Whited Sepulchres (10 page)

As she passed the entrance to the great hall she became aware of a crowd inside. As she stopped to look she spotted Adam leaving the building, and beckoned him over. As he came closer she could see that he looked greensick.

‘Are you all right?’

He swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes, mistress.’

She smiled. ‘I’ve told you before, now that we’re in the same household you can call me Joanna. Do you know what’s going on in there?’

Adam looked even more sick. ‘It’s not good news, Mist – I mean, Joanna.’

It’s not good news
. He couldn’t have known that those were the exact words which had been spoken to her on the day she had been informed of her brother’s death; an icy hand stole around her heart and began to squeeze. She opened her mouth to question further, but no words could come out. It was then that the crowd spilled out of the door and parted, and four men stepped out carrying a shrouded figure on a stretcher. Dear Lord … but no, it couldn’t be him, the body wasn’t big enough. Surely it wasn’t him.

She managed to speak. ‘Who …?’

‘It’s Hamo, the marshal.’

Joanna’s knees started to buckle, but she caught herself and realised it was unworthy to feel such relief when a man was dead. She tried to gather her wits.

‘How did it happen? Did he fall? Or have a seizure?’

Adam shook his head. ‘It was something he’d eaten. We all wondered if it was just mischance, but Edwin thinks he was poisoned.’

Dear Lord. Another murder. Had the Lord not visited enough strife and worry on them in the last few weeks? But at least this time Martin would be well out of it – there could be no reason for him to become involved in any danger. She hurried to the kitchen to fetch some wafers, sure that the Lady Isabelle would want to hear the news, but sure also that her mistress wouldn’t let it spoil her breakfast.

Up in the earl’s chamber, Martin was trying his best powers of persuasion.

‘Please, my lord.’

The earl gave him a smile which Martin recognised as tolerant but edging towards impatient. ‘No, Martin. There’s simply no need for you to get involved in something which will no doubt turn out to be a household matter.’

‘But my lord – ’

‘I said no. No doubt this will turn out to be something very mundane – Hamo has obviously upset someone and they’ve decided to take revenge, albeit in a cowardly, underhand way. I’m angry that this should have happened under my roof, but I won’t let it get in the way of more important matters.’

‘But – ’

‘Enough!’ The smile had disappeared completely. Martin wasn’t stupid.

‘Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord.’

The earl sighed. ‘Good. Now, let’s hear no more about it. I can’t and won’t release you from your duties while there’s so much to do.’ He took a few paces and became more cheerful again. ‘Besides, that Weaver’s a clever young fellow and he’ll no doubt sort it all out without needing armed help.’

Martin had to agree with that. Why would Edwin need help from someone as unintelligent as him? It wasn’t as though brute force would be necessary. He was better off sticking to what he was best at.

The earl had moved on. ‘Now, go and fetch my new clerk for me. He and I have much to catch up on, and I have matters of importance to attend to.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ Martin left the room.

Edwin knelt on the floor of the church and prayed. He was surrounded by the other villagers, some also praying, some staring into space, and some ignoring the priest altogether and chatting among themselves. As it wasn’t a feast day there was no requirement to participate in the Mass or partake of Holy Communion, only to listen; however, as most of the villagers understood no Latin, and Father Ignatius was in any case gabbling even more than usual, there wasn’t exactly an air of peace or spirituality about the place. Edwin
did
understand the words being spoken, but he was praying for guidance more than anything else, some help with the task which had been laid upon him. But he couldn’t concentrate with Godleva kneeling so close, almost leaning in to him, so he gave up and went back to worrying. As he’d walked from the castle back down to the village, he’d realised that he didn’t have the slightest clue how to go about finding out who had killed Hamo, and in his heart of hearts he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, for it would almost certainly be someone he knew.

Edwin escaped from Godleva as soon as Mass was finished, wishing he could get away from everything else as well. But he needed to get started. He tried to speak with Father Ignatius, who might know something more about Hamo or where he came from, but the priest barely had time to mention that he had to go up to the castle to say a private Mass in the chapel for the earl and his family before he was puffing his way up the hill with Edwin watching him go.

‘Edwin. Are you all right? I wondered what had happened to you when you left so suddenly this morning.’

Edwin turned and smiled at his mother, who was arm-in-arm with her sister. ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t good – there’s been a death up at the castle.’ He outlined some bare facts, unsure of how much to say, but certain that news of Hamo’s death would have reached the village by now anyway. In fact four men were approaching the church now, carrying a covered form. The villagers stepped back to allow them to pass, the men removing their hats as the body was carried into the church and laid down.

Cecily crossed herself. ‘You must come, Edwin, and tell William the news. He was in a foul temper when he returned yesterday, swearing terribly at the men who carried him in, and I couldn’t get out of him what had happened. If Hamo is dead, he’ll want to hear it from you, not from village gossip and jangling.’

Edwin felt trapped. He’d known that he would have to go and talk to William sometime soon, but he had been hoping to spend a bit more time in thought first, to consider how best to approach the conversation. He needed a delaying tactic.

‘I’ll come directly, aunt, but first I hope you’ll allow me to pray at my father’s grave for a few moments.’

‘Oh – yes, of course.’

Edwin’s mother smiled at him wanly. ‘I’d come with you, Edwin, but I have a feeling you’ll want to speak to your father in peace. I’ll go with Cecily now and you can come along when you’re ready.’ She squeezed his arm and started to shepherd her sister away.

