“What is wrong, Stoddard?” Nicolaa enquired. “Have some of the animals got loose?”
The bailiff flushed a bright red. “No, lady, one of the children, a boy named Willi, is gone. We didn’t notice his absence until we were all gathered to go to Mass in the village chapel. We are trying to find him.”
“Gone?” Nicolaa exclaimed. “Do you mean he has run away?”
“It appears so, lady,” Stoddard said with some embarrassment. “The boy was here last evening when all of the children went to sleep. He must have left sometime during the night, but the servant who was assigned to watch over the waifs didn’t hear him go.”
Turning to their escort, Nicolaa directed Bruet and Ernulf to take the men-at-arms and search the woods for the boy and then, urging her mount into a trot towards the gate into her property, spoke sharply to the bailiff. “I would have speech with this servant, Stoddard. It seems he has been remiss in his duties.”
When Nicolaa, with Petronille following behind, entered the yard, the other children were standing huddled together in a group, the cook and a kitchen maid hovering alongside them. The unfortunate manservant who had slept in the barn was just emerging from searching the shed where the cheeses were kept and, when he saw Nicolaa, his face blanched and he quickly ran forward and fell to his knees. “I am sorry, lady. I should have been more vigilant, I know, but I didn’t think as how any of the little ones would want to run away from where they were so well treated. He must have crept out while I was sleeping.”
Nicolaa considered his words. She was a fair mistress and not given to harsh punishment, but all of her servants knew that if any of them proved to be lazy or disobedient, they could not expect a second chance, but would be dismissed from their posts without hesitation.
“Had you punished the boy for any reason?” she asked harshly.
“No, lady, there’s been no need,” the servant assured her and Stoddard, with a nod, confirmed his words.
“All of the children have been as quiet as mice since they came,” the bailiff said. “We all thought as how they were happy here. I don’t know what made Willi run away, but one thing I can promise you, it wasn’t because he was abused.”
Nicolaa gave a short nod. She had no cause to disbelieve Stoddard. He had managed the property for some years, as had his father before him. She looked toward the rest of the children. All of their faces were etched with fear and the smallest one was clinging to the cook’s skirt and starting to cry.
“I will question the rest of the children and see if they know anything about this boy’s disappearance,” Nicolaa said to Stoddard as she dismounted from her palfrey. “Bring them inside the manor house. I will speak to them there, but first I wish you to attend me.”
Nicolaa walked quickly into the building, calling for two cups and a flagon of cider to be brought into the small room that served as a hall. A manservant ran forward and placed two chairs in front of an unlit fireplace and then struck flint and tinder to some dried moss to set the logs burning. Although the chamber was unused by the servants, it was kept in readiness in case Nicolaa should visit. Now, a maidservant hurried to bring two pewter cups which she placed on a small table alongside a flagon of cider. At a nod from her mistress, she poured the fragrant drink into the cups and, sketching a bow of deference, served them to Nicolaa and Petronille.
The bailiff, who had been standing by the door, came forward at a gesture from his mistress, his cap in his hand.
“What did you observe about the boy that is gone?” she asked. “Did he seem discontent, or was he disobedient?”
“He appeared happy enough, lady,” the bailiff assured her. “Tucked into the food right well and did the few chores assigned to him with a willing heart. I didn’t notice anything amiss. If I had of done, I’d have taken him to task about it.”
“And the other children-were they aware he was planning to run away?”
“They say not, lady, but Willi took a blanket with him when he went and now they seem to fear they will all be sent back to the streets of Lincoln because of the theft. It might be that fright is stopping up their tongues.”
“Then they must be assured their situation will not change,” Nicolaa replied. “Bring them in and I shall speak to them.”
The bailiff turned to go but, before he went to do her bidding, he added, “Willi was friendly with one of the other children, a lad named Mark. It is possible he may have told him of his intention to leave and the reason for it.”
“I will bear that in mind,” Nicolaa assured him.
The children were shepherded in by the cook, with the little girl, Annie, still clinging to her skirt. When they were arrayed in front of her, the castellan said, “First of all, I want you all to know that none of you will be sent back to Lincoln. Even though we are concerned that Willi ran away, he was not a prisoner here and neither are the rest of you. If you wish to leave you will be allowed to do so, but if you want to stay then, providing you obey the rules that have been laid down for your conduct, you have a home here until you are old enough to fend for yourselves.”
Relief was etched on the faces of the two older children, Mark and Emma, and the latter placed her arms around her little sister and said, “See, I told you, Annie. We won’t be made to leave just ’cause Willi stole that blanket.”
Annie hiccupped and looked up at the cook who gave her a reassuring pat on the head. Joan, in her usual noncommittal way, said nothing.
“Now,” Nicolaa continued, looking directly at Mark, “if any of you know why Willi left, or where he intended to go, I want you to tell me. Even though the weather is warmer, it is still too cold to be out in the woods alone. And if he should meet with a wild animal in the woods, he may be in danger of serious injury.”
A silence followed her words. Mark stood with his lips pressed together and Emma shook her head. Annie, because of her tender years, was confused and looked at her sister in puzzlement, while Joan began to fiddle with the hem of her kirtle.
“Very well,” Nicolaa said. “If none of you can help me, you may go with cook and break your fast. Since you missed Mass this morning, you will say two paternosters before you eat…”
“He went to find his da,” Joan suddenly burst out. “And he’s going to be killed by the murderer.”
Stoddard, who was standing by Nicolaa’s chair, was the first to react to the astonishing statement. “What nonsense is this, Joan? Willi doesn’t have a father; he’s an orphan like the rest of you. And as for being killed…”
“He does so have a da,” Joan burst out, her torrent of words startling after she had been almost silent for so long. “ And he saw the murderer, too, the one who killed that man in the castle.”
“Joan, you must not tell lies…” Stoddard began impatiently, but Nicolaa held up her hand.
“How do you know this Joan?” she said quietly.
“I heard him tell Mark,” the girl said triumphantly.
Twenty
Another silence fell as everyone looked at Mark. The boy was glaring at Joan, his small fists clenched at his sides. It was obvious the girl was telling the truth. Nicolaa, raising her hand, motioned to the bailiff.
“Stoddard, take all of the children except Mark to the kitchen and have the cook attend their needs.”
As the bailiff and the other orphans left the room, young Mark stood forlorn in front of the two women, his hands now clasped in front of him and near to tears.
Nicolaa spoke gently. “Mark, what do you know of Willi’s disappearance and this tale that he saw the man who committed the murder?”
The boy raised his head, his mouth trembling. “I gave my promise that I would not tell,” he said, with an attempt at bravery.