‘Well?’ Simon asked. ‘Who was it down there? We’ve heard from another that you were off your horse, beating among the bushes, and now we learn that you had run back and called out to Godfrey. Who was the boy if it wasn’t Herbert?’
‘I think it was that cretinous son of a villein, Alan,’ Thomas muttered. ‘The little shit has hit people before. Ask Stephen about him, he’ll tell you – go on, ask the priest! The sod sits in the bushes and when he sees a rider coming past, he tries to tickle up the horses by hitting them with a stone from his sling. He got me instead of my horse that day, hit me right on the thigh, and painful it was, too – that was why Godfrey heard me shout. Anyone would have cried out, hit by a bullet like that.’
‘What did you do then?’ Simon pressed.
‘Like Godfrey said, I went in search of the brat; I was going to give him a sound thrashing if I had the chance, but I couldn’t find him, and from what Godfrey said, the sod hadn’t gone back that way. Thinking that he must be hiding down the slope or out on the road to Throwleigh, I made off back the way I had come to head him off. When I still couldn’t spot him, I started searching for him in and among the bushes.’
‘And then you heard a cart coming your way?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Yes, but not Edmund’s. The one I heard was the fishmonger’s cart coming back from the manor. I looked up when that thing came rumbling along, and had a good look at it in case Alan was clinging on beneath, but I couldn’t see him, so I went back to the bushes again.’
Simon frowned, and jerked his thumb towards Godfrey. ‘You said you remained up there. What else did you see?’
‘Sir, after Thomas went off in a rage, I sat there laughing awhile, and didn’t notice much. When I did look about me again, I saw that Petronilla had disappeared. She was going to pacify the priest before he could hurt the boys – well, that’s what my master thought…’
Lady Katharine stirred. ‘Bailiff, she knew my feelings towards the priest. Stephen always resorted to the cane at the slightest provocation, and I had a fear that one day his zeal would overcome him. Petronilla would have gone to protect my boy if the priest had caught him so far from home.’
‘Which means that Stephen and Petronilla both thought that Herbert was up the hill with them,’ Baldwin pointed out. He too glanced at Godfrey. ‘What makes you think that Thomas captured and killed him?’
‘This, Sir Baldwin. Only a little while later, my master and I were about to ride back to the manor when we heard a short cry and a bellow of anger, and then a few minutes later a boy hared over the road going back up the hill towards the priest. By this time Stephen had gone quiet, and I reckoned the girl had persuaded him to leave well alone, but a few moments later up came Thomas, puffing and blowing like a spent nag, pointed up the hill, and was away, over the road and into the bushes.
‘At the time it all seemed so ludicrous I was ready only to laugh, but then I thought to myself, if the brat likes taking shots at horses and riders, maybe the best place for me is beyond reach of his sling – and so I rode away.’
‘So your evidence is,’ Baldwin concluded, ‘that the lad was alive then, that Thomas was enraged and could have done the boy harm – although you say he was still on foot?’ Godfrey nodded, and Baldwin gave Thomas a puzzled frown.
Simon set his head on one side. ‘Did you ride straight back to the manor then?’
‘No, sir. We were about to, but I persuaded my master not to take the direct route within range of his pebbles.’
‘Why?’
Godfrey grinned. ‘Sir, like I said, I thought the boy was up there with a sling. I didn’t fancy being his target on my ride home! Sir James agreed to take the longer route homewards, and as we were about to turn and go off, we saw the other carter, the local man.’
‘Edmund,’ Simon nodded.
‘Yes, sir. He was drunk, that was obvious. He was reeling on the seat every time he hit a pebble on the track. He looked mightily fearful of us too: two strangers, well-accoutred, armed and obviously not local. He hunched his head down into his shoulders like a snail, and tried to avoid meeting our gaze. We just stared at him, for fun, you understand, and he rode on by. But when he got some few yards from us, I saw him turn and stare back at us.’
Baldwin looked at Thomas. ‘We heard that Thomas was down at the other road when Edmund passed, yet you say Thomas ran over the road before the cart came into view?’
Daniel interrupted. ‘Edmund must have been lying!’
‘I don’t think so, Daniel,’ said Simon. “The distance Thomas had to run was only short, yet Edmund would have seen him up to a half-mile away from the fork. I daresay Edmund saw him, chose to take the other road, and then Thomas set off after his assailant, running up to the higher road and over it before Edmund got there.‘
‘That would explain it,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘So then, Godfrey. After witnessing all this excitement, you rode away from the scene with your master.’
‘Yes, sir. We went straight down through the bushes to the Throwleigh road, and came back that way.’
‘What of you, Thomas?’
The sagging figure eyed him bleakly. I went after the sod, I admit, but he escaped. I couldn’t catch him -I never even saw his face.‘ He stopped and stared about him, then burst out, ’You have to believe me, I wouldn’t have killed him! He was my nephew, for God’s sake! I wouldn’t have hurt him.‘
Katharine rose shakily to her feet and, without glancing at anyone else, crossed the floor to him. She stood before him, holding his gaze, and suddenly her hand whipped out and struck his cheek. Bunching a fist, she hit him again, and then she flailed at his chest with both hands, and shrieked, ‘You killed him! You murdered my Herbert, my poor, darling Herbert! Murderer!’
Daniel rushed to her side and caught her wrists. Speaking softly and soothingly, he forced her to turn from the ashen Thomas, and led the sobbing woman from the room. A few yards behind them strode Stephen, his face troubled, hands fiddling with his rosary.
Thomas suddenly shouted, ‘Where’s Anney? Get that bitch in here! Get her to tell you what she was doing up there!’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jordan stood before the imposing gates and stared up, awestruck. If it weren’t for the stoic friend at his side, he would have turned and fled from the place. As it was, his feet felt as if they were rooted to the spot.
It wasn’t only that this gate and the buildings beyond represented power and money, it was also the recent history of his family. The lord of this demesne had been going to evict them from their house; they weren’t only going to lose it, but were claimed to be villeins, too, their freedom gone for ever, and Jordan couldn’t help but feel a qualm at the sight of the studded oak gates which loomed so menacingly above them.
Yet he had his duty to perform. His father was here, in his prison, probably starving, almost certainly beaten for no good reason, just because the Lady hated him and his family. That thought made him swallow nervously, aware that she might order his own punishment, but it also fired a contrary determination to do whatever he must, to suffer beatings or whippings if need be, to get his father released.
Alan took a deep, shuddering breath – proof that he was not quite so bold as he had tried to make out. He felt the peril of the imposing gates as well.
It made Jordan sorry for the older boy. He knew Alan wanted to be the leader in their escapades, and yet here he was, fearful, while Jordan’s own anxiety was leaving him, to be replaced with a wish to get the dreaded interview over and done with.