‘Yes,“ Frevisse said and nothing more. She had had enough talk of his death from Ienet Comber on their way here and the sun was cramming down hot on her head. What she wanted was to be in shade somewhere, not more talk to no purpose.
As before, Mistress Naylor came, wiping her hands on her apron but suddenly fear on her face as she saw Frevisse who said quickly, understanding, “Dickon is well.”
Mistress Naylor gave a small gasp of relief, then hurriedly made belated curtsy, murmuring to her apron, “Thank you, my lady. Come in, please you.”
Grateful to be out of the sun even if inside were no cooler, Frevisse did, asking, “May I see your husband?”
Mistress Naylor, already edging past her to lead the way through the house, said, “Surely, my lady. How do the other children?”
‘One of Simon Perryn’s sons and a few others look to be past the worst. The rest are still very fevered.“
‘The Blessed Virgin keep them,“ Mistress Naylor said and led the way into the garden, where this time Master Naylor, his daughters and little son were in the bean-vine arbor, all their heads together over a boat he was carving from a piece of scrap wood, Frevisse saw as she came near, hearing him say before any of them knew she was there, ”… and when I’m out of here, we’ll all go sailing it down the stream.“
‘And Dickon, too?“ the older girl asked.
‘And Dickon, too.“ Then he saw his wife and Frevisse and stood up, tense for the moment he took to read by his wife’s face that nothing was wrong. Then he was simply as Frevisse best knew him, briskly at business, giving the knife he had been using to the older girl and the half-made boat to his son, saying, ”Here’s Dame Frevisse come to see me. We’ll finish the making this afternoon.“
The younger girl started to protest, but her mother took her by the hand with, “Let’s see what we can find to make a sail of,” and they all went with her unprotestingly.
Master Naylor gestured Frevisse to sit. She gestured that he should, too, and when they both were, he asked, “Is it about Tom Hulcote?”
‘You’ve heard already,“ Frevisse said ruefully.
‘Word never trips when coming from village to here, that I’ve found,“ Master Naylor said. ”The guard passed it in an hour ago.“
‘Did he also tell you it was Dickon found the body?“
‘Dickon?“ Master Naylor made to stand sharply up but caught himself back from the useless movement and demanded, ”How did it come to be Dickon who found him?“
‘He was coming back a long way around after seeing the cows out to pasture this morning. Something to do with setting snares, I think, but didn’t ask closely.“ Because he should not have been setting snares.
Master Naylor understood that, too, and asked nothing about it, only, “How is he? Where is he now?”
‘I haven’t seen him. I gather he’s with Bess the ale-wife.“
Master Naylor nodded, satisfied with that. “He’ll do well enough with her. Now, about Tom. What happened?”
As evenly as she could, Frevisse said, “From what Perryn tells me, he’d been stabbed in the back and the side of his head crushed in.”
Master Naylor’s mouth twisted on the ugliness of it, matching what she felt inside. “Where?” he asked harshly.
‘He was found in the ditch above Oxfall Field.“
‘Found?“ Master Naylor repeated. ”You mean he wasn’t killed there.“
‘Perryn says he looks to have been killed elsewhere. The only blood there was on him and there should have been more.“
‘Perryn says. You haven’t seen for yourself?“
It was not so strange a question as it might have been. Over the years there had been other brutal deaths at St. Frideswide’s and from them Master Naylor knew that Frevisse took more interest in the how and why and who of them than might be thought right to a woman. But this time she only answered, “No. Perryn and some other men had fetched the body in. I only knew about it afterwards.”
But when he had come to her to tell her of it and say that Master Naylor should be told as soon as possible, she had taken the chance to ask him more, and now when Master Naylor said, “There was rain yestermorning at dawn. The blood might have washed away,” she was able to say back, “Perryn says he can’t have been lying out that long. Almost nothing had been at him in the night, and…” The thing was ugly enough to think without having to say it aloud. “… the birds had only just started on him.”
Mistress Naylor came along a garden path, bringing two cups of water for which her husband and Frevisse thanked her, but Master Naylor waited until she was gone away again before saying, “He was moved last night, then. He was killed last night, too?”
‘From the few men Perryn had had time to ask before he talked to me, nobody remembers seeing him since Saturday, likely.“
‘Saturday. And two more days since then,“ Master Naylor considered that. ”He was maybe not dead all that while. He might have been away and been killed when coming back.“
‘Not… to judge by the smell.“ In weather as warm as this, something dead was very quickly something rotting and, ”From what Perryn says about how far along the body is, he’s been dead about that long.“
‘But not lying out anywhere. That means the reason no one saw him for those two days was that he was dead, that someone killed him on Saturday, maybe Sunday, but kept the body hidden until last night.“
‘Yes.“
Master Naylor stood up, paced restlessly to the edge of the arbor’s leaf-patterned shadows, stood with his back to her a moment, turned, returned, sat, and asked abruptly, “Two days at least since he was last seen, and no one missed him in that while?”
‘It doesn’t seem so.“
‘Not even Mary Woderove?“ Master Naylor asked.
‘I asked that of Perryn but he didn’t know. He hadn’t gone yet to tell her Tom was dead. I think he was hoping others would tell her first so he wouldn’t have to face her first grief at it.“
Master Naylor nodded grim understanding of that.
‘But she started in at manor court,“ about which she had long since sent word to Master Naylor by way of Father Henry, ”telling Tom he ought to leave here. I heard her then, and Perryn says she was at it afterwards, too, telling Tom and anyone else in hearing that he ought to leave, make a start somewhere else, a new life for them both where everyone wasn’t against them. If she thought he had…“
‘Without telling her he was going to?“ Master Naylor asked.
‘Or maybe he did tell her he was going to, and she thought he was gone and didn’t say anything, to give him more time to be away. Only someone had killed him instead.“
‘Or else he wouldn’t go, refused to go, and she killed him,“ Master Naylor suggested.
Frevisse could see Mary Woderove working into enough of a fury to want to kill even someone she was supposed to love if he refused her what she wanted. But, “I don’t see that she could have killed him, hid his body, and then moved it, all unheeded by anyone.”
‘She’s over-small to have moved it,“ Master Naylor agreed. ”Or done the rest, I suppose,“ he added. ”And why would she, come to that?“
‘From what I’ve seen of her, she’s a woman who likes to hold on to what she has,“ Frevisse said. ”The threat of someone leaving her might drive her into passion enough to kill, but she was already telling Tom to go, so that wouldn’t be it.“
‘No,“ Master Naylor agreed.
‘Was there anyone at all you know of might want him dead?“
Master Naylor shook his head. “Tom was no worse a trouble than some others are hereabouts. Less than some, come to that, and not so often as others. Mostly he wasn’t even the kind of man who made men angry at him.” Master Naylor stood up and paced again. Frevisse realized with surprise that he was deeply angry. “The trouble was that Tom didn’t belong where he was. He couldn’t fit quietly into his place here but didn’t have the wits or skill to raise himself out of it on his own. He was no Gilbey Dunn. But given his chance…” Master Naylor stopped, staring down into his cup as if surprised to find he was still carrying it.