Blood Runs Thicker by Sarah Hawkswood (best electronic book reader txt) 📗

her answer was vehement. ‘It was not like that at all. Fulk is not a man who would stand back, seeing me hurt, would give his life for me, but I did not want his life given. I made him promise he would do nothing and said that we must cease our … meetings.’

‘And he agreed?’ The undersheriff’s disbelief was obvious.

‘I am the lady de Lench and he is the manor steward.’

Bradecote was surprised to hear the assurance in her voice. Would a woman who was surely far more like Ela than Christina, and had brought out the protector in Fulk, assert her rank?

‘But if your husband had strong suspicions, ending the disloyalty would not be enough. He would make you pay for past deceit, as he would the steward. His life would still be forfeit, as might yours be.’

‘I was not entirely certain, and Fulk said his life was here or nowhere. What would a steward who had run from his lord do? Heave flour sacks on the Evesham wharf? Not that Evesham would be far enough away. No, Fulk would not leave Lench, and my life is not so much to forfeit.’

Bradecote felt he understood, at least in part. Just as Osbern de Lench had a powerful connection with this land as his, so did also the folk whose ancestors had been working it for generations. A few left, girls to marry, youths to crafts, as Edgar of Flavel had left his home, but the tie was strong, a tie of blood and earth. Fulk would rather die here in Lench than live elsewhere.

‘And would you swear Holy Oath that Fulk did not leave you until the riderless horse returned and those from the harvest arrived?’

‘I would swear, my lord.’

Bradecote gave a small nod, and turned to Catchpoll, grimacing a little. It had seemed so likely, was still possible, but only just. The lady was not a good liar, so when she had spoken true it was equally clear. They left her, drying her eyes.

‘Are we much the better for that, Catchpoll?’ grumbled the undersheriff, clearly not thinking to receive an affirmative answer.

‘Every little thing that makes the path clearer is worth the effort, my lord, and I thinks that does. The steward is not some innocent lamb, but nor is he the killing wolf in this. He had the chance, but he has the lady who would swear oath for him, and it would be a good one.’

‘So now we await Walkelin, and what comes from Worcester. I dislike Parler, but that just means I find it the easier to believe the man guilty without solid reason, and if it is not him we still have no reason, no reason at all.’ Bradecote shook his head. Much now depended upon Walkelin. ‘Is there anything we might do while we wait? Let me see. I suppose we might speak with the woman Gytha, to be sure what she saw of the riderless horse, and if any other horse passed through the village. It will not give us much, I am sure, but I do not want us to be sat here, kicking our heels. I want to gather every loose end of the tangle so that nothing else might surprise us.’

‘Fair enough, my lord. We can do that.’

That they had not as yet spoken with the mother-to-be Gytha had not been a matter for concern, since it was unlikely that she would reveal anything if the father of her child was a man now dead and not her husband. She seemed preoccupied, but then with a belly as round as hers and no experience of childbirth, it was reasonable that she did not give all her attention to them. They sought her out in her home, since the only labour she was fit for was the bringing forth of new life. At least they might speak in private.

‘I am sorry we are asking questions now, but they must be asked.’ Bradecote did not want to sound the bully, though Catchpoll felt that he was too apologetic. ‘You and your husband must be eager to see the child and hear its cries.’ A whisper of sorrowful remembrance passed through his consciousness. Ela had heard cries, but dimly, and for so short a time.

‘Aye.’ It was a guarded confirmation.

‘After all, a man is always proud to be a father, see his line continue.’

‘Aye.’ She looked to the ground.

‘And your husband, Edmund,’ there was a very small pause, ‘he is the father?’ Bradecote hated himself for asking, for she looked honest, and what gain could a village woman have made from giving herself freely to her lord?

‘Aye.’ There was doubt in the voice, and then she took a deep breath, almost a gasp. ‘I hopes and prays so.’

So that was it. The poor woman did not know if she bore her husband’s babe or one foisted upon her by a commanding lord.

‘And Edmund, does he know of … the doubt?’

‘Aye.’ She frowned. ‘I am an honest wife, in all I can be.’

‘We understand, mistress. Now, the day the lord Osbern was killed, you saw his horse return and raised the alarm.’

‘I did, my lord.’ She was glad to speak of other things.

‘And you saw or heard no other?’

‘No, my lord. It was very hot, indoors and out, and my back ached and I was not comfortable anywheres. I was coming outside and the lord’s grey mare came trotting in, just as always. I suppose I thought to see him on her back, but when I turned my head I saw the saddle empty. Fair shook me it did. I … part of me hoped … but it was a sinful thought and I have confessed it to Father Matthias.’ She winced. ‘Then I went to the Great Field, to tell the others, tell our steward.’

‘You did not know he was here, not in the field?’ There was a pause, and he repeated the question.

‘No, my lord. I must have been inside