The Cross Legged Knight (41 page)

‘Lucie, I pray you,’ Emma said, ‘tell them what fools we have been.’

John straightened as his mother shifted on the bench. The boy’s face was swollen, not only from his tears but from what appeared to be a broken nose, a bloody cloth pressed to it and one eye already darkening. John lifted his chin to slow the bleeding and gulped air, then held it, trying to quiet hiccups.

‘Edgar, see that Tom and Paul shut the shop and wait for my husband to return,’ Emma said. A corner of her starched wimple was bloodstained where the boy had rested his head.

Owen crouched down by Lucie as Edgar escorted the clerks towards the shop.

‘Are John and Matthew the only wounded?’

‘I have some bruises, I am sure, as I am certain Emma and Edgar do.’

Owen touched a bloodstain on the bandage round her hand. ‘Did you open the wound?’

‘No. I used my hand too much, but the blood is Matthew’s, not mine.’

Hempe had settled on a bench nearby. ‘Mistress Wilton, I pray you, speak up so that I might hear your account.’

‘Why is he here?’ Emma asked Owen.

‘It was plain to him that something was afoot, so he joined me,’ Owen said, trying to ignore his feelings. ‘You must begin with Emma’s identification of the strap,’ he said to Lucie, ‘or the bailiff will not understand what this is about.’

Lucie began as requested.

Hempe listened without comment, and when the tale was complete he said only, ‘I see.’

Owen regarded Matthew, organizing the questions not yet answered. The one uppermost in his mind he asked first. ‘What made you return to the house today?’

Matthew closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall, as if too weary to speak. His upper lip was swollen. But without opening his eyes, he said in a voice just above a mumble, ‘I watched my lady as we walked to the palace, her chin up, her eyes set on the unpleasant matter ahead, swallowing her pride to protect her family from more gossip. And I felt ashamed.’ He drew up his knees, wrapped his good arm round them. ‘I came back for some letters. Ones in the hand of the bishop’s clerk, Guy. The ones acknowledging to my lady the receipt of the ransom money. The bishop has only to see the amounts on the letters to realize that they do not agree with the copies he holds in Winchester. I am certain of it.’

Owen was sorry Hempe had heard this, but the man was determined to learn all.

‘May I see them?’ Owen asked.

‘They are in my trunk.’ Matthew drew out a key.

‘There is no need for that,’ said Emma. ‘Here they are.’ She handed Owen a pair of documents bearing royal chancery seals.

‘What?’ Matthew sat forward, looking from Emma to Lucie, his colour rising. ‘What right had you to search my trunk? And to remove those?’

‘What right had I?’ Emma raised her voice in disbelief. ‘They concern my father’s ransom. What of you? What are you doing with them among your personal belongings?’

‘I am steward.’

‘And what of the tunic you sold to a dubber? The one you wore the night of the fire?’

Matthew pressed his hands to his head, his elbows to his thighs, and sat very still.

‘He may be innocent,’ Lucie whispered to Owen.

At present that was not a comforting possibility. For
if Matthew was not guilty, Guy was, and he would be desperate to escape.

‘Matthew is expected at the palace,’ Owen said to Hempe. ‘I propose we escort him there.’

Now Matthew looked up. A bruise was developing beneath one eye. Little John had done much harm. ‘My lady does await me there.’ He rose with a groan, holding his wounded arm close to him.

Lucie helped him into his torn sleeve.

‘I should like to come,’ she said to Owen.

Owen could see from the smudges beneath her eyes and the way she moved that she was exhausted. ‘I will not have you walk into the middle of even a remote danger of attack.’

‘You will send word of what has happened?’ Lucie asked.

‘To both you and Emma, I swear. Have you the strength for the walk home?’

‘I shall rest here a while, then go.’

Lady Pagnell had tired of waiting for her steward and begun the negotiation by proposing two of the properties to Wykeham, who had quietly said that was out of the question.

