Dark hunter, p.21
Dark Hunter, page 21
Edward frowns. ‘She gave me no choice. I took no pleasure in it.’
Sir Anthony finishes with the shackles. ‘Hold your tongue or I will tie up your mouth. There is proof enough of your treachery and you have no right to reply to that in law. The murder of Alice Rydale and the old man, they are a different case and we will decide on them soon enough.’
Henry Cranston is set free with a new set of clothes, several ells of canvas and some food. He looks confused and Stephen goes with him, back to his tent, to help him hang his new one. Edward is locked in the same storeroom, though Sir Anthony thinks to move him to the castle, if he can arrange it with Horsley. It is a good thing we have so little to store. I walk away with a great confusion in my heart, that it should be finished, what was started so long ago. Already the sky is filling with clouds, a forbidding grey that soon releases a flurry of snow. But as soon as we’ve eaten, I must see Lucy. I pray to God she is feeling better.
The ground crunches beneath my feet and the town does look lovely, the mud and the decay fading away beneath the white so that all becomes harmonious. The gates are open again and whatever Edward intended to do to unman our defences, the Scots will not find it done. In two days’ time – on the eve of our Lord’s birth – I will come of age. There is much to celebrate. I know I am fortunate to be alive and now my destiny is in my own hands. And God’s, of course.
I also know for certain that which I have long been unable to admit, out of fear. Fear of ridicule from others. Fear that what I wish so fervently for myself is not shared. I do not take any pleasure in the thought that I must write to my stepfather to tell him I will not go through with the marriage he has arranged. He is a wilful, slothful man, which is a dangerous combination. But I’m sure we can agree a price for my freedom, presuming I can afford to, for I have no training in stewardship and no notion as to what my lands are worth. But how my heart sings with joy to know my dearest wish is to make Lucy my wife.
I confess to a great worry, even so. What if she thinks of me only as a kind of brother with whom she can discuss matters of substance? I am glad she has a mind that puts anything and everything to the proof most energetically. It is one of the things I love most about her. But would it not be a little . . . unsettling in a marriage, for a woman to question constantly? Or do I worry about something that causes me no disquiet, even if others might think my judgement lacking?
I reach the corner and am about to turn right into Hide Hill when a flurry of boys comes whooping down Soutergate, sliding on the snow. It is a miracle they manage to avoid those walking up and down the hill, dogs sniffing out morsels and crumbs, the stall outside the baker’s shop piled high with loaves and biscuits. I see Wat and he bursts into a great smile before falling over at my feet. ‘You are well, sir.’ He jumps up, pushing off the snow from his clothes. ‘I am most glad to see it.’
‘And I must thank you for saving me.’
He hangs his head. ‘It were my master mostly. But I was helping to bring you home.’
‘Then you will be pleased to know we have just arrested the man who did it.’
His mouth drops open, eyes big. ‘Who, sir? Do I know him?’
‘I don’t know. He was steward to Dame Eleanor Rydale.’
He shakes his head. ‘I hope he hangs.’
‘I think we can be certain of that.’
‘Will it be soon?’
‘I don’t know what needs to be done or who needs to do it. But I will tell you when I know.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ He grins again and slides off down the hill.
I follow on more carefully, in less buoyant mood. I should be filled with joy at the happy outcome of our labours, not least because the part I played in it was considerable. But now, after the first ecstasy, I am become a little melancholy and I don’t know why. Edward deserves to die for what he did and yet . . . I push away the strange feeling I have, for what’s done is done and my current errand is a most pleasant one.
My welcome from Dame Eleanor is everything I could wish for. She rushes towards me when I enter her hall, still pale and creased, but with something of the handsome, vital woman she was when I first set eyes on her. ‘He is taken?’ She seizes both my hands. The room blazes with heat and light, the fire piled high and candles splashing gold everywhere.
‘Yes, lady.’
‘You cannot imagine how much we thought it a miracle when you came to save us. Mary still thinks you are angels, no matter what we tell her.’
