Hugh Corbett 15 - The Waxman Murders (20 page)

‘Master Wendover,’ he leaned across the table, ‘you are on oath so I’ll come quickly to the point. You are Lady Adelicia’s lover, the possible father of her child.’

Wendover glanced nervously about.

‘Yes or no!’ Ranulf bawled.

‘Yes!’ Wendover replied.

‘For how long?’ Corbett asked.

‘About a year in all.’

‘And you met at The Chequer of Hope tavern?’

‘Lady Adelicia was most insistent; you see, I have a chamber there. She came disguised, though I knew others saw us. I heard the tittle-tattle myself. Lady Adelicia didn’t seem to care, almost as if she wanted Sir Rauf to discover her indiscretions. Perhaps she was more in love with loving than with me.’ Wendover blinked and Corbett glimpsed the anxiety in the man’s face. His eyes were bloodshot, lower lip quivering. Wendover was highly nervous or else he’d been drinking, possibly both.

‘And that Thursday afternoon when Sir Rauf was murdered?’

‘It was as usual; she came with her maid, Berengaria—’

‘Ah yes,’ Corbett interrupted. ‘What happened to the maid when Lady Adelicia was closeted with you?’

‘She was left to her own devices. She was often sent on shopping errands so that when Lady Adelicia returned to Sir Rauf she could show what she’d been doing.’

‘And that was what happened on that particular day?’

‘Yes, yes. What Berengaria did and where she went . . .’ Wendover shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘And you, Captain Wendover, what did you do? I mean you dallied with your lady of plaisaunce, and afterwards . . . Did she leave first or you?’

‘I left first.’

‘Why?’

‘I had to go back to the Guildhall. I was becoming nervous.’

‘Or tired of Lady Adelicia? She was so importunate?’

‘I was becoming nervous, Sir Hugh. I left the chamber, she was sleeping.’

‘And you went back to the Guildhall?’

‘Yes, yes, I did.’

‘You have witnesses to that?’ Corbett asked.

Wendover shrugged and looked away.

‘But you could have gone to Sir Rauf’s house. I mean, he was a wealthy man.’

‘How could I!’ Wendover almost shouted. ‘I never went there. Adelicia had told me enough about Sir Rauf and his iron-bound coffers, his special locks, his chamber fortified like a strongroom. Why should I go there?’

‘To rob him?’

‘But he was never robbed. When Sir Walter went across later, I accompanied him. Sir Rauf was killed, but nothing was missing.’

‘Did you search?’

‘Yes, yes, we did, but nothing was disturbed.’

Corbett leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on its arms. He stroked the pommel of his sword on the table before him.

‘And before all this, Wendover? Before Sir Rauf and Lady Adelicia? Were you born in Canterbury?’

‘Yes, Sir Hugh, baptised at the font of St Mildred’s church. I was a foundling. I’m now past my thirty-fifth summer. I’ve been a soldier most of my life.’

‘You have been Castledene’s man?’

‘Oh yes, Sir Hugh, always his faithful retainer.’

‘You were with him on board ship when
The Segreant
and
The Caltrop
trapped
The Waxman
and its crew?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘What happened?’

‘As you say, we trapped that pirate against the Essex coast, Sir Walter and the Hanse ship. How, I don’t know, but I heard the chatter. How Paulents had suborned Blackstock’s lieutenant, a man called Stonecrop. He gave Sir Walter the times and seasons . . . but you’d best ask him.’

‘And when the ship was captured?’

‘Blackstock refused to surrender. We had royal archers aboard, Welsh longbowmen; they shot him down. Sir Walter later had Blackstock’s corpse stripped and hung by the neck from the poop.’

‘And Stonecrop?’

‘Sir Walter showed him little mercy. He may have been a traitor but he was still a pirate. Sir Walter had him thrown overboard. Most reckoned he’d die in the freezing, turbulent seas. I later heard rumours that he may have reached land, but he never reappeared in Canterbury.’ He shrugged. ‘At least to my knowledge.’

‘Sir Walter trapped
The Waxman
for a reason, didn’t he? He was searching for a particular document.’