‘Alain and Guy considered the offerings with their customary care, My Lady, and each one is of equal value to the piece of land your husband forfeited. Your part in the decision is to choose which one your neighbour would prefer. I thought that had been explained.’

Thoresby would usually enjoy such combat, but he was uneasy about Owen’s disappearance and the Pagnell steward’s absence. Guy had been brought in discreetly, although Stephen Pagnell had not missed the guards on either side, and Thoresby’s nod that they might return to their posts. It did not seem as if peace
would settle on the palace this evening, as he had hoped. Perhaps it would have been just as well to begin with Guy’s confession to his forgery and embezzlement. Thoresby found himself watching the son more than the mother. Stephen stared at Wykeham with such intensity that Thoresby expected him to lunge at the bishop at any moment.

Lady Pagnell’s voice startled him. ‘This property, then, and that’s an end to it.’ She shoved a deed across to Wykeham.

The bishop sat back with the document in hand, nodding solemnly. Alain whispered something to him. Guy had been silent throughout the proceedings. Thoresby could not guess what he was feeling, but when Wykeham handed Alain the document to copy and present to Lady Pagnell before she left, Guy’s expression was clear – pure and simple jealousy. But he said nothing and dropped his head before most at the table caught the flash of emotion. Alain excused himself and retired to complete the transaction.

Lady Pagnell began to rise.

‘There is another matter of business,’ Wykeham said.

‘I said that was an end to it.’ Lady Pagnell motioned for the servant who stood behind her.

‘Lady Pagnell, it is about the discrepancy in Sir Ranulf’s ransom money.’

She turned back towards Wykeham, her face white. She looked ill. ‘What?’

‘I trust you will be pleased to hear that we have uncovered an embezzler who forged documents regarding your husband’s ransom.’

Lady Pagnell swayed and Thoresby feared she might faint. But she propped her hands on the table and hissed, ‘Will you stop at nothing to deny your guilt in my husband’s death?’

‘I do nothing of the kind, Lady Pagnell. We have him in custody,’ Wykeham began.

There was a commotion at the door, and suddenly Owen, Hempe, and Matthew entered the hall.

Lady Pagnell sank down in her chair.

‘You have come in your own time, Matthew,’ Stephen said, using all the power in his voice, which was considerable for a man of his stature.

Thoresby’s eyesight was unimpaired regarding distances and he noted at once the steward’s torn sleeve, his head wound, the thick lip.

As Owen brought him forward, the others rose, no doubt as relieved as Thoresby to shake off the tension in the room, and exclaimed about the steward’s condition.

‘Have these men laid hands on you?’ Lady Pagnell cried. She had regained some of her colour.

‘No, My Lady,’ Matthew said, his words oddly shaped, his voice rasping, which was not as Thoresby remembered his speech at Sir Ranulf’s funeral. ‘Your grandson sought to punish me for my transgressions.’

‘What?’

‘Might he be seated?’ Owen asked. ‘He is none too steady on his feet.’

Michaelo showed Matthew to his seat beside Lady Pagnell, who called her servant over to see to him.

As Thoresby resumed his seat and the others followed, he noted that Guy was last to settle, glancing round the room with a wild look in his eyes. Thoresby caught Owen observing the clerk as well. Their eyes met and Owen gave him a nod so slight that Thoresby wondered whether he had imagined it. But he whispered to Michaelo that all doors should be well secured against anyone attempting to flee. Michaelo slipped away to spread the word among the guards,
Hempe and Stephen Pagnell straining to observe his circuit round the hall.

‘Are we to be enlightened as to the cause of the boy’s attack?’ Wykeham asked.

‘As to the immediate cause, it might be best left to another time, My Lord Bishop,’ Owen said. ‘But Matthew has come to take his place in this negotiation and to explain his part in the recent fire at your house.’

Lady Pagnell turned in her seat to study her trusted steward. He cradled his wounded arm against his torso and kept his eyes on the table edge before him, avoiding the curious stares set on him from all angles.

‘We did not wait for you. We have settled on the land,’ said Lady Pagnell. ‘The clerk is copying the deed. What is this about, Matthew? Were you involved in that tragedy?’