‘Certainly not angels, but I thought it something of a miracle myself.’
‘Will you have some wine?’
‘Thank you. May I ask if Lucy is recovered?’
‘Not entirely. But I don’t fear for her as I did.’
I wonder if I can ask to see her. Perhaps I should wait a little. ‘There are some things I do not quite understand. About Edward.’
Her hand jerks and the wine spills. ‘I am hoping to forget him as quickly as possible.’
I can scarcely pretend not to understand her meaning, that she doesn’t want to answer any questions, and am disappointed. ‘I merely want to know if you ever suspected he was a traitor. I understand there wasn’t anything you could do.’
‘Perhaps you would like to see Lucy? I know she dearly wishes to see you.’
That is good news, at least. It would have been unbearable if she had no use for me now. ‘I would like that very much.’
‘Anne, will you tell Lucy that Benedict is here?’ Her maid sits near the window, mending clothes. She slowly disentangles herself from her sewing and ambles across the room, when I wish her to run.
Dame Eleanor smiles, almost as if to herself. ‘May I ask – I hope you do not think it impertinent – I wondered how old you are?’
I must confess to the pride I feel at being able to tell her I am almost come of age.
She nods, tugging at the heavy gold ornament she wears strung around her neck. ‘And do you intend to stay in Berwick?’
‘I have not decided, lady. My master says he will go at Easter, for certain. I could join another retinue, if I chose.’
‘But I suppose you are to be married soon?’
For someone who does not want to answer difficult questions, she is most eager to ask them. I nod slowly, unsure what to say. ‘My stepfather has arranged it. She lives but a short distance from our manor.’
The tugging on the ornament stops, her gaze turning on me as if she sees me anew. ‘And this is what you want?’
‘I am not yet my own master!’
‘Is she to your liking?’
‘I do not think I know her. I was sent away to school in Gloucester when I was young.’
Anne returns but Lucy is not with her. I wonder how long this torment will continue and decide to put a stop to it. ‘Is there some purpose to your question-ing, lady?’
She turns her head away slightly, hand at her mouth. ‘Forgive me. I owe you so much and yet I know you so little.’ We talk about the weather, for snow is most unusual, she tells me.
The door opens and Lucy enters at last. I rise, feeling a great yearning to go with her to the priory or somewhere quiet and undisturbed.
She looks from her mother to me, eyes shrouded, her hair unusually smooth and dress neat. ‘I am glad to see you. I wanted to thank you again, for . . . the other night. I didn’t think you’d come, and you did.’ She jerks her mouth into a little smile and goes to sit in her usual window seat.
I wonder what has changed between us, for it does not seem to be an alchemy that works to the good. ‘I am sorry it took us so long. We think he had arranged with the Scots to make another attempt on our walls. They were no doubt intending to try very soon, for Edward surely knew he had little time before we discovered him.’
Dame Eleanor flings her hands over her mouth, chokes back a sob.
I do not understand these sudden changes in temper.
Lucy struggles up, limps over to her mother. ‘What ails you? Do you need the physick? Sit up, please.’ She holds the wine goblet to Dame Eleanor’s lips. Anne stands nearby, kneading her kerchief.
Dame Eleanor clutches Lucy’s hand. ‘Let us leave here. As soon as we can. It’s what was supposed to happen, with Alice . . .’
‘And where would we go?’
She turns her head then to look at me, and Lucy says something to her in a low voice I do not quite hear. God forgive me, I wish I were somewhere else.
Lucy shakes her head, returns to her seat, settling her skirts and lifting her chin at me. ‘You found the key, I imagine? I did not manage to ask last time.’
‘Ah!’ I lean forward towards her and for a moment it is just the two of us again. ‘It was deliberate, then?’
She nods, her smile mocking me, but I find it friendly, welcome. ‘He watched me all the time, but even he must relieve himself. I hid an old key in my tunic and threw it out of that window so it would fall at the back door.’
‘It was just chance that Will kicked it.’
