On his face was fixed a broad smile of sheer delight while he snored softly, the empty pot rolling gently beside him.
At the sight, Petronilla sank down on a stool, her hand resting gently on her belly, and a small smile played at her mouth as she wondered what her child would look like at Wat’s age.
It was then that she heard the low whistle. There at the doorway stood Nicholas, and Petronilla felt her previous good humour dissolve.
‘Maid, I am sorry if I upset you earlier,’ he said. I didn’t realise you’d be offended.‘
‘How would you expect a woman to feel?’
Nicholas gave a self-deprecating simper. ‘It didn’t occur to me that-’
‘That I’d care!’ she hissed.
It was no good. He could see that nothing he could say would alter her feelings towards him. He had tried to soothe her, mainly, it had to be said, so that he could attempt to win her over, for she was very comely. But now he became irritated in his own right. He was here at great risk to himself, and that reflection made him impatient. ‘Well, why don’t we agree on a compromise?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I could give you a penny for the night?’ he asked hopefully, and then ran before the pot could hit his head.
Baldwin was not in the best of moods when the sodden trio arrived back at the manor. He stood a moment in the screens, arms held out at either side, watching the water stream from his sleeves, and gave a sigh of sheer frustration. It was not unknown for the weather to change suddenly for the worse, even in Crediton and Cadbury, but to have got so sodden so quickly was vile.
Rather than attempting to dry his clothing before the fire in the hall, Simon had hurried off to fetch a dry tunic and hose, while the priest went to his chapel for a clean robe. Baldwin copied them, donning a clean linen shirt and tunic – one his wife had made just before their wedding. Glancing at his sword-belt, he buckled it on once more, but his training took over, and he pulled the blade from its scabbard to check its condition before leaving the room. The rain-guard had worked well, the leather disc between hilt and blade preventing water from seeping into the scabbard and rusting the beautiful blue steel. He nodded happily, wiped it with an oiled cloth, and thrust it back in its sheath.
With his hair dried on a towel and combed straight, his new sword a comforting weight on his hip, and wearing a fresh tunic with richly embroidered neck and sleeves, he felt more like a knight again and less like an impoverished peasant.
When he entered the hall, his wife and Margaret were still sitting by the fire with Lady Katharine, all of them plying their needles. Jeanne smiled at him, but as he bent to kiss her, she noticed his thumb. ‘My love, what have you done?’
‘I fell and broke my thumbnail – nothing more.’
Lady Katharine raised her face, bleared and miserable from weeping, but still with that strength of character showing in her piercing grey eyes. ‘You should be more careful, Sir Baldwin,’ she said quietly. ‘The moors are treacherous.’
‘I learned that much today, Lady,’ Baldwin said with an ironic smile.
His wife looked serious. She had lived at Liddinstone, a manor owned by the Abbot of Tavistock, and was only too well aware of how dangerous the moors could be. Her husband was no fool, and could protect himself against outlaws, but that was no guarantee that he would be equally secure against the elements. She was about to say so, when Simon entered. He walked over to Baldwin, a frown distorting his features.
‘Thomas has arrested the farmer.’
Only a few minutes after the two men had hurried out, James van Relenghes and his guard came in.
Godfrey walked to the side of the fireplace and leaned against the wall. To Margaret he was the picture of cool self-possession. His composure was almost unnatural. He glanced at her, gave a brief smile, but then his attention flew to the door as he heard steps. Seeing Petronilla, he appeared to relax; his shoulders dropped and he slouched comfortably, as though, since there was no immediate threat to his master, he could afford to be at rest.
James didn’t notice how wary his servant was on his behalf. Godfrey was being paid: he should be loyal, and that was an end to the matter. The Fleming strolled languidly to the fire, looking at the ladies’ needlework as he passed, and complimenting Lady Katharine on hers, praising the fineness of her stitches, and taking a seat nearby where he could watch her. Unfortunately, his words had the opposite impact to that which he wished. She shuddered and called for her maidservant to fetch wine, rolling up her work and setting it on the floor at her side, composedly resting both hands in her lap, trying to hide the turmoil she felt.
She hadn’t wished to hear the two men in the yard, but it had been almost impossible to miss their shouting match through her open window, and now everything van Relenghes said to her felt wrong, somehow – false. On the face of it, his words had appeared reasonable enough, for he had been a friend of her husband’s, and yet… even that simple fact seemed odd now. Squire Roger had told his stories about fighting in France and Wales so often, Katharine felt she knew most of them by heart, and he had never once spoken of a Sir James van Relenghes. If she had been a young maiden, she might have thought, as Thomas clearly did, that the Fleming was courting her, and yet there was no hint of true affection in his manner, more a calculation.
But there was no point in his attempting to win her. If she had been a wealthy widow, one with lands or an enormous dowry, there could have been logic to it, but as matters stood, surely there was nothing she possessed which he could desire.
She daringly glanced in his direction, and felt her heart lurch as she saw his face light as if with love.
It made her feel physically sick.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Well, what of it?’ Thomas demanded. I am lord of my own manor, you know!‘ He was walking up and down in the yard, and with every word he spoke, his fists clenched, as if expecting the knight to try to attack him.
Baldwin was surprised by his truculence but held up a hand soothingly. ‘Thomas, I am not disputing your right. All I asked was, has he confessed to anything?’
‘No, but I have spoken to his neighbours, and they are all agreed that he is an habitual criminal. He’s been suspected of stealing food and chickens before now. He has a common fame in the vill.’
‘It is a large leap from that to murder, surely?’
‘Oh, these villeins stop at nothing. This one in particular is known to be lazy and a drunk – and beats his wife regularly. It could hardly be anybody else.’
Simon avoided Baldwin’s eye as the knight gave an exasperated ‘Pah!’ of contempt. The bailiff knew how his friend felt about such statements. It was a simple fact that members of a village would often find a man guilty if he had been described as ‘common’ or ‘notorious’ in the indictment. If they had the slightest doubt as to the man’s true honesty and integrity, they would convict him because otherwise they would all be held responsible for the supposed thief’s good behaviour; if they had a shred of doubt as to whether he was guilty or not, this threat, of having a massive fine imposed should the man later get arrested for another crime, often made them find their neighbour guilty just so as not to run that risk!
However, instead of exploding, the knight merely said, ‘Did anyone see him return to the village on the afternoon Herbert died?’
Thomas blinked, and for a moment stopped his restless pacing. ‘How should I know? What a question! Who cares whether anyone saw him? He was on the road and killed the boy – that’s all we need to know.’
‘I suggest you ask people in the village whether they recall seeing him, and if they did, what was the state of his hose,’ said Baldwin imperturbably.
‘His hose?’ Thomas gaped.
‘If he walked up through all those ferns and furze, he’d have got his legs soaked, wouldn’t he? It would be the final proof you need.’
Thomas gave him a cold look. First the damned Fleming, now this man telling him how to run his own affairs!
