Blessed are the Dead E-Book

C.B. Hanley

• Herausgeber: The Mystery Press
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A Mediaeval Mystery
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 410

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

'Politics, family rivalries and political tensions are all stirred up to create a thrilling adventure … unputdownable!' - Sharon Bennett Connolly, historian, and author of Defenders of the Norman Crown: The Rise and Fall of the Warenne Earls of Surrey April 1219: Edwin Weaver finds himself at Tickhill Castle under false pretences. Earl Warenne wants Tickhill for himself and is convinced that a royal order for the castle to be handed over has been hidden, so he's sent Edwin to find it and told him not to come back until he does. Frantic with worry about the danger to his family, Edwin is forced to lie to everyone around him while searching for a document that might not even exist. The situation escalates when a body is found and the earl musters armed troops to take the castle by force; Edwin must race against time to discover the crucial information so he can stop the violence and bloodshed. But his quest for the truth is more dangerous than he could possibly have anticipated, and he must endure tragic and wrenching loss before his duty is complete.

Leseprobe

First published by The Mystery Press, 2023

The Mystery Press, an imprint of The History Press

97 St George’s Place

Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, GL50 3QB

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© C.B. Hanley, 2023

The right of C.B. Hanley to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 80399 306 5

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ Books Limited, Padstow, Cornwall.

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

For B.B.My friend and partial namesake,and a wonderful library volunteer.

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord;They may rest from their labours.Revelation, ch.14, v.13

Praise for C.B. Hanley’sMediaeval Mystery Series

‘[In By the Edge of the Sword] Hanley sets the stage for a page turner with a gentle lady in peril, a heartsick warrior set on heroics, a level-headed detective, and a village and castle filled with said lady’s accusers. The game’s afoot when floodwaters trap these combustibles in the castle. Highly recommended!’

Candace Robb, author of the Owen Archer mysteries

‘[Cast the First Stone is] brilliantly evocative of time and place, but with themes that are bang up to date. C.B. Hanley brings past and present together in an enthralling story.’

A.J. Mackenzie, author of the Hardcastle & Chaytor mysteries

‘The Bloody City is a great read, full of intrigue and murder. Great for readers of Ellis Peters and Lindsey Davis. Hanley weaves a convincing, rich tapestry of life and death in the early 13th century, in all its grandeur and filth. I enjoyed this book immensely!’

Ben Kane, bestselling novelist of the Forgotten Legion trilogy

‘Blatantly heroic and wonderfully readable.’

The Bloody City received a STARRED review in Library Journal

‘The characters are real, the interactions and conversations natural, the tension inbuilt, and it all builds to a genuinely satisfying conclusion both fictionally and historically.’

Review for The Bloody City in www.crimereview.co.uk

‘Whited Sepulchres … struck me as a wonderfully vivid recreation of the early thirteenth century … The solid historical basis lends authenticity to a lively, well-structured story. I enjoyed the plight of amiable and peace-loving Edwin, trapped by his creator in such a warlike time and place.’

Andrew Taylor, winner of the 2009 CWA Diamond Daggerand three-times winner of the CWA Historical Dagger

‘It’s clever. It’s well written. It’s believable. It’s historically accurate. It’s a first-class medieval mystery.’

Review for Whited Sepulchres in www.crimereview.co.uk

‘Brother’s Blood [is] a gift for medievalists everywhere … Hanley really knows her stuff. Her knowledge of life in a Cistercian monastery is impeccable. More please.’

Cassandra Clark, author of the Abbess of Meaux medieval mystery series

Chapter One

Tickhill Castle, South Yorkshire, April 1219

‘Thomas.’

There was a pause.

‘Thomas! Can’t you hear me?’

It took Edwin a moment – again – to realise that he was the man being addressed. ‘Sorry,’ he managed. ‘My mind was wandering.’

‘Aye, well, you’ve enough to think about just now, I suppose.’

He’d got away with it this time, but he really needed to concentrate harder. These lapses were going to give him away if he wasn’t careful.

‘Anyway, like I was saying, your horse isn’t healing as fast as I thought he would, so it looks like you’ll have to stay a while longer.’

‘Oh dear,’ replied Edwin, trying to sound as if he meant it. ‘I hope Sir Robert and Lady Idonea won’t mind.’

The stablemaster waved a hand. ‘They’re known all around these parts for hospitality, and there’s always room for one more in the hall. Besides, the lady seems quite taken with your wife.’

The darkness, the foreboding, the crushing fear … it all came rushing back, and for a moment Edwin felt nauseous. That Alys had been put in this situation was intolerable, and he cursed himself over and over again for letting it happen.

He had to pull himself together. ‘I’ll go and find her now, to give her the news, and then come and see the horse afterwards.’

The stablemaster, with a surprised expression, looked as though he might be about to indicate that he would prioritise the horse, so Edwin nodded to him and walked briskly away to avoid the temptation to snap at a man who was only doing his job.

