‘You told him?’
‘No, Sir Hugh, he found out that I was pregnant. Stephen asked to meet both of us under the shade of the oak trees in Bloody Meadow. Sir Reginald had enjoyed a good day at the tournament but he’d drunk more than he should have done. We met by Falcon Brook. Salyiem, here, was Stephen’s squire and held the horses. Daubigny went down on his knees, like a penitent before his confessor. He told Reginald the truth. I shall never forget my husband’s face. He stood like a man stricken, all colour drained away from his face, his tongue searched for words. Then it happened, like a fire bursting up. He suddenly drew his sword and raised it in one sweeping arc. Daubigny moved, nimble as a dancer. He rolled aside and drew his own sword, as Reginald rushed in. Daubigny tried to disarm him. It happened in the twinkling of an eye — more of an accident than an intended blow. Sir Stephen’s sword entered here,’ she tapped her left side, ‘where the chainmail shirt was tied, deep up into his chest. I watched in horror, as did Daubigny. My husband took one step forward, blood bubbling at his lips. He was dead before he hit the ground. What could we do on that beautiful summer’s evening, with the brook gurgling by! Salyiem had heard the clash of swords and came running over.’
‘It was my plan,’ the Watcher called out. ‘My scheme. Sir Stephen would have surrendered his sword to the King but I warned him not to. What use would it be?’
Salyiem approached and, pulling up a stool, sat by Corbett’s chair.
‘We waited till darkness. We stripped the body but the chainmail and the surcoat proved too difficult to remove so we left them. I went to the burial mound. It was summer but there had been rain and the soil was soft. As a reeve, I knew about cutting and planting, so I removed the top soil, folding back the grass verge and, helped by Sir Stephen using sword and dagger, we hollowed out Sir Reginald’s grave. We slipped the corpse inside, wrapped in its cloak, and covered our makeshift grave as best we could. The peasants, even some of the monks, regarded Bloody Meadow as a haunted place. Any sign of our digging was soon covered over. We went back to Falcon Brook and washed ourselves, cleaned away bloodstains. Sir Reginald’s clothes, boots and hose were put in a sack, tied with a cord, and burnt. Now the corpse was hidden we were all committed to one plan.’ Salyiem glanced at Corbett; he smiled coldly, combing his straggling beard with his fingers. ‘Once Sir Reginald was buried, we knew that any discovery could lead to the execution of Sir Stephen, if not all three of us. We then devised our plan and returned to the manor. Early the next morning, Daubigny, cloaked and cowled, and pretending to be Sir Reginald, left Harcourt on his warhorse with his sumpter pony.’
‘But wasn’t Sir Stephen missed?’ Corbett interrupted.
‘I gave out he had to leave,’ Lady Margaret declared. ‘Who would object? At that time the mystery had not begun. Daubigny rode disguised as my husband, to the Eastern ports. He created quite a fuss so that people would remember him. In looks and colouring, Daubigny and my husband were like brothers. He then got rid of his disguise, sold the horse, pony and harness and, buying the fastest mount, rode swiftly and secretly back to Harcourt.’
‘So,’ Corbett took up the story, ‘Sir Reginald was dead and you were pregnant. You could have claimed the child was posthumous.’
‘It would have been too dangerous,’ she replied with a shake of her head. ‘The pregnancy had hardly begun. People would later think it was a remarkable coincidence. And, as you have discovered, Sir Hugh, Sir Reginald’s impotence, his lack of virility, had not remained a chamber secret.’
‘So, you pretended to go searching for Sir Reginald?’
‘The child was growing within me. Daubigny felt responsible. We crossed the Narrow Seas, through Hainault and Zeeland and into the German states. We deliberately took no servants. We stopped near Cologne, where I stayed in one of the pilgrim taverns. Daubigny went searching and at last discovered a merchant and his wife, who were English and had moved to Germany because of trade. She had always wanted a child but was barren. They accepted Daubigny’s suggestion as a parched man would water. I went and lived with them. They never knew who I was: I had changed my name, as had Stephen, and was well furnished with money. We both decided it would be too suspicious if Sir Stephen stayed until I was birthed. Before he left, we discussed the future. Daubigny was distraught. A man who had believed in neither God nor man, a young warrior with his head full of glory, he was now solemn and silent, broken in spirit. He was overcome by guilt at Sir Reginald’s death. We both vowed to make reparation.’ She tapped the walking cane on the floor. ‘The rest you know. Daubigny travelled back to England and entered St Martin’s. I gave birth to a beautiful boy. To surrender him broke my heart but that was the price of my sin. When I was ready I left Germany. The merchant furnished me with retainers who took me to the border. There I hired fresh servants and came back to England. Daubigny was already in the monastery.’ She pointed across at the Watcher. ‘He, too, was consumed with guilt.’ She paused. ‘I couldn’t forget my child. I begged Salyiem to travel back to Cologne to see what had happened to him.’
‘I did as my lady asked,’ the Watcher interrupted, ‘but, when I arrived, the family had gone and a wall of silence greeted me.’
‘They suspected that I might return,’ Lady Margaret declared, ‘so they’d moved elsewhere. Salyiem searched far and wide before coming back. He thought of entering the abbey but,’ she gazed sadly at the hermit, ‘our Watcher by the Gates had a soft spot for the ladies; the celibate life wasn’t for him.’
‘He was your go-between, wasn’t he?’ Corbett asked. ‘Between Abbot Stephen and yourself?’
She nodded. ‘We had taken a vow never to meet again. Salyiem was our messenger: nothing in writing, just words. We pretended to be enemies, arguing over Falcon Brook. I am sure you guessed, clerk, that I couldn’t give a fig for Falcon Brook. I took a vow to entertain no other man. You saw those travellers, the beggars who visited the manor the last time you visited us? They too are part of my reparation. Poor Stephen!’ She sighed. ‘He became a priest even though he believed in nothing. He was an avid scholar and proved to be a skilled theologian. He thought that by hunting demons he could exorcise his own and find something substantial on which to build his faith.’
Lady Margaret began to cry, not loudly but dramatically; an old woman, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘God forgive me,’ she whispered. ‘I loved Daubigny more than life itself, I still do. One night of passion, Corbett.’ She held up her hand. ‘Just one night and our entire world was shattered. I thought I had made reparation but always, deep in my heart, I knew the demons would return. Sir Reginald’s body lay in unhallowed ground. Blood demands blood. Vengeance seeks retribution. Murder shrieks for justice.’
‘And Abbot Stephen’s death?’
‘It came as a bolt out of the blue, like a thunderstorm on a summer’s afternoon. I assure you, clerk, I know nothing of it.’ She gripped Corbett’s hand. ‘You do though, don’t you?’
Corbett smiled sadly.