She tilts her head, squashing her lips. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to come in the dark.’ I see she tries not to laugh and I feel suddenly happy again, even though I must leave soon to go on watch. The snow has stopped and a little patch of blue hangs over the top of the window.
Dame Eleanor rises, pats her cap and puts on a smile. ‘Please come again. If you would like.’
‘Yes, lady.’ I wish it were summer and Lucy and I – and little Mary, of course – might walk on the Fields among the poppies and marigolds and harebells, the sun holding us in perfect ease.
Chapter 16
It irks me, that there should be so many questions left unanswered. I could press Dame Eleanor, but it would be harsh when she seems still somewhat unsteady in her mind.
Every time I enter our house, I think of him behind the storeroom door. Sometimes I hear him singing softly, some peasant tune I do not know. I wonder that he should fear death so little. And I wonder, too, at my feelings for him. In the moment when the meaning of the cipher leapt out beneath my fingertips, there was fear for Lucy, but disappointment too. The truth of the matter is I liked – like – Edward Morham, or whoever he is. I remind myself of Alice’s terrible fate at his hands, and Tom’s too, that he has no right to any scrap of kindness from me or anyone else. But I did believe him when he said he took no pleasure in it. It was them or him, I suppose, even if there was evil in his being here at all.
The shortest day comes and goes, along with the anniversary of my birth and the Noel, though winter’s selfish grip does not slacken. Every time I pass through our door, I tell myself I show great weakness in thinking these things and should tell Will to have him mock me. But when I hear Edward is to be sent to the castle before the end of December, I ask permission of Sir Anthony to speak with him.
Stephen locks me inside the storeroom, and I wonder how I would feel if the key turned against me in some Scottish prison. Edward watches me with eyebrows raised as I settle against an empty shelf. I clear my throat. ‘I want . . . I would like . . . There are many things I still don’t know.’
He smiles, the bones in his face showing much more readily now. ‘And you wish for me to answer them?’
‘You don’t have to, of course.’
‘It is a fair exchange: your company for answers. I do not thrive by myself.’
I blink. ‘You cannot expect to thrive ever again.’
‘Benedict, I know what is coming. I know what I have done. And God understands why. I am sorry my life is to come to an end, but I was always willing to give it in such a cause.’
‘The cause of a murderer and a traitor.’
He brings up his hands to scratch his nose, the shackles hanging loose around his wrists. ‘We are never going to agree on that, are we? So why waste time treading that path?’
He is right and I nod. ‘Will you tell me what happened with Alice?’
He draws in a long breath, stares at the cobwebs on the curved ceiling. He speaks quietly, still not looking at me. ‘I don’t know what she hoped to find. Probably something to help persuade her mother that we should not wed. And perhaps I was more unwise than I should have been. I have asked myself that many times. The letters and papers lay in an old pair of boots. She did not need to break the cipher, for she knew they were mine, and I knew she had them – for she told me she had no need to marry me now.’ He rubs his face.
‘And she went straight to Sir John after that, surely?’
He nods his head. ‘She should have stayed there when she did not find him at home. But she was young and beautiful, and May Day is a marvellous time for such creatures. Perhaps she couldn’t imagine I would touch her. It’s true I had to harden my heart. I was fortunate – and she was most foolish: that she stayed by herself when the others left. I knew they meant to go to the Fields, and I went quickly to Lamberton and came back to spy on them. It was a relief and a horror to find her alone.’ He stares off into that terrible afternoon. ‘Anyway, the cart got stuck in the mud and I didn’t have time to take her body to the Lamberton road and return to the Cowgate before the gates closed.’
‘But she wasn’t dead when you took her back in?’
He closes his eyes. ‘No, though I thought she was. When I first approached her, she heard me coming and turned to look right at me. I think she was daring me to hurt her, and I couldn’t. I asked her to forgive me and said that of course we would not be married. I suggested she come back with me in the cart, and then I hit her hard on the head as she went before me. I tried to strangle her while she lay on the ground, but I didn’t do it very well.’
