Whited Sepulchres (9 page)

He turned towards the stables. There were lights over there, and a party of armed men was already assembling, leading their horses out of the building, checking their harnesses and mounting. ‘What’s going on?’ Edwin asked.

‘It’s another patrol going out to search the area for those outlaws. They haven’t been caught yet and Sir Geoffrey is … well, he’s not pleased, let’s put it that way.’

They both stood as the men rode past them, mail jingling and the horses’ breath steaming in the early morning air. Then Adam touched Edwin’s arm in farewell and headed towards the stable, while Edwin walked up to the torchlit inner gatehouse. At least he could spare the boy the sight which was about to greet him. The night porter, yawning at the end of his shift, waved him through, and he crossed the ward, entered the hall and moved towards the service area at the back.

He had to push his way through a few curious onlookers, but two guards were keeping people away from the office itself. They parted to let him in, and he stepped inside.

Sir Geoffrey was striding up and down, but he stopped as Edwin entered. ‘You’re here. Good. What kept you?’

Edwin opened his mouth.

‘Well, never mind that, anyway. Tell me what you think.’ The knight gestured to the body on the floor. It was lying in the corner of the room furthest away from the door, which was why Edwin hadn’t seen it to start with. It was very dark in there, even with three of Sir Geoffrey’s men standing around holding spitting torches. Screwing up his eyes to avoid having to look at anything horrible, he edged his way over and looked down.

Well, there was no blood for a start, but there was a horrendous smell. Edwin opened his eyes properly and squinted in the poor light. Hamo was contorted and stiff, hands clawed, a grimace on his face, eyes open and staring. At first Edwin thought they were moving, and crossed himself to ward off evil, but it was just the reflection of the flames from the torches. He looked around. A stool was on its side near him. The smell was coming from the vomit which was all over the front of Hamo’s tunic and sprayed around him on the floor, and which was making Edwin start to feel queasy. It seemed fairly obvious that Hamo had eaten something which didn’t agree with him, especially given that the remains of a meal lay scattered on the floor, an upturned bowl and wine cup spreading their contents across the flagstones. Edwin tried to contain his bile as he crouched to get a closer look. Maybe if he concentrated on working out what had happened it would take his mind off his stomach.

Yes, Hamo would have sat down to eat, probably after everyone else had finished, as Edwin had suspected last night. He’d brought some food in here, sat down at the table where it was clear, and started. Something in it had choked him? But would he have retched up so much if that had happened? Wouldn’t it just have stuck in his throat? Edwin certainly wasn’t about to get that close to the body to have a look. No, more likely there was something in the food which had irritated his stomach, which was why he was sick. Perhaps he had delicate innards like some people did? Edwin didn’t know, but presumably that wouldn’t be too difficult to find out. That would be why it had only affected him and not anyone else who ate the dinner. Then he’d fallen off his stool, spilled his meal and writhed around, knocking the stool over. Edwin felt a small grain of relief. Perhaps this had just been an accident. That would be welcome. Well, he could just tell Sir Geoffrey – oh Lord, but what was that under the table? Oh no, no, no.

Edwin sat back on his heels, overcome as a wave of nausea and foreboding crashed over him. He’d been fooling himself, trying to deny the horrible truth. Nobody would writhe around and vomit like that in his death throes from natural causes, and the contorted form of the dead dog under the table seemed to confirm his suspicions. It must have died of the same cause as Hamo – it certainly hadn’t been there yesterday, as he would have noticed it himself when he’d had to crawl on the floor after his belt snapped. He looked up at the figure of Sir Geoffrey looming above him in silence and shadow.

‘I’m sorry, Sir Geoffrey, but I think Hamo has been poisoned.’

It wasn’t long afterwards that Edwin found himself following the striding knight up the steps of the keep. Dawn had broken, but inside the thick stone walls it was dark, and he tried to concentrate on watching his feet in the guttering torchlight lest he fall. He shuddered as another memory came over him, of a time he had ascended these same stairs to be met with a sight he didn’t want to think about, and he shook himself and tried to clamp his chattering teeth together before he came into the earl’s presence.

Sir Geoffrey made only the most perfunctory of knocks before sweeping into the earl’s chamber, and Edwin hesitated a moment on the threshold, sure that he didn’t have the same right to enter his lord’s room while he might still be abed. But the earl was up and dressed, Adam and Martin at his side, and he looked so grim that Edwin wanted to flee. But there was no escape, so he wiped his sweating palms on his tunic and went in.

‘Well?’ Martin had once told Edwin that the shorter their lord’s sentences, the worse his mood was likely to be, so that wasn’t a good start.

Edwin looked dumbly at Sir Geoffrey, who started for him. ‘As Adam has no doubt told you, my lord, your marshal, Hamo, is dead. I was hoping it might be natural, but Edwin here thinks he was murdered.’

The earl whipped round so fast that Edwin had no time to say anything before those slate-grey eyes were boring into him. ‘Is this true?’

Edwin wanted with all his heart to say that it had all been a mistake, Hamo had just choked and he was sorry, but there was nothing they could do about it, but he simply couldn’t lie to that face. Dear Lord, what would be his punishment for the sin of telling such a huge untruth to his lord and master? Not only in this life, but in the next?

‘Well? Speak, man!’

