The Pardoner's Crime (4 page)

As the road wound up to the top of the ridge they approached the outer defensive earthwork behind which was the large moat. Armed men were visible, looking down at them from the battlements.

‘It looks to have had recent fortification, my lord,' said Hubert.

Richard pointed to a blackened scorched area on the outer casement of one of the towers. ‘I suspect that area marks
where Lancaster must have besieged it. And of course, in the five years that it was in his hands he strengthened it
considerably
.'

They rode along the side of the embankment and stopped in front of the gatehouse. The drawbridge was already down, bridging the moat but naturally, the portcullis on the castle side was down and locked in place.

‘State your business!' challenged a gruff voice from behind the portcullis on the far side of the drawbridge.

‘I am Sir Richard Lee and this is my assistant, Hubert of Loxley. I am the Circuit Judge of the King's Northern Realm and I am here to see Sir Thomas Deyville on His Majesty's business.'

There was silence for a moment, then the mumble of voices and the sound of a messenger's retreating feet. Then, ‘You are expected, Sir Richard. Prepare to enter.'

The sound of cranking wheels was followed by a slow creaking as the portcullis began to rise and disappear behind the gatehouse wall, atop which could be seen defensive machicolations for pouring boiling oil and hurling missiles. When it had risen fully a porter and a man at arms with a pikestaff appeared from within. The porter made a clumsy bow and waved them in.

Once inside the castle the porter signalled to someone in the gatehouse and the portcullis began to descend.

An ostler appeared at a run and relieved them of their mounts, which he then led across the bailey courtyard to the stables block.

Sir Richard looked around and found himself nodding agreeably at the structure of the castle. The keep was huge, rising four storeys from the base of the motte, which was already a considerable height above the level of the bailey. In itself it looked to be a good defensive structure, capable of defence should invaders manage to get past the outer moat and the great six to ten-foot thick wall. Yet clearly, the barbican, semi-circular in cross section, had been added to further defend the keep. It was protected by a ditch and inner
moat of its own, so that it formed a stepping-stone between the bailey courtyard and the keep. Any attackers would then have to cross an internal drawbridge to reach the barbican, then pass through its gate with a portcullis and then fight their way along a right-angled passageway before coming to another gate and portcullis. From there they would have to traverse yet another drawbridge over the internal moat around the barbican to gain access to the large drum towers that protected an internal stairway leading up the motte to the keep.

‘The architects of this castle were taking no chances of the keep being taken, were they, my lord?' Hubert asked, mirroring Sir Richard's own thoughts.

‘And it is a castle with a goodly population,' returned Richard, pointing to the great semicircular bailey courtyard, which seemed to be thrumming with people, animals, chickens and activity. ‘It is a fair-sized hamlet in its own right.'

At the far end of the courtyard, some men in aprons and smocks were hefting sacks into what seemed to be a
bakehouse
, while next door smoke rose from the chimney of what was clearly a kitchen block. Dominating the courtyard though was a great hall, a manor house in itself with three storeys and a parapetted roof, with smaller, but no less grand apartments sweeping the curve of the bailey on its left. Hither and thither men and women criss-crossed the courtyard attending to the various tasks of running the castle, while above them on the battlemented walls half-a-dozen men at arms kept up a watch, on both the castle interior and the countryside without.

The porter had been standing respectfully in attendance and he now coughed. ‘My master, Sir Thomas Deyville is come, Sir Richard.'

From a building to their left a door opened and a small stocky man in a knee-length purple robe and wearing a beaver hat came down the steps and stood facing Sir Richard and Hubert. He was of middle years with a pepper and salt
beard and shrewd eyes which shifted from one to the other, as if appraising them as friends or foes.

‘Welcome to Sandal Castle, Sir Richard,' he said gruffly, with the slightest of bows. ‘I had expected you earlier.'

His slightly hostile tone did not go unmissed by Richard. From what he had heard about the Deputy Steward of the Manor of Wakefield, he had in fact expected no less. Indeed, it was because of his apparent harshness that King Edward had sent Richard to Wakefield. Richard smiled genially and returned the bow. A pace behind, Hubert followed suit.

‘I am much impressed with the castle,' Richard said. ‘We had intended arriving earlier, but we came through Wakefield and we became embroiled in an investigation. A criminal matter.'

Sir Thomas Deyville's eyes narrowed. ‘A criminal matter? Is this something that should have been reported to me?' He nodded at the porter, who immediately turned on his heel and returned to the gatehouse. ‘You had best come into my house, Sir Richard. We can talk there.' He pointed a stubby finger at Hubert. ‘Your man can go over to the kitchens and have refreshment there. We shall dine later, since I have arranged a meal in your honour.' And turning he mounted the steps and held the door open for Sir Richard.

