The Guilt of Innocents (26 page)

‘You will be glad to hear that I found the boy Hubert at home in Weston,’ said Owen.

‘Thank the Lord for that.’

‘I’ll return to this matter, but, before I forget, His Grace mentioned that a landholder in your brother’s parish questioned Nicholas’s choice of the minster liberty for his school, but you’d not identified the man.’

William smiled a little, relieved. ‘Pray make my apologies to His Grace for neglecting to name him. It was Osmund Gamyll, at such time when he feared that his father was lost and he was about to take his place as lord of the manor.’

‘How did you come to meet with him?’

‘I was out walking in the city and we met on the street. He seemed vaguely familiar – I was embarrassed to have forgotten his name. He was brief, and attempted to be pleasant, though he was plainly concerned about my brother’s judgement and the state of the parish.’

‘Strange that he should ask you, Nicholas’s brother.’

‘He said he’d heard that I was trying to remain impartial. I assured him that he had no cause for concern, that Nicholas is a worthy priest most devoted to his calling, and that his enthusiasm for educating the children of York was misunderstood by the chancellor.’

‘How did he receive that?’

‘Indifferently. To be frank, Captain, in the end I was not impressed by his demeanour. I felt that once he’d had his say he cared not a whit for what I had to say. He’s a man who should study the sumptuary laws and give some of the wealth he spends on his finery to the Church. That would go a long way towards helping his parish.’ As William spoke he’d straightened and begun tapping one foot in agitation.

But his description of Osmund Gamyll suited many eldest sons eager to take their seats at the high table.

‘Since that meeting have you remembered whether you and Osmund Gamyll had been previously introduced? How he knew you?’

William nodded. ‘It had been at Nicholas’s table – oh – there was another occasion in which the company discussed the sad incident at the barges. Nicholas and I were in his chamber and Osmund Gamyll came to ask whether the lad had been found. Is his interest important, Captain?’

‘It might be. When I was in Weston, I learned that although the scrip was empty when Drogo handed it to Geoffrey that night on the barge, Hubert had kept it close to him because within he had a birthing cross that belonged to the Gamylls.’

William looked startled. ‘Now that is a peculiar connection, isn’t it?’

‘What was Osmund like on this occasion?’

‘Oh, still a peacock of a young squire, but he spoke well, and amused us with tales of the countryside. I quite liked him that time, though it was clear my brother was ill at ease.’ William sighed. ‘But to the point, I fear I might have mentioned the scrip’s being safely tucked away for the lad in the schoolroom at St Peter’s. Why?’

He’d been so specific. Owen almost groaned with frustration. ‘It is no longer where Master John hid it.’

William blushed. ‘Dear God, I’ve done Nicholas no good, have I? My poor brother. But I tell you I cannot believe he would take it.’

‘I did not say he did. Apparently the dean, the chancellor, and Osmund Gamyll also knew where the scrip was,’ said Owen, ‘as well as yourself.’

William moved his mouth as if trying to speak, but nothing came out. His face flowed in and out of emotions as if he could not settle on one.

Owen rose. ‘You have been most helpful. I pray you, keep this conversation between us.’

Finally catching his voice, William agreed. ‘But I must ask, what did the boy want with a birthing cross?’

Owen explained Hubert’s unhappiness about leaving his mother alone.

William looked sympathetic. ‘They feel so much at that age.’ He was beginning to move away when he turned suddenly, ‘A gold cross, Captain? Might that then be connected with the death of the goldsmith’s journeyman?’

Owen put a finger to his lips. ‘That is what I mean to discover.’ He thanked William, and then, before moving on, knelt in the choir for a moment to pray for Lucie and the child in her womb.

Hubert’s hood would not stay up and he did not care. He let the wind rip through his hair as he screamed out his anger and hurt up on a hill near his home. Birds startled from the underbrush. A man stopped his cart to stare up at him for a while, eventually moving on with a shake of his head.