The bailey was soft underfoot, but not too muddy, at least – the incessant rains of March had tailed off a couple of weeks ago, some time before they’d set off, and the ground everywhere was slowly drying out. Edwin picked his way across with care, trying to find the best places to set his feet; ‘Thomas’ was a fastidious man and wouldn’t want to get his boots dirty.

The motte loomed over him, and Edwin contemplated it as he approached. It was so steep that the path up to the stone keep had to spiral around instead of leading straight up, something he’d never seen before, although admittedly his experience of castles was hardly extensive. It would be exceptionally difficult to attack the keep in such a position, but Edwin supposed that was the point: any men trying to circle the path would be out in the open for some while, making themselves easy targets, but if they tried to force their way straight up the precipitous side of the motte they would be off balance and slipping all over the place, and thus equally vulnerable.

Edwin already knew that he wouldn’t find Sir Robert inside the building, for he had carefully noted the knight riding out with a few of his men around the middle of the morning. Where was he going? was the question that immediately sprang to mind. What was he going to do while he was out? Was it anything to do with … and how would Edwin find out without giving himself away?

And then, the thought catching him so sharply that it almost brought him to an abrupt, winded halt in the middle of the bailey, Why was I just thinking about the keep being attacked? Unfortunately, he already knew the answer to that question, and the longer it took him to do what he was here for, the more likely a prospect it became. Edwin felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

A very youthful guard stood at the bottom of the motte, looking proudly and keenly about him as he blocked the path, and Edwin allowed himself a brief smile at the thought that the most junior members of the garrison getting the most tedious jobs was not a practice confined to Conisbrough. Did the path really need ‘guarding’ when the only people inside the castle enclosure had every right to be there, and would one boy stop any malefactors anyway? Still, the Tickhill sergeant-at-arms would no doubt be glad of the youth’s enthusiasm until it eventually wore off. The bright red hair was easily recognisable, and Edwin recalled that the boy’s name was Theo, and that he had already, over the last few days, chattily let Edwin and Alys know that he was a local, from Tickhill town, and that he was proud to have been taken on at the castle and hoped to progress in Sir Robert’s service. Someone so junior was unlikely to have any information that Edwin needed, but he listened very carefully to anything that anyone said to him just in case some small detail might come in useful. It hadn’t so far, but he had to live in hope.

Edwin greeted Theo by name, reminding himself to concentrate on who he was supposed to be and assuming the rather hearty manner that was part of his disguise. ‘And do you know if my wife is up in the keep, young man?’

Theo’s face immediately took on the expression of a lovesick puppy. ‘Yes, master, she is. She and Lady Idonea seem to be able to spend all day talking about cloth and suchlike, or so Margaret says – how do they do it?’

‘Ah, well,’ said Edwin, tucking his thumbs in his belt and rocking back on his heels in the way he’d seen real merchants do, ‘Fabrics are a fascinating subject, of course, with all sorts of different qualities and textures …’

Theo’s eyes began to glaze over. ‘Well, I’m sure it’s fine if you go up to find her, master.’ He stepped aside.

Edwin made his way up and around until he reached the keep’s entrance, which was directly above where Theo stood, pulling himself even straighter to attention when any of the more senior members of the garrison passed. Edwin explained his business to the older and rather bored-looking guard lounging at the door, and was admitted.

The keep was multi-sided, like the one at Conisbrough, with the stair running around the outside of it in the thickness of the wall; however, the building here was much smaller, with just the ground and upper floors and then the roof. There were no hidden nooks where a person might hide unobserved to eavesdrop on conversations, as Edwin had already discovered, so he didn’t bother pausing on his way up. However, with Sir Robert definitely out of the way, and Lady Idonea’s attention on Alys, might now be a good time to run up to the roof and have a quick look around? If he was noticed then it might be a little tricky to explain what a respectable cloth merchant was doing up there, but he could surely bluff his way through an excuse about wanting to see the view, or looking out over the road he would take to get ‘home’ once his horse had recovered.

The chances were that nobody was going to see him anyway, for he’d already observed while gazing up at the keep that there was no guard currently on the roof. He decided to risk it, making his way up the final flight of steps and emerging into the daylight.

In one respect it was disappointing: there was absolutely nothing to be seen except the conical wooden roof and the empty path that led all the way round it, just inside the stone crenellations. And nor could Edwin see, as he peered through one of the embrasures, which direction Sir Robert had taken that morning, for he had been gone for some while and his party was out of sight, even allowing for the far-reaching clear view afforded by the double height of both keep and motte. The fishpond directly under his current position looked very far down indeed, and Edwin was glad he didn’t get dizzy when up high, as some men did.

He completed his circuit of the path and reached the top of the stairs again. Nothing. Still, in one sense the emptiness of the roof was at least of some use to him, for he could rule it out: what he was looking for certainly wasn’t hidden up here.