I am held as if under an enchantment, astonished that Alice should trust so much in her beauty and good nature.
‘It became even more difficult after that. I loosened the pin on the cart, to explain the lateness of the hour and to make sure I was remembered coming in. And took the cart straight to the wright, as I told you.’
‘But surely you didn’t leave Alice?’
‘It was a risk, I knew it was. But I was sure I’d killed her and she lay under a great pile of old sacks. The wright was in a hurry to get home that evening, so who would have discovered her? I was worried, though, I’ll confess it.’
‘But you went to drink with William Roxburgh.’
He smiles again. ‘Yes. And no. I made a great show of my drinking, but in truth I had little, and none at all after Pontefract and the others left. I needed them to have seen me and to be able to say so with a clear conscience. But I also needed William to go away.’
He shakes his head, as if bemused and amused at the same time. ‘I’d known his secret for some time. That’s why I became friends with him, in case I needed someone to do things they’d rather not. He was chasing after Ralph Holme’s wife and had caught her. Quite a happy pair they were, for a few weeks, until fear of Ralph crept into their bed beside them. But that was a little later. I told him to go to her, would say nothing to anyone else, was happy to doze in my cups until he got back. He didn’t need me to say it more than twice. As soon as he was gone, I went back to the yard.’
He breathes deeply again. ‘I’d just turned out of Marygate into Hide Hill. I saw her silhouette coming up, lurching from side to side.’ He breathes hard again. ‘She nearly got home. But I caught her. There was so much blood, I didn’t expect that.’ He looks at his hands. ‘I wrapped her in my cloak and carried her down to Ralph Holme’s store. You were clever to discover that. Ralph thought himself lord of everything, but he wasn’t even master of his own warehouse. And then I had to come in quietly to the back of our house to change my clothes before making my pretence of drunkenness through the front door.’
‘You took the key from Ralph when you worked there?’
‘Yes. In case I needed somewhere to hide. So that if I needed to, I might be able to slip out of the Watergate and go back to Scotland. Of course, if I had to do that then I would have failed in my quest. There would be no songs or poems written about me.’
I touch my forehead, suddenly burning hot. And I wonder then if he does not wish to live more than he wishes me to guess, even as he doled out death so easily to us; that all these plans for escape devised so many months, nay, years, ago speak of a life somewhere else entirely that he does yearn for, perhaps even now. And then I think of how close he came to eluding us entirely, that he might indeed have made it out through our walls and away, if he’d found out that he was discovered. But in reminding me of the hiding place in Ralph Holme’s warehouse, God was surely on our side.
He lets the ghost of a smile settle on his lips, leaning forward slightly. ‘Perhaps I might have come back with Douglas, found a way in somehow. Berwick will fall, you know that, don’t you? You cannot keep us out for ever.’
I do not wish to allow him that victory. ‘We have managed this far and we’ll manage it yet.’
‘Yes, for what it’s worth. What is it worth? To you?’ I do not know what to say. ‘It is . . . I follow my master.
I did not intend to come here.’
‘No. It’s the arsehole of the world, isn’t it? Scarcely worth the trouble. And yet your king squanders his great wealth on poor little Scotland. How many English have died in these wars, do you think? And Welsh and Irish? You might have been one of them, though I’m glad now I could not finish you. How many men brought to evil deeds that now disturb their minds, all in your foolish king’s name?’
‘You are not one to speak of such things!’
He struggles to his feet, his clasped hands shaking the air. ‘I did what I had to do. You do not have to be here. The old king stole Scotland when we were leaderless. If there is treachery, that’s where it started.’
We glare at each other. And yet my heart is not in it as his is. ‘You said it already: we should not talk about such weighty matters. They began before I was born. Perhaps they will go on after I’m dead.’
He snorts. ‘Aye, you speak the truth there.’ He leans back against the wall, slides down to sit between a barrel and a sack.
I think perhaps he wants me to leave, but I am not yet finished. ‘What I most wanted to ask . . .’