Wendover pulled a face, slouching on the stool, shoulders hunched. ‘I don’t know, Sir Hugh. There was chatter about a manuscript kept in a coffer. After the ship was taken, Sir Walter and Paulents were beside themselves when they could not find it. They scoured that ship from prow to stern. It was all in vain. Sir Walter was very angry.’

‘And afterwards?’

‘We rounded the Colvasse peninsula and sailed up the River Orwell, where we berthed for a while. Sir Walter was searching for Blackstock’s half-brother Hubert, but there was no sign of him; never has been either.’

Corbett let his hands fall away from his face and leaned across the table. ‘And Maubisson? You were in charge of the city guard. Your instructions were to guard that manor carefully, and yet four people, visitors to this kingdom, indeed the King’s own guests, were brutally murdered. No, no, don’t gossip about suicide.’ Corbett half laughed. ‘They were killed, hanged! How, Wendover?’

‘I don’t know,’ the captain replied wearily. ‘I’ve thought about it time and time again. We knew Sir Walter’s visitors were coming. Maubisson was prepared, stores laid in. I searched every chamber. We ringed that manor house. The foreigners arrived, looking tired. I had a few words with them. They went into the manor house, and locked and barred the doors and shutters. I circled the house with my men; the rest you know. Until we knocked at that door and demanded entrance, we saw, we heard, we glimpsed nothing untoward. Sir Hugh, I truly don’t know what happened.’

‘And Servinus?’

Wendover sighed. ‘A tall man, no hair, I remember that, dressed in black leather like . . .’ he flicked his fingers towards Ranulf, ‘a professional swordsman, a former mercenary. He had a harsh face, with heavy-lidded eyes.’

‘He was well armed?’

‘Oh yes, he had a war belt. When I saw him enter the house, he also carried an arbalest. I would reckon he’d be a difficult man to kill.’

‘But he has now disappeared?’

‘Sir Hugh,’ Wendover leaned over pleadingly, joining his hands together, ‘nobody left Maubisson that night, I assure you!’

‘Yet afterwards?’ Corbett declared. ‘I mean, when the doors were forced and the corpses found, surely there was chaos and commotion; someone could have escaped?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Wendover replied. ‘We were vigilant yet nobody noticed anything. Sir Hugh, I know you’ve been round Maubisson. Did you see any footprints, any sign of a shutter being prised or a door being forced?’

Corbett didn’t reply, but stared at a point behind Wendover’s head.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ he said eventually.

Wendover remained seated.

‘I said thank you,’ Corbett repeated.

‘Sir Hugh,’ Wendover begged, ‘the Lady Adelicia . . .’

‘I don’t know,’ Corbett replied. ‘That is a matter for you and her to talk about. For the moment she is still the King’s prisoner, as you too could well be, Master Wendover.’

Chapter 9

Aspice quam breve sit quod vivimus
.
How short a while we live.

Marbord of Rennes

Berengaria was next to be sworn. She seemed unabashed by the proceedings and quickly mouthed the words of the oath administered by a still nervous Parson Warfeld. She sat all demure, hands in her lap, eyes bright with excitement, as if she’d been invited to some Yuletide mummery. She quickly explained how she was a parish child, placed in service, and about eighteen months previously had entered into the service of Lady Adelicia, who had been a most gracious mistress. How on the day Sir Rauf had been killed she and Lady Adelicia had visited the stalls in Canterbury. As she chattered on, Corbett let his hand fall with a crash against the table. Berengaria jumped, startled, then forced a sweet smile, hunching her shoulders, fingers pushing tendrils of hair from her face.

‘How old are you?’

‘Oh, seventeen, eighteen summers, Sir Hugh,’ came the gushing reply.

Corbett turned to Ranulf. ‘Do you think she’ll hang?’

‘Oh undoubtedly, she has reached the age.’

‘Hang?’ Berengaria’s voice turned to a screech; her smile had now faded. ‘Hanged, Sir Hugh, I’ve done—’

‘You’ve committed perjury.’ Corbett leaned across the table, pushing the candelabra closer as if to examine her face more carefully. ‘You’re a liar, Berengaria. I can see that in your eyes. You’re certainly a perjurer. We know that Lady Adelicia visited Captain Wendover in his chamber at The Chequer of Hope. I believe,’ Corbett laughed, ‘half of Canterbury knows that! And you, little Berengaria, sent here and thither to buy this and buy that? I don’t think so. According to a witness, on those afternoons Lady Adelicia visited Canterbury and was closeted with her lover, you sometimes went back to Sir Rauf’s house. Why? Did you go back that afternoon?’ Again Corbett’s hand fell with a crash. ‘You’re on oath, wench, this is not some parlour game. You either tell the truth, hang or be pressed to death!’

