The priest turned his head to the door. “No, Mistress Alney. Thank you.”
She flashed her white teeth at them, and her three chins jiggled. After one more curious look, she retreated, leaving them alone once more.
As soon as the door closed, Hugh said harshly, “Did I never see my mother again?”
“At first you used to sneak in to see her.” The priest rubbed his forehead once more. “God help me, but I aided and abetted you. Then one day he found you in her room. He beat you in front of her, which distressed her unbearably. After that you didn’t try to see her again.”
Hugh’s mouth was very dry. He said with difficulty, “I thought you told me he wasn’t vicious.”
“I have thought about this for many years, and I understand now that he truly thought he was doing what was in your best interest.”
Hugh made a sound indicative of contempt.
The priest looked at him sadly. “Perhaps I am making a mistake by telling you this.”
Hugh shook his head in disagreement. His face did not look young at all. “I need to know,” he said.
Father Anselm shut his eyes, as if he were trying to hide from a vision he did not want to see.
“During the course of the year, you changed.” The priest’s voice was very low. “All the brightness left you and you became quiet and withdrawn.
“I blame myself,” the priest said wretchedly. “I should have done something. Your mother was helpless. I should have gone to her brother and told him what was happening. I should have done something. I know that. I knew it then. But…I was afraid of him.”
Hugh looked incredulous. “Afraid of Simon?”
“No, of Roger. He was so cold, so convinced of his own righteousness. And he was such a powerful man.”
“Because he was the Earl of Wiltshire?”
“It wasn’t just his position. It was something in himself, in his personality.” Father Anselm looked directly at Hugh. “You have it, too,” he said.
Hugh stared at the priest. He was very pale.
“There is something…compelling…about you that makes other men look to you for leadership. It is hard to explain, but it is most assuredly there.”
“You are mistaken,” Hugh said tightly. “I in no way resemble Lord Roger.”
“In this way you do,” Father Anselm contradicted him. “Nor is it a bad quality, Hugh. In fact, it is a good quality, if it is put to its proper use. It is what made Lord Roger such a great soldier.”
Hugh did not reply. He was once more gripping his chair arms with white-tipped fingers.
The priest continued, “Roger’s great flaw was that he would listen to no one but himself. He was guilty of the oldest sin in the world, the sin of Lucifer, the sin of pride.”
Hugh inhaled deeply. When he spoke again, his voice had hardened. “I understand, Father Anselm, that you were the one who found Roger’s body.”
“Aye.” The priest’s voice was cautious.
“Tell me about it,” Hugh said.
Father Anselm looked uneasy. “There is nothing much to tell. I came into the chapel and found him lying on the floor in front of the altar. He had been stabbed in the chest.”
“It must have been quite a shock to you, to find him like that,” Hugh said neutrally.
“Aye.” The priest swallowed. “That it was.”
“What did you do then?”
“Well…I raised the alarm, of course. None of us could imagine who might have done such a thing. Then…then the guards reported that Walter Crespin had ridden out earlier, with you on his saddle. That is when we knew that Walter must have exacted his revenge for Ivo.”
Someone walked past the door and went down the stairs.
“What I don’t understand is why I did not raise the alarm,” Hugh said. “After all, I was in the chapel when it happened. And if Walter did indeed kill my father, why would I have gone off with him like that?”
Father Anselm went rigid. Every ounce of blood drained from his face. “You weren’t in the chapel!”
“I remember being there,” Hugh said. “I remember seeing my fa… — Roger’s-body laying on the floor. I remember being afraid.”
The priest was staring at him, looking both frightened and appalled.
“Walter Crespin didn’t kill my father, did he?” Hugh said.
“Of course he did!” Father Anselm cried. “I was there! I saw it happen. Of course it was Walter Crespin! Who else could it possibly have been?”
Hugh’s eyes were cold as they rested on the priest’s face. “You were there when it happened?”
“God help me,” the priest muttered. Visibly, he tried to pull himself together. “Aye. I was there. I saw it happen. I saw Walter Crespin draw his dagger and stab Lord Roger in the chest. Walter couldn’t bear to see the way Roger was treating Lady Isabel, and so he killed him.”
The priest’s face looked like a death’s head.
“I told Walter that I would give him time to get away. That’s why I delayed my discovery of the body.”
“And did you also arrange for Walter to take me with him?”
Father Anselm looked hunted. “He was taking you to Evesham, to your mother’s brother.”
“Why?”
“So you would be safe, of course.”
“Why wouldn’t I be safe at Chippenham? From what you have just told me, Roger was the only danger to me and Roger was dead.”
The room was still cold but sweat had broken out on the priest’s forehead. He said, “We…that is, I…thought it was best to get you away. The castle was going to be in turmoil once Lord Roger was found.”
Hugh’s straight dark brows lifted. “And so you entrusted me to the care of a murderer?”
The drops of sweat on the priest’s forehead were very noticeable. “Walter was a good lad. He loved Lady Isabel. What he did he did to protect her. I knew you would be safe with Walter.”
For a long moment, Hugh stared into the priest’s agitated face.
“I don’t believe you,” he said at last. “I don’t believe that is what happened.”
“What do you mean? Of course that is what happened. I was there.”
Hugh shook his head. “I don’t believe that Walter Crespin was the one who killed Lord Roger at all.”
The priest was staring at Hugh with fascinated horror.
Relentlessly, Hugh’s voice went on. “There was another reason why you thought it was so imperative to get me away from Chippenham that day, wasn’t there?”
The priest’s lips barely moved. “What reason could that be?”
“I was the one who did it, wasn’t I?” Hugh said. “I was the one who murdered my father.”
24
Hugh lay awake in the bed he was sharing with Thomas. A dagger’s width of moonlight streamed into the inn bedroom through a warped window shutter, giving enough light for him to make out the shadowy outlines of Thomas laying beside him and of the two knights who were sharing the other bed. The men were asleep. Thomas, who still had the remnants of a cold, was breathing noisily through his mouth. Otherwise the room was quiet.
More than anything in the world, Hugh wanted to be alone. There was nowhere for him to go, however, so he remained in the bed, holding himself very still so that he would not awaken Thomas.
Wisps of memory floated before his eyes:
The chapel at Chippenham, with its half-circle window set into the stone wall over the altar.
A man’s body sprawled on the floor in front of him.
My fault. It’s all my fault.
Blood.
Horror.
Hugh’s stomach heaved.
I must have hated him very much, he thought.
Lying there in the dark, he had worked out for himself how it must have happened. He had stabbed his father to death, and either Father Anselm had walked in upon them or he had gone to the priest and told him what had happened. To protect him, Father Anselm, and probably his mother, had asked Walter Crespin to take him away, to Simon of Evesham, his mother’s brother. Then Father Anselm had pretended to discover the body.