‘I hate her,’ Hubert shouted. ‘I hate both of them. I hate all three of them. Damn them. Damn her. I hate her. I hate me.’ The litany expanded, contracted, curved back on itself, but the emotion
remained steady – Hubert hated himself, his parents and Osmund Gamyll with all his heart.

After his mother had nearly burned down the house the previous night she’d slept until late this morning, almost midday. When she woke, she asked Hubert why he was so quiet. In her eyes there was a touch of fear – or perhaps it was doubt.

‘How can you ask me that after last night?’ he’d asked, irritated that she could be so changeable. ‘You don’t love me.’

‘What are you talking about, Hubert?’ He could see her fear deepen.

As did his. Could she not remember? Was she possessed?

She tried to smile prettily but her face was swollen, her hair uncombed and she smelled rank with sweat. ‘Be a good lad and fetch me water, then stoke the fire. I’m not well today. How silly to think I don’t love you. Now smile for your mother, won’t you?’

Always before he’d come around, forgiving all, certain that he could prevent future outbreaks, that with his love he could keep her from drinking. But this morning he could not smile for her. Nor could he bear her presence. Pretending he’d gone to do her bidding he’d climbed the hill, trying to flee his feelings, but of course he could not outrun them.

‘Hubert!’

He had not heard Aubrey’s approach.

‘Where have you been?’ Hubert shouted. ‘Sir Baldwin’s servants have searched everywhere for you.’

‘You’ll sicken up here in the wind and cold,’ Aubrey said. He wore a close-fitting hat and a heavy cloak, and even so his face was ruddy with cold. Hubert realised that he was cold. Aubrey firmly grasped his hand and despite his protests – Hubert could not imagine what he wanted – led him down the other side of the hill, across a frozen stream, through a wood and into an outbuilding they’d used for livestock when they had enough to require grazing in the far fields. A fire circle brought welcome warmth. Hubert approached it with his hands out.

‘Sir Baldwin’s servants didn’t find me because they never search on our land,’ said Aubrey, sounding weary. ‘Now what was all that about, son?’

Hubert shrugged. ‘So you come here a lot?’

‘Yes. I know I need not go far, neither of you will come searching for me.’

‘She never told me to.’

‘You might have come on your own, son.’

‘Don’t call me that. You know it’s not true.’ Hubert flung himself down on a pallet near the fire. Everything stank of damp and animals long gone. ‘It’s all lies.’

Aubrey squatted down beside him. ‘God’s blood. She told you that? Is that why you’re angry?’

Hubert said nothing, uncertain how much he wished to say.

Aubrey squeezed his shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re disappointed that you’re not of my flesh. But you are my son. I like to think that I’ve made that plain.’

‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘Where’s the lie in that, I ask you?’ Hubert felt him settle down beside him.

‘All your foul moods, like coming out here, leaving us, they’re all because Rob and Bess died and I didn’t. The only one not yours lived.’

‘She told you that?’

Hubert nodded.

‘Satan’s daughter she is, I swear I don’t know what I did that God cursed me with loving her.’

‘I hate her.’ It came out half sob, half growl. Hubert buried his face in the hay, not wanting Aubrey to see his tears.

Aubrey gently rubbed his back. ‘I thought she was good to you, wanted you innocent of her evil so you would adore her. Something must be wrong for her to turn on you like that. She liked it that you thought I was the cause of all the suffering in the house. She even told you once that I’d brought back the pestilence from the market in York. That it was my fault your brother and sister died.’

Hubert had forgotten that. He struggled to sit up on the lumpy pallet. Aubrey sat with his knees up, arms propped on them, staring at the fire. He
looked worn, like he had not been sleeping or eating.

‘How did you find out I wasn’t yours?’ Hubert asked. ‘Were you angry?’

Aubrey shook his head. ‘I knew from the first, I knew she was with child. Sir Baldwin had a wife, so he told me her condition, knowing how I cared for her. I was only too happy to take the chance.’

‘Sir Baldwin?’ Hubert touched his hair – red, like his lord’s. He’d thought maybe Osmund, but not Sir Baldwin. He felt a little better – at least he wasn’t Osmund’s son. ‘I’m Sir Baldwin’s son?’

