“While I was thus engaged another French knight, all in black armor and with a white plume upon his helm, came up behind me and delivered a blow which dropped me to my knees.”
“I was too far away to see,” Sir Roger said, “lost amongst the vines and dealing with my own foe, else I would have come to Lord Gilbert’s aid. But Sir Henry was fighting nearby, and saw him fall. Sir Henry left the knight he was battling and with a yeoman came to Lord Gilbert’s relief.”
“The knight that came upon me was a powerful man,” Lord Gilbert said. “He laid such a blow across my helm, I saw all the stars and planets. Sir Henry had the courage of two men, but the size of a lad. He was overmatched against two. ’Twas then that Sir Geoffrey — not yet Sir, only a yeoman then — notched an arrow and from no more than four paces away put shafts through the French armor and dispatched both. ’Twas unfortunate. Dead men pay no ransom.”
“Aye,” Sir Roger agreed. “And Sir Henry needed funds even then.”
“When I regained my wits the battle was nearly done,” Lord Gilbert said. “King Jean was taken, along with many French knights who survived the slaughter. Prince Edward saw me being assisted back to our lines, as I was yet unsteady upon my feet. He asked my state, and Sir Henry, whose arm I leaned upon, told him all. The prince asked for Geoffrey Godswein and when the fellow was presented to him, he knighted him then and there.”
“Along with a Welsh archer who had done him good service that day,” the sheriff added.
“So you see, I owed much to Sir Henry, who came to my aid, and to Sir Geoffrey, whose arrows may have saved us both.”
“You were pleased to award him a penny for his skills this day,” I said.
“Aye,” Lord Gilbert agreed. “He has had coins from me before.”
“Did he ask for it?” I asked.
“Nay. Said a knighthood was pay enough for what he’d done, but Sir Henry presented him with a few shillings — all he could afford, I think — and I gave the fellow two marks.”
“Sir Henry gave Sir Geoffrey a few shillings,” I thought aloud. “Did Sir Geoffrey think that enough for his service, or was he resentful that he received no more?”
“Ah,” Lord Gilbert said. “I see your point. The fellow seemed pleased with what he was given, then and now. And part of his reward was to enter Sir Henry’s service. He’s been under Bampton Castle roof for nearly a month, and if he’s wrathful about what he was awarded twelve years past, he hides it well.”
“We seek a man who wished Sir Henry dead,” the sheriff said. “I think Sir Henry was worth more to Sir Geoffrey alive than dead. Whom now will he serve? Will Lady Margery keep him in her retinue?”
“Walter, the valet, has told me that Sir Henry and Lady Margery quarreled.”
“Ha… what marriage does not have occasional dispute?” Lord Gilbert laughed. “The man who does not sometimes displease his wife has probably not enough spine to say ‘boo’ to a goose. And the woman who will not inform her husband when she is annoyed has not yet, I think, been born.”
“If two people can live together without occasional cross words,” Sir Roger said, “it shows a lack of spirit admirable only in sheep. Did the valet say what they argued about?”
“Money. Lady Margery said she’d not have wed Sir Henry had she known his circumstances. Said there were others she might have wed, and could do so yet, if she were free of him.”
“Not whilst Sir Henry lived,” Lord Gilbert said thoughtfully.
“Walter has overheard Lady Margery’s maids. They speak of her interest in some knights, he knows not who. They spoke of more than one.”
“Sir Henry was a cuckold?”
“Lady Margery’s maids did not say. Perhaps they do not know of a certainty.”
“A lady’s maidservants know all there is to know of her business,” Lord Gilbert said. “It might be well to speak to one.”
“Lady Margery might not permit it,” I said.
“She would if Lady Petronilla asked. I’ve heard my wife speak of one of Lady Margery’s maids as having great skill with needle and thread. What if Lady Petronilla should ask for the woman to be sent to her chamber tomorrow, to mend some garment?”
“Lady Margery would smell a rat. Lady Petronilla has servants as skilled as any who wait upon Lady Margery, surely.”
“Hmmm… aye, probably so. You do not wish to speak privily to one of Lady Margery’s maids, then?”
“Aye, I do. ’Tis a worthy thought. But how might it be arranged?”
“I’ll arrest one of ’em,” Sir Roger said.
“On what charge?” Lord Gilbert asked.
“Your silver was stolen, was it not? We know of it, and Walter, and the Lady Anne, Humphrey and Andrew also, but who else? I’ll send a sergeant to Lady Margery and have ’im seize one of her servants. What are their names? Which do you think most pliant?”
“Lady Petronilla would know who serves Lady Margery.” Lord Gilbert turned to his wife, who had, to this time, had no part of our conversation, but had listened intently. I believe there were events of the Battle of Poitiers she knew not of ’til that day.
“The youngest of Lady Margery’s maids is Isobel Guesclin. She might speak more readily than some, though I would be sorry to see her frightened in such a way. She is a shy, sweet young lass.”
“I’ll have my sergeant say only that she was seen near the screens passage the day the silver went missing, and Master Hugh wishes to ask if she saw any man lurking about the place.”
“She may deny being near the pantry,” Lord Gilbert said. “My sergeant will say that’s as may be, but he is to obey me an’ take her to Master Hugh an’ she can tell all to him.”
I could think of no reason to dismiss this subterfuge, other than the fright the maid Isobel might feel. And that would be brief.
“Tell your sergeant to bring the woman to the chamber off the hall. I will await her there.”
“Do be kind, Master Hugh,” Lady Petronilla said.
“You may trust my discretion.”
The chamber I spoke of was my own when I first came to Bampton to serve Lord Gilbert as his bailiff and surgeon to the town. A table, bench, and chair remained in the room. I moved the table and chair aside and placed the bench in the middle of the room, where slanting beams from the evening sun would illuminate whoever sat upon it.
Sir Roger’s sergeant, the pale lass beside him, appeared but a moment after I had completed rearranging the chamber. Evidently neither the maid nor Lady Margery made serious objection to the young woman being drawn away to be questioned.
I dismissed the sergeant and bid Isobel enter. I nodded to the bench and told the maid to sit. Sunlight, as I planned, came through the slim window and into her eyes.
In the past, when I found need to ask questions of men who did not wish to answer, I found it advantageous to stand while my subject was seated and required to look up to me. I thought the same procedure would be effective with a maid.
The lass blinked in the golden sunlight and before I could speak, said, “M’lady sent me to the buttery for wine. But I saw no other but the butler in the screens passage.”
Here was news which would make my task easier. The maid had evidently been near the pantry about the time Lord Gilbert’s silver went missing.
“The sergeant told you of the missing silver?”
“Aye. Said spoons an’ knives was taken.”
“And you may have been seen in that end of the hall, near pantry and screens passage, when the theft occurred.”
I saw a tear leave the maid’s eye. I disliked myself for what I was about. But if the deed helped discover a murderer, my conscience would be soothed.
“Never been near the screens passage alone but that once… to fetch a cup of wine. Only go there with m’lady. Never by myself. Lord Gilbert’s butler was there. I saw no other about, but perhaps he did. Was it he who said I was there?”
“Never mind. If you saw no other near the pantry, then perhaps ’tis you who made off with the silver?”
“Nay, I never did so.”
“Someone did. Did Lord Gilbert’s butler see you depart the screens passage with the wine?”