“Not toward the Weald?”
“Nay, I think not.”
Here was a puzzle. If it was Peter Carpenter who sought to burn Galen House, he would have run down Church View Street to seek safety at his home. If Arnulf Mannyng was the man, he would have sought escape across Shill Brook and to the Weald. Neither man would have gone east, toward St Andrew’s Chapel. Then again, to confuse a pursuer, perhaps they would.
“Whoever the man was, he will not return this night. You may return to the castle and your bed.”
“Wilfred won’t like bein’ turned out to open the gate an’ raise the portcullis,” Arthur replied. “Had a cozy place made in them reeds. Think I’ll just stay right here, an’ you’ve no objection. I’ll speak to Uctred and Anketil. They can join me tomorrow. Anketil will run the fellow down, an’ that’s sure.”
“’Twill not be needed,” I said.
“What? The man tried twice to burn you an’ Mistress Kate in your bed. He’ll not give over without another try.”
“Perhaps, but now he knows some watcher may lie in wait for him in my toft he’ll not approach the business from here again.”
“Think ’e’ll try to toss a torch on your roof from the street?” Arthur asked skeptically. “No place there to hide hisself. ’Course, does ’e return some night when there be no moon, an’ wear black clothes, he might stand in the open an’ no man see ’im ’til ’e strikes flint against steel again.”
“If he does,” I said, “there will be no one here to burn.”
“How so?”
“Kate and I will remove this day to my old chamber in the castle. I’ll not risk again her safety, nor my own. If some fellow wishes to kindle a flame on the roof of Galen House he will do so with the place empty.”
I left Arthur in the toft and climbed the stairs to Kate.
“I heard,” she said when I entered the chamber. “We will abandon Galen House?”
“Aye. Arthur and Uctred and Anketil might spend a fortnight or more in the toft to no purpose. Then, when we think the arsonist frightened away, he may return, biding his time until we have relaxed our guard.”
“But what of Galen House? Will you permit it to be destroyed?”
“Not if I can prevent it. But I will not rest easy any night with you sleeping under this roof. We will make our home in the castle ’til whoso wishes me dead and silenced is discovered.”
“You will be more diligent in seeking who slew Thomas atte Bridge?”
“I must… else we will make our home in my bachelor chamber at the castle, which is no fit place for a man with a wife.”
“And soon to have a child,” Kate reminded me.
“Aye,” I smiled. Kate heard the pleasure in my voice and drew me to her there in the dark chamber. Returned to our bed, we lay in each other’s arms ’til sleep once again came to us. A house may be lost and replaced. A beloved wife, once gone, is forever so.
At dawn I found Arthur yet faithful at his watch. I told him to return to his wife and rest until mid-day, then, after his dinner, bring a horse and cart from the marshalsea, and several more grooms, to move Kate and me and our possessions to the castle.
I did not wish this transfer to be concealed. If the town knew of it, whoso wished my death might no longer seek to burn Galen House, knowing I was no longer resident there. My absence might save me, Kate, and the house.
Kate and I spent the morning preparing our goods for removal to the castle. We consumed a last meal — last for a short while, I hoped — at Galen House and were ready when the clop of hooves and creak of axle told that Arthur was at our door.
Many folk passed Galen House while the grooms were at their work. Some halted to ask what I was about, as I had wished, and I told them of our removal to the castle. By the time the cart returned for a second and final load I had told the tale to a dozen folk or more. Soon the wives of Bampton and the Weald would bend every ear with the news. Any who did not hear of it from them would learn of the business from their husbands. This, I was sure, would preserve Galen House from future assault. This was not my first mistaken assumption, nor will it, I think, be my last.
My old chamber off the Bampton Castle hall was too small for Kate, me, and our possessions. Our bed, two chests, a table, a bench, and two chairs filled the space. Another bench, our cup board, and my bath barrel I left in the hall. When Lord Gilbert and Lady Petronilla returned at Lammastide this would no longer serve, the hall being put to Lord Gilbert’s service. But by that time I hoped to have discovered who wished to end my life and my pursuit of a felon. I was sure that by finding one man I would solve two mysteries. Then Kate and I could return to Galen House and a peaceful life. Certainly Galen House would await our return unmarred now it was known we no longer inhabited the place.
Hubert Shillside I could discount, as my attacker was surely right-handed. But Peter Carpenter, Arnulf Mannyng, Walter Forester, and Edmund Smith remained as potential murderers. I could not envision Peter or Arnulf attempting to silence me if to do so would harm Kate. Fear, however, may drive a man to do what he otherwise would not consider. My thoughts of Walter and the smith were not so benign. They seemed less likely than Peter and Arnulf to concern themselves with an innocent victim of their vengeance, but seemed also less likely than the others to have wished harm to Thomas atte Bridge. Edmund had reason to resent Thomas and the blackmail he did, but it seemed to me the smith would not have delayed revenge for more than a year. Edmund never seemed a patient sort.
I had seen Arnulf ride a horse, and this he did often enough that he owned a saddle, crude as it was. But did he possess a dagger with such a long blade as the one which pierced my arm?
Peter Carpenter also possessed a horse, but would own no riding boots. He would have chisels among his tools as well as a dagger of some sort, and the injury done my arm could have come from a chisel as well as a dagger. The wound was caused by a thrusting stroke rather than a slash.
And what of Edmund? Like Peter, he would own no shoes suitable for stirrups, but he was a smith, and could at his forge make any weapon he desired.
Kate and I sought our bed as darkness fell upon the castle, secure behind gate and portcullis from him who sought to do us harm. I lay abed considering Arnulf, Peter, Walter, and Edmund, but before sleep came I found reason to dismiss all four. Was it possible there was another man in Bampton or the Weald whose hatred of Thomas atte Bridge washed beyond that miscreant to engulf me?
I woke before the Angelus Bell with the same thought occupying my mind. If some man I did not yet suspect murdered Thomas atte Bridge, and sought my life to preserve his own, I must devise some way to learn of him. I decided that after I broke my fast I would seek Father Thomas de Bowlegh.
Since my return from Exeter I had spoken but briefly to the vicar. I am like most men, I believe. I see little merit in reviewing my failures with another. This may be mistaken behavior, but conceit often interferes with wisdom. I had traveled to Devon seeking a murderer and, as Father Simon predicted, I found instead a walking skeleton who was not at all the man who once served as curate at St Andrew’s Chapel. That earlier John Kellet might have taken the life of another from spite, but it was difficult to envision the new Kellet doing so. Nor could I see Kellet with the strength to subdue Thomas atte Bridge and carry him to Cow-Leys Corner, even with the aid of another.
I found Father Thomas at his vicarage, preparing to cross the lane to the church for nones.
“Master Hugh,” he greeted me with a sober expression. “A good day to you… although my wishing will not make it so, I fear. I have heard of your removal to the castle.”