Edwin couldn’t stop his voice from quavering. ‘W-well, partly, my lord.’ The earl’s brows drew closer together and Edwin rushed to finish the rest of it. ‘W-what I mean to say, my lord, is that he might not have been murdered, but I do think he was poisoned.’ He was gabbling. Why did he feel this need to be so exact? Why couldn’t he just say yes or no? But –

‘Murdered, poisoned, what’s the difference?’ The earl began pacing across the chamber. Edwin noticed that both Martin and Adam were trying to make themselves unobtrusive, and he wished he could do the same. The earl let fly some colourful oaths, and Adam took a step back. ‘I don’t need this! Not today, not
now
!’

Sir Geoffrey was probably the bravest person Edwin knew, and he proved it now. He stepped forward and interrupted the earl’s rant. ‘But my lord, your duty – ’

‘Don’t lecture me on my duty, damn it!’ The earl’s voice rose in pitch and a candle was knocked flying off the table. Thank the Lord it wasn’t lit. Such was the intensity in the earl’s face that Edwin honestly thought he might strike the knight; Sir Geoffrey didn’t flinch, meeting his lord eye for eye. The earl stopped and locked his gaze on to the older man. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. ‘God’s blood, Geoffrey, did you do this to my father as well? All right, I know my duty.’ He turned again to Edwin. Fortunately Edwin was expecting it this time and he managed not to flinch. ‘This is inconvenient, to say the least, and I’ll be a laughing stock if it spoils the wedding and word of it gets out, but I will
not
tolerate such a crime on my lands, in my home. You will find out who has done this, and by God we’ll have him hanging at the crossroads before the week is out.’

Edwin gulped. ‘Yes, my lord.’

The earl looked him up and down. ‘You look like a cornered deer, man. Pull yourself together.’ He poked Edwin hard in the chest with one finger. ‘You’ve proved yourself before; you can do it again. Sir Geoffrey will give you any authority you need. You’re acting in my name and none will stop you. Now go.’ He jerked his head towards the door.

Edwin stumbled out of the room, then stopped to wait for Sir Geoffrey, who was following more sedately with his own instructions ringing out behind him. ‘Make sure my household still runs, or my sisters will never let me forget the shame.’

As the door closed behind them, Edwin’s knees sagged with relief. But there was no time to rest: Sir Geoffrey was already starting down the stairs. ‘Come, Edwin, we have much to do.’

Edwin hurried to keep up and slipped, grabbing at the wall to steady himself before scurrying after the old knight, who was continuing. ‘If you don’t need to look at him again, I’ll send some men to take him down to the church, and I’ll have Father Ignatius say a Mass for his soul.’ Edwin realised that he’d been so caught up in his own affairs that he hadn’t even thought to pray for the dead man, and he asked forgiveness for that even as he implored the Lord to take Hamo into His kingdom, even though he presumably couldn’t have been shriven of his sins before his death.

By the time he’d finished his prayer they were outside the keep. Sir Geoffrey was about to stride off when Edwin stopped him. ‘But who will run the household, as my lord wanted? Shall I go down to the village and have William fetched, even though he can’t walk? At least he knows what he’s doing.’

The knight stopped dead. ‘No.’

Edwin looked at him, not understanding the expression on his face. Sir Geoffrey sighed, his face looking even more lined than usual. ‘Work it out,’ he said and strode off.

Edwin thought through the implications, and felt cold.

Joanna awoke, savouring the few quiet moments in the cool of the morning before she had to rise from her bed and start the day. She prayed, as she always did, for the soul of her brother, whom she remembered with pain, and those of her parents, whom she could hardly remember at all. She added a brief request that her own life might be happy, and then she turned to more practical matters. She threw off her blanket, rose, dressed, tucked the truckle bed neatly away without waking her mistress, and then began to lay out the clothing and toiletries which Lady Isabelle would need. Today was Sunday, so she would want something becoming to wear to Mass. Yes, the russet-coloured linen gown over the light summer shift; no need for wool or for fur-lined sleeves in this weather, and the wimple with the decorative lace around the edge.

As she laid out the garments, the hair-comb, the polished mirror and some scent, she enjoyed the silence and hoped that the day would be a pleasant one. Last night there had been some family friction as everyone gathered together after the evening meal: the Lady Ela had complained that one of the dishes had tasted foul, and she had snipped at her husband when he tried to shush her. Then the Lord Henry had made some comment about his nephew Roger being old enough to be sent away as a page, as he was intending to do with his own son Pierre later in the year, and that had started another argument; even the lovely Lady Maud had been shouted at when she tried to intervene to calm everyone down. Still, that was families for you – the first few hours of being in one another’s company was fine, as everyone caught up on news, but after that the civilities became thinner as everyone remembered that they didn’t really like each other that much, and the enforced proximity became grating. Joanna wondered if married life was always like that. Of course, most people didn’t know each other well or even at all before they married, but there must be some who managed to find a degree of contentment. And there were sometimes a lucky few who had the fortune to be able to marry where their hearts led …

Isabelle was awake. Joanna realised that she’d been pushing the same bottle of rosewater around the table for some time, so she left it and went to help her mistress.

Once Isabelle was dressed she wanted something to break her fast; no formal meal was served early in the morning, but the kitchen was normally able to provide the earl’s sister with something sweet and light. Joanna opened the door of the chamber and called out for a servant, but the hallway and stairwell were strangely empty. She ventured further, to the outside door, but the inner ward of the castle also seemed devoid of people. How odd. But Isabelle wouldn’t want to be kept waiting, so Joanna called back that she would be but a short while, and set out across the yard towards the kitchen.