Rain had brought a chill to the afternoon, so I was pleased to be able to draw a bench beside the fire and steam myself dry while Kate stirred the pease pottage which would be our supper. No pork flavored the bland meal, for ’twas a fast day. I drew the pear-shaped lump of wood from my pouch, told my spouse where I had found it, and gave her my opinion of its purpose.
Kate took the thing delicately in her fingertips, as if it was yet bloody from use, and examined it in silence.
“The bodkin was fixed to this hole?” she asked, pointing to the cavity drilled into the end of the knob.
“Aye, so I believe. If not to this piece of wood, then to another very much like it.”
“Why not throw the bodkin and wood into the moat together?” Kate asked.
“I have asked myself the same question. When the murderer thrust the iron into Sir Henry’s ear the bodkin would have been forced against the wood and deep into the knob, but when the felon attempted to draw the point from Sir Henry’s skull it was likely loosened from the wooden base. The bodkin was not fixed to the wood, so when the point entered Sir Henry’s ear it was caught there and remained when the murderer tried to pull it free.”
“If so, how did the felon free it from Sir Henry’s ear?” Kate asked.
“’Twas not held so fast as it would have been had it been driven through another place in the skull. There is an opening in the bone within the ear, and a man’s skull is weaker there.”
“Oh,” Kate said with a wrinkled lip. “A woman’s also, I presume?”
“Aye. For all of our differences, for which much thanks to God, we are much alike.”
Kate looked to the floor, where Bessie played with a wooden spoon, and spoke again. “Our differences will become plain soon. Bessie will have a sister or brother come Candlemas.”
“I have guessed as much,” I admitted.
Kate seemed disappointed. Her brow furrowed. “How so?” she asked.
“You take little or nothing to break your fast,” I said. “And last Friday I heard you retching in the toft when I departed for the castle.”
“Oh… I thought to surprise you with the news. You are pleased?”
“Indeed so.”
“I had forgot,” Kate continued, “that you are a bailiff and ’tis your business to bring hidden things to light.”
“’Tis a gloomy business, and one I sometimes wish to abandon.”
Kate was startled into silence for a time. “What would we do, if you did so?” she finally said.
“Return to Oxford. I have some reputation there as a competent surgeon. If enough folk do themselves harm I might keep the wolf from our door. And we would have the rent from your dowry house.”
“I have grown fond of Galen House,” Kate said, “and Bampton, also. Could you not find enough custom here?”
“I think not. If I surrender my post as Lord Gilbert’s bailiff but remain in Bampton I fear we will soon be paupers.”
“Perhaps your melancholy will pass.”
“If I discover who did murder in Bampton Castle my spirits will improve, I think, but each day which passes seems to take me farther from a resolution, not nearer.”
“I find,” Kate said, “that on such a dreary day my mood is often as low as the clouds. Perhaps the sun will appear tomorrow and improve your humor.”
“I wish it may be so.”
We sat in silence for a time, then Kate returned to the subject of the knob and bodkin.
“You think the felon wished you or Sir Roger to find evidence of a squire’s guilt, so kept the bodkin to serve the purpose, but cast away the wooden part of the tool?”
“Aye. But why not leave both parts where they might be found? It may be that the knob points more to the murderer than the bodkin does, and that is why the felon cast it away. If I can discover where it came from I may be on the trail of the murderer.”
In truth my disposition began to recover at that moment, for Bessie had tired of counting her toes and toddled to my knee, begging to be held. I approved her request and spent the next hour jabbering with my daughter, escaping all thoughts of murder, and enjoying the warmth of the fire. Did I really wish to give up my post and my place in Bampton because of the vexation I felt at not yet discovering who had slain Sir Henry? By the time Kate ladled our supper into bowls and set them upon our table I was ready to return to the search for a murderer. Perhaps it is a duty of children, although they know it not, to cheer their parents with the simplicity of a childlike joy and trust.
I brought a bucket of water from the well, and after Kate washed our bowls, nursed Bessie, and took her to bed, we sat together on the bench enjoying what warmth remained upon the hearth. The rain had ceased, but drops lingered upon the glass of our windows, and the cloudy evening grew dark early.
“When I think that I have sorted out the trail of evidence leading to Sir Henry’s murder,” I complained, “some new event or clue comes to muddle the business.”
“And I know you well,” Kate said. “You wish things to be orderly, tied up in neat bundles.”
“Aye, but life is oft a muddle. I get my bundles knotted and tidy and someone comes by and cuts the cord and all is in disarray again.”
“Perhaps such folk are the Lord Christ’s tool to keep us from thinking too highly of our accomplishments. We need to see our plans and the things we have achieved laid waste so as to keep us humble.”
“If so, the Lord Christ has achieved His purpose. I am no nearer discovering Sir Henry’s murderer than when I was first summoned to the castle last Wednesday. Each day I fail to find the felon serves to increase my humility and thereby improve my standing before the Lord Christ.”
Kate’s brow furrowed. “Does failure then bring us closer to God than success? Does the Lord Christ not wish you to prevail over a felon?”
I thought upon her words for some time before I replied. “The Lord Christ wishes men to attain success, I think, so long as their desires accord with His will. But if a man reaches his goal and is convinced his own competence is responsible for the achievement, he will not likely seek the Lord Christ in humility, nor share with Him other men’s praise.”
“So failure is better for the soul than success?” Kate asked.
“Depends upon the soul,” I replied. “If a man blunders at all he does, will he not soon lose heart? How then can he achieve any success, for himself or anyone else?”
“So then ’tis best for a man to sometimes succeed, and sometimes fail?”
“Aye. For life in this world success is necessary, but for assurance of life with the Lord Christ in heaven, some failure, and the abasement it brings, is perhaps needful. There are few prideful men in heaven, I think.”
“Is the Lord Christ teaching you humility and preparing your soul for heaven because you have not yet discovered a felon?”
“Mayhap it is too soon to say. But I must learn to be content, after I have done my best, whether I succeed in some matter or fail. I must do my work, without allowing it to disturb the peace of my soul. The Lord Christ commands that we serve others, but I must not forget Him whilst I do so.”
“You have come near to that?” Kate asked.
“Aye, but you and Bessie have reminded me of my duty.”
“Duty to the Lord Christ or duty to men?”
“Is there a difference? I am thinking that a responsibility to one is a responsibility to both.”
“It is your duty to God, then, to find who has slain Sir Henry… and a duty to Sir Henry, also, though he is not here to appreciate your effort?”
“Aye, as you say. And a duty to the Lady Margery and Lady Anne as well.”
“Unless one was a party to the murder,” Kate said.
“Even then, for if the sin goes undiscovered the guilty may never seek forgiveness of the Lord Christ, and imperil their soul because of my malfeasance.”