Now she waited with dread. It could only be a matter of seconds. She gripped Aumery’s head and pulled it to her breast, tugging Hamelin to her lap and safety as he started to wail. Aumery was already sobbing in fear, and there was a terrible rending inside her which, she suddenly understood, was her own sobbing.
There was a rush of noise, a slamming of hooves, and then a hideous blow on her head … and she toppled forward into the dull nothingness that opened to swallow her.
Chapter Ten
Letitia was the first person people thought of calling whenever something bad happened. They went to her not because she was the wife of the Constable, but because she was one person upon whom everyone could count. Letty always knew the best way of dealing with a problem. It was her steadiness in an emergency that had her summoned to the difficult birthings, or to the child with a scalded arm, or the man with a stab wound. All would go to her, and she would deal with each eventuality as she saw fit.
Susan the alewife it was who appeared at her door, her face drawn and anxious. ‘Letty, there’s been a terrible accident.’
‘Who?’
She was already pulling on a shawl as she listened intently. There was no point in rushing off and then arriving without the necessary tools; better by far that she waited until she knew what was needed. There was satisfaction in being prepared; just a few moments of her time could make the difference between a person suffering and surviving.
‘It’s poor Muriel,’ Susan said breathlessly. ‘She’s been run down — by the Coroner of all people!’
‘Poor Muriel,’ Letitia echoed, appalled. ‘Is she dead?’
‘She lives, but her head is cut open. She heard the horses and sheltered her sons. They were playing in the road.’
‘She would.’ Letitia nodded approvingly. ‘We can only hope that she isn’t too badly hurt. Head wounds can be so dangerous.’
‘It’s not too bad,’ Susan guessed. ‘The skull looks unharmed, but her flesh is cut away.’
Letitia nodded. She could wash out the wound with some oil, and then put on a poultice to draw out the evil humours. ‘And there are the boys, of course?’
‘Yes. You’ll have to look after them. Serlo won’t be capable on his own.’
‘Huh! Not that arse!’
‘Aha! What has your marvellous brother-in-law done this time?’
There was always a comfort in talking to Susan. She was a confident, sensible woman, independent and bright. Although she was a tavernkeeper, she could hold her tongue when asked. Not that there was anything secret in this. It was woman’s talk. ‘He came to our house last night. Told us that Athelina was little better than a slut because she had two children in as many years. Surely he knows Alexander and I have been trying …’
‘It’ll come for you surely, Letty,’ Susan said, patting her hand consolingly. ‘It’s just some folks find it takes longer than others.’
‘The way he spoke of her! You’d think he hated all women, especially those with children.’
‘He’s just a fool,’ Susan said. ‘I’ll refuse to serve him in my alehouse if he’s not more polite.’
‘Do that and you’ll lose all your profits,’ Letty joked. ‘I can’t help thinking that he despises all women — perhaps because he never knew a mother when he was a child. All he knew was Alexander.’
Susan smiled but there was nothing to say.
Soon Letty sniffed, wiped her nose, and stood. ‘Right!’ she said briskly. ‘Is Muriel at her home?’
‘Yes. We didn’t want to move her after the accident. But the boys …’
‘They can come here, and so can she. I can look after them, although I don’t know how we’ll cope with Serlo as well. That would be too much.’
They were soon done. Letitia packed her bag, hesitated over the basket of eggs, and then selected the freshest she could find. Muriel deserved careful protection and egg-whites could help clean deeper cuts. Ready, she led the way at a fast trot to the mill.
Outside were a pair of dark brown mounts, one a large rounsey, the second a smaller pony with a splatter of light brown coat on his flank. Letitia scarcely gave them a glance, but instead shoved at the door and walked into Serlo and Muriel’s house.
It was a small, rather noisome place, filled with the odours of a home: a baby’s excrement, sour milk, vomit, and the smell of sheep from the small fold at the farther end of the long, narrow cottage. The fire sat in the middle of the earthen floor on a hard clay base, and it had been carefully tended, Letitia saw with an approving nod. A clerk squatted at its side, a doleful little man with a pasty face washed free of any semblance of cheer. He glanced up. There was a sombre look about him, as though he was waiting to be accused of murder, and Letitia assumed he was the rider who had struck Muriel.
Muriel’s bed was a low wooden frame with a thin mattress stuffed with fragrant herbs and hay, and she lay on it with her head flung back like a corpse. Her eyes were closed and her face dreadfully pallid, so much so that Letitia wondered immediately whether she had dallied too long and was here to witness the death of her sister-in-law. Yet even as she turned to whisper to Susan, Muriel’s eyes opened. For all that they were dull and had bruises beneath them, there was none of Athelina’s despair or madness in them.
That at least was a relief. Letitia crossed the floor and squatted beside her. ‘This is not going to hurt too much,’ she said, and Muriel smiled faintly up at her, as though recognising the dishonesty of the statement. Then she closed them tightly as Letitia began to examine the wound.
Later, when she had cleaned it and rinsed it first with oil, then with a little egg-white, she wrapped a clean linen towel about her head. Only then did Letitia glance at Susan. ‘Where are the boys?’
‘They’re out with their father,’ said a deeper voice. A man in a faded grey tunic appeared from the darkness near the doorway. He was young, with olive skin, of slender build for a knight, but he wore the spurs and belt like a man born to the noble class. He stepped forward until he was close to Letitia. His eyes were dark as soot, set rather close together about a hawk-like nose. Now he looked unutterably sad. ‘I ordered that the miller should come and collect them while their mother was seen to. Will she be all right?’
‘She should live, unless she’s unlucky,’ Letitia said, holding Muriel’s hand gently. ‘You’ll be all right, won’t you? Godspeed, Muriel. Sleep well. I’ll look after your sons.’
There was a subtle reciprocation of pressure on her fingers, and then she put Muriel’s hand back down on the blanket.
‘So your clerk managed to knock her down? He must have been riding very fast,’ she said accusingly, staring at the whey-faced fellow by the hearth. ‘I hope you will compensate this woman for her suffering.’
The man glanced at his clerk, then turned back to her with a little grimace. ‘It wasn’t him, I fear.’
‘It was you. Always the same: it’s the wealthy and careless who inflict pain on others,’ she said uncompromisingly.
‘In this case, it wasn’t frivolous, madam. I was hurrying to another body. A woman who died in the vill here?’
She looked at him. ‘You are the Coroner?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘You think me too young?’
‘I do not care about your age, sir, but I fear the inexperience of a man who might cause one death while investigating another.’
He winced, she was glad to see, and apologised. ‘It was this summons, madam. I had to come and view the body, but I also have two other suspicious deaths to investigate. I was in a great hurry … and now, because of my haste, I could have killed a young mother protecting her children. It is a miserable man you see before you, madam.’