much for trying to impress!

‘In any case, my dog will hold us up,' I warned her. ‘He's unable to pass a rabbit hole without investigation. I must take him with us if you don't mind. At the moment, he's asleep in the kitchen, worn out after our day's exertions. But by tomorrow he will have fully recovered and be raring to go.'

‘I like dogs,' Rose assured me. ‘I'd like one of my own, but Ned won't let me have one. He says if Dame Audrea lets us have our own cottage, maybe then I can. But at present we just have a room like all the others.'

‘Mistress Micheldever!' exclaimed a hearty voice behind us, and I turned my head to see Anthony Bellknapp walking across the grass towards us. His eyes twinkled. ‘And my “old” friend, the chapman. I wondered where you'd both got to. You're a sly dog, Roger, monopolizing the only pretty female for miles around.' He sat down on Rose's other side, and I waited for him to make the obvious comment. He did. ‘A rose between two thorns,' he announced with all the panache of one making an original remark.

I concealed a smile, but I could see Rose was impressed. But she would have been impressed even if he'd said nothing more than ‘good evening'. He was not only a man and passably good looking, he was also surrounded by an aura of romance and mystery; the prodigal son returned out of the blue to claim his inheritance.

‘Oh, Master Bellknapp!' she breathed ecstatically. My nose was quite put out of joint.

‘Anthony,' he insisted. ‘You must call me Anthony. After all, you're my receiver's wife.' He raised one of her hands to his lips and gallantly kissed it; but I didn't need any of my mother's extraordinary powers of the ‘sight' to know that, if he had his way, matters weren't going to rest there. I wondered idly just how long it would take him to coax this particular little rosebud into his bed. And within the next half-hour, I could see the same thought gradually dawning on Edward Micheldever as he watched Anthony's attentions to his wife.

Anthony had come to inform us that he had, after all, prevailed upon his mother to ask the mummers to sing for their supper, and to preside over the entertainment. I don't know what pressure he had put on Dame Audrea, or how many harsh words had accompanied the confrontation, but the lady had eventually been recalled to a sense of her obligations as a hostess and agreed to put aside family animosity until after the guests' departure the following morning. On our return to the hall, Rose and I found the trestles and benches stacked along the walls, and only three chairs remaining on the dais. Four stools had been placed for the two monks, the royal messenger and the Bath merchant, who had been haled back from their beds, but everyone else either had to find a seat on the floor or perch uncomfortably on the sideways-ended trestles. Everyone else, that is, with the exception of Rose, who was swept along by Anthony on to the dais where he ordered Simon to give up his chair to her.

The boy naturally refused, whereupon his brother promptly seized him by the scruff of the neck and sent him sprawling on the floor.

‘Mistress Micheldever shall be our Queen of Revels,' Anthony announced to the astonished company, while Rose simply looked distressed at the turn events had taken, glancing anxiously towards her husband.

The receiver, glowering furiously, was making for the dais to reclaim his wife when Anthony roared with laughter and imperiously waved him aside.

‘Good God, sir! Can't you take a bit of fun? I should think any man would be pleased to see his wife so honoured.' He smiled at Rose. ‘Sit down, my dear, sit down! Steward, tell the servers to bring some wine and beakers, and we'll all drink to the Queen of Revels's health. Let the toast be to youth and beauty!'

Simon had by this time picked himself up from the floor and was about to launch himself at his brother when a sharp word from his mother checked him. I wasn't close enough to hear what she said, but it was obvious that Dame Audrea was not prepared to parade the family disarray in public and could only sit out the hours until bedtime with the best grace she could muster. The same applied to Edward Micheldever, who was forced to look on as Rose, still shaken, but with her confidence beginning to return, spent the evening as the not-so-reluctant object of Anthony's attentions.

The mummers were better than I had expected, miming the stories of Abraham and Isaac, Cain and Abel with sufficient skill to capture the attention of an audience whose thoughts had every incentive to stray. (Even the Bath merchant and the King's messenger couldn't help but be intrigued by that other drama enacted on the dais, and had plainly been as agog with curiosity as the brothers from Glastonbury.) This was followed by a juggler who entertained us with a dexterity that kept at least seven or eight coloured balls in the air at once and drew gasps of admiration from the watchers, and the show concluded with a one-man band on his pipe and tabor while the rest of the company danced a vigorous
estampie
from eastern France. By which time, the hour was pretty well advanced, the evening shadows lengthening, the candles, cressets and wall torches flickering low in their holders. A few shreds of daylight still vied with the flames, but Dame Audrea stood up, took a determined leave of her visitors, passing them over to the care of her chamberlain and steward, and retired from the hall.