Grateful for her tact, Edwin bent to kiss her cheek and then turned to walk through the churchyard until he found the place where his father was buried. In the weeks since his death some grass had started to inch back over the grave, but it was still mostly bare soil, a livid scar which would one day fade back into the earth, as the memories of the dead man would fade. Edwin started to kneel, but then just lowered himself to sit heavily on the ground, looking at the simple wooden cross which marked where his father’s head lay.

‘What shall I do, Father?’ Edwin realised that he’d spoken out loud and that the one or two other people in the graveyard were looking at him strangely. He nodded at them before bending his head and crossing himself, hoping they’d go away and leave him to himself. The last thing he needed would be to find himself accused of heresy and communing with spirits. He clasped his hands together and kept his thoughts inside his head. He still couldn’t quite believe that the rock of his life, the fount of knowledge and comfort, was no more, and he often still spoke to him as though he expected a reply. But his father had gone to his everlasting rest and would never answer him. Still, Edwin knew that he had been shriven just before his death, so that his path through purgatory would be short. No doubt he was or would soon be in heaven, looking down upon those he loved. Edwin sat in peace, remembering, until he felt he had gathered the strength that he needed in order to obey the earl’s orders and find the culprit.

On the way out of the churchyard he passed the boy Peter coming in, and he recalled that Peter’s entire family was buried there. Aware that the little lad had lost even more than he had, he stopped to greet him and ask how he was. Peter flinched and looked initially as though he would run, and Edwin remembered guiltily the way the boy had once been treated by the villagers after he was orphaned and forced to beg and steal his food. But Peter puffed out his chest and spoke in a voice which only shook a little, saying he was happy serving his new lord, even as he looked past at the graveyard. Edwin patted him on the head, seeing the tears welling up in his eyes, and left him to cry in peace.

He sighed as he crossed the village green towards William’s house. How should he approach this? ‘Hello William, did you murder Hamo after you threatened him yesterday?’ wasn’t exactly going to go down well, was it? It took only a few moments to reach his destination, but he almost balked when he reached the door. Was there anything more important he should be doing …? Could he possibly …? But William would be expecting him, and anyway, Cecily had seen him and was already beckoning him in.

He was surprised to find William in the cottage’s main room. He was propped awkwardly on a stool, his back against the wall and one elbow on the table, his legs stretched out in front of him.

‘Ha! Didn’t expect to see me out of bed, I’ll wager, but I’d had enough of lying there like a cripple.’ He pointed to a pair of roughly hewn crutches which lay on the floor beside him. ‘I won’t be running races any time soon, but at least I can stand upright as a man should and get myself in here to eat.’

His face was belligerent, and Edwin didn’t know where to start.

William picked up one of the crutches and used it to shove another stool towards Edwin. ‘But anyway, sit. Tell me of this death. Someone finally had enough of the little weasel, did they, and stove his head in?’

Edwin looked at him sharply before lowering himself on to the seat. He explained that he thought Hamo had been poisoned, watching his uncle’s face carefully all the while. But he just wasn’t very
good
at reading people’s thoughts and emotions, and he couldn’t tell whether William was surprised or whether he was simply a good dissembler. But honestly, how could he think that William would be guilty of murder? How could he suspect someone so close to him? It was disloyal just to be considering the possibility. But then again …

He had missed some of what William was saying.

‘Sorry?’

William sighed. ‘Can you not hear me? I said, never mind about Hamo, who’s serving my lord? Someone is going to have to make sure that things keep running up there. I had best …’ he started to reach for his crutches, as though he would haul himself up and drag himself to the castle straight away.

It was time to release the arrow. ‘You can’t.’

William stopped. ‘Why not?’

‘Because Sir Geoffrey says not.’ Edwin looked at the floor.

William was balanced precariously, one crutch under his arm. ‘Why in the Lord’s name would he say not?’

Edwin sat in silence, not daring to raise his head.

The crutch gave way and William collapsed back on to his stool. He sat in stunned silence.

After a few moments he whispered. ‘Sir Geoffrey thinks …?’ He looked so lost that Edwin could hardly bear to meet his eyes as he nodded.

William lapsed into silence again. Edwin didn’t know what to say.

‘But how could he think that? How could he?’ Edwin was about to interrupt, but he didn’t get the chance as William’s voice rose angrily. ‘How could anyone think that of me? Dear Lord, I could cheerfully have killed him many a time, but how could anyone think I’d be cowardly enough to use poison? God’s blood, if I’d wanted to murder him I’d have walked straight up to him and wrung his scrawny neck!’ He thumped his crutch on the floor and leant forward. ‘I will
not
have my name smirched like that. You and I are going to find out who did this, by God, and we are going to bring him to justice so that all men know I am innocent. We’ll crack every head in the village if we need to.’ He sat back.

Oh dear, thought Edwin.

Edwin was in need of some peace and quiet. There were too many things in his head at once, and he couldn’t concentrate on them here, not in William’s house with his anger almost lifting the roof. He mumbled something about needing to attend the earl, and hurried out of the door. William’s voice followed him, still shouting about the injustice, and Edwin thanked the Lord, somewhat guiltily, that he couldn’t follow. The sound died away behind him as he strode up the hill to the castle and through the outer ward, crinkling his nose against the stench from the moat, which was even worse than it normally was in this hot weather. The day porter waved him through the inner gate, and he climbed the steps up to the curtain wall and sat in his favourite embrasure. Up here the air was fresher, free from the smells of tightly packed humanity, and he could look down on the busy world and think.