He was still unobserved as he made his way back down to the keep’s upper storey and reached the door to the chamber. He entered after knocking, needing to pause in order to adjust his eyes: despite the bright spring day outside, the room was dark and dull, there being no windows other than narrow slits. However, there were candles enough lit for him to make out three women over by the fireplace, surrounded by rolled, unrolled and draped bolts of cloth.

They all turned as he entered.

‘Lady Idonea.’ Edwin inclined his head in respect and remembered to put on his rather pompous manner. ‘I apologise for interrupting, but I bring the sad news that our horse is not yet sufficiently recovered to travel. I hope and pray that we may trespass on your kind hospitality for a day or two longer.’

The lady made a gracious reply and turned to the plainly dressed girl beside her. ‘Margaret, run and tell the kitchens that, happily, our guests will be staying a few more days.’ She pointed at a dish on the table that contained some pieces of marchpane and other sweetmeats. ‘And you haven’t had any of these yet – take one with you as you go.’

The girl happily selected something and slipped out. As she passed him Edwin murmured, ‘He’s at the bottom of the path, so you’ll get the chance for a quick word,’ and received a smile in return.

He sighed as he turned back to the room. Margaret was nice, Theo was nice, Lady Idonea was nice, everyone was nice. He and Alys had received nothing but a pleasant welcome from all at Tickhill, and it just made Edwin feel ever more guilty about being there under false pretences.

Still, he had his duty to do, and the sooner the better – although his determination was for Alys’s sake more than the lord earl’s. Keeping her safe was the most important duty of all, and he would sweep everything else aside if necessary, no matter what the cost.

Edwin could feel the throbbing in his head as he looked at her now, the constant anxiety pushing its way to the fore despite his attempts to contain it. She was radiant, as always, smiling back at him over the enormous swell of her belly, and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of the danger she was in, just a couple of weeks – if that – away from her confinement.

He wanted to talk to her alone, and, as ever, she knew exactly the right thing to say. ‘Oh dear, poor Kit. Should we go to the stable to see him together?’ She began the laborious process of getting to her feet.

Lady Idonea put out a hand. ‘Surely, my dear, there can be no need for you to put yourself to the trouble? The men can deal with these things without our help, and you’ll be more comfortable remaining here.’

Alys exchanged a glance with Edwin. ‘Thank you, my lady – you’re so kind – but actually I do find myself in need of some movement and air. Sitting so long in one attitude is becoming increasingly uncomfortable.’ She made it upright, a little unsteadily, and Edwin rushed forward to help.

‘As you think best, my dear,’ said Lady Idonea. ‘I wouldn’t know about these things.’ A shadow flitted across her face, but Edwin barely noticed as he concentrated on Alys.

Alys attempted a brief curtsey, which didn’t work very well. ‘I’ll be very happy to go through any further requirements you might have later, my lady.’

‘Very well. There will be ample time now you’re going to be staying a while longer.’ Lady Idonea smiled and then turned to take up a psalter, adjusting her position to gain the best of the meagre light and allowing them to escape.

Edwin ushered Alys over to the stair. ‘Can you manage? We can go as slowly as you like. And then there’s the motte afterwards, but I’ll keep hold of you so you don’t slip.’ He held her hand and put his other arm about her waist.

‘I’ll be fine as long as we don’t rush,’ she replied, out loud. And then, under her breath, ‘Anything?’

‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘Though I have bought more time. You?’

She made a face. ‘All she wants to talk about is babies.’

There wasn’t much light in the stairwell, so Edwin couldn’t see her exact expression, but he felt her fingers tighten on his. She was putting on a brave face for his sake, he knew. ‘I really don’t want to keep you here longer than necessary. We need to get you home, where it’s safe.’

Alys sighed. ‘Well, it looks like quickest way to do that will be to carry out the lord earl’s instructions.’

Now it was Edwin’s turn to tighten his grip.

‘You will,’ she said, soothingly. ‘We will.’

It took them some while to reach the bailey, but they managed it safely, Theo advancing a little way up to them on the steep path to walk on Alys’s other side as she negotiated the final stretch. Once they reached the flat ground Alys thanked him, making him blush.

Margaret was just returning across the bailey, singing to herself, and she stopped for a moment to chat. Edwin had noticed her closeness to Theo, but frankly thought that Theo was a little young to be walking out with a girl, especially one who looked to be two or three years older than him. Still, it wasn’t his business, was it?

Alys was engaging in conversation, always comfortable in talking to new people in a way that Edwin wasn’t. ‘Very fortunate for you both to be here together,’ she said, brightly. ‘And have you got any other brothers and sisters?’

‘Yes,’ replied Margaret. ‘Or, sort of. We’re the eldest and the only ones from Mother’s first marriage, but she remarried after Father died and had three more. They’re all still at home.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of the town.

Edwin kicked himself for not seeing it before.

