The Silent Touch of Shadows (22 page)

It wasn’t until she got back to the beginning of the seventeenth century, however, that the spelling
Presseille
appeared, startling Melissa no end when she recalled where she had last seen it.

‘Good God,’ she mumbled. ‘I should have seen that one coming.’

‘What’s that?’ Jenny came bustling over, having caught sight of Melissa’s expression.

‘Look here. This must mean the man who was executor of Sibell’s will could be related to Jake. Intriguing, don’t you think?’

Jenny considered the matter. ‘Yes, I suppose he could be, but you’ll have a hard time proving it. From 1460 to 1600 is quite a gap.’

‘I wonder why she appointed this Gilbert Presseille her executor?’ Melissa chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought. Could he have something to do with Roger?

‘Don’t read too much into it. I’m sure it was just a formality. You said the lady supposedly had no other relatives, and this man may have been an important neighbour or kinsman, so who else would she have asked?’

‘Yes, I guess you’re right.’ Swallowing her disappointment, Melissa was nevertheless extremely pleased with the information regarding Jake’s family. ‘Could we try to trace this Sir Gilbert, though? Let me see, I’m pretty sure the will mentioned where he was from.’ She riffled through her notes and found what she was looking for. ‘Yes, here it is – Sir Gilbert Presseille of Idenhurst. Any idea where that is?’

‘Nope, but I’ll check the computer database of all the really old manuscripts we have here. Some of them go back as far as the eighth century, isn’t that amazing? There may be some references to that place among the documents that aren’t on public display. Come on, in here.’ Jenny led the way into the back room where normally only archivists were allowed.

They found that Idenhurst had been a large property and it was mentioned in quite a few documents. Painstakingly they sifted through the material, discarding most of it as it was of a later date. It wasn’t until late in the afternoon they finally had a real breakthrough when Jenny unearthed an old manor court roll from Idenhurst.

‘Oh, brilliant, Jenny, just what we need.’

‘Yes, this should be interesting, as long as it’s not too damaged.’

Manor court rolls were records of the proceedings of manorial courts, which provided justice at a local level in medieval times. For a genealogist, they could be an absolute goldmine so Melissa was thrilled they’d found one. Among other things, they might give information about such issues as ownership and occupation of land, inheritance and enforcement of law and order. Held at regular intervals, usually with the lord of the manor in charge, these rolls were full of richly detailed accounts of the life of the local people.

‘I do hope they had a diligent clerk at Idenhurst, who didn’t miss anything out,’ Jenny muttered.

A manorial clerk was employed to write down everything the court decided, usually in a cursive court hand that was hard to decipher. Melissa and Jenny had both been trained to read this, however, so it wasn’t an obstacle. Neither was the fact that the records were written in abbreviated Latin, using many archaic terms. It was something they were used to.

‘Okay, careful now.’

Melissa didn’t need to be told. The old parchment roll was exceedingly fragile and she knew they had to take great care when unrolling it. Both of them wore soft gloves, so as not to harm the document further, but Melissa still held her breath a lot of the time, certain that it was going to crumble in her hands.

Thankfully most of it was legible and they worked on deciphering it together, delighted with all the details it contained. When they reached the late fifteenth century, Melissa couldn’t contain a gasp of delight.

They had hit the jackpot.

Chapter Sixteen

As always, Sibell attended Sunday mass with her father and brothers. The little church was full to overflowing and the lack of air made breathing difficult. Sibell brought her rose-scented handkerchief up to her nose surreptitiously, trying not to gag at the rank smell of too many people crammed into too small a space without ventilation.

There was a scuffle at the back of the church where the poorer members of the community had to stand throughout the service. For obvious reasons, a place near the wall was coveted and more often than not there were those who gained their places by the judicious use of sharp elbows. There was a continuous hum of noise as people coughed or sneezed and children were hushed by their elders. Babies wailed, regardless of the efforts made to quieten them. Sibell felt for the mothers as the priest turned a baleful eye in their direction.

The tiny stained-glass windows didn’t throw much light onto the congregation. Father Jacob had lit numerous tallow candles, which only added to the fug already created by wet clothes drying slowly in the warmth. Sibell glanced at the stone carvings that were the church’s only decorations and tried not to think about Roger. Unfortunately, she had thought of nothing else during the last week.

Since their first meeting in the walled garden he had come as often as he could without giving rise to suspicion. The garden had become their refuge and they found time to talk as well as share the magical kisses that made her dizzy with desire. He told her of his life as a knight and she confided her fears and tribulations, gaining strength and confidence from their conversations. He gave her hope for the future and when he was near she wasn’t afraid of anything.

She still found it hard to believe he could possibly love her, rather than all the beautiful ladies he had met on his travels, but he assured her it was so.

‘You are different, sweeting,’ he told her. ‘You don’t make sheep’s eyes at me and there is no artifice in your manner. You are everything I have ever wanted.’ His every caress made her feel special and whenever he wasn’t near she craved his touch.

Sibell sighed quietly. The images which came before her eyes every time she closed them refused to be repressed. Even in this holy place she couldn’t keep them at bay. The feel of his lips on hers, his hands caressing her and words of love whispered softly, lingered in her memory. A frisson meandered up her backbone, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. She shifted uncomfortably on the rock-like wood of the bench. If ever there was a penance for having inappropriate thoughts in church, then sitting like this was definitely it.