Berengaria, face all pale, would have jumped off the stool, but Ranulf half rose so she settled herself quickly, staring bleakly at Corbett, who suppressed any pity at the terror he’d caused. This young woman knew more than she’d confessed. They were not here in this gloomy hall to listen to her lies. He had been attacked and threatened, his friend Griskin had been killed; why should he show compassion to her?

‘Very good, Berengaria. On the afternoon Sir Rauf was killed, did you go back to Sweetmead Manor? Did you come here?’

Berengaria nodded.

‘Why? Tell me the truth.’

Berengaria closed her eyes and put her head down. ‘I knew matters between Sir Rauf and Lady Adelicia were not good, but Sir Rauf had his needs. One day I met him in the garden beyond. He told me what he wanted the Lady Adelicia to do in his bedchamber and how she had refused. He offered me a piece of silver, and later that day I visited him in his chancery chamber.’

‘And what happened?’ Corbett asked, hiding his surprise that this young, comely maid could make such a confession.

Berengaria raised her head. ‘You are not poor, Sir Hugh. You don’t know what it’s like to be a beggar, to be sent hither and thither. Sir Rauf was kind – at least to me. I would kneel before him and render his need.’

‘And the Lady Adelicia didn’t know?’

‘Oh no! Not her! Not the lady of the manor!’ Berengaria’s voice was rich with malice.

‘Did Sir Rauf know what Lady Adelicia was doing? He did, didn’t he? You told him.’

‘Yes, he did.’ Now Berengaria sounded calm and calculating. ‘He once told me that he would go to the church courts and have his marriage annulled. He said he had talked about that to Parson Warfeld. How it hadn’t been properly consummated. Sir Rauf promised that if I bore witness and told the court exactly what Lady Adelicia had done, who knows who might be his next wife? So when Lady Adelicia went into Canterbury, she thought I would go amongst the stalls, visit this merchant shop or that, or dawdle in a church. Sometimes I didn’t. I’d immediately hasten back to Sir Rauf and tell him exactly what had happened and administer to his needs. He’d pay me a coin, stroke my hair and tell me to wait, to be patient.’

‘And Lady Adelicia knew nothing of your betrayal?’

‘Betrayal, Sir Hugh? What did I owe her? Sir Rauf paid me. He had put a roof over my head. He looked after me and promised he would do so in the future.’

‘So Sir Rauf was going to apply to the archbishop’s court for an annulment?’

‘Yes, Sir Hugh. The marriage had not been properly consummated. Lady Adelicia refused Sir Rauf’s advances.’

Corbett stared in astonishment at this young woman, marble-hard eyes in a set, determined face. He realised the mistake he had made. Berengaria was highly intelligent, a born intriguer, a plotter.

‘And the afternoon Sir Rauf was murdered?’

‘I went back,’ Berengaria replied. ‘I came through the main gate and up the path, slipping through the trees. Sir Rauf often arranged to leave the front door open, off the latch, unlocked and unbarred. We were never disturbed. Lechlade was always drunk. We would hear him singing or shouting to himself. That day, though, both the front door and the one at the rear were locked and secured. I knocked but there was no reply. I realised something was wrong but I couldn’t stay too long so I hastened back. I visited a stall in the Mercery and bought some ribbons and a little thread my mistress had asked for. I later met her, as planned, at the Butter Cross. When we arrived back at Sweetmead, we found . . .’ For the first time ever Berengaria showed some genuine emotion. ‘We found Sir Rauf had been murdered.’

‘Do you think,’ Ranulf asked, ‘Lady Adelicia could have also secretly returned home and done such a mischief?’

Berengaria narrowed her eyes. ‘I thought of that,’ she replied in a half-whisper. ‘She wanted him dead, but no, I don’t think she had the time, the strength or the will. She’s squeamish. If she’d wanted someone killed, she would have hired that oaf of a lover, Wendover, to do it for her.’