‘But we have to – we have proof of who murdered the squire’s son!’
Chapter Thirty
Simon gave a distracted ‘tut’ when he was told that there were two boys outside to see him. He was about to snap at the obsequious old farmer that he had better things to do than act as nursemaid to a pair of children, when Baldwin put his hand on the bailiff’s arm. Something in the farmer’s anxious features made him think that this was important.
‘Hugh, go with this man and take the lads into the buttery. No doubt Wat is there. Leave them in his tender care, and we’ll see them later, once we’ve heard what the priest has to say for himself.’
Hugh finished his pot of wine and slouched through the door. It was only a short time later that Edgar returned, the sorry-looking priest behind him.
‘Sir Baldwin? I understand you wish to see me.’
‘Not I alone, I am afraid, Brother Stephen,’ he said quietly.
Anney leaped to her feet. ‘Sodomite! Murderer! I accuse you-’
‘Anney, if you can’t hold your tongue, you’ll have to leave the hall!’ Simon felt his anger rising. ‘Let me remind you that this man is a priest, and that this is not a court. Even if it were, only an ecclesiastical one could charge Stephen. You have no right to pursue him, and I have no power to convict him.’
Stephen listened with every sign of bewilderment. On entering he had walked straight to a chair, and now stood in front of it, his face registering astonishment. He stared, first at Anney, then at Simon and Baldwin. ‘I don’t understand, Bailiff – what is this? I thought there was a need for my help, but you say I have been accused of something?’
‘Of the murder of your charge – of Herbert of Throwleigh,’ Baldwin intoned solemnly.
Stephen dropped heavily into his chair. ‘Is… is this a joke? I can’t believe anyone would accuse me of something so heinous as murder.’
Baldwin was studying him closely. The sudden collapse looked very contrived, and the man’s expression did not carry the same conviction as Anney’s.
He shot her a look. She was glaring furiously at the priest, her look as venomous as a viper’s bite. The knight did not understand why she should loathe the man so much, but then reflected that for her, the only person in her life who amounted to anything was her son, and if Stephen had often beaten him, and that unfairly, she might well harbour a grudge. Then again, if she seriously believed that he was a perverted man, who might prey on children to satisfy his sexual proclivity, would it be any surprise that she would wish to see him ruined, destroyed as utterly as she thought he had destroyed young Herbert?
Simon was speaking again.
‘We have heard quite a lot about the day that Herbert died, Stephen. Witnesses state that you were seen up near the stream. Many saw you there, and several saw you attacking Anney’s boy, and Anney herself says she saw you chasing after Herbert and trying to thrash him. She says you murdered Herbert – did you?’
Stephen sat up on his seat. As the bailiff had said, he was safe here. There was no court which had jurisdiction over him other than a correctly constituted church one. Stephen glanced at Anney and allowed a little of his contempt to show. ‘No, of course not. The woman’s deranged.’
‘Me! I’ll-’
She would have rushed at him, had not Edgar stepped forward and blocked her path. The priest shook his head sadly.
‘Bailiff, this woman has been deluded for many months now – in fact, I believe she has been thus ever since her first boy died. He drowned in the old well in the yard, you know. What with that and the discovery that her husband was no more than a lascivious fellow who would swear marriage vows to any woman whose bed he wanted to invade… well, you will comprehend why this poor woman has a fixation about all men, not just me.’
‘That’s a lie!’
‘All I can say is, I didn’t kill my young master Herbert – why on earth should I? And as for the other, er, wild allegations… well, I am prepared to forgive them. She clearly doesn’t realise what she is saying.’
All this was said so coolly that Simon almost thanked him. But then he recalled the other evidence. ‘So you say you didn’t see him up there?’
Before the priest could respond, Baldwin rested his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in the palm of his hand and gazing at the cleric with a distracted air. ‘Stephen, we have heard that you grabbed this woman’s son, Alan. Why was that?’
‘Why?’ Too late, Stephen realised that he should have instantly denied seeing Alan. He shrugged. ‘He was up there spying on me. I get bored with the boys constantly following me everywhere. It becomes thoroughly tedious after a while, and when I found him doing it again, I sought to convince him that continuing to do so would only result in pain for him.’
‘So you caught him and beat him?’ i tried to, yes. But the boy twisted away, and escaped.‘
‘And you chased after him?’
Stephen assented.
‘What did you do then, Brother Stephen?’
‘I… I went to the stream to sit and contemplate. I like it up there, it’s peaceful and pleasant.’
‘What about Petronilla?’ asked Baldwin.
‘She spoke to me for a few minutes before I went to the stream, but please don’t ask me what about – it was a matter of the confessional, you understand.’
Simon nodded. He knew as well as anyone that the secrecy of the confessional could not be breached. ‘And she left you?’
‘Yes.’
‘A little later you were seen chasing after and catching Herbert. Why?’
Stephen’s face hardened. ‘The little devil fired a stone at me. It hurt. I dare to suggest that if someone had done such a thing to you, Bailiff, you too would have tried to punish the perpetrator.’
‘Quite possibly. But I wouldn’t have killed him.’
‘Do you suggest that I did?’
Baldwin spoke softly. ‘Tell us what happened.’
‘He shot me. I got up and couldn’t see anyone, but I heard a rustling and laughter, and chased off towards it. When I got there, Herbert jumped to his feet and ran away. I am fairly fleet of foot, but he was too fast for me.’
‘What then?’
‘Then?’ Stephen blinked, unsure what additional evidence the knight needed. ‘Why, I returned to the stream.’
‘What had you lost there?’
Stephen froze, but then licked his lips and gave a feeble smile. ‘What makes you think I had lost anything?’
‘We saw you searching on the day it rained. You had gone back to seek something, and were looking most assiduously under bushes, so I assume that whatever it was must have been valuable.’
‘No, it was merely a small trifle, nothing much.’
‘You mean to tell me that you went back there a few days later and started fumbling all over the place on your hands and knees trying to find an insignificant trifle? What would you have done for something valuable?’
‘I do not think I need to remain here to be harangued,’ said Stephen with dignity. ‘If that is all, I…’
‘It was not that you were searching for a shoe, Brother?’
Stephen paled, and his voice dropped to a hushed whisper. ‘No!’
‘You are lying: you were looking for a shoe. On the day Herbert died you had been struck by a pebble and took off after your attacker, and as you pelted after him, your shoe fell off. You caught the boy, struck him in your rage and fury, and went back to find your shoe without realising how severely you had hit Herbert. Later, when you decided to return home and passed by the same place, you found the boy’s body…’
