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

claim of innocence patently false. What would they do then? Returning to William de Beauchamp with a tale of ‘we are reasonably sure he did this, but …’ would bring down justifiably harsh words from the lord sheriff, not least because he would not want vassal service from a man who had almost certainly killed his own father and could not be trusted. The undersheriff therefore sat for some time, desperately seeking solutions and finding none. He sighed.

Hamo de Lench emerged from the solar, looking perfectly at ease and rested.

‘How does your lady mother?’ asked Bradecote.

‘I think she sleeps, for there was no sound from behind the curtain.’ The answer was given as though the enquiry had been a mere morning pleasantry, rather than about a woman with a torn back and distressed mind. ‘Am I confined to the hall, or may I ride this morning? Now Baldwin is lord properly, and our father laid in the earth, he will be wedding that woman in Evesham and bringing her here. He will be glad to see me gone and so I can go to Abbot Reginald and seek admittance. I will miss riding and I will miss my hawks, but God asks us to make sacrifices and I will do so.’ He paused. ‘Do you think it would be kinder if I wrung their necks? Baldwin is a brutal man and would not treat them as I do.’ He frowned.

‘But you do not see to their daily care.’

‘Of course not. Kenelm the Groom does that.’

‘And he will continue to do so. Unless you think your brother would harm them when out hunting, if they miss the prey, there is no cause at all.’

‘No, you are right. That is a good answer. I shall let them live. I cannot pray for them for they do not possess souls but I will think about them with kindness. So, may I go out today?’

‘Messire, it would be better that you do not, for many reasons which I will not say, but tomorrow you may do as you wish.’

‘What shall I do?’

‘You could go to the church and prepare yourself for your admission to the abbey.’

‘Yes.’ Hamo walked out.

Bradecote shook his head. He had never met anyone quite like Hamo de Lench, and was thankful for it. Everything he said made perfect sense, except it had nothing to do with how things really were, for it did not include feelings, the natural emotions that pervaded life. With him it was either midnight or noon, no gloaming, no dawn, no sunset.

The undersheriff went back outside, and to the cook upon whom he lavished praise for the woodcock and from whom he obtained a beaker of small beer. He then went to stand with his back to the barn and feel the warmth of the morning sun on his face. From within the barn came the sound of voices and the threshing, and he relaxed, his eyes half closed for a moment. He drained his beaker and wished he were at home. He opened his eyes fully once more at the sound of footsteps. Walkelin was approaching to make his report of a peaceful night, if, he said, you could discount the groans from Fulk the Steward which had prevented the serjeanting apprentice from drifting into the slumber he deserved.

‘But I had the door braced shut, my lord, so we could not have been surprised in the night.’ Walkelin wanted to assure his superior that he had not been lax.

‘I did not expect you to remain wakeful throughout, Walkelin. Ah,’ the undersheriff looked past his junior, ‘and here comes the lord Baldwin, and still not at peace with the world by the look of things.’

Baldwin de Lench was a man whose temper was not made the better by sleep, not as far as Bradecote could see. He had just emerged from the priest’s humble dwelling with a scowling countenance, and was followed by the worthy Father Matthias who looked harassed. The priest cut away swiftly to the church like one seeking sanctuary, where Bradecote had little doubt he would not only say the Office but offer up heartfelt prayers to be delivered from Baldwin de Lench. Well, if Catchpoll returned with information that gave a reason for what they thought, then those prayers might indeed be answered, though not in a way the priest would find comforting.

‘Did you sleep well in my hall?’ growled Baldwin, showing just how much it rankled.

‘Very well, thank you.’ It might be a lie but it was one that was worth it to see the expression darken even more.

‘And what happens now? Am I to live in exile upon mine own manor until you tire of all this and leave us in peace?’

‘Until the matter of two killings is resolved, yes, though if you think I prefer being here to my own manor and with my wife, you are very much mistaken. But the way is now clear for you to wed your lady from Evesham, so I am surprised you are not in excellent spirits.’

‘I saw my sire buried but yesterday. To leap into the marriage bed straight after looks unseemly.’

‘I would not have thought you cared that much how things look, de Lench.’

‘I care that much. You will not see grieving from his widow,’ he spat the word, ‘or her mad whelp.’

‘Odd, yes, mad, no. He is keen to be away to the Benedictines in Evesham.’

‘They are welcome to him,’ Baldwin sneered. ‘So are you going to tell me where I may and may not go today, my lord Undersheriff?’

‘Yes. You will not enter the hall, nor the dwelling of the steward, nor the church, whilst your brother Hamo is in it.’

‘The steward ought to be overseeing the threshing.’

‘That is true. But you will not enter the barn once he is there, unless a sheriff’s man is with you.’

‘But this is madness. How long do you expect to keep everyone apart? You have to leave at some point.’

‘That point