There was a curious feel to this, as though he had been in this situation before, and then it came to him. Many years ago in Wales, he was a part of the garrison of the King’s new castle at Ruddlan. The country had only recently been pacified, and the men living there detested the English with a passion. For Richer back then, in 1312, it was hard to imagine that the peasants could rise against their lawful King, Edward II, but they did. And Richer and a friend were caught up in it.
He and his friend had entered an alehouse like this, and just like this one, the atmosphere had chilled as they walked in, all conversations stopping. Yesterday the place had gone quiet because Serlo was in the corner; now it was quiet with fear. The folk knew that Richer was a fighter and dangerous, but they also knew that Alexander wanted to capture him and take him to the nearest tree to hang.
In Wales there had been rumours that one of the castle’s garrison had raped a local girl, and the vill’s men had gathered angrily, waving weapons and shouting for revenge against the ‘invaders’. As if Richer and his companion (he couldn’t recall his name; it was so long ago now) were invading! They were subjects of the same King.
The mob had appeared at the tavern before Richer knew what was happening. There had been a window behind them both, and as soon as they saw the men pouring through the doorway, his friend pushed him to the window and helped him up and through. Richer had drawn his sword the moment he was out, but even as he turned to help his friend, he saw the blood splash against the wall. The other man turned once, his eyes desperate, and bellowed to him to run and escape, and then he was borne down by the press of bodies.
Later he saw the body. It had been left dangling, naked, moving gently in the breeze, a bloody mess where his genitals had been. They had been hacked off and shoved into his mouth where they remained, protruding obscenely. The swollen face and bulging eyes seemed to look at Richer accusingly. He still saw that face in his nightmares.
This alehouse had the same feel. There was anger in the air, a tension like an over-filled bladder, that needed only a sharp blade to release it in death and fury. Richer knew that he was that blade. Unless he was careful, he might precipitate a disaster.
Warin sat next to him on the bench. ‘And now, old friend, we wait,’ he murmured.
Letty was much recovered now. At least, she thought she was. Letitia knew she was fortunate enough to have the constitution of a man, and a stronger man than most who lived here in the vill, but even so, the shock of seeing that terrible wreckage lying among the cogs had almost given her a brain fever. She had needed to return home and rest. Awful, too, considering how Alexander had needed her. Poor Alex! He’d seen Serlo lying there. If only she had controlled herself better, rather than screaming and bolting like a pathetic child.
That was how Alex learned of Serlo’s death: she’d collapsed at her door and Alex had taken her in and seen to her before going to the mill. Unlike most men, who would have left their wives and run, Alex was organised. He first sent a man up to the castle, then called on two women to come to the house. Their maid had also helped, and before too long Letty was back in her bed, Jan applying a damp cloth to her forehead. And only then had Alex gone to see his brother.
Aumery had been lying near the fire overnight, and exhaustion had prevented his waking this morning, but he was truly awake now, and like any little boy who had witnessed a dreadful event, he wept and started to cry for his mother. Letty was forced to rise from her palliasse and catch him, taking him back to bed with her.
Then Alex returned, blanched and shaking; he looked like an old man. To see a brother crushed so brutally was a truly hideous experience. Stoically, Alex tried to conceal his feelings. He was never one to wear his pain on his sleeve. A man brought up apart from others, motherless, beaten and shamed by their father in poverty, he had only ever known self-reliance. All his love had been devoted to his brother — until he married Letty. She felt guilty that he must look after her, but she was also glad; he could concentrate on her and save his own grief for later.
She rolled over when she had managed to comfort Aumery enough to leave him alone, and saw her man at the doorway. ‘Alex? Are you all right? Come and let me hold you.’
‘I am all right.’ He didn’t turn to her, but remained staring out at the roadway.
‘I am so sorry!’
‘I know you never liked him — many didn’t. He was always an aggressive fooclass="underline" a bully, and in many ways a coward. Perhaps it was my fault. I used to spoil him when he was a child. I’d take the blame for his faults and take his punishment too, just to protect him. If I’d let him stand on his own, perhaps he’d have learned to win friends.’
‘You did all you could,’ Letitia said, shivering. She pulled a rug over her nakedness and stood. Tucking Aumery in, she exhorted him to close his eyes.
Alex continued, ‘It was never enough though. And then when we grew, and I started to make a decent fist of my life, he still wanted to be molly-coddled and swathed in my love. Whatever I did, he thought was good, but he couldn’t copy me. Running the mill was the limit of his abilities. When he tried to make his own way, he failed.’
‘In what way?’ she asked. She had walked to his side and now she wrapped her rug around him as well, enclosing him in her own warmth.
‘Look at the matter of the tolls. How stupid, taking gifts to let people use the bridge when the castellan and steward must have seen what was happening. Soon they must have taken action against him for that. It was too flagrant. And it defrauded us, too! His own family!’
‘I am only surprised that they hadn’t already taken action against him,’ she agreed, tight-lipped. No matter how hard she tried to think kind thoughts about Serlo, when all was said and done, he was an aggressive idiot, just as Alex said.
‘And as for his talk about Athelina … I could have hit him for what he said about her.’
Alex remained silent for a long moment. In the circle of her arms, Letty could feel his heart thundering like a destrier’s after a race, and then she felt the catch as he sobbed.
‘And then he made more enemies …’
‘It’s all right, Alex. Alex, my love, come!’ she crooned. If only they had been able to have their own children, she thought as she turned him gently and rested his head on her shoulder. She let her cheek touch his and smiled. At least he was letting the anguish out. That was bound to be good for him. He couldn’t stop up all his feelings all the time. Now that fool of a brother of his was dead, perhaps Alex would be able to find some rest. The last link with his miserable childhood was gone. ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she murmured.
‘No. All that matters is, Serlo’s dead. That’s all that matters,’ he said dully.
There was a loud sobbing from the bed, but neither moved. Poor Aumery would have to grow used to his loss, just as would Alexander himself. Both had lost their brothers.
She saw a figure approach and shook her head at the man, but even as she did so, Alex felt her movement and turned to face the door. There, shame-faced, was Wal from the farm near Holy Well. He shuffled a little under Alexander’s fixed stare.
‘Constable? Sorry to hear about Serlo. Some of us, we reckon it’s terrible what that bastard’s done.’
‘Thank you. He’ll pay.’
‘He’s at the alehouse now. We’ll help you, if you want.’
‘He’s come here? He’s flaunting himself in my vill?’ Alexander demanded, aghast.
Letitia clung to him. ‘Alex, don’t do anything — the Coroner and his friend will arrest him and see that he’s punished. Don’t go there, it’ll only end in you being hurt!’
‘Me? Hurt?’ Alexander gave a hollow laugh. ‘I have no children, no brother, no hope. All I have created will die with me.’