‘According to what I see,’ Corbett continued, ‘Lord Scrope came over here last night. You, sir,’ he pointed to Pennywort, ‘brought him across?’
‘Oh yes.’ Pennywort was pleased at the importance being shown him. ‘Oh yes, Sir Hugh, ever since his hounds were killed, Lord Scrope ordered some of his men out beneath the trees. I suppose I was in charge, Robert de Scott being killed in the marketplace. My task was to row him across. I did so.’
‘When?’
‘Oh, late last night, sir, after he returned from the town. It must have been well after Compline.’
‘And how was Lord Scrope?’
Pennywort closed his eyes and smiled, his teeth nothing more than little stumps. ‘I would say he was morose, withdrawn. He said we would have visitors in the morning, Dame Marguerite and Father Thomas. We reached the jetty. As usual he did not thank me but went straight up the steps.’
‘Did you follow him?’
‘Yes, yes, I did,’ Pennywort replied. ‘I always had to. Lord Scrope wanted to make sure there’d be no disturbance. He unlocked the door and went inside. I helped build up the fire as I always did, made sure everything was as it should be. Lord Scrope sat in that chair drumming his fingers on the arm, impatient for me to go. I lit the candles. Lord Scrope growledat me to keep a close and careful watch that night with the rest. He missed his two dogs, Romulus and Remus. Perhaps he felt wary. I left. Now as I went down the steps, I definitely heard him draw the bolts and lock the door behind me. As I rowed across, I could see lights glowing between the shutters. I then joined the rest of the guards in the clump of oak trees further up the hill; you know, sir, where the dogs used to lie. We built a fire. There was a full moon last night. It was bright.’
‘Did you patrol the banks of the lake?’
‘No, we watched,’ Pennywort replied, glancing away, ‘but we saw nothing.’
‘And there is no other way across,’ Corbett insisted, ‘between the two jetties, except by boat?’
‘None, Sir Hugh.’
‘Dame Marguerite, you know this island – you came across as a child?’
‘There was a bridge where the jetties now stand. A rickety wooden affair more dangerous than useful. My brother totally destroyed it.’
‘And the lake,’ Ranulf asked, ‘how deep is it?’
‘Very deep indeed, sir,’ Pennywort replied. ‘I would say at least three yards in places. It would swallow you up. It is weed-encrusted, a dangerous stretch; not even Satan himself could swim across such an icy lake at the dead at night. If someone crossed they would have to use one of those boats. If they did, I would have seen them. I would certainly have noticed something wrong this morning but I didn’t.’
‘Did you observe anything untoward?’ Corbett asked. ‘Anything at all, Pennywort?’ He opened his purse and took out a coin.
Pennywort almost sighed with pleasure, and his fingers went out. ‘Sir, I could make up lies and stories, but if you put me on oath in Father Thomas’ church, my hand placed over the pyx, I would swear I saw nothing, I heard nothing, nor did any of my companions. True, we kept ourselves warm, true we ate our dried meat and drank our ale, but we kept close watch, sir. Nothing happened.’
9
I have been an enemy to his enemy.
‘About this morning?’ Corbett stretched a hand out to the flames and glanced across at Ranulf, who was listening intently.
‘You know what happened, Sir Hugh.’ Father Thomas spoke wearily. ‘I finished the Jesus Mass. I intended to go back into town to celebrate the funeral rites for those who’d been murdered. However, Dame Marguerite and I had agreed with Lord Scrope to visit him here after mass.’
‘And when was this arranged?’
‘Oh, about two days ago. As you know, Lord Scrope intended to refurbish and renew the convent buildings as well as St Alphege’s. Of course the events of the last few days had rather dimmed the prospect.’
‘Father, tell the full truth,’ Dame Marguerite intervened. ‘I am sorry, there was something else. Sir Hugh, we were not only going to ask about our churches and buildings. My brother was a very wealthy man and, only God knows, he had reparation to make. We were also going to make a plea that he’d be a little gentler with everybody.’
‘Including me,’ Ormesby spoke up cynically. The physicianleaned forward, playing with the rings on the fingers of his left hand. ‘Sir Hugh, I’ve heard of your reputation in Oxford. I know you work in the Secret Chancery. You’ll find the truth here. I must be honest. Very few liked Lord Scrope. You’ll probably discover that I certainly did not.’
‘Who told you about the murder?’
‘The news spread like God’s breeze,’ the physician replied. ‘Scrope is dead. The word went out, servants tell servants, people hurried into town. I was in the marketplace and came immediately.’
‘Lady Hawisa, have you tended to her?’ Ranulf asked. ‘I mean in the past?’
‘Oh yes, but as to what happened and why, Hawisa should tell you that.’ Ormesby nodded. ‘Just like the priest here, I have my confessional, covered by its own seal.’
‘This morning,’ Corbett insisted, pointing at Pennywort, ‘Father Thomas and Dame Marguerite came down to the jetty.’
‘I saw them come,’ the boatman replied, ‘and hastened to meet them. I remember telling you, Father, to wrap your cloak firmly about you because the water was icy cold and the oars would splash.’
The priest nodded, half smiling.
‘I rowed them across,’ Pennywort declared. ‘I brought my oars in. I tied the rope to one of the posts and helped Father Thomas out, and then we both assisted Dame Marguerite. They went up the steps. I decided to wait just in case Lord Scrope had a task for me. Some of my companions came drifting down …’
‘We knocked on the door, but there was no reply.’ Dame Marguerite took up the story. ‘We knocked and hammered to no avail. Outside, Sir Hugh, you’ll find an axe. I picked this up and handed it to Pennywort. I told him to break the shutters.’
‘So I did,’ the boatman replied. ‘I hacked the shutters; the bar across is metal but the shutters themselves are wood.’
‘I’ve noticed that,’ Ranulf said drily.
‘I lifted the bar and scrambled in. Lord save us, sir, Lord save us.’ Pennywort shook his head. ‘I’ve seen sights in my life, Lord Corbett, oh yes, sir, I have fought in the King’s wars, I have seen-’
‘Tell us what you did see.’ Corbett handed over the silver coin. Pennywort grasped this, a look of supreme pleasure on his face. Corbett sensed the boatman would use the money and what he’d seen to regale all of Mistleham before the week was out.
‘It was dark, Sir Hugh. The fire had burnt low. Most of the candles had guttered out. I called out to Lord Scrope but there was no answer, then I saw him sitting in the chair. At first I thought he was glaring at me as he did in life. I went across. Lord, sir, the blood, dark like some witch’s potion splattering his mouth and nose! Hands gripping the sides of the chair, those eyes glaring. He must have been visited by some demon.’ Pennywort recollected where he was and, fingers to his mouth, stared at the floor, shaking his head and whispering to himself.
‘Pennywort,’ Corbett said gently, ‘you saw Lord Scrope and then what?’
‘I hastened to the door.’
‘Tell me precisely what you saw,’ Corbett intervened.
‘Sir, the bolts at the top and bottom were pulled firm across. The key was turned. I had to pull back both bolts and unlock the door to allow Dame Marguerite and Father Thomas in.’
‘And the other shutters?’ Ranulf asked.
‘All clasped shut,’ Pennywort replied.
‘That’s true.’ Dame Marguerite spoke up. ‘Sir Hugh, I was shocked when I saw my brother. I couldn’t believe it. Father Thomas went and whispered the words of absolution in his ear. I ordered Pennywort to stand guard outside. I searched round; perhaps the assassin might still be there, or, if the windows were all shuttered, the door locked … I mean …’ Her voice faltered.