I noted how her hair, now growing in more thickly, was becoming like Kate’s in color. I pray her nose will be like Kate’s as well, rather than like mine.
Kate had been in the toft, but came through the rear door to see me lift Bessie, and so joined in the embrace.
My wife stood back, gazed upon me and Bessie, then spoke. “You have had good success this day, eh?”
I have never been able to conceal my thoughts and sentiments from Kate. Not that I’ve ever had much reason or need to do so. Perhaps the ability to construe a husband’s thoughts is a gift from the Lord Christ. To men God has given muscles and strength. To women, to make up for the lack, He has given discernment. What, then, of Lady Margery and Lady Anne? Mayhap my speculation was foolishness.
Kate set before me a simple supper of porre of peas and maslin loaf, but I ate little, partly because I had dined well at the castle a few hours earlier, and partly because Kate could not resist questioning me of the day’s events and the conclusion of the matter of the deaths of Sir Henry Burley and Sir John Peverel.
“The valet will hang?” Kate said when I had done.
“No doubt. Arthur and I will take him to Sir Roger on the morrow. I will be called to testify before the King’s Eyre when it next meets.”
“And your words will doom the man.”
“Aye. ’Tis a sorry business I am called to do, but Walter could have avoided this end.”
“Likely he could see no other way to find justice for his cousin,” Kate said.
“Probably. We must pray that his soul be mended and some priest in Oxford will absolve him of his sins so he may see heaven’s gates open to receive him.”
“May it be so,” Kate said softly.
Kate nursed Bessie until she fell to sleep, then took her to her cradle. While she did so I drew a bench to the toft and awaited her return. While in our sleeping chamber on the upper floor of Galen House Kate had undone her hair, so when she joined me in the toft it fell below her shoulders as it had done when first I saw her at her father’s stationer’s shop in Oxford.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the toft, and caused Kate’s hair to glisten, the color of an oak leaf in autumn. We sat upon the bench, bathed in the warmth of the setting sun, until the shadows brought a chill to the toft and drove us to our bed.
I broke my fast next morn with a loaf and cheese. ’Tis a long way to Oxford. I found Bruce and two other horses saddled and waiting when I arrived at the castle. Arthur awaited me, and I told him to bring Walter to the marshalsea and when he was mounted upon his beast to bind his hands to the pommel. While Arthur completed this task I sought Lord Gilbert and found him entering his chapel. His face was somber.
“I am off to Oxford with Walter,” I said.
“Arthur accompanies you?”
“Aye. We’ll return tomorrow. What of Lady Margery?”
“She will leave this day. Her grooms are harnessing runcies to her cart as we speak. She will join me to hear prayers for Lady Petronilla, break her fast, and then set off.”
“Lady Petronilla has not recovered?”
“Nay. She grows worse. Her flesh is hot, and her head aches so badly she cannot bear light, but will have her windows covered. And upon her leg is a purple bruise the size of my hand, as if she’d kicked a chair leg.”
These symptoms brought me disquiet, but I did not voice my worry to Lord Gilbert, whose anxiety for his lady was great enough already.
“Have you a potion which can ease her pain?” he continued.
“Aye. I will ask John Chamberlain to accompany me when I set out for Oxford. We will pass by Galen House and I will prepare a potion. He can return with it.”
Arthur and Walter were mounted and ready when John and I approached the marshalsea. The chamberlain walked behind to Galen House, where I bid him enter with me. Kate was surprised at my reappearance. I had told her that I would seek lodging with her father this night, and return on the morrow. I briefly explained my return while I went to my chest and drew from it two potent physics: the crushed seeds and root of hemp, and the ground root of monk’s hood.
Monk’s hood is a powerful poison, but if used in small amounts can relieve pain and reduce fever. If too much of the stuff is consumed the pain and fever will end forever. It is a dangerous plant, and must be employed only when a sufferer is in great peril. I had not seen Lady Petronilla in her distress, but the symptoms Lord Gilbert described brought me much apprehension. If her illness was what I suspected, the monk’s hood would create no more danger than she already endured, and might ease the agony which would soon come to her.
I measured out the hemp and monk’s hood carefully and placed the herbs into separate vials. To John I gave instructions on how much of these palliatives might be safely given to Lady Petronilla, then kissed my Kate a second farewell and mounted Bruce for the journey to Oxford.
We were not yet to Cote when Arthur mentioned again that Cicily was feeling unwell, and he was worried that whatever illness had befallen Lady Petronilla might have come nigh her. I did not wish to cause the fellow worry, so did not tell him of my suspicions regarding the Lady Petronilla, but this news made the journey even more burdensome.
Tenants and villeins were busy at their labor as we passed. Men were at work digging and cleaning ditches, children and their mothers were busy cutting weeds from pea and bean fields, and in Cote the lord’s sheep were being sheared. Walter gazed intently at these scenes, as well he might, for he would not likely see such again.
Sir Roger would not hear of me seeking lodging in any other place. Arthur was sent, after dinner, to the dormitory where Oxford Castle grooms and sergeants are quartered, and I was taken to a chamber in the sheriff’s private quarters. The King’s Eyre, Sir Roger said, would convene on St Benedict’s Day. I should think the judges will hear Walter’s case then, or surely next day. The day after that he will be taken to Green Ditch, a field north of Holywell Street, and there hang for his felonies.
I made arrangements to return to give testimony at Walter’s trial, then walked to Holywell Street to visit my father-in-law. Some years past I had removed a splinter of wood from his back which had penetrated under his ribs when he fell from a ladder, and for this service he offered to supply me with ink and parchment when I wished to record incidents which enliven a bailiff’s otherwise tedious existence. Had he known then of the frequency with which intriguing events would enter my life, he might have reconsidered the offer.
Robert Caxton refused my coin. He said good news of another grandchild to be, and the health of the one which was, was payment enough. I returned to Bampton with a fresh pot of ink and four gatherings, upon which this account is written.
Arthur and I entered Bampton next day in a soaking rain. I was much pleased to see the spire of the Church of St Beornwald appear through the downpour. I dismounted just inside the castle gatehouse, intending to leave Arthur with the returning of our beasts to the marshalsea. My intent was to return to Galen House, a warm fire, and dry clothes. But Wilfred appeared as we passed under the portcullis, with word that Lord Gilbert was anxious for me to attend him, and I was to be told this as soon as I returned from Oxford.
I found my employer in the solar, having only then arrived from the hall and his dinner. I do not think he ate well. His face was ashen and he stumbled when he stood from his chair beside the fire when I entered the chamber.
“Ah, Hugh, I am much pleased for your return. Come, stand here close by the fire to dry yourself. Lady Petronilla is in a wretched state.”
“Did the potion I sent with John Chamberlain provide no relief?”
“Don’t know,” he said. “She did not say… she cannot say.”
“Cannot?”
“She sleeps, and will not be awakened.”