‘If I might begin before the event,’ Matthew said. ‘On the morning of that day.’

‘Can’t this wait?’ Stephen demanded. He looked at Wykeham. ‘You spoke of my father’s ransom.’

‘This is part of the tale,’ Owen said.

Stephen sat back. ‘Go on.’

Matthew nodded. ‘My Lords, My Lady.’

Thoresby motioned to a servant, ordered honey water for Matthew. He would not speak long with such a hoarseness.

‘As I examined the deeds to the properties you have just discussed, I noticed changes in one of them. Several numbers and other items concerning the rents had been scratched out and redone, and in several cases it was quite clear from the spacing that what had gone before had been of a different length. One might have been evidence merely of a scribal error, but three numbers and other items of rent were clearly evidence of intentional changes. I examined the deed in different
lights. The changes had been made with great care. But the lettering was not precisely the same. In fact, it looked familiar. I checked the letters regarding my lord’s ransoms, and there I saw the same hand. So I went to Guy.’

‘I have told them all this,’ Guy said.

‘I have not heard it,’ Lady Pagnell said coldly.

‘I pray you, let him speak,’ Thoresby said.

‘I told Guy I knew something he would rather keep quiet. He told me to meet him in the undercroft, that the bishop kept a coffer there from which he would pay me well.’

‘I trusted you!’ Lady Pagnell exclaimed.

‘My Lady, I meant to present you with the letters, the deed and the money as proof of the man’s guilt,’ Matthew said.

‘You fool,’ said Stephen Pagnell. ‘He would have taken the deed.’

‘But a woman appeared at the door as we were counting the coins,’ Matthew continued.

‘She did,’ Guy interrupted, ‘and it was plain he feared she had heard him bragging of his importance in the Pagnell household, of how it was but a matter of time before he won the widow. Her appearance put everything he had worked for in jeopardy.’

‘What do you mean, “won the widow”?’ Lady Pagnell murmured.

‘I did fear that, I will not deny it.’ Matthew raised his battered head. ‘But then I realized she was not paying attention to me, she was looking at him.’

‘That is not true,’ Guy said.

‘She said she had not known he was in York. He said he had not known she still abided here.’

‘I did not even know her,’ Guy protested.

‘She asked about his sister. I felt a great anger in him
and fear in her, and I was afraid. I grabbed the documents, but he already had one of the straps in his hand and was moving towards her. I should have intervened, but the sounds coming from him – he was raving. God help me, I ran.’

‘Ran right for her,’ Guy interrupted. ‘He was desperate to silence her …’

‘Quiet!’ Thoresby roared. ‘You have told your version of the night, let Matthew tell his.’

‘The documents were unwieldy with but one strap, they began to fan out and one rolled out. In turning to catch it –’ Matthew stopped, looking at all the eyes trained on him. ‘Tell me that she was dead before the fire, tell me I was not responsible.’ His face was covered with sweat, the blood seeping again from the wound on his forehead. He looked a demon.

‘You knocked over the lamp,’ Owen said.

‘Even then I did not stop.’ Matthew gave a strangled sob. ‘Even hearing the struggle. I turned – but seeing his wildness I kept running.’ Tears coursed down his cheeks.

Owen turned to Guy. ‘Why did you take the time to place the strap just so, centred on her throat, crushing it? Was she not already dead?’

Guy was watching Matthew, not Owen. ‘You set the fire to kill me.’

‘Was she already dead when you placed the buckle over her throat and pressed, Guy?’ Owen asked again, hoping to trick him into a confession.

Now Guy turned to him. ‘Why do you believe his word over mine? My lord bishop will vouch for me.’

‘God help me if I ever trust you again,’ Wykeham said in a choked voice.

‘Matthew, why did you do it?’ Lady Pagnell asked. ‘You had only to ask for all you needed.’

Matthew turned away from them, heaving with sobs. ‘The money was not for me. I sought to prove his guilt.’

‘Easily said,’ Stephen muttered.