The Guilt of Innocents (16 page)

‘He did. He asked for prayers. He’ll have them now.’

‘He said nothing else?’

The Riverwoman shook her head. ‘He had ale on his breath.’

‘So he might have been at a tavern this afternoon.’ Hempe nodded. ‘That is helpful. I am grateful.’ He was beginning to feel more comfortable. ‘Did you know Nigel?’

‘Magda never had cause to talk to him, though after some thought she put a name to him.’

‘Well then at least he wasn’t bedding with young women who needed your assistance to rid themselves of bastards,’ said Hempe.

‘Folk come to me for other reasons,’ the Riverwoman said, clearly angry.

‘Forgive me,’ Hempe quickly said, not wishing
to antagonise her. ‘I am certain they come to you for healing far more often –’

‘Magda is weary.’ She stretched her arms to the sides, her clothing shimmering in the darkness. ‘Magda bids thee good evening, now. She has much work to do on the morrow.’

Hempe gave her a little bow and wished her peaceful sleep, but that thought led him to thoughts of her lonely house. To Alfred he said, ‘The murderer might try to silence the Riverwoman, believing that Nigel betrayed him to her.’

Alfred cursed under his breath. ‘You want me to watch over her tonight, am I right, Hempe?’ He made it sound as if Hempe were sending him to his doom.

‘I’ll send someone to take the later guard,’ said Hempe.

‘Why not you?’

‘I do not know her. I sense that you do, at least a little.’

‘She’ll not be pleased,’ Alfred grumbled. He looked over at where she was preparing her coracle for the crossing. ‘But she’s a good woman and a friend to the captain and his lady. Perhaps I’ll earn grace for watching over her. God knows that many folk need her.’

Alfred turned and went to join her.

As Hempe was weighing whether to begin talking to taverners or Master Edward, the goldsmith, he heard a strange barking sound. Glancing
over his shoulder he guessed it was the Riverwoman laughing. He shivered and crossed himself.

A full belly and the warmth of the hall made Jasper drowsy, but the captain was counting on him to listen and remember, so he fought sleep, wanting to hear all that Sir Baldwin said. There was so much to remember – that was his challenge today. Yesterday’s challenge had been the ride; Jasper had not ridden far in a while, so his thighs had been burning by mid-morning. When he’d dismounted at midday his legs had wobbled for the first few steps and he’d been grateful that no one was looking his way. Today’s ride had not been easy either, but it had not been as bad as he’d feared this morning when he’d awakened so stiff he’d worried he’d be unable to stand. But he’d managed to stand, and walk, and mount, and after awhile he’d gone numb, for which he’d thanked God.

He had also been trusted to tell Hubert and his mother about Drogo’s murder. For a moment he’d been irritated that the captain had not warned him, but in the end he was proud to have done it. He would tell Alisoun how the captain had trusted him, indeed counted on him for a firsthand account. He wondered what she thought of his going off with the captain and his men. Edric could not boast of anything similar. He did not like to think of Alisoun and Edric together back in York, but he hoped that she was irritating him
by imagining aloud what Jasper was doing. He often wondered whether she knew she was voicing things people would prefer not to hear, or whether she had missed being taught that before her parents died. Sometimes she seemed surprised by people’s reactions to what she said, but sometimes she seemed to be expecting a reaction. Jasper’s mother had always shaken her head and put a finger to her lips when he was blurting out what he should have kept to himself, and it had become part of how he thought. He
sensed
now when she would be shaking her head, and he’d stop.

Alisoun. Jasper sighed through the knot in his shoulders. She was so smart, so pretty, and she had the singing voice of an angel. Strange how different it was from her speaking voice. But she wasn’t delicate like so many girls. She was strong, and that’s how she could be as skilled with the longbow as she was. She would have been fine on this journey.

