They all knew he referred to the Precentor but, at the moment, that seemed a low priority.
As they left to go, John promised they would meet again when Lord Ferrars and the others arrived. Then he climbed up to the solar and found it empty of all Matilda’s possessions, clothes, embroidery and crucifix. Baffled, he walked to the slit in the partition wall and found that, by looking down and across, he could just see part of the area where Rosamunde had performed her act the previous night. Mary was clearing ashes from the hearth and he could easily hear her singing softly to herself and talking to Brutus, so Matilda’s claims about eavesdropping were quite feasible.
Feeling filthy from his night in gaol, he broke his twice-weekly rule by going to the backyard and washing in a bucket of lukewarm water, using soap made from goat’s tallow and beech ash to remove the grime, and to have an extra shave with his specially honed knife. Mary found him clean clothes and dropped his prison garb into a cauldron of boiling water to kill the lice and fleas. Then the faithful girl set out some food for him, leaving him feeling clean and well fed, but very uneasy about many things, especially the whereabouts and mood of his wife.
He had the rather mortifying feeling that the spirited defence she had put up for him stemmed from some other cause rather than love of her husband.
Chapter Thirteen
In which Crowner John talks to his wife
By mid-morning, de Wolfe could wait at home no longer: he was fretting about where Gwyn might be in his search for supporters and also had concerns for Matilda. He recognised the irony of the situation in that after years of suffering her moods and avoiding her at every opportunity he was now brooding over her welfare.
Hunched again in his wolfskin cloak, he strode through the cold, wet streets, met with salutes and smiles from those who knew about his abortive trial. His tower chamber was deserted as his officer was away, and after the relief of seeing his master freed, Thomas had gone back to his relentless search for the missing treasure plan in the Chapter House library.
Coming down again to the inner ward, the coroner was accosted a dozen times as he crossed to the keep, the most vociferous congratulations coming from Gabriel, who with great satisfaction had now locked up de Braose and Fulford.
In the hall of the keep, he ran a similar gauntlet of acclamation and escaped into the sheriff’s chamber, to find it empty. The steward was happily restuffing his palliasse with fresh straw, having reclaimed it from the sheriff. ‘Sir Richard has gone out, sir, I don’t know where,’ he said. ‘The ladies have gone too. A man-at-arms was sent with a handcart to take their belongings somewhere.’
Briefly, de Wolfe wondered if Richard de Revelle had galloped away into the sunset to escape his problems, but it seemed improbable. Now he might have the chance to redeem himself once again, and with two manors and a wife in the county he was hardly likely to become an outlaw or abjure the realm.
As for Matilda, the transfer of her beloved clothes and finery on a handcart meant that she was not far away – and the only alternative to Martin’s Lane was her cousin’s house in North Street, unless she’d gone to live in sin with the fat priest at St Olave’s, he thought cynically.
There was no way that he was going to brave his wife in her cousin’s house, as that woman was far more objectionable even than Matilda. He made his way back to his own dwelling, feeling strangely incomplete, with an uneasy sensation of being cast adrift even if it was from the exasperating but familiar presence of his spouse.
In the vestibule, he threw off his mantle and boots and strode into the hall, determined to get a pint of red wine inside himself before Mary brought him his dinner. Inside the door he was brought up sharply, amazed to see Matilda standing stiffly at the end of the long table. She wore her outdoor clothes, even to a thin leather hood, which was still damp with rain, over her cover-chief. He hurried across to her, hands outstretched, but she stiffened and stepped back from him. He saw that her face was wet beneath the eyes and that it was not due to the rain. ‘I wanted to thank you for what you did this morning,’ he said humbly. ‘You may have saved my life.’
Matilda lifted a hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘I must talk to you, John,’ she said jerkily. ‘I have come to plead with you.’
Her husband felt momentarily bemused. Surely he was the one at fault, and should be pleading her forgiveness for philandering, especially in the light of her public support for him? Why should she plead with him? He tried to get her to sit by the fire, but she refused and continued to stand like a granite statue in the centre of the hall. ‘I did what I did today because of my brother. It was not right that you should suffer for his sake.’
Light began to dawn on de Wolfe. He knew that Matilda had always looked up to Richard, not so much because of their blood tie but because he was ambitious, literate, the holder of the highest post in the county and an even more rabid social climber than she. Now his sister had discovered that he had feet of clay, and was little better than a traitor to the King he represented. She had never accepted that his temporary fall from grace a year ago was anything but some jealous conspiracy against him – but this time, she must have heard something with her own ears that had demolished her idol. In a leaden voice, she soon confirmed his reasoning.
‘Last night, I returned with Lucille to collect the rest of my clothes. The housemaid was not here, and you were fast asleep, so we went to the solar to pack my possessions.’ Her voice faltered. ‘I did not wake you, as I did not want to see you, John. Then that woman came in and I heard all that transpired, how she tricked you and falsely feigned a ravishment. Those evil men entered, having obviously been waiting outside for her signal.’
She swayed slightly and John took her insistently by the arm. This time she did not resist as he led her to her usual chair by the fire. He sat opposite and waited.
‘All that was bad enough, but that Jocelin’s sneers about my brother were far worse. Though I have tried to shut it from my mind, it is useless! I have to admit to myself that Richard has again allied himself with the King’s enemies. I am mortified, John, I hate him for it, yet I fear for him. He is a fool. The ambition that I admired in him is so overweening that it will destroy him, unless he can somehow be protected.’
Her voice became stronger and more agitated as emotion seized her, and she reached across and grasped his arm. ‘My pride pulls me another way after what was revealed about you and those women. Not that I was ever ignorant of it, as with most wives. But to be told about it by my brother and to have his servant sent like an errand-boy to flaunt it in the face of your tavern-keeper was too cruel of Richard. I know now that it was a feeble attempt to force your mouth shut over his treachery, but it cut me to the quick.’
She sobbed and passed her dangling sleeve across her eyes. ‘Then to conspire to have you convicted of rape, just to try to buy your silence, was ten times worse and I hate him for it – but I fear for his life, John!’ Matilda sniffed loudly and clutched his wrist more tightly. ‘Help us, I plead with you! Do what you can to save the fool from himself!’
De Wolfe wished the ground would open to swallow him up. Always embarrassed by any show of emotion, the sight of his normally hard-bitten wife in tears, pleading with him for her kinsman’s life, made him cringe – yet another part of him softened into a genuine sympathy for her anguish. Burgeoning affection was too strong a description for his feelings – she had been too flinty an adversary for too long for that to be so – yet, almost against his will, his hand fell on hers and he squeezed it awkwardly. ‘Of course, I’ll do what I can, Matilda. The man’s weak, he turns with whatever wind blows strongest. I never trusted him and I’ll never trust him again – but, for your sake, I’ll do what I can. There may be a way to save him, if the idiot will do as he’s told.’