‘Aye. Even if he’d not been wed he’d never have taken Ysenda to wife, a bastard herself, child of the former vicar. My parents advised me to look elsewhere, to find a woman of honest birth with a good family, a bit of land for a dowry. But her beauty blinded me. I pray you are never so foolish, so stubborn, my son.’

Hubert was only half-listening, absorbing his new identity. ‘I’m Osmund Gamyll’s half-brother?’ He spit into the fire.

‘Your father is an honourable man, Hubert. He’s been good to me.’ Aubrey patted Hubert’s leg. ‘Your half-brother will change when he is lord. They all do.’

Hubert was digesting the fact that his mother had slept with Sir Baldwin and now was bedding his son.

‘I hate her,’ he hissed. ‘How can you love her?’

‘You know how – you’ve loved her all your young life. My guess is that she drank too much last night and turned on you. Am I right?’

Hubert nodded.

‘I pray she’s in no danger,’ Aubrey said, shifting a little on the pallet to look at Hubert. ‘Poor lad. How often did that happen while I was away with Sir Baldwin?’

‘She’s never been as bad with me.’

‘That worries me.’

‘Most of the time when she drank she complained about you.’

‘God be thanked for that. I worried about you, and her. I wish I knew what to do to make her happy.’

‘Can she really not remember what she said, what she did the night before?’

Aubrey closed his eyes and dropped his head, as if ashamed. ‘I can tell you from experience – yes.’

Hubert found that a little reassuring.

‘Did she weep when she thought I was dead?’ Aubrey asked.

‘Yes, oh, yes.’

‘Who brought the news?’

‘Father Nicholas.’

Aubrey nodded. ‘He’s a good man.’ He stretched his legs and resettled. ‘Enough of that. Something has been troubling me, son – how did you travel from York home?’

Hubert was glad to be asked even though he
was reluctant to talk about the experience. ‘I walked.’

Aubrey grunted. ‘Well I know that, lad, but how did you find your way? I had to be shown the way a few times before I could ride it myself, and even then I was worried I’d stray. Tell me – did you have a guide?’

Hubert shook his head. ‘I asked here and there.’ He turned away from Aubrey’s searching eyes.

‘God in heaven, Hubert. You trusted strangers to tell you which way to go? You might have been killed or – did anyone harm you?’

‘I didn’t let them. I ran.’

Hubert’s stomach felt funny now that he was allowing himself to look back at the journey. He did not like remembering how frightened he’d been, how he’d lay awake at night even though he was so tired and, when he accidentally fell asleep, the terror he’d feel when he woke and remembered that he shouldn’t sleep. He burst into tears.

Aubrey drew him close and held him.

When he was calm again, Hubert sat up by himself and wiped his eyes.

‘Never again, son. You must promise me you’ll never make a journey like that alone again, not until you’re able to defend yourself against the worst of them.’ Aubrey’s pale eyes held Hubert’s gaze.

‘I promise.’

‘I’ve neglected your training in arms and hand-to-hand
combat. But when you’re home from school again we’ll begin.’

Hubert was more than a little surprised – his father had never offered to teach him to fight. ‘Promise?’

‘I promise,’ Aubrey said, laughing. He patted Hubert’s shoulder. ‘You seem calmer now. Are you ready to go home?’

The thought made Hubert want to retch. ‘I don’t want to ever go back.’

‘It’s your home, son. She’s your ma. She’ll want to see you before you return to school, which is where I’m thinking you should be.’

‘She says I won’t be going back.’

‘Not going back? Why not?’

‘I ran out when Osmund Gamyll was talking to me.’

‘Why does that warrant?’

‘It’s Osmund who sponsored me at St Peter’s.’

Aubrey sighed. ‘For his father. Sir Baldwin has sponsored you from the first. He felt it his duty as your father. Damn her. She just wanted to hurt you. She’s cruel and dishonest when she drinks.’