The Gallows Curse (24 page)

    She
half clambered back out of the boat. 'Where are they taking me?'

    The
men in the boat exchanged grins, but Raffaele ignored them, pushing Elena
gently back in.

    'To a
friend of mine at Norwich, Mother Margot. She'll take you into her house. No
one will think to look for you there.'

    Elena
breathed out in relief. Mother Margot, she would be the prioress of a nunnery. The
boatman was right, she would be safe there. No one could search a nunnery,
could they? She had always been a little afraid of nuns with their austere
habits and even grimmer expressions, but if they could save her from Osborn and
the noose
....
she glanced up at the rising sun and shuddered. If
Raffaele hadn't rescued her, by now she would already be strangling on a rope.
Her fingers massaged her throat.

    'Master
Raffaele, I'll work, do anything. I'll repay the money somehow.' She touched
his hand and gazed up at him with a grateful smile.

    Far
from being pleased, his expression suddenly changed to one of anger. 'I don't
care about the money, but I told you that first day I brought you to Lady Anne
that if you needed a friend you were to come to me. You should have told me
about the child. I would have helped you. It didn't need to come to this. We
are bound to each other, you and I. You should have trusted me, Elena.'

    'But
you have helped me more than I could ask. I —'

    The
boatman suddenly jerked upright. 'Horses coming this way, moving fast.' Before
Elena realized what was happening the boatman had pushed her down flat in the
bottom of the boat and was pulling a heavy, evil-smelling sail cloth over her.

    'I'll
come to you soon, Elena,' Raffaele whispered.

    The
men grunted as they dug their sculls into the water. Elena felt the craft
inching slowly into the centre of the river. For a moment or two it hung there,
then the boat gathered pace and slid quietly away into the dawn.

    Walter
was not at his post in the manor gatehouse when Raffe squelched into the
courtyard, and as soon as he caught sight of the group of men standing beneath
the undercroft, he knew why. He hesitated, trying to decide what stance he
should adopt. Anger? Surprise? But he didn't get the chance to resolve anything
for at that moment Osborn spotted him.

    'Aah,
here is Master Raffaele now. Perhaps he might shed some light on this matter.'
He stared down at Raffe's sodden, muddy clothes. 'Have you been taking a bath,
Master Raffaele? In the town it is customary to remove your clothes and use
clean water, but perhaps you are more accustomed to bathing with the pigs in
Gastmere. Or have you been doing more to those hapless sows than simply
wallowing with them?'

    It
was a measure of the tension in the courtyard that no one laughed.

    Raffe
ignored the barb. 'I was searching the ditches for the thief, in case he was
hiding from the hounds there. So, have you caught the rogue?'

    Osborn
took a pace forward, his ash-grey eyes narrowing as he searched Raffe's face.
Raffe returned his stare without flinching.

    'The
girl that was to be hanged,' Osborn said dangerously quietly. 'She appears to
have vanished. The bailiff swears he locked her in the neck iron, removed the
ladder from the pit and fastened the grid above her. He says you were witness
to this.'

    Raffe
glanced over at the bailiff's frightened face. 'It is as he says, and then we
went to the kitchens together for a mug of ale.'

    'If
that is so,' Osborn said, 'someone came during the night and released her. She
could not have escaped from the iron or that pit unaided. But if it was in the
night, how did she get out of the courtyard without our faithful watchman
hearing her?'

    It
was Walter's turn to look fearful, as well he might. A watchman who allows a
prisoner to walk unchallenged through his gates could hardly expect to escape
without punishment.

    Walter
twisted his hood nervously in his hand. 'Girl must have slipped out when I
opened the gates for the men to give chase to the thief. I swear not a flea
could have escaped afore that, 'cause my hounds —'

    'Ah
yes, this mysterious vanishing thief who appears to have stolen . . . what was
it? Ah yes, precisely nothing. It was you who raised the alarm, was it not,
Master Raffaele? What exactly did you see?'

    Raffe
didn't hesitate. This much he had already rehearsed in his head. 'I saw someone
coming round the back of the kitchen, but his face was in shadows. At first I
thought him to be a servant, but as soon as he saw me, he ran for the gate, so
I knew it was someone with no business at the manor. But it wasn't the girl, of
that I'm certain, the figure was too tall and broad for that.'

    And
what made you think —' Osborn began, but he was interrupted by shrieks and
bellows from the track outside.

    Several
of the manor's burlier servants tumbled through the open gate. They were
dragging a man and a woman between them, but they were having difficulty
holding the man, who was wriggling like an eel.

    
Raffe's
heart gave a sickening lurch.
Blessed Holy Virgin, let it not be Elena or
the boatman.

    But
as the servants gave the man a violent shove forwards, Raffe saw that their
prisoner was Athan who, despite his hands being lashed behind him, was putting
up a furious struggle.

    The
two servants behind were having an easier time of it, for their captive was
putting up no resistance at all. Cecily, Elena's mother, was shuffling meekly
between them, her head hanging so low it seemed that if they released her she
would instantly burrow into the earth and hide from the shame of it all. But
neither Athan nor Cecily was responsible for the noise. All the shrieks and
wails were emanating from a third figure, Athan's mother, Joan, who was
scurrying behind the servants and taking every opportunity to slap, bite and
kick the men holding her son.

    Osborn
gestured to the ground and the two prisoners were forced to their knees in the
muck of the courtyard. It had the effect of immediately silencing everyone,
even Joan, who stood fish-eyed behind the group, her fists pressed to her
mouth, gazing at Osborn.