With her departure, there was a concerted movement as George Applegarth and Jonathan Slye ushered the guests to bed. The cook took charge of the mummers and led them away to the kitchen, while Edward Micheldever, with a face like a thunder-cloud, leapt on to the dais to reclaim his wife. At the same moment, Simon Bellknapp surprised his brother by stealing up behind him and locking an arm around Anthony's neck with such force that the older man's head cracked loudly against the back of his chair. His grip tightened as Anthony clawed at the strangling arm.

‘You bastard!' he shouted. ‘I'll kill you! Just see if I don't!'

I would have limped to Anthony's assistance, but was too slow. Several servers and the bailiff were ahead of me, Reginald Kilsby's burly form well to the fore as he tugged Simon's arm free of his brother's throat.

He hissed, ‘Don't be such a bloody fool! You can achieve nothing by this.' I had by now managed to scramble on to the dais myself, and was close enough to catch his following words uttered in almost a whisper. ‘Leave it to your mother and me.'

I doubted if anyone else had heard them. They were all making too much noise. Anthony was cursing and swearing and trying to get at his brother but being hampered by both Edward Micheldever and the chaplain, whose high, fluting voice was begging, ‘D-d-don't, Ma-Master Anthony. D-don't!'

Anthony's fury bubbled over. ‘D-don't?' he mimicked. ‘D-don't? You bleating old bellwether, let me go! At once, d'you hear me? That murderous little pimp just tried to kill me! I'm going to wring his neck before the hangman does it for him.'

The chaplain coloured painfully, but, to his credit, he refused to release his grip on Anthony's wrists, while the receiver tightened his hold on the upper arms. At this point, the steward and chamberlain returning to the hall, George Applegarth immediately took charge.

He nodded at Simon. ‘Go to your bedchamber, Master, and stay there. Your lady mother has had enough for one day, without you brawling with your brother all night. And the same goes for you, Master Anthony, and all the rest of you.' He turned to a stout woman with an imposing bunch of keys dangling from her belt, and who must, therefore, be the housekeeper. ‘Mistress Wychbold and I will lock up and see all safe. Now, go!'

Anthony, his good humour seemingly restored, burst out laughing and clapped the steward on the shoulder.

‘George! You're wasted as a mere household officer. You ought to be the one making sheep's eyes at my mother, angling to be her husband. You'd be of far more use and support to her than that great lummox over there.' And he waved a derogatory hand at Reginald Kilsby, who was standing with his arm about Simon's shoulders. ‘Oh, you needn't think I haven't noticed, Master Bailiff,' he mocked. ‘I'm neither a fool nor blind. I was watching you during supper and after. Well, let me tell you this!' There was an ugly gleam now in Anthony's eyes. ‘While I'm master at Croxcombe, I won't be having you for a stepfather, you can make up your mind to that.'

I saw the bailiff's free hand clench at his side, but he said nothing, merely urging Simon towards the door, muttering something in his ear. Anthony turned to me.

‘Master Chapman, if you're ready, our bed awaits. With your permission, I'll lead the way.'

With a sigh of relief, after a long day packed with incident, we both shed our clothes, pissed into the chamber-pot and rolled between clean sheets into the comfort of a goose-feather mattress. Anthony's servant, Humphrey, picked up our discarded garments, placing them tidily on the lid of a chest, pulled the bed-curtains and retired to a truckle-bed in one corner of the room. Silence and darkness enveloped us.

Until that moment, I would have sworn that I was too tired to utter a word, or even to prop my eyelids open. But, perversely, I was suddenly wide awake. I turned my head on the pillow and looked at the muffled form beside me. Anthony was lying on his back, and I could see the white of the eye nearest to me. He, too, was awake and staring at the bed canopy overhead.

‘Why are you doing it?' I asked. ‘Why are you set on antagonizing everyone?' When he didn't answer, I went on, ‘All right! I know it's not my business, but I'm the curious type. I should have thought you'd need all the goodwill you can muster.'

Again, it seemed as if he wasn't going to reply, and I was preparing to wriggle on to my side – my right, so as not to aggravate my injured left ankle – when my bedfellow gave a deep-throated chuckle.

‘Now, why should you think that? Surely the boot is on the other foot. Everyone at Croxcombe needs
my
goodwill. I'm the master here. They all have to dance to my tune, including my mother and brother. Besides, apart from George Applegarth, I don't have a liking for any of them.'