‘Why what?’ Beardsmore asked, glancing in puzzlement at Ralph.
‘I hate the castle,’ she replied.
Beardsmore was growing impatient. ‘Woman, what are you talking about?’
Ralph looked back down the trackway. The archers were laughing and talking among themselves. It was turning into a dull grey afternoon. The countryside lay quiet, even the birds had ceased their chirping. Up ahead he could see the towers and crenellated walls of Ravenscroft. He became distracted; his father had once told him how he could judge the date of a hedge by the number and different species of trees it contained. If that was the case, this must be the same hedge Cerdic had passed when he had fled from the battle at Blackwater. Ralph shook himself from his reverie.
‘I was sweet on Fulk,’ Eleanora was saying. ‘He’s the miller’s son.’
Beardsmore nodded. ‘He has disappeared, hasn’t he?’
‘It’s not that,’ Eleanora replied. She scratched at the sweat on her neck with blackened nails and glanced sideways at Ralph. ‘We saw murder, we did.’
Beardsmore grasped her by the shoulder. ‘What murder?’
‘The castle wench, Phoebe. We were in Devil’s Spinney.’ Eleanora now smiled slyly as if she sensed the tables were turned. ‘Me and Fulk, lying there in the long grass, hidden in the dusk. Fulk became afeared; he raised himself up. “Hush,” he whispered. “Someone’s coming!” I thought he was teasing but he grabbed me by the arms.’ She grinned. ‘I couldn’t get up because my shift was all awry so we lay and watched. A dark shape came through the trees. He was carrying a bundle, cords wrapped round it. He put the bundle down.’
‘How do you know it was a man?’ Beardsmore interrupted.
‘I don’t. Whoever it was was dressed like a monk, in a long robe and cowl. Fulk said the figure wore a mask. Anyway, the cords were cut, the bundle unrolled. Fulk whispered it was the corpse of a young woman.’
‘And then?’ Beardsmore asked, still gripping her shoulders.
‘Fulk said he wanted to see who it was. He went over to the edge of the spinney and watched this mysterious intruder go back towards the castle.’
‘Didn’t you think of raising the alarm?’ Ralph asked.
‘Why should we? Fulk was frightened that we’d get the blame.’
‘Did he see who it was?’
‘He thought he knew but he wasn’t certain and wouldn’t answer my questions. The following evening Fulk’s father came to the tavern. He said his son had left early for Ravenscroft and had not returned.’ Eleanora’s eyes became hard. ‘That’s why I hate the castle, and so do the townspeople. We heard about Phoebe, Fulk went to the castle and then he disappeared.’
‘I’ve heard enough.’ Beardsmore growled and, pushing the girl before him, they went back to their horses.
Chapter 3
Ralph attended Sir John Grasse’s council meeting held that afternoon in the castle solar. Eleanora had been confined to one of the dungeons in Bowyer Tower with a guard placed outside. Sir John, his wife Lady Anne, Theobald Vavasour, Father Aylred, Adam and Marisa, Beardsmore and himself gathered round the wooden, oval table in the Constable’s private quarters. Lady Anne tried to lighten the atmosphere, serving goblets of chilled white wine and small trays of sweetmeats. They all listened as Beardsmore delivered his report. Before Sir John could respond, Father Aylred, agitated and anxious, sprang to his feet. He was unshaven, eyes red-rimmed; Ralph secretly wondered if the hideous events of the previous night had disturbed his wits.
‘I am a priest, Sir John, dedicated to the care of souls. I do believe something very wicked has entered this castle.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Sir John interrupted impatiently. ‘Of that we are certain. Phoebe’s death, the attack on Master Ralph, the disappearance of Fulk. The facts speak for themselves.’
‘No, no, I talk of other things,’ the priest said hurriedly. ‘Ralph and I have been to Midnight Tower.’
‘Ah, yes. You told me about that. The tower has always had an evil reputation.’
‘But the phantasms, the phenomena!’ the priest cried, rubbing the side of his face.
