The Prodigal Son (31 page)

‘It's you I was hoping to see,' I answered.

‘Your lucky night, Anne,' the girl called Bridget giggled.

Her friend blushed to the roots of her hair, but maintained a dignified silence, merely raising her eyebrows at me and waiting patiently to hear what I had to say.

‘When we spoke at breakfast this morning,' I said, ‘you told me that twice during the night you heard people moving about. I wondered if, by any chance, you knew who they were.'

She frowned a little in puzzlement, then her brow cleared.

‘I remember. You were off your food and when I asked you why, you admitted to feeling queasy. And I thought it might have been something you ate at supper because I'd been woken by the noise of someone scuffling along the passageway. I usually sleep in the dairy in the summer,' she added by way of explanation. ‘It's nice and cool in there.'

‘And do you have any idea who it was?'

She shook her head regretfully. ‘But it was a man. I heard him cough. That was the first time.'

‘And the second?'

‘It was just someone mounting the stairs to the bedchambers. The bottom two creak, and I remember thinking that perhaps now we had a new master, he'd get the treads replaced. Dame Audrea's been talking about doing it for ages, but so far nothing's happened.'

Bridget, irritated at being left out of the conversation, asked mockingly, ‘You're sure you didn't dream all this, Annie? You're usually such a heavy sleeper.' She transferred her gaze to me. ‘It takes me and another of the girls to wake her every morning.'

‘I did hear it, just as I said,' Anne protested indignantly. ‘If you don't believe me, you can ask Master Steward. He looked into the dairy a few minutes after I'd heard whoever it was go upstairs. He wanted to know if we were all right, as he'd heard someone creeping about, too. You wouldn't have known that, though,' she finished triumphantly. ‘You were sound asleep and snoring!'

Honours now being even, the girls forgot their animosity and became firm friends again, both begging me to sit down and have a cup of ale.

‘It's not very late yet,' Bridget urged.

‘And no one's likely to come in and find you here,' Anne added. ‘Mistress Wychbold said she was so worn out after the terrible events of the day, she didn't expect to stir all night.'

I declined their offer, tempting though it was, giving it as my opinion, based on experience, that it was when people were overtired and overwrought that their rest was most fitful. I wished them both a good night and pleasant dreams – although in the present unhappy circumstances this seemed like mere politeness – and returned for the second time that evening to the bedchamber I continued to share with Humphrey Attleborough. I was prepared to find him asleep, but he was still sitting just as I had left him, on the edge of his truckle-bed and fully clothed. He had not even bothered to light a candle, so, cursing, I fished in my pouch for my tinder box, made my way to the four-poster and lit the one standing on the chest beside the bed.

‘For heaven's sake get undressed,' I said crossly.

‘I'm not tired,' was his morose reply, whereupon I let rip with one of my more colourful oaths.

‘Well, I am!' I roared, making him jump.

I was immediately contrite, particularly as he looked as if he might burst into tears.

‘Shit! I'm sorry,' I said, going over to sit beside him. ‘I know you're upset and worried, lad, but you ought to try to get some rest. You've important decisions to make tomorrow.' He still made no move, and I sighed wearily. ‘Would it help to talk about Master Bellknapp? You seem to have been fond of him.'

Humphrey nodded and a tear trickled down his cheek. ‘He was kind to me. Mind you,' he added fair-mindedly, ‘he wasn't kind to everybody. He could be very unpleasant to people he didn't like. In fact, more than just unpleasant. We were in an inn in Cambridge once, and a man annoyed him. I can't even recall now what the argument was about, but it grew very heated until the master lost his temper good and proper. The man had a dog with him, a thin, mangy-looking creature, but the man was obviously very fond of it. Kept pulling its ears and petting it. Master Bellknapp just picked up a knife off the nearest table and stuck it straight into the animal's throat. We had to get out of there in a hurry, I can tell you, or the other drinkers would have torn him limb from limb. In fact, we got out of Cambridge altogether for a while until we judged people wouldn't recognize us and it was safe to go back.' He must have seen the expression on my face, because he added apologetically, ‘It was only a dog. A mangy cur. The master didn't kill a person.'