‘Oh, how lovely,’ said Alys, though Edwin could see a shadow cross her face. ‘I have younger ones of my own, thr— two brothers and a sister, and I miss them sometimes. I’m surprised your mother doesn’t prefer to keep you at home to help look after them.’

Theo, who was just licking the remains of a piece of marchpane from his lips, stifled a snort of laughter.

Alys gave him a quizzical look, and he was glad to elaborate, his cheeks turning as fiery as his hair as he addressed her directly. ‘Not one for looking after babies, our Margaret. She much preferred running around and coming out with me to practise our archery.’

Margaret drew herself up and assumed a superior air. ‘That was a long time ago, before I grew up properly – and anyway, someone had to keep an eye out for you and pull you out of trouble, rascal that you were.’ She couldn’t keep the affection out of her voice, despite her effort to appear ladylike.

She turned back to Alys. ‘And we were both lucky to be taken on here, Mother said it was an opportunity not to be missed. Lady Idonea is so kind to me, and Theo’s going to go up in the world, just you wait and see.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ said Edwin, in Thomas’s best indulgent tone. ‘But you’d both better get back to your duties, and my dear wife and I need to go to the stable to see our horse.’

‘Oh, of course,’ said Margaret, remembering herself. ‘And we shouldn’t keep a lady in your condition standing about, mistress, sorry.’ She curtseyed, gave Theo a playful poke and told him to behave himself, and started up the path.

‘They don’t look much alike,’ said Edwin, as he and Alys moved across the bailey. ‘But I still should have spotted it. Something about their expressions.’

‘Yes, families can have shared looks or habits,’ said Alys, and Edwin suspected that the fondness in her voice was not just for Margaret and Theo. ‘But it’s more the way they talk to each other – that tone where you love your brother but you can get exasperated by him at the same time.’

‘Well, I’ve never had a brother, so I wouldn’t know,’ replied Edwin, sighing once again with worry.

Alys squeezed his hand as they entered the stable.

There was nobody else in there, so they could be sure they were unobserved and would not be overheard. Finding their horse, Edwin did what he had already done a couple of times before: he unwound the bandage, wiped off most of the poultice with some straw that he then pushed into the middle of a dung heap to hide it, and retied the linen around the horse’s leg. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I do want you to get better – just not yet.’

Suddenly a great weariness threatened to overcome him, the exhaustion of being permanently on edge. How in the Lord’s name was he supposed to succeed in his duty and keep Alys and their unborn child safe? He’d been set difficult tasks before, but this one seemed impossible.

She seemed to know what he was thinking, and touched his hand. ‘We’ll be all right.’ But he could see that she was afraid, too: afraid of what might befall them if they were found out, afraid of what might happen if she began her labour while they were far from family and friends. Terrified, as he was, for the fate of a baby born away from home and in dangerous circumstances.

Edwin bent his aching head to lay it on the horse’s flank for a moment. He had to be strong. For her, for them.

It was actually the anger coursing through him, rather than the fear, that gave him the energy to stand upright once more. Indeed, anger wasn’t a strong enough word: he was absolutely livid. Furious with the earl and also with himself for not standing up to such an unreasonable demand. And this, in turn, brought two more thoughts to the forefront of Edwin’s mind with a clarity so piercing that it made his head throb even more.

The first was that he didn’t want to work for the earl any longer. That one was an old wound, like picking at a scab that wouldn’t heal – he’d felt it for some while, every time the earl sent him into danger, but this time the overt callous disregard his lord had shown for anything except his own interests had solidified it.

The second thought was newer, more painful, a sharp knife wound that still bled and would probably never heal. There was no escape from it: Edwin felt raw, wrenching, visceral grief to know that he would never, ever, be able to forgive Martin for what he’d done.

Martin looked at the two men sprawled on the ground in front of him and wondered why he hated everything.

‘Oh, get up,’ he said, in disgust. ‘Go back and find me someone worth sparring with.’

They scurried off and he kicked the ground while he waited, glaring through the narrow eye slits of his helm. He wasn’t even out of breath.

Why was everything so wretched? Why was there no enjoyment in anything any more? He hated his duties, he hated all the talking and the thinking and the politics that went with some of them, and he didn’t even enjoy the riding and the training these days. Riding just wasn’t the same, and as to sparring … well, there was nobody within twenty miles who could hold a candle to him in a fight, and the fact that the next tallest man in the castle barely topped his shoulder didn’t help. They had to come at him in twos and threes to mount any sort of challenge, and he still won easily. It was boring.

Two more of the Conisbrough garrison were soon flat on their backs, and Martin still despised his life and detested himself. But he needed another fight. He needed it because if he stopped moving and concentrating then he might have the time to start thinking about —

‘Martin?’

He swung round abruptly, causing Adam to step back out of reach of the sword. Hugh, who was hovering behind him, looked apprehensive, and some of Martin’s anger cooled. He would never hit the younger squire or the page who were under his authority, no matter how he was feeling, and he hoped that they knew it.