    He
took his time, pacing back and forth in front of Athan and Cecily, staring hard
into their faces until both were visibly trembling. Finally he spoke.

    'Elena
has run away from the manor. As villeins I trust

    I
need not remind you how serious an offence that is in itself, but if that were
not bad enough, she is a convicted murderer and under sentence of death.'

    Osborn
continued to pace back and forth between Athan and Cecily. As you well know,
anyone,
anyone
who assists a convicted felon to escape
puts themselves under the same sentence as the prisoner they try to aid.
Nevertheless, last night someone was foolish enough to help a murderer escape
justice.'

    As if
his words were a child's counting game, on the word
justice
Osborn
halted abruptly in front of Athan and, without warning, seized a handful of the
kneeling man's hair, yanking his head upwards. You, as the girl's lover, are
the obvious suspect.'

    Athan's
normally rosy face was ashen. 'On my life I swear I didn't, my lord. Remember
.. . remember it was us, me and my mam, who told you that Elena had done away
with my son. What cause would I have to rescue her?'

    Osborn
pulled Athan's head back so far, Raffe thought he might snap the lad's neck.
'Don't tell me what I remember as if I'm in my dotage, boy. What I remember is
that you told me nothing at all. It was your mother who did all the talking
yesterday. You were besotted with this girl.
I'll always love you
,
wasn't
that what you swore —'

    Joan
could contain herself no longer. 'My lad thought that harlot as wicked as I
did. It was his own dear bairn that evil woman murdered. Poor lad's beside
himself with grief. It's as certain as a stone wall to a blind man that he'd
not lift a finger to help that murdering slut. Besides,' she added with an
angry lift of her chin, 'he was at home with me all night, never left the
cottage till daybreak.'

    Osborn
snorted. You can't really imagine that I would take the word of a doting mother
as proof of her son's whereabouts? You'd no doubt swear your son could spin
straw into gold, if you thought it to his advantage.' But despite his words,
Osborn let Athan's head drop.

    He
took a pace towards Cecily, standing so close to the kneeling woman that his
crotch was pushing into her face.

    'I
take it you are the girl's mother. It was you, was it not, who screamed when
sentence was pronounced yesterday, the only villager who raised any protest to
her hanging? A mother would do anything to save her own daughter, wouldn't
she?'

    Cecily
raised a tearstained face. 'I couldn't believe my own bairn . . . my own flesh
and blood would do such a wicked thing. I'd . . . heard her speak of this . . .
dream, same as Joan, but it's well known pregnant women are often tormented in
their sleep by demons who are jealous of the babes they carry. I never thought
she'd really . . .'

    'So
you helped her escape,' Osborn said quietly. 'That was foolish, extremely
foolish, but then all women are fools for their children.'

    'I
didn't, my lord. I swear I didn't!' Cecily wailed. 'No woman wants to see her
own bairn hang, but what could I have done to prevent it? Even if I'd had the
courage to help her, how would I have got the key to unlock the pit or her
irons?'

    There
was an instant buzzing among the servants. Osborn held up his hands for
silence.

    'Your
daughter admitted that she was in the habit of consulting a cunning woman.
Doubtless you did the same and managed to release your daughter by witchcraft.'

    Cecily
moaned and swayed as if she was about to faint. 'No, no!'

    Raffe,
with a sick feeling of dread, knew exactly where this line of questioning could
end. Desperate to stop it, he broke in.

    'M'lord,
the cunning women have gone from the village. Wasn't it their very absence that
helped to convict the girl in the first place? So where would Cecily have got
help to conjure such a powerful sorcery that would have made locks fly open
without a key?'

    Osborn
took a step back from the sobbing woman; the expression on his coarse features
was one approaching triumph.

    'So,
Master Raffaele, you are minded to pit wits with me, are you? If you are so
certain that this is not witchcraft, then we must resume our search for mortal
hands. So tell me this, who obtained the key to release the girl? Consider your
answer carefully, Master Raffaele. For I promise you there shall be a hanging
today, if not of the girl, then of her accomplice.'

    Raffe
swallowed hard, realizing too late what he'd said. He stared into those mocking
grey eyes, trying to discover if Osborn already knew the truth and this whole
exercise had just been a mummers' play designed to display Osborn's power and
his own humiliation.

    Raffe
had never lied in his life to avoid just punishment, but to let Osborn hang him
like a pickpocket, to have Osborn's laughter be the last thing he ever heard —
he would not submit to that. And what of Elena? Osborn would surely try to extract
her whereabouts from him before he hanged him. Raffe could bear pain better
than most men — over the years he'd learned that the mind could force the body
to fight almost anything — but Osborn was capable of inflicting hurt far beyond
the imagination of most men.

    Raffe,
acutely conscious that Osborn was waiting, opened his mouth without the
faintest idea what he intended to say, but before he could say anything, a
voice behind him interrupted.

    'I
released the girl, Lord Osborn.'

    Raffe
spun round to see Lady Anne, composed but pale, her hands clasped across her
stomach. 'I believed your sentence to be unjust. I know all the families of
this manor — for years they were in my care and charge. Elena was my personal
maid for a short time and I could not stand by and see her punished for
something I am certain she did not do.'

    For a
moment Osborn just gaped at her, the colour rising in his face. "Your
maid?' Osborn crossed towards her in three swift strides, thrusting his bearded
face into hers. Your son is no longer master here, I am, and by God, I will
teach you what that means.'