They entered an airy room that was plainly furnished with a couple of stout wooden stools, a table covered with scrolls, a map and several earthenware mugs. Sir Thomas rang a
handbell
and few moments later the door opened and a middle-aged woman in a shapeless grey gown and wimple limped in slowly, followed by a grimy boy bearing a flask and a fresh mug.

‘This is my wife, Lady Alecia,' Sir Thomas announced.

Sir Richard bowed and took the lady's hand, noticing
immediately
the nodules of arthritis that explained her lameness. Yet, as he gazed at her face, he noted that she was still a
handsome
woman and must have been striking in her youth. He smiled. ‘I was saying to your husband that it is a fine castle.'

Lady Alecia gave a wan smile. ‘Thank you, Sir Richard. It is our hope that His Majesty King Edward will allow my husband the permanent stewardship. I feel that my daughter and I could settle here very well.' She unconsciously rubbed a marble-sized nodule on her wrist and winced with pain. ‘I would hope that it would be good for my health.'  

Sir Thomas snorted. ‘Aye, well, there will be time for talking later, my love. Sir Richard will meet our daughter Lady Wilhelmina later at supper, when they all come.'  

He snapped his fingers at the boy and pointed at an empty mug on the table. ‘You will have some ale with me, Sir Richard?'  

Sir Richard raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘When
they
come? I hope that you have not gone to trouble for me?'  

‘I said that I had arranged a meal in your honour. I have sent for some of the local people to come to meet my adviser,' Sir Thomas said glibly. He took a swig of his ale and added dismissively, ‘It will be a small supper. Nothing elaborate.'  

Richard nodded, secretly amused at Sir Thomas's
description
of him as his ‘adviser'.  

‘Now we have important matters to discuss, my dear. Where have you arranged for Sir Richard to stay?'  

‘In the north tower of the keep, my husband. He will have a fine view towards the town and all comforts are close at hand.' She curtsied to Sir Richard and took her leave, preceded by the serving boy.  

Sir Thomas drained half his mug straight away, wiped beer from his beard with the back of his hand then stood swirling the ale in his mug. ‘I am a plain-spoken man, Sir Richard, and I will not beat about the bush. I do not see why his majesty has sent you here to advise me. I am perfectly capable of running this—'  

Richard laid his mug down on the table untouched. He held up his hand. ‘You had better read the King's orders again, Sir Thomas. I am not here as an adviser. I am instructed as Circuit Judge of the King's Northern Realm to oversee the
courts. Until I or his majesty deem it otherwise, I shall preside over the courts and you may watch and learn.'

Sir Thomas's eyes seemed to smoulder for a moment and his cheeks suffused beneath his beard. ‘That is as maybe,' he said with a grunt. ‘But tell me about this criminal case you talked about. Should it have been reported to me?'

‘It already has been,' Richard returned unemotionally. ‘A case of rape that has yet to have anything done about it. Apparently it was reported to the ward constable and then the manor clerk.'

‘Ah, it is in hand then. I will get round to it.'

Richard shook his head and hummed, all the while fixing the other in his gaze. ‘I hear that you have been getting round to a lot of things, Sir Thomas. Like two hangings, a few
floggings
and putting people in the stocks. I saw one such wretch in the stocks today.'

Sir Thomas's eyes narrowed for a moment. ‘Did you now?' he asked, briskly. He drew himself up to his full height, which was a full head shorter than Sir Richard. ‘I have dispensed law as I saw fit. The King's law.'

Richard smiled again. ‘I am a Sergeant-at-Law, Sir Thomas, which is why his majesty has sent me here to the Manor of Wakefield. And from the sound of it you have actually dispensed with the law and have been dishing out
punishments
without proper precedent.'

‘The Manor of Wakefield has the right to punish,' Sir Thomas said. ‘I, as the Deputy Steward, have the right to do so.'

‘I think you ought to consider that
Deputy
actually means
temporary
, as Lady Alecia just indicated, Sir Thomas! I shall be reviewing all cases that have been presented to the court since you arrived.'

Sir Thomas's eyes glared. ‘By the—'

‘And also I shall need to see a list of all those men from the manor who have been outlawed.'

‘Contrariants, you mean! They are outlawed by the King's
order. I hope you don't intend to try going against the King's instructions. Or do you intend to answer to him when he comes himself?'

‘His majesty has no intention of coming to Wakefield, my lord.'