‘Sir Geoffrey says training’s over for today, and we need to clean up and attend on my lord while he looks at his letters.’

Martin groaned inwardly, but removed his helm and took in a gulp of the fresh spring air. He passed the sword to Hugh, hilt-first. It was a blunt training one, which meant that Martin’s opponents only had bruises rather than cuts: neither the castellan, Sir Geoffrey, nor the sergeant-at-arms, Everard, wanted any of the garrison permanently disabled by ‘friendly’ sparring. But the lack of any real danger or risk was only making Martin more dissatisfied every time he fought.

He pulled his mind back to his duties. ‘Obviously it doesn’t need sharpening,’ he told Hugh, ‘and there’s no rust on it, but see these mud flecks? They’ll want cleaning off before you oil it.’ He wondered when he would next have the chance to face a real opponent over the gleam of sharp steel. His heart surged and his fingers clenched around an imaginary hilt even as he thought of it.

The page nodded, always eager to help. ‘Shall I take the helm, too?’

‘Yes, if you can manage both.’

Fortunately Hugh, who was now nearly nine, wasn’t quite as tiny as he’d been when he’d first arrived in the household. He was still small for his age, though, and made an awkward job of carrying both items as he stumbled over to the armoury.

Everard, who had been organising groups of men and giving them orders, now hailed Martin. ‘I’m taking some of the newer boys out on a patrol. Have you time to come? It would do them good to have you along.’

Reluctantly, Martin shook his head. Riding out wasn’t quite as pleasurable an activity as it had once been, not with the horse he had now, but it would still be infinitely preferable to listening to letters and politics. ‘I have to attend on my lord.’

Everard chuckled. ‘One of the perils of rank. There aren’t many advantages to being born out of wedlock, but having a good steady position where there’s no danger of rising too high and having to think about things is one of them.’

Martin wondered if he might get the time to ride out later, once all the day’s talking was over and done with. He did so whenever he could get away, enjoying the peace and solitude, and sometimes dreaming that he might find a nest of outlaws or other malefactors – that would give him an excuse to really let his feelings rip, taking out his anger justifiably on those who deserved it. His fingers clutched around a non-existent hilt once more as he imagined …

He hadn’t said anything out loud, and now realised there had been an awkward silence.

‘Well,’ continued Everard. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Next time, maybe?’

‘I hope so.’ Martin watched the sergeant’s departing back and then turned to Adam with a sigh. ‘Let’s get out of this, then.’ Now that Adam was sixteen, he’d moved on to wearing full-weight armour for training, but he wasn’t quite used to it and was looking weary; Martin helped him out of his mail and gambeson first before allowing Adam to do the same for him.

‘Letters,’ said Martin, morosely, as they stacked everything back in the armoury. ‘Here, pass me that and I’ll put it up here.’ He shoved his rolled-up hauberk on to the top shelf. There was all kinds of jumble up here that probably wanted sorting out, but he just couldn’t muster enough interest to want to do anything about it. He’d note it to Sir Geoffrey or Everard later, if he could be bothered, and perhaps one of the recruits could deal with it.

‘But don’t you think it’s interesting?’ asked Adam. ‘Learning about what’s happening in other parts of the realm? How my lord deals with other earls and even the king and his regent?’

‘No,’ said Martin, shortly. He stared through the roof beams that were at his eye level. ‘No, I don’t want to think about that sort of thing at all.’

‘But when you’re a knight …’

‘When I’m a knight I’ll train my men, follow my orders and fight where I’m told to fight,’ he snapped. ‘The lord earl will need a strong right arm from time to time, and he’s got plenty of others to do his thinking for him.’

Adam made no reply, and Martin knew that his mind had turned to Edwin. Adam had been there too, that day.

Martin cleared his throat. ‘Anyway. Get some water and we’ll wash before we go to the council chamber. Don’t let that sweat cool on you.’

Adam left, and Martin checked that Hugh had cleaned the sword and helm adequately, which he had. ‘Good lad,’ he managed, seeing Hugh’s face light up at the praise. There was no need for the boys to suffer just because he was in such a foul mood all the time.

They went outside and Martin hoped that Adam would take as long as possible over fetching the water, because he really, really didn’t want to go into the council chamber. However, with his usual efficiency Adam was back almost before anyone might have noticed he’d gone. They all washed faces and hands so they would be presentable before the lord earl, which was enough for the others, but when they’d finished Martin stripped off his shirt, picked up the pitcher and poured the rest of it over his head. The icy deluge was a shock – water from the castle well was cold all year round, and the spring weather hadn’t yet taken the bitter chill off it – but he welcomed it.

‘Well then,’ he said, once dried and dressed, and trying not to sound like a man on the way to his own execution. ‘Let’s not keep my lord waiting.’

Martin normally took the keep stairs two at a time, but he found his steps slowing as they went up, and by the time they reached the level of the council chamber the other two were in front of him. Adam knocked and opened the door, holding it for Martin to go through first, and Martin did so. He knew what it was all going to remind him of, because it was in this very room that he’d done the stupid, idiotic thing that he was going to regret for the rest of his life.

