‘It would be, perhaps, if Esmon had not led a raiding party to rob the carters and kill Wylkyn, and it would be easier to believe if the body of Wylkyn hadn’t disappeared afterwards,’ Simon said. His attention was still fixed on Esmon, keeping an eye on the youth’s hands in case he tried to draw a sword.
‘I would like to offer you wine, will you come to the hall?’ Lady Annicia said. ‘I am sure that we can discuss this more sensibly without the need for raised voices.’
‘Not until we have seen the men being held,’ Baldwin said firmly. ‘My Lady, please command your men to open that door.’
‘Very well.’
‘Mother, I…’
‘Esmon, you may go to the hall and arrange for wine to be served while we await your father’s return.’
‘I…’
‘Go. Now!’
He reluctantly submitted and pushed his way through all the men in the room. Outside, he let out his breath in an angry gust. It was infuriating that she had arrived just then. There was no telling what she might do to calm the Bailiff. Esmon had hoped that he might be able to taunt the man into an indiscreet action, pulling a knife or sword. With all the men there, he wouldn’t have got two feet before falling under all their blows, and the rest would have been cowed and fearful after such an outburst, but now he didn’t know what would happen.
Huward entered the barn, his attention fixed on Osbert with an expression that made Os shiver as though someone had walked over his grave. It was a dead face, as though Huward had already lost his soul and was staring into the pit of Hell.
‘Huward, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.’
Standing a little inside the doorway, Huward showed no emotion. He didn’t speak; he couldn’t. The discovery of his wife’s deceit and disloyalty had snapped something inside him. It felt as though his entire life had been a sham. He had believed in his wife, in her love, in her devotion – and in his children. To learn that the children might not be his own, that was too much to bear. Although he had spent the night with Surval trying to come to grips with this, to see how he could rebuild his life and make peace with his wife, the more he considered how she had lied to him over the years, the more he felt that he couldn’t go back.
This conclusion he had reached as he walked about during the morning after leaving Surval at dawn. He had not been hungry, and the idea of food made him feel physically sick. Perhaps he could have gone back to his mill, confronted his wife, demanded to know if it were true – but no. It could serve no useful purpose. All it could do was harm the memory of his Mary and hurt poor Flora. Ben would survive, and Gilda would probably be granted a pension from Sir Ralph, the bastard! No, Flora didn’t deserve to be hurt. And she might still be his own daughter. Gilda couldn’t know which was Sir Ralph’s and which was Huward’s child.
All had been a little early, he recalled for the thousandth time. All had been delivered two to three weeks before their usual term. Did that mean he had been cuckolded perfectly and that all were Sir Ralph’s? That thought was like a screw tightening about his forehead, squeezing and making his brain work more slowly.
He had come here to see Piers to tell him that he would leave the area and seek his fortune in another town, because at least that way his remaining daughter might not learn and have to suffer the shame of being pointed at by all the other folk. She might still be his daughter. Ben, he cared less for. The boy had been a pleasing son until he changed a year or more ago, and since then he had grown sharp, bitter, unkind. Perhaps he would improve in later years, if Huward wasn’t here.
But Os’s words showed he was already too late. He wanted to save the family shame, but the whole vill knew. Os knew, Piers knew, and in a vill like this that meant surely everyone must soon know. There was no escape, only scandal and utter disgrace.
In his breast he felt the welling horror of dishonour. His heart seemed to harden to stone, a massy object in a body now suddenly emptied of all emotion other than all-consuming grief.
‘Huward, old friend, I am so sorry you had to learn like this,’ Piers was saying, and more in the same vein, but Huward, when he looked at him, wondered only whether Piers had cuckolded him too.
There were some husbands who happily sold their wives as whores, he knew, but that was whoring with the husband’s consent, to help provide for a family in sore straits, like during the famine years. But his wife had never mentioned spreading herself for the knight. She’d probably done it for all the men in the Hundred. If she’d betrayed him with one man, why not a thousand? He could never trust her again.
‘Do you want some food, Huward? Ale?’
‘Leave me alone!’ he suddenly roared as Piers put a hand to his shoulder. The miller lifted his arm and knocked the Reeve’s arm away. It had felt like a snake’s bite. Loathsome, then poisonous. It was repellent, this mental venom. There was no one, no man he could trust in the whole vill.
‘Huward, I…’
‘Leave me. Leave me to die. I want nothing more from this place!’
Piers felt as though his heart must rip apart with compassion as he stood in the doorway and watched Huward lumbering down the road towards his home. ‘Huward,’ he said again, but it was just a whisper. He couldn’t do anything. There was nothing any man could do to protect Huward. His life was ruined.
‘Sweet Mother of God!’ Osbert said, and covered his face with his hands. ‘He’s dead, already dead. Did you see his face? Jesus, save us all! My father has much to answer for!’
‘He has much to answer for,’ Piers repeated in agreement.
Sir Ralph found the place lying peaceful and calm as the sun dipped down behind the hills. He tied his horse’s reins to a sapling and entered with a feeling of trepidation, wondering whether Huward would be there. If he was, Sir Ralph was not sure how he might react.
It was hard. If he could have stopped himself, if Gilda could have, he would. Until he met her, he had enjoyed many of the women in the area, for they had no clerk to help them bring a suit against their legal owner, and when he wanted to slake his lusts, he could do so with almost any of them, but then he had grown to know Gilda, and that woman had turned his heart and stopped his whoring. He had watched Gilda grow to maturity, and he had been besotted.
She had been utterly different. Long-legged, tall, elegant as a young filly, and with a spark in her eye, she had attracted all the men for miles around. He had known that he must possess her, and she was nothing loath. They had begun meeting, and remained lucky, for she had not succumbed to pregnancy, but they couldn’t continue for ever and Annicia would have been very difficult if she had learned that he was whoring about so near to their home, so Sir Ralph had hit upon the scheme of making his mistress legitimate in his own way. He couldn’t marry her himself, but he could share her.
The idea was marvellous in its simplicity. He had often noticed the miller watching her with more than a little interest. A man notices another’s lustful glances at his woman. At first she had declared her reluctance, but she couldn’t live in the castle with him. Something must be done, and at least Sir Ralph could make her life easier than for most other women. One day, Sir Ralph broached the subject with Huward and told him that he thought she would accept him, saying that Sir Ralph himself would offer a sizeable dowry, and Huward had been embarrassingly grateful.
It had led to problems. She had been furious at first, demanding to know what he meant by giving her away to someone she found tedious, but eventually she agreed to follow his plan. The row had been furious like a summer fire on the moors, but when it burned out, they both enjoyed the slow making up.