‘Tell us all you know, and we can judge it for you.’
She led them to a small stone seat near the gate, from where they could see the entire bailey. Sitting, she surveyed the whole of the area as though distrusting the very ground to hear her words.
‘It is difficult to speak of this,’ she said, putting her face in her hands. When she took them away, there were streaks down both cheeks. It made Simon feel guilty, but he knew that a small detail from one life could sometimes explain the most confusing murders.
‘I was born near Fowey. During the famine I was orphaned, and must find a new home. My father died in Exeter, I believe, on his way to the Scottish wars. I was forced into a common house — a brothel. I remained there some weeks, but food was scarce, and so were customers, so I was told to go. I resolved to see my father’s grave.
‘On the way, I met with a group of travellers, one of whom was a friar, who tried to rape me. It was only the arrival of another man which saved me, and when we came here, I realised I was secure at last when I saw that I had won the heart of my husband.
‘Nicholas is a good, kind man. I love him. He saved me from the rapist, he gave me his name, his honour, and he treated me like a lady. He thought me beautiful.’
She looked up then and met Baldwin’s stern face unflinchingly. Simon immediately felt a tingle run up his spine. This was the practised acting of a woman who knew that her looks could win over any man. She was not to be believed, he thought, but surely Baldwin would be moved by her beauty. Baldwin was always easily swayed by a dark-haired woman.
Simon opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Baldwin said, ‘Come, Lady Anne, you do not expect me to respond when you test your skills as a flirt. Tell your story and give us less of this coquetry.’
Her face hardened. ‘Very well. I see that chivalry plays little part in your life, Sir Baldwin. Yet the point remains he thought me beautiful. He wanted me, and he persuaded me to give him my hand and my heart. He hoped that his love for me would produce an heir for him, and so did I. I was grateful to him, because he had saved me from that friar. I was glad to take his hand when he offered it to me, and I am pleased to give him an heir.’
‘Except this heir is a cuckoo,’ Simon said.
‘You could say so.’
‘He knows you carry another man’s child, yet will allow that man to remain here?’ Simon burst out in horror. ‘Sweet Christ, I couldn’t support my wife knowing she carried another man’s bastard or-’
‘This wasn’t meant to happen!’ she protested. ‘I was desperate! Nicholas was away with the King’s host, and I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. I thought he must be dead, because else why was there no message? I needed comfort!’
Dimly Baldwin comprehended. ‘You thought he had deserted you, or died?’
‘The only other man I have ever loved was my father,’ she said with an air of pride, and then her voice grew cold and harsh. ‘And he died and I never saw him again. I thought the same thing had happened, that I was again alone. I wanted him back, but if he was dead — and I had heard nothing for months, remember — then what was to become of me? This castle wasn’t his, it was Sir Henry’s, so I might lose position, wealth, my home, all in one swoop, if I was widowed. All I did was seek the protection of another man. What else was there for me? The brothel again?’
Simon looked away. It reminded him of his thoughts about Meg, were he to die. His reflections were not pleasant.
‘What did you do last night?’ Baldwin asked after a moment.
The change of topic startled her. ‘Last night? I was here at the castle, of course.’
‘Was your husband with you?’
‘He slept with me.’
‘Before that he was in his hall?’
‘Why, yes. Except he went out for a while on his horse.’
‘Do you know where he went?’
‘He often rides for exercise. What of it?’
‘He could have been in the vill; he could have murdered Serlo,’ Baldwin said. ‘What of Gervase?’
‘I do not know.’
‘And now he is a fugitive.’
‘I know!’ she sobbed suddenly. ‘It’s my fault! He wanted me to go with him, to find a new life — but how could I leave my husband?’
‘You have lost your protection, Lady. If you depended upon Gervase, you erred.’
‘I cannot believe he killed anyone. He’s too gentle.’
‘Athelina was Gervase’s woman. It is possible that Gervase grew convinced that Serlo had murdered her and her sons; that enraged him, and he exacted retribution.’
‘But why should he kill the miller in that terrible way?’
‘Many say Gervase was father to the apprentice Dan who died in the mill at Serlo’s hands. Gervase thought Serlo had killed his son as well as his lover.’
‘No!’
‘So, as I say, I think you should look to finding another protector, Lady Anne. Because there is good reason to doubt that Gervase will have that potential for much longer.’
‘I am lucky that my husband is returned,’ she said with a cool smile. ‘He will protect me.’
‘Even when you give birth to a bastard?’ Baldwin asked, and her face shattered like a window struck by a stone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Simon was intrigued as they returned to the hall. He said, speaking low so that no one above could hear him, ‘What do we do about this, then, Baldwin? Did Warin give convincing reasons for thinking Nicholas murdered these people?’
‘He said that Nicholas probably guessed that he wasn’t really the father of his wife’s child, and deduced that his own friend Gervase, a known philanderer, had been disloyal. He was hurt and offended, and wanted to destroy Gervase’s happy memories. That was why he killed Athelina, but also why he killed Serlo, producing “evidence” which would appear to show that Gervase killed Serlo in a fury because of the death of his own son.’
Baldwin fell silent, his face creased with concern, and Simon sucked his teeth. ‘You think that makes sense?’
‘Not really. If he wanted to avenge his son’s death, Gervase would have done so sooner. The drive for revenge is less after a year. It could only be credible if there were another reason for him to kill.’
‘I suppose a man could allow his desire to avenge his son’s death to lie dormant until a suitable opportunity arose,’ Simon suggested.
‘Hardly likely, but possible,’ Baldwin said grudgingly. ‘Apart from that, the idea was sound. Nicholas kills Athelina and her children, presumably hoping that people will assume Gervase was trying to remove an irritation — this woman who kept demanding money from him. And then he kills Serlo because of the death of his son some months ago.’
‘The alternative is, of course, that Gervase himself was guilty,’ Simon said.
‘Yes — which magnifies our existing reservations about Nicholas’s guilt,’ Baldwin grunted tiredly.
‘We mustn’t forget Richer. He believed that Athelina was murdered by Serlo, so it may well be he murdered Serlo in his turn.’
Baldwin nodded unwillingly. ‘Except that Richer would never have had the imagination to thrust Serlo’s head into the machine: that displays more thought than I would expect from a warrior like him. Ach, I don’t know! Let us wait until morning, then pray that we find Gervase and learn a little more from him, because otherwise we’ll end up with that fool of a Coroner coming to his own conclusions, and I doubt that the guilty man would then pay for his crimes!’
In Adam’s house, Julia banked up the priest’s fire, and then stood gazing about her at the room. Poor Adam, being held at the castle — but from what she’d heard, he’d tried to murder a man. It was hard to believe, although Julia knew well enough that any man was capable of violence if he got into his cups. Perhaps he’d been drinking a little too much of his wine in the church. She only hoped that he’d soon be released, because if he wasn’t, her future looked uncertain. Where would she live if she was thrown from this place? It didn’t bear thinking of.