William’s face wore a deep frown of displeasure, and he drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Speak!” he commanded Agnes. Then, he rested his chin on his hand and stared at Agnes through narrowed eyes. The crowd fell silent in anticipation.
Eleanor watched William’s expression. ‘Twas almost as if William did not want Agnes to speak. Why? Wouldn’t he not want to solve this poaching, and if he could do so by clearing Osbert’s name and finding out what Agnes knew, why would he not want to do so?
Agnes turned to William. “Sire, Osbert spoke to me often of the poaching, and I know—I swear it by my father’s soul that is dead—he was not the culprit. When last we—we were together—”
Agnes paused and blushed, and people in the crowd whispered. A few snickers reached Eleanor’s ears and she tightened her mouth. Poor Agnes, what she was giving up for this!
“When we were—together last night, he told me that he was lying in wait for the poachers early this morn, for he had heard where they were to meet in the Strathcombe chase. He wanted to arrest them and bring them to the assize, to prove Lady Eleanor’s trust in him was not misplaced.”
Eleanor could not help looking over at Hugh, and to her consternation, their glances locked for a long moment. His blue eyes were riveted on her, but his expression was unreadable, and she felt her cheeks flame. Was he thinking of their embrace? A shudder of remembrance ran through her. She dropped her gaze, took a breath, and turned again to watch Agnes.
“And who were these poachers?” William asked, an edge in his voice.
Agnes hung her head. “Sire, I do not know, but I know they were not of Strathcombe, for Osbert told me not to fear for his life because of any of his own foresters. Osbert said the Strathcombe foresters were true, as was he.” She dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her apron.
“Hah!” William exclaimed. He stood up and addressed the crowd. “Interesting tale, Agnes,” he snorted. “It remains to be seen how we shall weigh the word of a servant against that of a chief forester. We shall reconvene this assize after our meal. Then, Lord Hugh,” he said, bowing to Hugh with a sardonic expression on his face, “shall have the opportunity to question whom he wishes. Unfortunately, he cannot question the dead.” Without another word, William gestured to the knights standing behind him, and they followed him up the stairs and into the Great Hall.
Eleanor turned and squeezed Agnes’s hand in a gesture of comfort. “You spoke well, Agnes,” she said. Agnes, tears staining her face, nodded mutely and curtseyed.
“I thank you, Milady,” she said, “but I know not how it will be received.”
Muttering and shuffling their feet, people moved around the bailey, sitting on the ground or lounging against the castle walls, and taking out their bread and salted meat and jugs of ale, ready to wait for the next session of the assize. To her dismay, Eleanor saw clusters of men and some women, engaged in deep conversation, throwing glances toward her and Hugh every now and then.
What did they think of the argument that had just happened? Had they seen anything in the glances Eleanor and Hugh had exchanged—or sensed the tension that crackled in the air between them? Did they think she and Hugh were…that they had…Eleanor caught her breath. Nay, they could not—should not think thus! She turned to follow William up the steps into her Great Hall.
“Lady Eleanor!” Hugh said at her right elbow. Eleanor started. How had he managed to approach her unawares? She lifted her chin, prepared for a battle.
“Yes?” she answered, in as chilly a tone as she could muster.
“I am most curious. Who do you think is responsible for Osbert’s death?” Hugh asked, keeping pace with her as she ascended the steps, her gown rustling on the stone stairs.
“What does it matter to you?” Eleanor asked, eyes flashing with anger. “You were ready to arrest him and were certain he himself was one of the criminals.” All the emotions of the past few hours swirled around in her brain. A sudden thought struck her, and she halted in mid-step. Turning to face him, she asked, “William says you could be the murderer. Are you responsible for his death?” Words tumbled from her mouth, before she could stop them. “Is that why you had him slain—because he was about to arrest your own men? Was my lord William correct in his evil accusations that you are behind the poachings? Or, did you have Osbert murdered because you were certain it was he who was conspiring—and you thought to bypass the assize and take matters into your own hands?”
Fury filled Hugh, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Lady Eleanor,” he said, “I may be many things, some of which you have no doubt called me in private, but I am neither a murderer nor a poacher!”
“That remains to be seen,” Eleanor said, a bit shaken by his vehemence in replying. “But, as you heard from Agnes, he was not the poacher, nor was he aiding them!”
“Pah!” William spit on the stone steps. What a gull Eleanor was! She could not think he was so naïve as to believe the scene he had just witnessed from Agnes. It was too trite—too obvious. No woman exposed herself to public humiliation like that without being forced to or paid to. He had almost allowed himself to believe Agnes’s confession, but, after all, who would believe a woman? His experience had shown him better than that! “Agnes!” he exclaimed sarcastically.
“Agnes is loyal to me—as was Osbert,” Eleanor asserted. She lifted her chin. “What has your lack of trust in others brought you but anguish and sleepless nights? At least I can lay my life on my servants’ trust.”
What? How did