Even so, it struck me as a pretty ruthless thing to do, and I recollected Dame Audrea's statement – which I had dismissed at the time as a sign of her prejudice against Anthony – that her elder son had an evil streak in him. An uneasy suspicion was beginning to form in the back of my mind, only to be rejected as impossible. Or, then again, perhaps not …

‘You say Master Bellknapp treated you well; fed you, clothed you as befitted the servant of a well-to-do man. Was he always wealthy, do you know?'

‘As long as I've been with him, he seemed to want for nothing. But he had known lean times after he was first thrown out of home by his father. I've heard him say so.'

‘I think I've asked you all this before, but if so, bear with me. How did he recoup his fortunes, have you any idea?'

Humphrey shrugged. ‘Gambling mostly, I think. Though whenever I've watched him play at dice he's never had much luck. He must have had a winning streak at sometime or another, but it didn't last.'

‘Were you conscious of the fact that money was becoming a problem to Master Bellknapp?'

Humphrey nodded slowly. ‘Now you mention it, yes. Looking back, I can see that there were economies; we'd begun to avoid certain inns and taverns that we used to patronize, as being too expensive, we'd started drinking cheaper wine, buying less costly garments and making them last longer.' (He was truly the devoted servant, identifying himself with his master in everything.) ‘But it was very gradual, you understand. So gradual, in fact, that it happened almost without me noticing it. I suppose it wasn't really until we met that William Worcester, and the master suddenly learned that his father was dead and about the terms of the old man's will, that I realized how very relieved he was. Within a day, or two at the most, we were on our way to Croxcombe.'

‘Master Bellknapp had no ties? No wife, mistress or children?'

‘No. He told me once that he'd been put off women for life. His mother had never loved him, he said, and his nurse was treacherous, fondling him one minute and tanning his hide the next. Leave women well alone was his advice to me. Use them for your own purposes, but then let them be.'

Humphrey was at last beginning to yawn, his eyelids drooping. Talking had done the trick. I stooped and got hold of his legs, rolling him, still fully clothed, on to the hard straw mattress and throwing a blanket over him. He was snoring within a couple of minutes. Then I stripped off myself and clambered between the sheets of Anthony's bed, stretching my length and easing my tired limbs. But I knew there was little prospect of sleep coming quickly. Humphrey had given me too much to think about.

B
ut that was where I was wrong. Sleep closed my eyelids almost immediately. I had reckoned without the trials and exhaustion of a very long day. And I might well have slept the whole night through had it not been for Humphrey riding the night mare. But then again, if he had not awakened us both with his violent tossing and turning until he fell out of bed, I would have slept even more soundly, never to wake again.

The August night was hot and stuffy, the darkness beyond the open casement almost impenetrable, when a heavy thump, accompanied by a huge snort and a muffled yell, brought me rudely to my senses.

I jerked upright in bed, reaching instinctively for my cudgel and demanding loudly of no one in particular, ‘What was that?' For a second or two I wasn't even certain where I was and felt for the reassuring presence of Adela beside me before consciousness fully returned.

‘It's all right,' Humphrey answered in a shaken voice. ‘I was dreaming. A horrible dream.'

He hauled himself up from the floor while I lit my bedside candle, and by its pale glow, I could see that he was shaking. I eased myself out of bed and poured him a beaker of ale from the all-night tray which had been left for us in the window embrasure.

‘Here, drink this,' I advised, handing him the cup. ‘You'll feel better. Do you want to tell me about it?'

He shuddered. ‘I was pulling Master Bellknapp's body out of the moat, only his flesh was all white and shrivelled and eaten away. His head was just a skull, with gaping sockets and worms crawling in and out of them, all covered in blood.' A sound like a great sob was wrenched from him and he trembled so much that he spilled half his ale. He stared down at himself, bewildered. ‘I'm still fully clothed.'

‘Yes. I didn't have the heart to wake you when you finally did nod off, so I left you as you were. You can undress now if you want to. Do you feel any better?'