‘Yes, my lady, this burel is very hard-wearing and would make excellent tunics for your household. You want them to look smart, of course, but not too fine, and any garments made from this will last a good long time.’ Edwin wasn’t quite sure how long he could keep this up, and hoped Sir Robert would arrive back soon.

‘Hmm … agreed,’ replied Lady Idonea. ‘Now, at fourpence the ell, did you say? And two ells per tunic …’

Edwin thanked the saints that the conversation had finally turned to something he did know about; he could add up more quickly than anyone else he’d ever met. ‘Fourpence the yard, my lady, not the ell, so two and a half yards per tunic for two dozen men is sixty yards, which makes exactly one pound of silver.’

Clearly, Edwin didn’t actually care whether she bought this fabric or not; but, partly to stay in character and partly to prolong the conversation, he pretended to consider. ‘Of course, given that the bolts are thirty-two yards long, I would be happy for you to have two whole bolts for that price, with my compliments.’ He stuck his thumbs in his belt again. ‘Indeed, if you and your needlewomen are careful with your cutting, you might save enough fabric for four or even six additional tunics – rather a bargain, if I do say so myself.’

He was beginning to flag again, and was grateful to be interrupted by the arrival of a small boy, who waved something at Lady Idonea. ‘A letter for Sir Robert – Father said to bring it up.’

Edwin was immediately on the alert, but the parchment was of no great size and carried no seal, and the boy’s next words were ‘About the new supplier of ale, he says.’

Lady Idonea smiled. ‘You can leave it here for him.’ She ruffled the boy’s hair as he placed the letter on the table, then picked out a piece of marchpane from the dish. ‘Here.’

The boy’s eyes widened. ‘Thank you, my lady!’

‘And how have you been getting on since you started working with your father? Is everybody treating you well?’

‘Oh yes, my lady.’

The words were addressed to her, but his eyes were on the marchpane in his hand, and she laughed. ‘Very well then – off with you.’

He departed and she smiled after him before turning back to Edwin and Alys. ‘Our steward’s eldest son – he’s just started working here. He’s very young, but they take care of him and he doesn’t do any of the heavy work.’

‘Good for him,’ said Edwin, heartily. ‘Boys need to be brought up in their trade.’

‘Now,’ continued Lady Idonea. ‘Where were we?’

Edwin, who certainly hadn’t been brought up in the fabric trade, had run out of conversational gambits about it. He cast a meaningful glance at Alys.

Thankfully, she took the hint and chimed in. ‘Oh yes, my lady. As my husband was saying, there will be plenty of the burel to spare, especially given that some of your men are young and slight.’ She smiled in an encouraging manner at Lady Idonea and, on receiving a nod, continued in an easy tone. ‘Very well. Now, as to your own personal requirements, perhaps my husband wouldn’t mind if I showed you the fabric while he stands by to discuss price. It’s nice to speak of such things with another woman, don’t you think?’

Edwin heaved a sigh of relief and just about managed to restrain himself from blowing her a kiss as she started to go into the sort of technical detail that could only come from being genuinely a member of a merchant family. Lady Idonea seemed to be relaxing a little, and perhaps she might begin to gossip, or to let slip something – anything – that might help him. Listening to Alys demonstrate her expertise, Edwin could almost begin to appreciate … but no, he wasn’t going to go down that route. Forgiveness would not be meted out so easily. He would much, much rather be here by himself, however many knots he tied himself in, if only Alys could be safe at home.

The two of them were engrossed, and Margaret was listening with interest, so Edwin eased away from them, trying to make himself as invisible as possible and hoping that Lady Idonea would eventually forget about his presence altogether.

‘And, pardon me for asking, my lady,’ Alys was saying, ‘but do you need authorisation for this spending? Should my husband speak directly to Sir Robert about the cost, or perhaps to your steward?’

‘I discussed it with him yesterday evening.’ Lady Idonea smoothed down her skirt, and a slight edge came into her voice. ‘It’s some time since I ordered new gowns, so your arrival was most fortuitous and he was happy to set aside a budget, particularly as it would mean not having to travel to Pontefract or York.’

‘You would travel, normally, my lady?’

‘Oh yes. Not, perhaps, for the household fabric, which can be sourced locally, but nobody here in town can produce anything to match the quality of these.’ She picked up one of the more expensive fabrics – Edwin couldn’t remember what it was called – and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. ‘But you’re not from north of here, you said? You’ve travelled from Lincoln?’

Her question set Edwin on edge a little, but it seemed a natural one with no particular undertone. And it was obviously a safe subject for Alys, who had grown up in the great city before leaving her family behind and moving to Conisbrough to become his wife.

He hoped she wasn’t going to live to regret it.

