Her poor, darling daughter. There was a look of resignation on her face as she entered the room, followed by a too-bright smile. She hadn’t eaten anything yet today. Mabilla must make sure that she ate later. This starvation was all very well, but it’d be certain to weaken her.
Julia faced the door, and then, as she heard the voices, she threw a look at her mother in confusion. ‘I thought …’
‘It’s not Udo,’ Mabilla said as her maid walked in with two men behind her.
‘Mistress, this is Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, the Keeper of the King’s Peace, and Bailiff Simon Puttock. They want to talk to you.’
‘Godspeed, madam,’ said Simon, walking around the maid and looking at Mabilla. ‘I am afraid that Sir Baldwin and I are here to speak to you about your husband’s death. The Dean of the Cathedral has asked us to come to Exeter and investigate the murder. We’re here to find his killer.’
Mabilla’s attention went from him to the other man, the knight. He looked more stern, but there was something else in his face. He had dark eyes and a little beard that followed the line of his jaw. There were flecks of white in it, and a little dusting of more at his temples. A fine scar ran down his face, and it caught slightly at his mouth, twisting it up ever so slightly, she saw, giving him a very faintly cynical expression. Yet there was that little something else flickering in his eyes, she thought: vulnerability.
‘We should like to hear what you can tell us about the day your husband died,’ he said, ‘but we also need to know anything else that might have a bearing. Did he have any enemies in the city? Was he involved in a legal dispute? Did he owe money? Anything at all may help us to find his murderer.’
‘Julia, please leave us, would you?’ Mabilla asked.
Caught off guard, her daughter nodded, and started to make her way to the solar’s door, then suddenly she stopped. ‘No, Mother. If it’s to do with Father’s death, I want to be here.’
‘This is simply a discussion of matters which don’t affect you.’
‘You won’t be discussing my future husband, then?’
‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin interrupted, ‘you should both be present. There could be something which is relevant, which one may not realise, but which both of you together may see more clearly.’ He motioned to a stool, and when Mabilla nodded her agreement, he seated himself on it, his sword clattering loudly on the stone flags. ‘Ladies, please … even if it seems entirely unlikely that something could have a bearing on Henry Saddler’s death, still tell us. It may help us to form an impression of the whole man, which could lead us to learn who killed him.’
‘Do you have his business records?’ Simon enquired. ‘Perhaps I could look through them.’
Mabilla ordered her maid to fetch wine, and then she rose from the table and walked into the small room which had served as Henry’s counting chamber. She had his key about her neck, and she opened the chest in there, bringing out his ledger. Returning to the hall, she passed it to Simon.
He opened it and began to peruse the figures. After the last few weeks with Andrew, he was more than capable of reading through the figures and seeing where there could have been any problems. He ran his finger down the numbers, the roman numerals slowly forming a pattern in his mind. ‘His saddles weren’t cheap!’
‘My husband was a very accomplished craftsman. He used only the finest materials, and only the wealthy would buy them,’ Mabilla said.
‘I can believe that,’ Simon said, his finger still running down the list.
‘Perhaps first,’ Baldwin said, facing Julia, ‘you should tell me about your fiancé. You are clearly worried about him.’ Baldwin sat very still and studied her.
She felt he was like an owl peering at a mouse across a field, knowing that there was no need to exert himself; the mouse would soon be his. The thought that he might look on her as mere prey made her hold her head a little more haughtily. She would not speak of her fiancé in front of this fellow. Udo was surely innocent of anything to do with her father. Why, only yesterday he had told her how highly he had esteemed Henry. The plain fact was, Udo was their salvation, and the idea that she should endanger that by discussing him with these two officers was unthinkable.
Mabilla didn’t feel the same. Julia could see it in her eyes when she glanced at her mother. She was preparing herself to speak of him. She was going to betray him. ‘Mother!’
‘Julia, please leave us. I have asked you to do so once already. You have said your part. Sir Baldwin, you said you would prefer my daughter to remain. I should prefer that she leave us. I have some information that I should like to share, but it is not for my daughter’s ears.’
‘I won’t go! You’ll betray him, won’t you?’
‘Julia!’ Mabilla blazed suddenly. ‘This is very hard for me. Very hard indeed. It’s a matter that doesn’t concern you, and I want to discuss it in privacy. Leave the room now!’
Julia stared at her defiantly, but gradually allowed her eyes to drop to the floor. ‘Very well,’ she muttered, and made for the doorway again, pausing briefly at Mabilla’s side to whisper, ‘Udo is innocent of this. You’ll only make him hate us, and then where will we be?’
Mabilla said nothing, but sat as still as a figure carved in stone. Baldwin considered that often women would grow in attraction as they matured, and this woman seemed to have the dignity and poise of a queen, even in the midst of her grief. Until the door behind her was closed, she sat still and said nothing. Baldwin privately wondered whether her daughter was standing at the door and listening, just as any servant would when there was an interesting argument in prospect in the main hall, but then Mabilla took a deep breath.
‘You will understand that I do not like to speak of this. My own honour is at stake, and that is a grievous heavy burden just now. You see, I fear I may be responsible for my husband’s death.’
Simon heard the sudden silence after her calm, quiet words, and he looked up, his finger still on the vellum before him. He frowned. ‘You don’t mean you stabbed him?’
‘Of course not!’ she snapped, but then added introspectively, ‘Yet perhaps I did, even though I didn’t hold the dagger myself.’
‘Please explain,’ Baldwin commanded.
‘Many years ago, long before I was married, I had a lover called William. I was foolishy attracted by his good looks, his dark moods, his aura of violence … I was young and my judgement unsound.’ She paused and cleared her throat. ‘Then, there was a fight in the Cathedral Close and the Chaunter died. My man was one of those involved, and he fled, leaving me behind. Henry and I got together later and I wedded him. And I don’t regret it one moment! He was kind, good, and deserved my respect. I was graced with my daughter, and although I know Henry would have liked a son to carry on his trade, we were not so fortunate. Our boy-children both died soon after birth. Still, Henry never once criticised me or expressed himself disappointed. He only ever behaved affectionately and generously towards me, and for that I honoured him.’
‘However, if this past lover were to have returned, you fear he might have grown jealous?’ Baldwin enquired.
‘He is returned. He lives as a corrodian at the Priory. As soon as I saw him again, I knew he wanted me for his wife. He couldn’t remember that he had deserted me, and that I was left alone for nearly forty years! All he knew was, he wanted me and I should go running to him. He is entirely self-centred.’
‘You think he could have killed your husband?’
‘Oh, yes. He is a determined man, Sir Baldwin. A killer. He came here regularly to visit. Henry and he used to be friends, and Henry thought William was coming to talk to him about old times. He didn’t realise that each time William was speaking to me and trying to persuade me to leave my husband. I felt such a traitor!’