To me he said, “We’ll allow this squire to spend a few hours in the dungeon. Might serve to aid his memory and loosen his tongue, do we need more from him.”
The warder must have been close by. He appeared nearly as soon as Sir Roger finished his explanation, and a moment later he dragged Homersly from the chamber. As the squire disappeared into the passageway he continued to object that the destruction of Galen House was none of his doing. I began to believe him, as did Sir Roger, I think, but there might be more knowledge to be prized from the fellow and some hours of contemplation in the stink of the dungeon might help bring it forth.
A castle valet appeared in the anteroom just then, and announced to Sir Roger that his supper awaited.
“Excellent. Master Hugh, you will join me. Perhaps when we are fed Sir Simon will have been found and will be awaiting examination.”
Sir Roger’s cook prepared an excellent meal. The sheriff’s stout frame gave evidence that this was not uncommon. I was so sated after two removes that I could consume little of the third, and ignored the subtlety. Sir Roger noted, and asked if I was ill. It was nearly so, but this was not the cause of my failed appetite but the result of my eager consumption of the first two removes. I hoped the coming confrontation with Sir Simon would not add to my indigestion.
It did.
I followed Sir Roger into his clerk’s anteroom and over his shoulder saw Arthur, Uctred, the two sergeants, and a furious Sir Simon Trillowe. I think at first he did not notice me, the sheriff being so constructed as to block the view of any behind him.
“What means this?” Sir Simon roared as he turned to face Sir Roger. I saw then the result of my surgery six months past. The scar upon his cheek was pale, no longer red and fierce, as are fresh wounds. His beard covered much of this blemish, but his left ear stood from the side of his head like a pennon in a gale. The fleshy organ was not lost to him, as I feared it might be when I sewed it to his head in the infirmary of the Augustinian Friars, but my needlecraft had left the appendage standing abruptly from his skull. He was no longer symmetrical. Rather than thank me for preserving his ear, I suspected he was irate at its appearance. This proved true.
Sir Simon should thank me for more than saving his ear. Pride is a great sin. With such an ear extending from the side of his head it will be difficult for the man to feel pride in his appearance. Of course hate is also a grievous sin. Perhaps my labor caused Sir Simon to exchange one sin for another.
Sir Roger strode to his chamber door without answering. It was then Sir Simon saw who it was who followed behind the sheriff. The knight’s mouth opened and closed spasmodically, but no words came forth. Sir Simon surely believed me dead in the ashes of Galen House. Perhaps he thought he saw the ghost of the man he had burned alive.
Sir Roger opened his chamber door, nodded to Sir Simon and growled, “Enter.” A man would no more argue with Sir Roger when he speaks so than with an alaunt snarling at his throat. Sir Simon glared at me, his surprise now become anger, and did as he was commanded. I followed.
Sir Roger seemed short of vocabulary. His next utterance was, “Sit.” He pointed to the chair Geoffrey Homersly had recently occupied. I, having a fine command of language, knew to keep silent. Sir Simon remained standing, intimidated, but not cowed enough to place himself in an inferior position.
“What means this imposition?” he finally spluttered. “I’ll see that my father learns of this.”
“Your father,” Sir Roger rejoined, “is busy convincing King Edward that he did not do fraud when he occupied this office.”
Sir Simon made no reply.
“I am told you travel the roads of Oxfordshire at night. Where is it you go when good men lie abed?”
“Who says so?” Sir Simon snorted.
“Two who have no reason to deceive.”
Again Sir Simon made no reply.
“Your silence means agreement, I think,” Sir Roger growled. “And there is no need for you to tell us what you have been about. We,” he nodded to me, “know all. Are you surprised to see Master Hugh standing here, fit and unburnt?”
Sir Simon glowered sullenly in my direction but I cared little for his black look. I would have accused him also but Sir Roger needed no assistance. I held my tongue and awaited a propitious moment.
The sheriff circled Sir Simon and peered intently at the knight’s misshapen ear. “Do the maids approve of your new ear? You should thank Master Hugh you have two. Had I been he I’d have lopped it off and completed the job that abbey servant began.”
Sir Simon’s expression said clearly he did not agree.
“The King’s Eyre will meet again in a fortnight. I think you will remain a guest here in the castle until the court decides what to do with you. Burning a man’s house and attempting his life might be cause enough for the scaffold, I think.”
Sir Simon had faced us haughtily until these words. I saw him blanch and unconsciously put a finger to his gentlemanly neck.
“Two weeks in the dungeon will give you leisure to consider your sins and prepare your soul to meet God. He may be more lenient than the judge. Lord Gilbert Talbot is a man of influence, and he sets great store by this bailiff of his, as I know. A word from him to the judges of the King’s Eyre and their finding will not go well for you.”
All this time Sir Simon made no protest of innocence. At the sheriff’s last words I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped at the thought of Lord Gilbert’s involvement in the matter. He had seen my employer shape the decision of a court once before.
“Describe your house in Bampton, Master Hugh. What was it this scoundrel burnt?”
“Galen House was two stories,” I began, “of oaken timbers, wattle and daub. Two rooms below and two above, with a newly thatched roof. Had it been otherwise, were the reed old and rotting, this miscreant might not have succeeded in setting it alight so readily. And a new brick chimney also, with fireplaces above and below.”
“Hmmm,” Sir Roger pondered my description of the house. “The chimney may be of use. All else is ruin?”
“Aye.”
“To rebuild such a house will cost… what would you say, Hugh? Eight pounds?”
I was about to agree, when Sir Roger continued before I could speak: “Nay. Should the chimney need to be pulled down ’twill be nine pounds or more, I think.”
Sir Roger turned again to Sir Simon and lowered his brows in a scowl. He understood, I think, how effective the expression was. Sir Simon stared back at him, but arrogance was gone from his open-mouthed features.
“Ten pounds, I think,” the sheriff said. “Bring to Master Hugh ten pounds so he may rebuild his house and I’ll not charge you before the King’s Eyre.”
“I… I have not ten pounds,” Sir Simon protested.
“Your father does. I will release you to his custody. Leave the castle, go to the inn, claim your horse, and ride to Abingdon. If you do not return by the ninth hour tomorrow with ten pounds I will send sergeants to convey you hither and you will see out the next fortnight in the dungeon.”
Sir Roger spoke with conviction. I felt certain that there must have been in past months other disputes between the two knights which the sheriff now saw means to settle. If doing so rewarded me with ten pounds to rebuild Galen House, I was pleased to be of service.
“Then, after you place the coin in Master Hugh’s hand you will leave Oxford and not return for a year… no, two years. Neither do I wish to learn that you have been seen about Bampton.”
“But,” Sir Simon stammered, “where am I to go?”
“I would make a suggestion,” Sir Roger said balefully, “but those who go there are sent by a greater authority than mine. Now begone! Remember, tomorrow at the ninth hour, in this place, we will meet again.”
Sir Simon gave me one more glance, fraught with hostility. If Sir Roger saw he did not comment. I thought then that I had not seen or heard the last of Sir Simon Trillowe. Even should he obey the sheriff’s commands, two years would pass swiftly.