Alys was agreeing, and sliding a few specific details into the conversation that would certainly allay any suspicions that she didn’t know Lincoln.

Lady Idonea was nodding. ‘I have never been there myself, but I hear that the cathedral is a wonderful sight – comparable even with York.’

The women’s talk was general for a few moments, before Alys returned to the cloth. ‘So, my lady, you have a sum set aside for your own gowns, and one for Margaret in the plainer twill.’

She bestowed a smile on the girl, who had been sitting silently all the while, and whose face now brightened at the treat in store for her. ‘And for the burel for the household? Did you also agree this with Sir Robert?’

‘Yes. To begin with he tried to say that new tunics wouldn’t be needed this year, but back in my father’s day the Tickhill household and garrison was known for being smartly turned out, and I’ve been determined not to let standards slip since the duties of castellan fell to me.’

Edwin listened with greater attention. This was new information, and although it might not be relevant in any way to his investigations, he was so hopelessly stuck that at this point he’d take anything. He was by now almost directly behind Lady Idonea and facing Alys, so he indicated that she should continue the subject.

‘I didn’t realise, my lady.’

‘There’s no reason why you should. But yes, the castellanship here is hereditary, and as I was my parents’ only child it came to me as heiress. To be held by my husband, of course, so the marriage was arranged for me, but he’s a good man.’

‘And …’ Alys hesitated. ‘You have no children?’

Edwin saw the lady’s shoulders tense. ‘None. Though I am still of an age … I pray every day that the Lord might grant us our wish.’

Alys placed a protective hand over her stomach.

‘Don’t worry, my dear, I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ said Lady Idonea. ‘There’s plenty of time for your horse to recover and then it’s what – four or five days’ travel to Lincoln, if you take it steadily? You’ll be home and with your family when the time comes for your confinement. Will your mother be with you? Sisters?’

Alys shook her head and made no reply, and Edwin winced. Alys had watched her mother die of childbed fever when she herself was just a girl, and that was not something she needed to be reminded of just now. Edwin, of course, was hoping that Alys would be home – in Conisbrough, less than a day’s travel even in the slow cart – long before her time came. Home, where she could be looked after by his own mother and aunt, as well as the experienced village midwife.

Oh Lord, if he started thinking about Mother as well, and how he’d left her at this time of need, he really was going to cry.

Fortunately, it was at that moment that footsteps were heard on the stairs and Sir Robert entered. He was a breath of fresh air, bouncing over to his wife to kiss her and enthuse about the hunting he’d had – ‘We’ve only brought back hares for the kitchen today, though we saw the first roe buck of the season and marked its position ready for next time’ – while remembering to ask about her day so far. ‘Lovely, these materials, but then you’d look lovely in anything, of course.’ He nodded to Margaret and Edwin, and asked Alys how she was.

He, like everyone else in the castle, was just so friendly. That was the major problem Edwin had encountered since he’d been here, trying to work out what was going on and how the deception might have been practised. There seemed to be no hint at all in the man of low cunning, so how could Sir Robert possibly have done what the lord earl was accusing him of?

Chapter Two

Conisbrough Castle, a week earlier

Martin didn’t know why everyone had to be so ostentatiously happy all the time, but it was irritating him beyond measure.

He watched Edwin and Alys laughing together and had to turn away to hide the raging jealousy that kept threatening to erupt. Not, of course, that he wanted Alys for himself; she was the perfect wife for Edwin, and Martin had been overjoyed when they’d wed. No, it was the fact of Edwin having the woman he wanted, the one he’d yearned for, the one he couldn’t live without, when Martin didn’t. And there was no respite up at the castle, either, for Sir Geoffrey – that renowned, elderly bachelor – had married none other than Edwin’s widowed mother, whom he had apparently loved silently for years, and they too were sickeningly blissful. Martin, meanwhile, had been turned down, rejected. Nobody wanted him, and probably nobody ever would.

‘Oh, hurry up, or we’ll be late,’ he growled, watching as Edwin kissed Alys and then put a gentle hand on the swell of her belly. ‘You can bear to be parted for an hour, I’m sure, and my lord wants to see you.’

Alys looked a little hurt by this, and he was sorry that he’d said it – well, sort of. Oh, he didn’t know how he felt, except that he wanted to get out of here and hit something until it all went away.

He strode through the village and up the path to the castle, deliberately setting a pace that Edwin, with his much shorter legs, couldn’t match. Edwin was breathless by the time they reached the outer gate, and Martin knew he should slow down, but he didn’t; instead he hurried him on through the ward and up to the inner gate. Unfortunately Martin then found that luck was against him once more – or rather, as he thought of it these days, Lady Fortune spat in his face – for there in front of him was Sir Geoffrey, also taking leave of a beloved wife before heading up to see the earl, with that exact same mawkish smile on his face. And, astonishingly, just to top everything off, a wife whose belly was also swollen with pregnancy.

