“What is your prognosis?” Lord Gilbert asked as I straightened from my work and stretched the tightened muscles of my back.
I watched Lady Joan to be certain that she slept. “She has received a cruel injury,” I told him. “There are two dangers we must guard against. We must observe her fingers…if they become streaked with discolor or swollen, I must remove the splints and stiffened linen and deal with the poison.”
“And the other danger?”
“The break may not knit. I should not have raised this concern in Lady Joan’s hearing.”
“Why not? Sir William Caton suffered a broken leg while in my service at Poitiers. He sits a horse today as well as ever he did before.”
“Aye, that is common enough, if the fracture is dealt with at once, and by a competent surgeon. But Lady Joan’s injury was four days past. Not too long to heal properly, but too far past for me to rest easy until I see signs of success.”
“And what if those signs do not come, or her hand becomes discolored and swollen?”
“You ask what is the worst which might occur?”
“I do,” Lord Gilbert replied.
“Gangrene. That is the worst.”
“Then she would die,” Lord Gilbert rubbed his chin, “all because she wished to go a-hunting.”
“She might not die.”
Lord Gilbert shot me a glance under gathered brows. “How so? ’Tis commonly known to be fatal.”
“Unless the gangrenous limb is removed.”
“Removed?” he said with incredulity.
“Aye; amputation. If the flesh of Lady Joan’s hand should die, that would be the only hope to save her life.”
“Might she not die from such surgery?”
“She might. But she would surely die from gangrene. So in such an event she must weigh a certainty against a possibility.”
“We must pray,” Lord Gilbert sighed, “that such a choice is not presented to us.”
“Amen,” I agreed. “I have done what I can. Now we must consult your chaplain and have him present the matter to God.”
“I will do so. You must stay to watch over Lady Joan, until you are satisfied that great danger is past. I will have a room in the west tower made ready for you. Now, let us withdraw to the solar. I would hear the news of Margaret Smith and Sir Robert.”
Lord Gilbert led me through the east range hall and past the chapel to the solar, on the northwest corner of the castle. The east range hall was crowded with poor folk, come to the castle for warmth and food, neither of which they could provide for themselves. There were twenty or more, men and women, old and young, crowded into the hall. Those seated stood, and those standing tugged at their forelocks, as Lord Gilbert strode through the room. He nodded greeting, but otherwise took no notice of his guests. I noticed them, and the smell, which may have been due to the condition of the hall’s occupants, or to the proximity to the garderobes.
It was cold in the solar, away from the thin winter sun and with but a small flame on the hearth. Lord Gilbert commanded more fuel be placed on the fire, then dismissed Sir John and bade me sit.
“Now, then, was the lad Thomas Shilton brought to trial?”
“He was, but…”
“Did the king’s eyre then find him guilty?”
“Aye, it did so, but…”
“Then he’s hung and there’s an end to that matter; now, what of Sir Robert?”
“No, m’lord. Thomas Shilton did not hang.”
“What?” Then appeared that single lifted eyebrow again. I wondered if others had my success at raising that feature on Lord Gilbert’s countenance. “Did he escape? Sir Roger allowed him to escape?”
“No, m’lord. Have patience and I will explain all.”
I did. Lord Gilbert did not lift an eyebrow at this tale, but his eyes widened as I related the story.
“So by good fortune you found the lass before Sir Roger could hang a murderer who was not so?”
“Aye; good fortune, or the hand of God in the flawed work of men. A man, I should say, for it was my own flawed work. I thank Him daily that I do not live my life with Thomas Shilton’s death troubling my conscience.”
“Yes, well, ’tis a good thing to have a conscience susceptible of being troubled.”
We sat silently staring into the growing blaze for a moment before Lord Gilbert quietly continued. “Now you must begin this inquiry anew.” He went to pulling at his chin. “You must try again to identify the girl found in my castle, and also Sir Robert’s murderer.”
“I have begun the task already,” I told him.
“Oh? Which one?”
“Both, I think, although ’tis hard at present to know of a certainty.”
Lord Gilbert caught my meaning. “Ah; you think Sir Robert’s death is connected to the body — whoever it was — found in my cesspit?”
“I fear this may be so.”
“Then you know who it was found dead in Bampton castle?”
“I suspect. I do not know.”
“Who, then? Is she known to me?”
“I have made already one grievous error in your service. I do not wish to make another. For that reason I hope you will, for now, be content with the knowledge I have given you, and the understanding that I will not let the matter rest here.”
“You do not trust me with the information,” Lord Gilbert frowned. “Then it was someone known to me found in my cesspit?”
“No, trust is not the issue. And no, if the girl was who I think she was, you did not know her, although you have seen her.”
“If trust is not at issue, why will you not reveal your suspicions to me?” This Lord Gilbert spoke through pursed lips under a stormy brow. I saw that anger was close under his surface. He was unaccustomed to his employees refusing a request. A lord’s request is in fact a demand, as all know who must deal with gentlefolk.
“I beg your leave, m’lord, to withhold my thoughts on the matter a brief time. I fear my own wits may be swayed not by the evidence I uncover, but by the influence of a mind more resolute than my own.”
“Hmm…yes, I see. You believe such a thing occurred in the matter of Margaret Smith and Thomas Shilton? That I compelled your mistaken pursuit of the lad?”
“I do not blame you, m’lord. I sought assurance for what I knew otherwise was weak evidence.”
“And I was willing to provide it, so that I could then claim justice done in my demesne. You make a sound argument. Very well, keep your council, but I will be told of your discoveries so soon as you are sure of them!”
“I will do so, m’lord. As soon as I am certain of what I now suspect.”
Lord Gilbert dismissed me, and a valet led me through the great hall to the southwest tower, where a circular stairway led to rooms above the pantry and the buttery. “I have laid a fire,” he announced as he opened the door.
The room prepared for me was circular, as were others in the towers, and hung with tapestries depicting hunting scenes. There were two glazed windows in this room. It was light and luxurious and warm. A man, I decided, could do worse than spend a fortnight or so in such a place keeping careful watch over a patient like Lady Joan.
Chapter 14
Twice each day I visited Lady Joan in her chamber. For the first two days I left each interview with a sense of optimism, for her progress seemed good. But on the morning of the third day I was alarmed to see what appeared to be reddened stripes on the back of Lady Joan’s hand, proceeding from under the