‘Ha! Think you not!' Sir Thomas snarled triumphantly. ‘Mayhap his majesty has not told you everything. Perhaps he intends checking up on you, too, Sir Richard. A messenger arrived the day before yesterday from him. He goes to stay at Rothwell Castle for a couple of days and then he plans to come here, to stay at Sandal and to see the Wakefield Mysteries at the festival of Corpus Christi.'

Richard picked up his mug and sipped. This was news that he had not expected. He wondered why his majesty had kept that to himself. ‘And what mysteries are these, Sir Thomas?'

Sir Thomas began to guffaw. ‘Oh Wakefield is the place for
Mysteries,
Sir Richard. We have the greatest of mysteries here. Mayhap you will learn more at supper.'

Richard was about to reply when the Deputy Steward raised his hand as if suddenly remembering a trifle. ‘But talking of mysteries, did a messenger pass you on your way to Sandal?'

‘He did. He was wearing the livery of the manor.'

‘He brought me this,' Sir Thomas said, lifting the edge of the map that lay on the table. Underneath it lay an arrow with grey goose feathers. The arrowhead was sticky with recently congealed blood and with small slivers of strangely gelatinous tissue on it. ‘This arrow was plucked from the body of a
criminal
this afternoon. You may even have seen him yourself.'

Richard raised his eyes quizzically. ‘I saw no dead body in Wakefield.'

‘No, he was probably alive if you saw him. He was in the stocks near the Tolbooth. The mystery is – why would anyone shoot such a villain as that through the eye?'

S
ir Richard looked out of the narrow window of his chamber on the third floor of the north tower of the keep. Down below he saw the village of Sandal Magna with its parish church of St Helen's and the road snaking its way through copses and fields towards Wakefield. There seemed to be a stream of travellers upon the highway.

‘Late to be on the road to London,' he mused to himself. ‘Or are they coming to the castle?'

And so thinking he crossed the chamber and pulled back the oiled goatskin shutter and looked out of the other window which faced due north. From it he saw the rest of the road and a clearer view of the travellers coming along the road, either walking, or riding upon horses or donkeys.

‘Why, unless I am mistaken there comes Master Oldthorpe the apothecary and his good wife,' he said out loud.

There came a rap upon the door and he called out to enter. The stout oak door opened and Hubert entered. He stood on the threshold for a moment and admired the spacious chamber with its tapestries, a comfortable made-up bed, a chest, a cabinet and a table with a pitcher of water, a bowl and a flask of spiced wine. The floor was made of flat stone tiles and behind a curtained recess was a personal garderobe. A fire crackled in the hearth.

‘This castle has a fine kitchen and an even finer cook, my
lord,' he volunteered, as he advanced into the room, caressing his stomach. ‘I have just eaten the best pigeon pie I have ever had in my life and washed it down with a great big—'

‘Enough, good Hubert,' interrupted Richard, as he unbuckled his sword and laid it on the table. ‘Unless you have forgotten, I have not eaten for hours and my stomach rumbles and I think it believes that my throat has been cut. I feel slightly sick as a result.' He sighed. ‘And I have to await the meal this evening.'

‘Are you sure that the sickness is not to do with your festering wound, my lord?' Hubert asked, concernedly.

Sir Richard gingerly rubbed his calf, and then shook his head with a look of delighted surprise. Both of them were well aware that such festering wounds could easily prove fatal in a short time. ‘No, it has felt surprisingly good since the apothecary applied that leather poultice of his. It is possible that the potion that he gave me may have something to do with this nausea, but it is more likely to do with a sickening sight that Sir Thomas Deyville showed me.' And he told Hubert about the arrow that he had seen.

Hubert winced. ‘Shot through the eye! I have seen men die from face wounds on the battlefield, but who would shoot some poor helpless sod who was locked in the stocks?'

‘Sir Thomas has no idea. It is something that we shall investigate tomorrow before I open the court. The body has been locked in the Tolbooth and we shall view it in the morning.'

He snapped his fingers then pointed out of the window. ‘Do you recognize that couple upon the road?'

Hubert peered down. ‘Why, my lord, it is the apothecary and his lady.'

‘That is what I thought. I think that they and those other travellers must be coming to a special meal that Sir Thomas has laid on. He said that he wanted me –
his adviser
– to meet with some of his locals. It looks as if half of the burgers and guilds folk of Wakefield are on their way.'

Hubert looked aghast. ‘Did you say that he called you his adviser, my lord?' His hand went to the handle of his sword. ‘The insolent dog!' he exclaimed indignantly. ‘Shall I educate him, my lord?'