It had been considered a miracle when the news broke. Lady Anne had kept it quiet from everyone except Sir Geoffrey, Edwin and Alys for as long as she could, fearing some mishap, but eventually her condition could be hidden no longer. Then Sir Geoffrey had been obliged to break it to the earl, who was bound to be displeased: after so many years of thinking that Sir Geoffrey’s manor would eventually revert back to him – for the old knight had no other heirs – he would now have to face up to the idea that it would pass to a new generation upon Sir Geoffrey’s death. Happily (and there was that blasted word again), the right moment had been found, the earl in a good mood for some other reason, and the news had been given without material damage to either people or furnishings.

The villagers seemed split over whether this pregnancy was something malign and to be feared, or a sign of God’s favour. Edwin, of course, thought the latter, and he had patiently explained a number of times that it wasn’t all that miraculous: although he was twenty-one, his mother was only in her late thirties, and many women were still giving birth at that age.

Except, as he’d confided to Martin, that these were normally the women who already had many children, who birthed easily time after time. He was worried that the number of years since his mother’s last confinement – that is, his own arrival more than two decades previously – would be against her. Martin had nothing to say to that, knowing very little of the business, and anyway his own birth had managed to kill his mother so it wasn’t a subject he wanted to broach.

And so, as he reminded himself sometimes in the dark, he had no mother and no wife while Edwin had both, and would likely soon have a son and a brother to boot. Martin didn’t need much more proof that he was not in God’s favour.

Edwin had stopped to talk to his mother, who was apparently even nearer to her confinement than Alys was, although they both looked equally huge to Martin. Sir Geoffrey was getting more and more anxious as the weeks went by, his barked instructions to squires and garrison getting shorter along with his temper. He was fussing around unnecessarily, and had even summoned a girl, Joan, from his own manor ready to act as wet nurse, on the rather illogical reasoning that his heir’s first milk should come from his future home.

She, in turn, was creating nuisance; not through any fault of her own, Martin had to admit, but because the sight of a buxom young woman, even one known to be married and with her own baby already at her breast, was causing the castle men to fall over themselves gawping instead of getting on with their work. Martin had already had to administer more than one cuff to the back of the head when he noticed some of them getting familiar enough to make Joan uncomfortable.

Honestly. Women? They were nothing but trouble, and he was better off as he was. The sooner all this baby business was all over, the better, though Martin didn’t want to think about how much his own loneliness was going to be rubbed in once Edwin’s happy family was enlarged.

‘Oh, come on,’ he urged Edwin, who was still speaking to his mother. ‘My lord had something particular he wanted to talk to you about, and he won’t want to wait much longer.’ Secretly, Martin hoped it was going to be another mission, one where he could accompany Edwin to look after him. Anything that took him away from here for a while would be fine, and if it were dangerous, then so much the better.

He finally got Edwin away and hustled him into the keep. Sir Geoffrey, whose knees increasingly found the stairs an enemy, followed more slowly. Some small part of Martin remembered his manners, and he waited outside the council chamber until the knight had entered, before giving Edwin an unnecessarily hard shove and then following him in. He kicked the door shut behind him, took up his accustomed place by the wall and prepared to be bored.

‘You remember my youngest sister, Maud?’

That was an unexpected start, and Edwin couldn’t keep either the surprise or the bitter tone out of his voice. ‘Only too well, my lord.’

The earl looked at him in puzzlement for a few moments before his face cleared. ‘Yes, of course, that. But never mind that now. Her present husband is her second; she was formerly married to the count of Eu, in Normandy.’

Thanks to Edwin’s drilling from Sir Geoffrey in noble family lineages, Edwin knew that. ‘They had one surviving daughter, my lord.’

‘Yes, Alice, my niece. Well, this is about her.’

Edwin wondered how this could possibly concern him. Surely the earl wasn’t about to send him to Normandy? Martin certainly hadn’t given him any hint of such a thing, not that he’d given Edwin any information at all as he’d hurried him up here.

‘She was widowed at the beginning of this year, so I’m taking charge of her interests in England.’

‘Her interests in England, my lord?’ This was not something that had been included in Edwin’s lessons, and he was beginning to feel lost.

‘Yes. The manor and castle of Tickhill were granted to her some years ago, along with a few other properties, but her husband neglected to pursue her rights and it was never handed over to her. This can’t be allowed to continue, so I have taken steps.’

As ever, the earl seemed to expect Edwin to understand exactly what he was talking about from very minimal information. Edwin glanced over at Sir Geoffrey and at Brother William, the earl’s clerk, who had already been in the room when Edwin had entered it so unceremoniously, but the knight looked as puzzled as Edwin felt and the monk merely shrugged. Adam and Hugh were also present, standing in Martin’s shadow, but none of them would have a clue – and besides, Martin had been in such a foul mood recently that Edwin could hardly get two words out of him even on a subject that interested him. He was now staring resolutely at a patch of wall about a foot over the earl’s head, and Edwin couldn’t get his attention at all.