When he’d heard he would be accompanying the captain Jasper had been excited, but he had not given much thought to the long ride, the wind, the snow, the mud, and then the strangers’ houses they would be entering, interrupting their lives, asking questions that could be embarrassing. He had in the past imagined the captain chasing down murderers and sitting in faraway taverns telling strangers about his days as captain of archers for the Duke of Lancaster, maybe singing one of his
sad Welsh songs while accompanying himself on a borrowed lute. But what Jasper had seen so far was nothing like what he’d imagined. He saw how much the captain disliked intruding on people to ask questions that made them uncomfortable. He could tell when the captain was reviewing the interrogations – there was a tension in his shoulders and his jaw, and his mouth twisted into a little snarl. Jasper found his father’s work decidedly unpleasant. He had felt unwelcome at Hubert’s home, despite Dame Ysenda’s courtesy, or maybe because of it. When she’d forgotten herself and spoken coldly to Hubert, who was very upset, Jasper had seen through her guise. She had been very careful about what she said and she’d seemed too pleasant in the circumstances, having been beaten by her husband and then deserted. Jasper was certain that both mother and son were hiding something.

Being in their house had brought back strong memories of his life with his mother after his father died. He had wanted to protect her. He’d loved her doubly for being his only parent. He had disliked her being out of his sight. He would have done anything for her, given his life for her. He could see that Hubert felt that way about his mother. But Ysenda was nothing like Jasper’s mother, who had been soft-spoken, gentle, always loving, and had a beauty that was less striking but more compelling, he thought. Hubert’s mother had a prettiness that made him uneasy somehow. As
if she would be trouble. Alisoun would be trouble, but in different ways – she chafed at the restrictions of being a girl, not at being loyal or honest. Sometimes she was a bit too honest. Maybe it wasn’t Ysenda’s prettiness, but something else.

Sir Baldwin seemed an honourable man with a heart. Jasper liked him. Right now he sat by the fire, the scarred knight who’d fought bravely for his king, with a beautiful, large black cat curled up on his lap, gently stroking it as he talked to his guests.

‘Did you learn what the lad had lost?’ he had just asked. ‘What this pilot had taken?’

When the captain described it, Sir Baldwin’s demeanour changed. ‘Where might Dame Ysenda –’ He gave the cat a pat on the bottom. Once the cat was down, Sir Baldwin headed towards the screened end of the hall, saying he wanted to check something, that they should all be at ease. Jasper leaned over to entice the cat his way, but straightened as Lady Gamyll joined them.

‘Where is my husband?’ she asked, looking round.

Her face was not pretty, but she moved and spoke with such grace that she seemed beautiful. Jasper would rather a woman like Lady Gamyll any day to one like Ysenda de Weston. He was glad that Sir Baldwin had such a wife.

After the captain explained Sir Baldwin’s absence, he said, ‘This is a beautiful hall. You must be proud of it.’

‘I shall be,’ she said with a shy smile. ‘I’ve only lived here for a few days, so it is still a little strange to me. I’ll feel more at home when my tapestries have been hung.’

‘You are newly wed?’ asked the captain.

Jasper thought that a bold question, but Lady Gamyll did not seem to mind.

‘We’ve been wed for almost a year, but my husband thought it was best I remained with my family until he completed his mission for the king.’ She kept her eyes lowered as she spoke. ‘I am blessed that God granted his safe return.’

As she spoke the last few words Sir Baldwin strode out from behind screens at the far end of the hall looking even more agitated than when he’d left.

‘The birthing cross is gone,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘I must ask Father Nicholas who last had it.’

‘Is there a problem, husband?’ asked Lady Gamyll. ‘Did you mention the birthing cross?’

He looked at her and his expression changed, lightened. He must love her, Jasper thought, pleased with that. The captain looked at Dame Lucie like that, as if being with her made everything all right, worth every struggle, every effort. Just as with Sir Baldwin’s scarred face, the captain’s would soften and the scars would fade a little.

‘Yes, my love – have you heard of it? I’m sure I’ve not thought to mention it – yet.’

Lady Gamyll blushed. ‘The servants mentioned it. They told me that when Father Nicholas sought it for a woman’s lying in they could not find it. I would have mentioned it, but I did not think you needed that worry just yet.’

Jasper guessed the cross was a charm against trouble in childbirth.

