I nodded understanding and my employer concluded by saying, “You can be a tactful man, Hugh, when you put your mind to it. I have every confidence that you will see the silver returned with little fuss.”
“Prying stolen spoons and knives from a thief of gentle birth without annoyance will be like taking bacon from a pig with no squealing.”
“Hah,” Lord Gilbert laughed and swatted me across the back. “I shall be pleased to learn how you do it.”
And with that he returned to the solar, his wife and guests, one of them a thief, there to await dinner.
Confronting a beautiful lass with her felony would not be a pleasant task, especially so as she was of rank and I am not. So, as Lord Gilbert had presented the task to me, I decided to bestow it upon another. I sought Walter, Sir Henry’s valet, and found him crossing to the hall from the servants’ quarters, intent upon his dinner. He would not enjoy it much when he learned what he must do.
I greeted the fellow, but he was not interested in conversation. His eyes went from me to other castle servants who, like him, were hurrying toward the hall and a meal.
“I will not detain you long,” I said, and went straight to the heart of the matter. “I have learned that Lady Anne took four of Lord Gilbert’s silver knives and two spoons from the pantry four days past.”
“What? Lady Anne? Surely you are mistaken. She…”
“She was seen. I have just this day learned of the theft. Lord Gilbert knows of it and demands that his silver be returned promptly.”
“Who saw her do such a thing? The man lies.”
“He does not. The silver has been counted and the missing pieces numbered. You are to speak to Lady Anne this day, at dinner, and tell her that her theft is discovered and the spoons and knives are to be returned immediately. Tell her that an hour after dinner the screens passage will be vacant. No man will be there. She is to leave the stolen goods upon the floor beside the pantry door, where Lord Gilbert’s pantler may find them and return them to their place.”
“But what if she denies the theft?” Walter said. “I cannot believe it of her.”
“Tell her that much unpleasantness will follow before this day is done if she does not do as I require. Remind her that the sheriff of Oxford is resident in the castle.”
The valet made no reply for a moment, I think trying to invent some reason whereby my accusation might be impeached, or, failing that, to find some way to avoid the task I had laid upon him.
“Aye,” he said finally, and I nodded toward the hall, releasing him to his dinner and his duty. He would appreciate neither this day.
I followed the valet, sought Humphrey, and told him that one hour after dinner ended neither he nor Andrew must be near the screens passage, nor the hall nor the kitchen, either. I did not tell him why I asked this of him, for fear Lady Anne would resist and the precaution would be for naught.
I took my meal in the hall again that day. It was a fast day, so Lord Gilbert’s table featured baked herring, viand de leach, brydons, blancmange, sturgeon, salmon in syrup, and a void of sugared apples, wafers, and hypocras.
I once again sat at the head of a side table, from which place I could observe Lady Anne at the high table and Walter, far down the opposite side table. Walter appeared to have little appetite, and it is true that he did not enjoy the delicacies which we of higher estate consumed, but I believe his abstinence due more to the task I had assigned him than to the quality of the stockfish and maslin loaf before him.
The Lady Anne ate well and conversed freely with Lady Petronilla, beside whom she sat this day. I noted that several times Lady Anne’s eyes met those of squire William, although when this occurred they both looked quickly back to their meal. And was it my imagination, or did a winsome pink blush spread across Lady Anne’s cheeks after one of these exchanges?
It seemed sure that Walter had not yet presented my demand to Lady Anne. He had no opportunity to do so before dinner, and when the grooms and lesser folk had finished their meal he left the hall with the others.
But as we who remained finished the void I saw him peer from the screens passage and knew he waited to deliver to Lady Anne the requirement that Lord Gilbert’s silver be returned. There was nothing now for me to do. I departed the hall and left Walter to the onerous task I had assigned him.
One hour passed slowly. When the time was nearly gone, and I was about to seek the screens passage, I saw Walter walking toward the marshalsea and hastened after him. He feared I would challenge him about Lady Anne, I think, and so when I came within earshot he said, “I repeated your words to Lady Anne. Does the silver not appear as you wish, ’twill be no fault of mine.”
The valet was defensive, but in his place I might have been as well.
“There is another matter I wish to speak to you of,” I said.
Walter’s face, already somber, fell even more as he imagined other disagreeable labors I might assign him.
“Sir Henry,” I began, “lay awake nights. I was asked to provide a potion which would help him sleep. When I asked you what caused his wakefulness you did not reply. It is now time for you to do so. You cannot be charged with betraying your lord. He is in his grave.”
The valet did not answer at once, but looked about, and beyond my shoulder, as if to see if some man might appear who could extricate him from an uncomfortable place. No man did, so he finally spoke.
“S’pose can do no harm to Sir Henry now. He was penniless. Had debts ’e couldn’t pay, an’ gentlefolk an’ bankers he’d borrowed from who wanted their coin.”
“Could he not sell lands from his manor?”
“Tried. But others knew of ’is embarrassment an’ thought to gain from him cheap. Wouldn’t sell to such folk. Said ’e’d not give his house or lands away to any man.”
Sir Henry was not the only gentleman to suffer financial reverses these past years. Since plague took so many lives, grain has declined in price, and with it the value of the land upon which to grow it. A knight who needs money will raise little from his lands.
“His debts were greater than his worth?”
“Probably. Didn’t speak of such things when the common folk was about. Heard ’im arguin’ about it with Lady Margery once. Shoutin’ at each other, they was… not like I was tryin’ to hear.”
“What was Lady Margery’s complaint?”
Walter’s mouth twisted into a crooked grin. “What does most ladies want of their husbands? Silks an’ furs for new gowns, an’ shoes an’ such, an’ more servants to care for it all.”
“Sir Henry could not afford these?”
“Nay. Said he’d told her before there was not a shilling to spare for new clothes, an’ why would she not accept that.”
“What was her reply?”
“Said if she’d known he was so poor she’d not ’ave wed. Wealthier men had sought her hand, an’ still would was she free of him.”
“Lady Margery spoke of being free of Sir Henry?”
Walter’s eyes were downcast, and he moved a pebble with his toe, then said, “Aye… she did.”
Holy Church permits no divorce. The only way an unhappy wife may be free of her husband is through his death, or annulment of the marriage. But annulment requires the good graces of a bishop, generally gained by a liberal contribution to the bishop’s purse. Walter knew this well. I had another question.
“Did Lady Margery have any new husband in mind, you think, if she was free of Sir Henry? Was that another reason for Sir Henry’s wakefulness?”
The valet was again silent for the space of a dozen heartbeats before he said, “Not for me to say.”
“But you have, all but the man’s name. Was it not so you would not have hesitated. Who is it who has caught the lady’s eye?”
“Don’t know,” he protested. “Just talk.”
“You’ve heard gossip, but are unsure ’tis true?”
“Aye.”
“What does gossip say? What name is tied to Lady Margery?”