Richard grinned. ‘I advised him otherwise myself. But he was neither amused nor put out, for he had another card up his sleeve. He had news that I was unaware of. Apparently the King is planning to come to Wakefield in three days.'

Hubert raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘But why would his majesty be coming without your knowledge, my lord,
especially
when he gave you this commission himself?'

‘I do not understand it myself, Hubert. Sir Thomas was cagey about the whole thing. He said that Wakefield had the greatest of mysteries and that I would find out at supper. He would tell me no more, I think, because he was peeved that I had exposed the fact that he could not read – a handicap for someone who hopes to become the actual Steward of the Manor.'

Hubert held his hand to the window to see if there was a breeze. ‘I am glad that you have been given this chamber, my lord. Had you been given one in the south tower you would have been prey to the winds from the south and the
southwest
. The cook and some of the others told me how those winds buffet the castle at times and get into your bones.'

‘Where have they accommodated you?'

‘I have been given a bed in the guard-room upstairs in the barbican, my lord. It is adequate for my needs.'

‘And so what have you learned about the Deputy Steward from your conversation over your dinner?'

Hubert laughed. ‘I was waiting for you to ask, my lord. Well, for one thing he has not been a popular replacement. He is gruff and curt to all, including his wife. Only his daughter, the Lady Wilhelmina escapes his ire, for he dotes on her. Apparently she is of unimaginable beauty and few can
understand
how Sir Thomas could have produced one so comely. I look forward to seeing if they are right.' He sighed, for
thoughts of the fair sex were seldom far from Hubert's mind. ‘He drinks heavily, though he is never drunk, and he is a stickler for orders. Apparently he has had handbells put all over the castle and trained the castle staff like dogs. They all know their own bell and must come running when he rings.'

‘I have seen them already. He summoned his wife with one such bell.'

‘And he is harsh, my lord. He carries a stick with a small leather lash on its end. He uses it regularly, on hands and on buttocks.' Hubert scowled distastefully. ‘Especially on some of the serving girls' buttocks.'

Richard frowned. ‘Is he a lecher, then?'

‘That I do not know yet, my lord,' Hubert returned with a sly grin. ‘There is a limit to the information I could glean from the cook, his lads and the ostlers. The pie did not take so long to eat.'

Richard stifled a yawn. ‘Then I suggest that you work on it further. After you have brought my saddle-packs with my fresh clothes why don't you go for a stroll around the
battlement
walk. You may be able to get some further news from some of the guards.'

Once Hubert had taken his leave, Richard removed the king's document from his surcoat, then stripped the garment off, peeled off his hauberk and flung himself on the bed. Whether it was the effects of the apothecary's potion or his long ride and the events of the day, he did not know which, but he felt extremely sleepy. Within moments he had fallen fast asleep.

Richard was startled awake by the peal of six bells from
somewhere
within the castle. He woke and nodded with satisfaction to see that while he had slept Hubert had returned with his saddle-pack and noiselessly unpacked his clothes and arranged his things on the chest and in the cabinet. He wiped sleep from his eyes then went behind the curtain and used the garderobe. Then he sluiced water from
the pitcher into the large pottery bowl and freshened himself up. He dressed himself in fresh hose, a blue tunic and darker blue half-cape and pulled on a pair of calf leather boots. Then he picked up the burnished metal mirror that Hubert had laid out for him, ran his fingers through his hair, and attended to his teeth. Finally, he buckled on a belt with a stiletto and his personal food-knife, before letting himself out of the chamber.

The bailey courtyard was quiet and deserted except for two servants waiting on either side of the small stone staircase that led up to an upper porch supported on an ornate
octagonal
column. Above the door was a large, rather splendid sundial that indicated, if the deserted bailey had not already done so, that he was late. As Richard approached, one of the servants bowed then scurried up the stairs, opened the door and led the way into a semi-circular oriel gallery. He led the way across this into a Presence Chamber, the walls of which were covered in pikestaffs, swords and banners then stood at attention at another huge door that led into the Great Hall. He waited until Richard reached the threshold, then he pushed open the door, entered and announced in a loud voice:

‘Sir Richard Please, the new adviser to Sir Thomas Deyville.'

The Great Hall was full of people standing behind wooden chairs on either side of two rows of linen-covered trestle tables arranged along the length of the room. Sir Thomas Deyville, his family and a nun and a priest were also standing behind their chairs at the high table at the far end of the hall. Torches spluttered along the walls, each emitting an oily smoke, while a pink light shone through the greenish glazed glass of the three large mullioned windows which faced the bailey. A fire blazed in a great hearth beneath the arms of the de Warenne family, the owners of the castle for two centuries. Richard noted with interest that Earl Lancaster had not seen fit to have the arms replaced by his own.