Roger was standing on the left hand side of the church, not far from where Lady Maude and Sir Gilbert were seated, and Sibell knew he was as aware of her presence as she was of his. She dared not look. As she risked a peek at her father, who was on her right, a shard of fear pierced her.
If he should ever find out
 
…
No, she wouldn’t think of such things. They would be careful.

The priest had chosen to preach of the Temptation of Jesus in the Wilderness from the gospel of Saint Matthew. Sibell almost broke into hysterical laughter at the aptness of his choice.
Temptation.
The word had taken on a whole new meaning for her lately. With great effort she controlled herself.

‘Practise in the light of Christ’s message,’ the priest urged them in a voice which promised retribution to all who didn’t follow his orders. ‘Overcome temptation. Battle it with all your might!’ Sibell felt the guilt stain her cheeks and she bowed her head. Even the Lord’s Prayer reproached her. ‘Lead us not into temptation, oh Lord
 
…’

But how could she possibly resist when she didn’t want to?

‘I reckon it was just pure luck. You’d never beat us a second time, knight. Fancy trying again?’

Roger was one of the last people to come out of church and the Ashleigh brothers must have been lying in wait for him. Three of them emerged from the shadows of the porch now and blocked his way. He drew in a calming breath, determined not to rise to their bait. There were still people about and they couldn’t do him any actual harm here.

‘Nothing to say for yourself today?’ The red-headed one sneered. Roger could never remember which brother was which, but he did know the biggest one, an ugly brute who hardly ever spoke, was Henry, the heir.

‘We can train together again any time you wish, gentlemen,’ he replied evenly. ‘But not, I think, on a Sunday.’

‘You’re just afraid we’ll beat you,’ the blonder brother said and spat on the ground. ‘And with Henry to back us up, we will. Won’t be no training bout, neither.’

‘Yes, don’t go wandering around after dark.’ The red-head chuckled, as if he found his threat hilarious. ‘Wouldn’t want you to be caught unawares, now would we?’

‘Simon, what are you about? Father is calling for us.’

Roger looked to his left, where a fourth brother came towards them. This one never spoke much either, but Roger had gathered it wasn’t because of a lack of wits, as was the case with Henry. He watched with interest as the other three scowled at their brother, but still sauntered away. They sent Roger menacing glares over their shoulders, which didn’t scare him.

‘Ignore them, Sir Roger, they’re young and foolish, or in the case of Henry, just foolish.’ To Roger’s surprise, the fourth brother had stayed behind and was staring after his siblings with narrowed eyes. ‘But have a care. I wouldn’t put it past them to try something underhand.’

With that comment, he too left, and Roger watched him go. The warning had been unnecessary, but he was pleased to find that Sibell had at least one relative with some brains and manners. A shame there weren’t more of them.

‘I can’t believe this, Jenny, we’ve got confirmation of a connection to Jake’s line.’ Melissa grinned at her friend, who was equally delighted.

‘Yes, incredible piece of luck. I can’t see any mention of that Gilbert fellow, though.’

‘Well, we’ve only gone back to 1495, perhaps he was dead by then. Let’s see, does it go any further?’

This was when their luck ran out, however. To their immense frustration, they discovered the innermost part of the roll appeared to be stuck together. Jenny tried to gently prise it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t dare force it.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s no good, I’m going to have to ask the conservation guys to take a look at it and see if there’s any way of opening it without ruining the writing. Aargh, this is so annoying! Just when it was getting interesting, too.’

Melissa giggled. ‘Any normal person would think us insane, getting so excited about an old document.’

‘Yes, but they have no idea how addictive this is. Better than any drug, if you ask me. Leave it with me and I’ll see what we can do. I’ll give you a call, all right?’

The minute she was outside the Record Office, Melissa called Jake on her mobile phone to report on her progress.

‘Jake? Hi, it’s Melissa Grantham. Do you have a minute? Good, listen, I have great news. I’m getting on really well with your family tree and I found a manor court roll today which is all about your ancestors. We can trace them back to the fifteenth century now. It’s an incredible piece of luck.’

‘You found a what?’ Jake said, sounding baffled.

‘Sorry, let me explain. Normally, it’s almost impossible to go back further than the beginning of the seventeenth century when putting together a family tree. That’s when baptisms began to be recorded in most churches, so before that it’s very hit and miss. Unless you’re of noble birth or your family has owned land for much longer, that is. What we found today was a record of a manorial court, which was held at some place called Idenhurst, apparently a large manor somewhere near Ashleigh. And it was owned by your ancestors.’

‘Really? That’s fascinating. So I should really be a lord, then?’ Melissa could hear the smile in Jake’s voice.

‘No, no. If there ever was a title, it passed along a different line to yours. You are descended from the lords of the manor, but I’m afraid you’re still plain mister. The manor itself seems to have been inherited by a daughter and her husband. But listen, the manorial roll mentions lots of names in the daily transactions recorded and that means I can go a lot further back. It’s very unusual and exciting.’

‘I see. Well, I’m very grateful for your hard work. Can we get together one evening so you can show me what you’ve found so far?’

Melissa shivered. Just hearing his voice was enough to make her feel strange again. She wasn’t at all sure she should meet him alone anywhere. Fiddling with her car keys, she hesitated, then told herself sternly not to be so stupid. She was meeting him in a professional capacity after all, nothing more.