‘If you beat her again, you may kill her, you fool, and then you’ll be before the court.’
Jordan leaned forward, head jutting belligerently. ‘You think so? Maybe, little leech, you’ll find yourself up there in front of the justice, with an accusation of adultery on your head. Eh?’
‘I piss on you, you-’
This time his speech was cut off as Jordan’s blackthorn stick rose and met his windpipe. In an instant, Ralph was pushed back into a doorway, the stick at his throat, and already his breath was restricted. Jordan was heavier than him, much broader and more powerful. Physicians tended not to need much muscle, and Ralph was starting to choke when Jordan released the stick and patted him disdainfully on the head.
‘Stick to leechcraft, little man. Stay looking after my whores if you like them so much. Leave big, bad fighting to real men. And don’t ever think to threaten me again,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘Because I swear on my mother’s soul that next time, I’ll put my fist down your throat and choke you on your entrails.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Juliana was exhausted. Returning from the cathedral after maintaining vigil over her husband’s body, she was sore and tense. The endless night had taken more from her than she had expected. People about her didn’t seem to realize, either. They went about their business as though there was nothing the matter, while all the time she felt as though she had been through an ordeal.
It was curious walking back from the cathedral. For some reason it put her in mind of her father’s funeral. But then of course Daniel had been there to support her. Now she felt so lonely …
She expected to be acknowledged on every side; surely everybody knew that her husband was dead? Yet no one spoke to her. The hawkers went on shouting their wares, the cooks continued to bawl out about their pies, the alewives screeched on about the quality of their drinks, and over all there was the din of horses, metalled hooves ringing on the cobbled ways, and dogs barking. It was a discordant cacophony that most days would sound comforting, being merely the regular background noise of her life, but today it was overawing, battering her ears. She had a headache before she had passed more than a few feet from the close.
It seemed as though the world was mocking her. They all knew of her desolation, but everyone was pretending that there was nothing wrong. The world was unchanged. Life could continue as before.
At the house, Gwen was already waiting with a strong jug of wine. ‘Come here, maid. Sit, sit, sit. Come, close your eyes,’ she cooed, shoving a pillow under Juliana’s head as she sat on a bench near a wall, lifting her feet and placing them on a small stool.
Gwen stood back and surveyed her work. ‘It’ll be a long while before you get over the aching, maid. You get used to it over time.’
‘You have buried so many, Gwen.’
‘Aye, that I have. Husband and children both. You learn how to over time, maid. I hope you don’t get to learn so well as me.’
‘Thank you, Gwen,’ Juliana said as she slipped into a merciful sleep …
… and woke to the sound of a door opening quietly.
She was startled. Springing up, she slipped and hit her head painfully against the wall, almost falling from the bench. Her heart pounded wildly and her eyes widened with fright when she saw Jordan le Bolle in the room with her.
‘My God!’
In her dream she had been asleep, and Daniel had come to her, bending to give her a last kiss before leaving for a long journey, and the feel of his lips was still upon hers, a chilly tingling. She put a finger to them, to see if there was any sensation of the corpse on her still, but all the time her eyes were fixed upon Jordan. ‘You …’
‘I gave you a fright,’ he concluded for her. He stood before her, then bent to take her hand.
‘No!’ she exclaimed, snatching her hand away and averting her face.
His face seemed to freeze. ‘I only wanted to greet you, lady.’
‘I’ve just returned from the vigil over my husband’s body,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘The man who was so cruelly taken from me.’
‘I was very sad to hear of your loss.’
She could say nothing. Her eyes remained on his, but he could see something in them. Not just fear: there was defiance there too. Good! It would make it all the easier to have her killed. She was not submissive by nature. Well, neither was Agnes, come to that.
He began, ‘Juliana, I am sorry that he is gone. Perhaps I can help you? I love your sister, after all, and some little. .’
‘You love no one! You are composed of hatred and bile, Jordan le Bolle! Have you forgotten the last time you spoke to my husband? You threatened to kill Daniel, and me, and my children, if he didn’t stop looking into your affairs. Have you forgotten that? Because I haven’t!’
He smiled again, but this time distantly, she was glad to see. Taking his leave, he was a little distracted, and Juliana realized that he could hear Gwen thrashing about with her broom again in the front room. Then he gave a final nod and walked from the house.
She was sure that if Gwen hadn’t been in the next room, he would have killed her there and then.
Juliana sank back on the bench. She felt bone weary, but she daren’t close her eyes again. Partly it was fear that Jordan might return, but more than that, she was convinced that if she did, Daniel’s face would appear again, his cold, blue lips approaching hers.
Jordan stood outside the house with his stick in his hand, swinging it idly.
There could be no mistaking her feelings. When he entered the room, she had recoiled with revulsion as soon as she recognized him. No, there was no doubt at all that she was convinced he had killed her man.
Right. There were two problems to consider, then: Agnes and Juliana. Both could embarrass him, and he had no wish to be caught by their wiles. It would be a shame to have someone else kill them. Both were lovely, and he longed for an opportunity to enjoy himself again as he had with Anne. A shame, but there was no point worrying about pleasures that were gone for ever.
He would speak to one of his men and have both bitches removed.
Simon stood in the close in front of the Dean’s house and waited, leaning his shoulders against the wall. ‘How’s the wound, Baldwin?’
‘Not too bad. It gives me gip at night, but generally I can cope,’ Baldwin responded.
‘I’m sorry if this means you’ll be delayed in getting home.’
‘It’s just that I promised Jeanne,’ he said quietly. He remembered how she had been and felt himself torn. He didn’t want to do anything to upset her again.
The Dean had promised to send a messenger warning Jeanne that they were to be held up for a short time, and also telling Edgar to have the ostler remove the saddles from the horses for now and rub them down. A critical guiding light in Baldwin’s life, a result of his earlier life in the Templars, was the rule that horses were seen to first, before any humans, and it was a habit which died hard. It was fortunate that he had remembered to ask that the messenger should tell Jeanne first.
‘She’ll not be happy, you think?’ Simon ventured.
Baldwin gave a quick frown. ‘I don’t know. She seems rather … unsettled just now. I don’t pretend to understand why.’
Simon nodded, but then said, ‘Ah, I’ll willingly gamble that these are the two.’
Approaching them were a vicar and a clerk, and as they drew nearer, the vicar introduced himself. ‘Hello, Sir Baldwin, Bailiff. I am Thomas of Chard, and this well-favoured soul here is Paul, one of the Dean’s clerks.’