Sir Thomas waved Richard forward, a thin sarcastic smile upon his lips. But Richard stood firm, hooked his arm through
that of the servant who was about to depart. He drew him close and whispered firmly in his ear. The man coloured visibly, alarm written across his face.

‘My apologies, my lord,' he said. ‘I must have misheard from Sir Thomas.'

Then once more raising his voice to the assembled guests:

‘Sir Richard Lee,
Sergeant-at-Law and newly appointed by His Majesty King Edward the Second of Caernarvon as the Circuit Judge of the King's Northern Realm and Judge of the Manor of Wakefield Court.'

Richard nodded at the man and entered the hall, grinning inwardly, knowing full well that the servant had neither misheard his name nor misunderstood his position. He had successfully foiled Sir Thomas's attempt to diminish his status, as was clear from the cold, humourless stare he was receiving from the Deputy Steward as he walked along the hall between the two long tables. He nodded to the assembled guests who bowed and curtsied as he passed.

Halfway along he recognized Master Oldthorpe and his lovely wife. ‘My thanks, Master Oldthorpe. My leg wound feels much improved and I am less fevered.'

The apothecary beamed and bowed again. Then Richard turned to Mistress Oldthorpe.

‘How is the young patient?'

Mistress Oldthorpe inclined her head, two little points of colour forming on her cheeks. ‘She is feeling improved, my lord. Before we came I arranged for her kinswoman Matilda to stay with her.'

Sir Richard nodded. ‘Perhaps I can call and have this
poultice
looked at again tomorrow?'

The apothecary nodded readily and Richard walked on to the high table. ‘My apologies for being late,' he said genially as he took the place indicated by Sir Thomas between Lady Alecia and the young Lady Wilhelmina. ‘You seem to be always waiting for me, Sir Thomas.'

Sir Thomas waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Sir Richard, you
have already met my wife, Lady Alecia. This is my daughter, Lady Wilhelmina, and this is Lady Katherine, the Prioress of Kirklees and Father Daniel, the nun's priest of Kirklees Priory.' He patted the shoulder of the wiry priest with carrot red hair and a tonsure, adding, ‘He is also the chaplain of the Manor of Wakefield and the parish priest of All Saints in Wakefield.'

‘And also the finest playwright in England,' added the prioress, a small pretty lady of forty-odd years, who held herself erect and proud.

Bowing to the prioress, the nun's priest and the two ladies, Richard waited for them all to sit down before he too sat on the large carved chair that had been allocated to him. As he did so he was all too aware of the description that Hubert had been given of the Lady Wilhelmina, and he silently concurred, for she was indeed a rare beauty of some eighteen years or so. She wore a simple cap which complemented her long wavy, auburn hair and the gentle curves of her perfectly
proportioned
face. He found himself admiring her full lips and the intelligent blue eyes that met his.

Sir Thomas lifted a small bell from the table, rang it and then gestured for everyone on the long tables to sit. He remained standing while he spoke.

‘Welcome Sir Richard, and welcome good people of the Manor of Wakefield. We shall eat and drink and then you shall have a chance to get to know our new – Sergeant-at-Law. And he shall get to know you and hear of our Wakefield Mysteries. And of our news.'

A chorus of polite laughter rang out around the hall and Richard frowned. Still the Deputy Steward was keeping things from him.

‘But first, Father Daniel shall say grace,' Sir Thomas went on.

The nun's priest stood, clasped his hands together and with closed eyes recited a grace first in Latin then in English. When he had taken his seat, Sir Thomas picked up another
bell, a larger one and rang it with three deliberate shakes. At the first bell a quartet of musicians in a minstrel's gallery at the far end of the hall above the entrance door began to play. Soon the air was filled with the music of harp, viele, olander and lute. At the second ring, the side doors opened and a team of servants filed in led by a butler who began directing his subordinates with almost military precision. A pantler and his assistants began serving trenchers for all, and finger bowls for every two people. A stream of serving women followed with salvers of cut meats, steaming pots and jugs of wine and ale. On the third ring, the castle cook himself entered, a merry-looking, round-faced fellow with a shock of ginger hair protruding from beneath a prodigious white cap. He walked with a marked limp, for one leg had clearly been broken and set badly in his youth. He carried a tray upon which was a roast boar's head surrounded by a ring of apples and with a crown of greenery. To his obvious delight the assembled guests applauded as he made his way towards the high table.