I was unable to hold my tongue any longer.
‘Yet you informed Sir Henry, Master Kilsby and Master Micheldever that that had indeed been the case. They all three tell the same story.’
For the first time, the steward was shaken. ‘If — If what you say is true, then all I must have meant was that that was what I presumed must have happened. It seems likely that she would have tried to wake me.’
I shook my head, ignoring Dame Audrea’s look of silent reproach.
‘That isn’t the way your fellow officers tell the tale. According to Sir Henry and the other two they argued with you, exhorting you not to be so foolish, not to blame yourself. They understood you to mean that you knew Mistress Applegarth had sought your aid, but couldn’t wake you. But as you’ve pointed out, there’s no way you could be certain of that fact unless you know far more about the robbery than you are prepared — or ever have been prepared — to admit.’
‘My friends mistook what I was trying to say,’ he repeated doggedly. ‘And anyway,’ he continued, rallying, as though conscious that there was something he should have said earlier, ‘what has all this to do with Master Anthony’s death? My Jenny’s been in her grave these six years past. It has nothing to do with present events.’
‘It has everything to do with them,’ I answered levelly, ‘as no one knows better than yourself.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You may recall, Master Applegarth, that I was in your room four days ago when you had your first encounter with Anthony Bellknapp after his return home. You and he talked about the circumstances of Mistress Applegarth’s murder, but to the best of my recollection no mention was made of the reason you hadn’t accompanied Dame Audrea and her husband to Kewstoke Hall. Later on, however, he referred to that broken arm of yours. Now I admit that may not be as significant as it sounds: someone might well have informed him of the fact. Or perhaps not. Maybe he had no need to ask. Perhaps he already knew.’
Dame Audrea twisted round in her chair. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘It means, lady,’ I answered steadily, ‘that I don’t believe your page, John Jericho, was the murderer of Jenny Applegarth. I think he was an innocent bystander who was also a victim of this crime.’
‘What nonsense! If not John, who was the murderer, then?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Your elder son, Master Anthony.’
There was a long silence broken only by Dame Audrea’s gasp for breath. She looked ashen. I turned to the steward.
‘Master Applegarth? Isn’t that why you killed him? Because he murdered your wife.’
All his careful control suddenly left him. He buried his face in his hands.
‘George?’ Dame Audrea’s voice rapped out, cracked and harsh. ‘Tell Master Chapman his accusation isn’t true. It can’t be! Anthony wouldn’t do such a thing!’
‘Why should you be so astonished, Madam,’ I demanded, ‘when you yourself have been at great pains to tell me that there was a streak of evil in your elder son, on account of which you and your husband could never like him?’
She pressed a hand to her mouth for a second or two before replying in a shaken tone, ‘But to rob his own parents and to murder his old nurse, of whom he was so fond, when she tried to prevent him, that’s infamous. No! No! I can’t accept it! George! For my sake — for all our sakes — refute this terrible allegation.’
The steward slowly lowered his hands, revealing a face ravaged by grief, but with his emotions now under control. He looked pityingly at the dame.
‘I wish I could, Mistress,’ he said. ‘But things are even blacker than you imagine. Blacker for me, that is. My Jenny didn’t disturb Master Anthony as he robbed you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘She was his accomplice.’
Dame Audrea sprang to her feet, knocking over the footstool. ‘You’re lying! I refuse to believe it!’
The steward stooped and righted the stool before gently and respectfully pushing his mistress back into her chair.
‘It’s true, nonetheless. She told me so, herself.’
‘She told you so! How could she, when she was dead?’
George Applegarth shook his head. ‘She was still alive when I found her in the morning. Oh, she was dying. Nothing I tried to do could have saved her; she had lost too much blood. I was going to rouse the household — the maids and Mistress Wychbold — but she begged me not to. She had got what she deserved, she said, and even then — fool that I was not to have tumbled to it — she was giving that murdering rogue as much time as she could to get away.’ He spat among the rushes. ‘My Jenny always had a soft spot for Master Anthony.’
‘But what about the page?’ I asked angrily. ‘What was his role in all this? Why did he run away?’
The steward sighed and lowered himself into the other armchair without waiting for, or being given, permission. He looked suddenly twice his years.
‘It’s better if I tell you the story as Jenny told it to me as she lay in my arms. Remember, this is a dying woman’s testimony, Mistress. In such circumstances, on the brink of meeting her Maker, she wouldn’t lie.’
Jenny Applegarth, visiting the market in Wells on a chilly summer’s morning some six years previously, had been accosted by a seeming stranger, hat pulled down over his brows, cloak muffling the lower part of his face. (All right, I admit I am supplying some of these details myself, but only where they would seem to be feasible. Sometimes bare bones need fleshing out.) The stranger, when he had drawn Jenny aside into the shadows of the cathedral porch, had revealed himself to be her favourite, Anthony, down on his luck. His two-year exile from Croxcombe had left him almost destitute. He was also deeply embittered by what he saw as his unfair treatment by his parents.
Jenny, overwhelmed with delight at seeing him again, had revealed that his mother and father, together with Simon and most of the household officers, had gone on an extended visit to Sir Damien and Lady Chauntermerle at Kewstoke Hall, but that George had been forced to remain behind on account of a broken arm. To Anthony, penniless and desperate, this news must have appeared like an opportunity arranged by heaven. He had convinced Jenny that he had been shabbily used and that he was entitled to do something to put things right. If his parents were not prepared to treat him properly, according to his due, he would just have to rectify the situation for himself. And with Jenny’s help, this was precisely what he intended to do.
How long it took Anthony to persuade Jenny to aid him can only be a matter of conjecture, but George, being brutally honest, thought not long. ‘He could always twist her round his little finger,’ he admitted sadly.
Jenny’s part was to unlock the moat gate and to leave a door into the manor open that same night. She was also to lace her husband’s all-night ale with a potion of either lettuce or poppy juice — or a combination of both — taken from the medicine chest, to make sure that he slept soundly with no chance of waking up. The other servants were obviously not considered to present a threat. But that was where both conspirators were mistaken.
Anthony left his horse tethered outside the moat gate and brought with him a large sack in which to load the family silver and pewter, together with anything else of value he could lay his hands on. All was going well when the page, John Jericho, who had also been left behind by Dame Audrea because he was suffering from toothache, and therefore sleeping badly, burst on the scene.
It was easy to imagine the shock and consternation his sudden appearance would have caused, but according to Jenny’s dying confession to her husband, Anthony had been only momentarily daunted. Almost without a second’s hesitation, he had drawn his dagger and stabbed the page in the chest. Horrified, she had cried out and caught at his arm, trying to wrest the dagger from him. Again without the slightest compunction, Anthony, tearing himself free of her clutches, had lunged at her, also, with every intention of silencing her for good. But in his hurry, his aim had been inaccurate, and although the blow eventually proved itself mortal, it was to be several hours before Jenny actually died; long enough for George to find her on waking and for her to tell him what had really happened.