Sir Baldwin bowed to his wife. ‘That is most helpful. And now, my love, this is unpleasant business. I do not want you troubled with this.’

Lady Gamyll needed no more signal, but rose and excused herself, withdrawing in the direction in which Sir Baldwin had just come. Jasper was sorry for that, but excited that there was something troubling their host that he would speak of.

‘The cross the boy lost – I think it almost certain it was the one that belonged to my first wife.’ Sir Baldwin remained standing. ‘I cannot imagine where Ysenda might get something so like it. They have little wealth. Aubrey has no true skill for farming. He’s a fighting man, not good for much else.’

‘You called it a birthing cross,’ said the captain. ‘What is that?’

Sir Baldwin closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose as if it might help him think. ‘It was passed among the women of this parish as a charm for an easy childbirth. It was my first wife’s belief that it had helped her through difficult deliveries of our son and daughter, and she’d loaned it to our tenants’ wives, and then the
villagers, until it became custom.’ He dropped his hand and for a moment the soldierly posture sagged. ‘She felt so sure of its grace. Few believe with such ferocity as she did.’

Jasper could almost see the memories passing before the faraway eyes.

Sir Baldwin straightened. ‘Perhaps Ysenda was with child when we left, and lost the child while we were away? But she should have returned the cross then, or passed it on. You say the boy found it among her things?’

The captain nodded. ‘This complicates matters, that it is your property that Hubert lost.’

‘Probably
mine. Most likely. How did Ysenda react to his confession?’

Sir Baldwin grunted at the captain’s description of how she was first confused, then angry with her son.

‘She claimed Aubrey had given it to her before your departure,’ said the captain.

‘Unlikely.’ Baldwin took a few steps, as if he needed motion. ‘Were it anyone else –’ He curled his hands into fists and then, seeming to remember he wasn’t alone, he relaxed them. ‘This is most puzzling. I find myself annoyed, though I can imagine how it might happen, the lad sees a trinket, the purpose of which his mother would not have explained to him. The women of this parish will be unhappy about her carelessness, and they’ve no love for her as it is.’

‘Why is that?’ asked the captain.

Jasper was surprised by Rafe’s chuckling comment, ‘You’ve only to look at her, Captain. Pretty and willing. Teasing. Flirting with any man who comes along.’ He shook his head. It was the longest speech Jasper had ever heard him make. He was a quiet man, strong, not as quick as Gilbert. He usually let Gilbert do the talking.

The captain grinned. ‘Oh aye, I saw that. But why would the women dislike her?’

Everyone laughed at that, but it was short-lived laughter. Jasper thought that he’d been right to be uneasy in Ysenda’s presence.

The captain was already back to thinking through what had happened. ‘I would like to know how Dame Ysenda obtained the cross,’ he said, ‘and whether another woman had requested it and was told Ysenda had it. Well, it seems not since the priest had come for it. How long before the birth do they usually ask for the cross? The lad took it at harvest time, and you and Aubrey left when? In spring? Did Aubrey mention her being with child?’

‘We departed in late winter. No, he said nothing of a babe, and he would have.’

‘Seven, eight months,’ said the captain. ‘I suppose she might not have told him yet.’

Jasper was confused for a moment, then realised the captain was counting forward.

‘Your wife was not here while you were gone, but what of your son Osmund?’

Sir Baldwin’s expression became unreadable to
Jasper. ‘Yes, Osmund was here – in the sense that he’s ever here. But Father Nicholas would have come to the house for the cross. The women do not come on their own behalf. Modesty.’

‘I cannot think how the dead man would have heard of the cross, or known that young Hubert had it.’ The captain sat with his forearms on his knees, a faraway look in his eyes.

Sir Baldwin shook his head. ‘You said he was a bargeman and pilot. I never engage barges. For my wool shipments I have my steward use merchants in York. They know about those things.’

Jasper was still wondering what their host meant about Osmund. ‘Does your son conduct business?’ he wondered, then realised by the faces turned towards him that he’d said it aloud. ‘Forgive me.’