He began to shiver again. ‘Not really. I don't think I shall be able to sleep any more tonight. Every time I close my eyes, I can see that ghastly … that ghastly thing.'

‘It was just a dream,' I told him soothingly. ‘You had a nasty shock when you found your master in the water. It's only to be expected that the experience has left its mark on you. But you'll be all right now that you've purged yourself of its horror. Have another cup of ale and you'll find that you fall asleep again easily enough.'

Humphrey remained unconvinced.

‘Will you share a bed with me for the rest of the night?' he asked. ‘I think I might not be so frightened then.'

‘With pleasure.' I jerked my head towards the four-poster. ‘There's plenty of room for two.'

He looked appalled. ‘Not there! I couldn't sleep in the master's bed. No!'

‘Oh, sweet Virgin! Pull yourself together, lad!' I exclaimed impatiently. ‘Very well! If you think it's going to call up the night mare from his stable again, I'll happily take Master Bellknapp's side of the bed and you can sleep in mine.'

But Humphrey shook his head vigorously. There was a wild expression in his eyes.

‘No! No, I couldn't! I don't want to sleep in the same bed he slept in at all. I'm sorry. You must think me a fool, I know. But I can't help it. I'll dream of him again, I'm sure I shall. Don't make me.'

‘I'm not making you. It's you who wanted to share a bed. So what do you suggest?'

He indicated the truckle-bed.

I laughed. ‘I hope you're jesting! A couple of midgets would have trouble sleeping in such conditions, let alone a well set-up youth like you and a giant like me.'

‘We could sleep toe-to-toe. You can put a pillow at the other end and then our feet and legs wouldn't take up so much room in the middle.' He turned huge, scared eyes on me. ‘Please!' he urged. ‘I know I shan't sleep a wink otherwise.'

I hesitated, then, very reluctantly, agreed. I could see that I wasn't going to get much rest either way. If I refused, I would most likely be kept awake by his muttering and moaning, or he might fall out of bed again in the grip of another bad dream. Or, worse still, he'd want to lie awake talking for what remained of the night.

‘Just try not to move around too much,' I grumbled. ‘I must be mad.'

He thanked me gratefully, then we both relieved ourselves in the piss-pot and, while he stripped down to his shirt, I fetched a pillow from the four-poster. And this was where God took a hand. I hadn't had a lot to say to Him lately; in fact, I wasn't even sure any more that He was really interested in what was happening at Croxcombe or had directed my footsteps there in the first place. So I had rather ignored Him, and told myself that at last I was in charge of my own affairs. But at the ripe old age of twenty-seven – less than two months short of twenty-eight – I ought to have known better.

As I picked up one of the pillows and put it under my arm, I suddenly remembered how, as a boy, when I sneaked out of my mother's cottage on warm summer nights to go prowling around the countryside in the mysterious dark, I always pushed my straw-filled bolster lengthwise under my blanket so that if, by some mischance, she woke up and glanced over towards my pallet, she would think I was still there. The memory was so vivid that for no sensible reason – except, of course, I can see now that God was jogging my elbow – I arranged the remaining pillows in the same way to represent my curled-up and sleeping body. Then, with a despairing chuckle at my own idiocy, I blew out the candle and returned to the truckle-bed where, after a few more dire warnings and threats of what I'd do to him if he didn't lie quietly, I settled down with Humphrey, our bare feet meeting in the middle and making cautious friends with one another.

‘And no snoring!' was my final injunction as I prepared myself to endure what I was certain was going to be a sleepless few hours until daybreak.

But for the second time that night, the waters of Lethe closed over my head without me even knowing it, and doubtless (at least, if my dear wife was to be believed), I was the one disturbing the peace with his snores.

I have no idea how long I slept on this occasion, but it was still dark when an agonizing cramp in my left leg woke me yet again. I disentangled the afflicted limb from Humphrey's, flexed the muscles several times, reached under the blanket to rub my calf and was successful in ridding myself of the pain remarkably quickly. It was then I thought I heard the latch of the bedchamber door click. I sat up abruptly.

‘Who's there?' I quavered, peering blindly through the almost total blackness.