‘Father.’ Ralph got up, came round and gently eased him back into his chair. ‘The evil we face is of human origin, and it is human wit and good counselling that will reveal the truth.’
The priest calmed down and Ralph returned to his chair.
‘Sir John, if I may speak?’
The Constable nodded.
‘We have had a number of strange occurrences here,’ Ralph began, ‘but logic and reason can untangle any mystery.’
The others stared owlishly at him, except Adam, who winked mischievously.
‘Ever the clerk, eh, Ralph?’
‘Yes, Adam, ever the clerk. We know Phoebe was alive last Monday afternoon. We have established that her corpse was found in Devil’s Spinney the following Tuesday, yes?’
They all agreed.
‘We know that the wench Eleanora and her young lover Fulk were in those woods when Phoebe’s corpse was taken there. Accordingly, Phoebe must have been killed some time late on Monday afternoon, here in the castle, her corpse was wrapped in a sheet, bound with cords and taken out to Devil’s Spinney by her assassin.’
‘But that’s impossible!’ Beardsmore cried. ‘I was on guard duty at the barbican. No one passed me carrying such a bundle: I would have seen it. We have both checked the postern gate. It has not been opened for years.’
‘Sir John,’ said Ralph, ‘is there a secret passageway out of this castle?’
The Constable shook his head. ‘If there was, Ralph, I’d know. And how can there be? The moat is deep, any passageway would have to go under it so it’s nigh impossible.’
‘Why?’ Marisa asked.
‘Because,’ Adam replied languidly, ‘the water would seep through any man-made structure and flood the tunnel.’
Ralph sipped his wine and took another piece of marchpane from the plate. ‘Nonetheless, what I have said is true. How the assassin left carrying the corpse must, for the time being, remain a mystery.’ He pulled a face. ‘So, my next question is, what were we all doing that Monday afternoon?’
‘I was in my chamber,’ Theobald answered quickly. ‘I never left there, not till the bell rang for supper. I was studying the innards of a rat.’ There were cries of disgust. ‘I read in a treatise from Italy,’ he explained, ‘that the innards of a rat, dried and ground to powder, are a veritable cure for certain skin diseases.’
‘Did anyone visit you there?’ Sir John asked.
The physician shook his head.
‘No one would dare go there,’ Lady Anne said tartly. ‘Such smells and odours!’
The others also gave an account of themselves. Few could offer any witnesses except Adam who had been going through the list of stores in the castle with Marisa. ‘We were there all afternoon,’ he concluded.
‘And I can vouch for that,’ Sir John declared. ‘I heard your voice, and Marisa’s. As for myself, I dined here in the hall then I went for a sleep.’
‘Whilst I,’ Lady Anne pointed to the spinning wheel near the window seat, ‘read a little and worked on the wheel. You came over, Father. You asked if you could borrow some candlesticks for the altar.’
The priest picked at a stain on his robe. ‘True, I was in my chapel, cleaning the sacred vessels.’ He flailed his hands in despair. ‘Master Ralph, what is the use of all this?’
‘And you?’ Ralph asked the sergeant-at-arms.
‘I dined with Sir John,’ Beardsmore replied. ‘And then I did my guard duty. I stayed with the other lads in the barbican.’
Ralph ran his thumbnail round his lips. ‘Sir John, we do have one loose thread: Fulk the miller’s son. From what Eleanora has told us, Fulk may have recognised the person who carried Phoebe’s corpse into the spinney. He must have come to the castle and demanded to see someone.’
‘That could be very easily established. Wait there.’ Beardsmore hurriedly left the solar, clattering down the stairs.
Sir John took advantage of the break to order the wine cups to be refilled. He loudly speculated on what they should do with their new prisoner. ‘There is no doubt,’ he announced, eager to assert his authority, ‘that the tavern slattern had a hand in Goodman Winthrop’s death. But what can we do? Put her to the torture? We have enough discontent in Maldon.’