“What caused this row, I wonder,” Sir Roger said.
“Sir John is not in fit condition to be asked,” I said. “If he is alive tomorrow we may inquire of him then. Meanwhile, you might send a sergeant to bring Squire William from the dungeon to the solar and we may examine him to hear his account of the business.”
“After supper,” Lord Gilbert said. I glanced toward the screens passage and saw there the scowling face of Thomas Attewell, Lord Gilbert’s cook at Bampton Castle, peering into the hall. He had prepared a meal and if ’twas not eaten soon it would grow cold.
Uctred and another groom were assigned to bring a pallet to the hall and transport Sir John to his chamber. I told the knight I would visit him in the morning and saw him nod in understanding.
I had no interest in dining this evening at Lord Gilbert’s table. So when he asked me to remain I declined, told him I would return shortly to seek information from William, and made my way to Galen House and a simple supper in the peace and quiet of my own family.
“You believe this fight is connected to Sir Henry’s death?” Kate asked as we consumed a maslin loaf. “Or is it but a coincidence?”
“Bailiffs do not believe in coincidence.”
“Ah… then one or both of the fellows knows of Sir Henry’s murderer, and the other…”
“The other knows, or believes that he knows,” I completed her thought.
“And the squire is now in the castle dungeon?”
“Aye. Nothing like a dungeon to concentrate a man’s mind upon his sins.”
“And give him time to devise a tale which will turn guilt to the other fellow and ascribe innocence to himself.”
“Aye, that also. Which is why I am to return to the castle this hour and with Lord Gilbert and Sir Roger question the squire about the brawl. If he does not have the night to invent his excuses we may more readily get the truth from him.”
The sun rested just above the treetops of Lord Gilbert’s forest to the west of the castle when I re-entered the gatehouse. I went directly to the solar, for supper was over and done and grooms were disassembling tables and benches. This was Sunday eve, so there would be no entertainment, no musicians or jongleurs. Lord Gilbert does not think such frivolity meet for the Sabbath.
Sir Roger was in attendance with Lord Gilbert and Lady Petronilla, enjoying wine and conversation, when I arrived at the chamber. Lady Petronilla excused herself and Lord Gilbert called for a sergeant to bring Squire William to us.
The youth’s eyes were turning black from the blow he’d taken, and his nose was swollen and askew, clearly broken, if no longer dripping gore. William eyed us cautiously from the slits his eyes had become. Lord Gilbert and Sir Roger sat facing the lad, arms crossed, intent but waiting. Waiting for me.
“You might have killed Sir John,” I began.
“He will live?” the squire asked.
“Aye, most likely.”
I thought I saw regret flash across William’s battered face. Not regret that Sir John might perish, but that he might not.
“Why did you thrust a dagger into him?”
“Because he first attacked me.”
“You speak of your nose?”
“Aye. And when he struck me down he drew his dagger and would have plunged it into me was I not too quick for him.”
“He knocked you down,” Sir Roger asked, “then made to stab you whilst you were on the ground?”
“Aye… but I saw him coming and rolled away.”
“Then you drew your own dagger?” I asked.
“Aye. I’d got free of him, but he came for me again, so I took a swipe at him with my dagger as I twisted away. Made him back away, an’ I was able to get to my feet.”
“That’s when we came upon you and stopped the fray?” Lord Gilbert asked.
“What did you do to cause Sir John to smite you so?” I asked.
“Didn’t do anything,” William replied.
I saw one of Lord Gilbert’s eyebrows rise, as is common when some matter strikes him as curious. “If you did nothing, then you must have said something,” Lord Gilbert said. “A man will not aim such a blow at another for no reason.”
I realized that Lord Gilbert had chanced upon the cause of the fray when William made no reply. For him to do so would mean that we who interrogated him might learn a thing he wished us not to know.
“The fight was near to the marshalsea,” I said. “Were you and Sir John going to attend your horses?”
“Aye. They’d not been exercised since day before Sir Henry died. We thought to go for a gallop.”
Men who dislike each other would not agree to a companionable ride through the countryside. Something went seriously awry between Sir John and William between the time they made plans to ride and their approach to the stables.
“Is Sir John an irascible fellow?” I asked.
The squire shrugged. “Never seemed so,” he said.
“Then you must have said something objectionable. What was it?”
William was again silent. Sir Roger responded.
“Say what Master Hugh requires, else you will return to the dungeon ’til your tongue is loosened.”
“I don’t remember my exact words,” he said.
“Nonsense,” I replied. “When a man says a thing which causes another to strike him to his knees, he is not likely to forget what he said which brought him two blackened eyes and a broken nose.”
“Broken? My nose is broken?”
“Aye,” Lord Gilbert said. “All askew. Now answer Master Hugh.”
William tenderly touched his nose, discovered the truth of Lord Gilbert’s assertion, then spoke.
“Can it be set right?” the squire asked.
“Aye,” I said. “I will deal with it when you have answered our questions. If you will not, then you may go through life with a nose seeking scents to the sinister side, and through which you may never breathe properly.”
William was, I knew, smitten with Lady Anne, and reports said the lass wished to wed the youth. Would she do so had he a disfigured face and a nose which would draw laughter behind upraised hands? I believe William considered these same thoughts.
“’Twas meant as a jest,” the squire finally said.
“What was? Your words to Sir John?” I asked.
“Aye.”
“What did you say that he took amiss?”
“We spoke of horses… I said ’twould not be long before Sir Geoffrey would be riding Sir Henry’s mare.”
“You did not see that Sir John would see this as an insult to Sir Geoffrey and Lady Margery?” I said.
“Nay,” the squire said ruefully. “All know that Sir Geoffrey and the Lady Margery…”
William’s voice trailed off. I prodded him to continue. “‘Sir Geoffrey and Lady Margery’ what? It would be well if I could restore your nose as soon as possible. A broken nose left crooked for too long can sometimes not be made right.”
William gingerly touched his swollen nose, grimaced, then continued.
“That Sir Geoffrey and Lady Margery would wed if she was free of Sir Henry.”
“All knew this? Did Sir Henry know?”
“Think so. If he didn’t, he was the only one, man or woman, on his estate who didn’t.”
“What else do folk know? Did Sir Geoffrey and Lady Margery connive in Sir Henry’s death?” Sir Roger asked.
“Oh, nay. Surely not,” William replied.
“Then how did they expect Lady Margery to be free of Sir Henry?” Lord Gilbert asked.
“Lady Margery was to seek an annulment.”
“On what grounds?” Lord Gilbert scoffed. “That they had no issue? She had no funds. How would she gain the coin a bishop would require of her?”
“Don’t know what ground she was to claim. Did all work according to plan, she wouldn’t have needed grounds.”
“Oh?” I said.
“The Bishop of Lichfield is old and ill and will not live much longer. Lady Margery’s cousin is thought to have the see when the old bishop dies.”
“Ah,” Lord Gilbert said. “The new bishop would grant the plea of kinfolk.”
“So men said.”
“And this is why Sir Henry was distressed and lay awake nights?” I asked.
“Mayhap,” the youth agreed. “That and his debts.”