“The last I saw of them was in the garden.”
“Why did you ask to talk with them there?”
“I thought they should know what Walter Glover had been saying against Master Penteney and be told you were going to question him.”
“That was no business of yours,” Master Barentyne snapped.
“They’ve been our courteous patrons. I felt I owed them that.”
“After you told them that, then what?”
“I left the garden. I haven’t seen them since.” Which was not a lie, merely the truth with bits left out and somewhat rearranged.
“You talked to them about Glover and then you left the garden,” Master Barentyne said. “You don’t know anything more? Such as where they might have gone?”
“Back into the house?” Joliffe suggested.
“No one here has seen them since they went into the garden to see you. You don’t know where they went?”
“No,” Joliffe said, steadily meeting his gaze.
Master Barentyne turned on Basset. “Do you know anything?”
Basset spread out his hands, still holding papers in one of them. “I’ve been here all afternoon. No one has come in except Joliffe and now you, nor have I gone out. I haven’t seen the Penteneys since this morning when you were here.”
Since neither the barn nor the cart offered much in the way of hiding places, Master Barentyne’s men had already finished their search. He swung his glare from Basset to them, then back to Joliffe and demanded, “You can’t tell me more?”
“No.”
Master Barentyne muttered an oath and swung away, leading his men out of the barn. For a long moment after they had gone, Basset and Joliffe stayed standing. Then Basset sat on the cushion again and Joliffe sank down where he was, this time holding his head in his hands.
“I hate it when I have to lie,” he said.
“What you hate is when you have to
outright
lie,” Basset returned. “What you prefer is to dance around the truth so fast no one can find it. Until Barentyne forced you into your ‘lie outright,’ you danced as pretty a dance around the truth as ever I’ve seen.”
Joliffe lifted his head, smiling. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You did. I’ve never seen it done better.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, as I was going to say, do you think maybe we should work over the St. Nicholas play, since Piers is getting older and could take a part?”
They were still talking over how the play could be changed when one of the household servants put his head in at the door and said, “Hai, you fellows, Master Richard wants to talk with you.”
Joliffe and Basset traded looks with each other and said nothing save Basset told the man “Certainly,” and set to putting the papers and box away in the cart. The man waited, then led them to the house. In the usual way of things, the hall should have been busy with readying for supper. Instead, clumps of servants stood talking in fast, low voices, with wary looks at Joliffe and Basset as if worried that more trouble was somehow coming in with them. All the household’s busy ease and friendliness were gone and Joliffe was glad to escape through the doorway into Master Penteney’s study, where Master Richard turned from the window to say, “Thank you, Hew. Close the door as you go, please.”
The man bowed and withdrew, closing the door while Basset and Joliffe both bowed to Master Richard, who beckoned them to come to him at the window. Outside, in the garden, Mistress Geva, Simon, and Kathryn were sitting in a circle on the grass, playing some sort of game with small Giles in their midst. Giles was laughing and, as Basset and Joliffe reached Master Richard, did something that made Mistress Geva laugh, too. Master Richard looked around and out at them, then back to Basset, and said, “You’re my father’s friend.” And added, answering Basset’s surprise, “He told me. After the dead man was found here, he told me about you and his brother and all. On the chance it would be necessary I know it.” Until now, Joliffe had only seen Master Richard being his father’s apparently willing follower. Now, with his father missing and the crowner come in search of his mother, he had justified his father’s training and trust by having plainly taken authority into his own hands. He held it well, looking steadily at Basset as he asked, “Do you know anything about what’s happening?”
“What I’ve been told,” Basset said. “Nothing more. But Master Southwell does.”
Joliffe found himself with both men looking at him.
“What do you know?” Master Richard demanded.
“Just tell him,” Basset said as Joliffe hesitated. “Start with where Master and Mistress Penteney are.”
Joliffe was spared that by a sudden silence from the hall. The talk from there had been a low, uneven background sound. Its stop made all three men look toward the door, just as Master Penteney entered.
“Father!” Master Richard said gladly, going to meet him. Only after he had grasped his father’s out-held hand did he take in his father’s disheveled hair and clothing and the strained unhappiness on his face, and say, far less gladly, “Father, what is it? Where’s Mother?”
“She’s safe,” Master Penteney said. He had already taken in that Basset and Joliffe were there and seen beyond them to the garden. “Richard, fetch the others here, please. Geva, Simon, Kathryn. Don’t send someone. No, don’t call out the window. Bring them yourself. As quietly as may be.”
“What do you mean by Mother is safe?” Master Richard asked.
“I mean she’s in sanctuary at St. Ebbe’s church. Please. Bring the others here.”
Master Richard, his own face suddenly as strained as his father’s, went out of the room. Master Penteney shut the door behind him and turned to Basset and Joliffe. “Master Southwell, I met Master Barentyne’s guard at my front gate, so I know what happened here after we left, and Master Barentyne will surely be back here soon. He knows about my wife tainting the sweetmeats. Does he know about Lewis? That she killed him?”
“No,” Joliffe said. “I’ve said nothing. He has no reason to suspect further than he does. That Lewis died of his weak heart.”
Master Penteney heaved a great breath. “That’s something, then. Will you keep it secret? The both of you?”
“We swear it,” Basset said instantly, and Joliffe nodded to it, too, as Basset asked, “But what are you going to do about the other? About the poisoning. She’ll have to give some reason for it.”
“We’ve decided that already. She’ll claim she doesn’t know why she did it. That it was a kind of madness. If she doesn’t admit to more, everyone will have to accept that.”
“It was still a crime,” Basset said. “She’ll not be let lightly off for it.”
“She won’t be, no,” Master Penteney agreed. “Aside from whatever punishment there would be if she wasn’t in sanctuary, the disgrace of it will finish her here in Oxford. More than that, I’m afraid that if she’s closely questioned, she’ll break down and confess Lewis’s murder and that would be the end of everything. No. She’s claimed sanctuary, she’ll admit the poisoning, and when she’s exiled, I’ll go with her. I have means enough overseas and know enough people there. We’ll do well enough.”
“You’ll go with her,” Basset said.
“I’ll go with her. Part of the guilt is mine. I wanted the Fairfield properties badly enough I let it blind me to anything else. It was because I wouldn’t see for myself or hear what she tried to tell that she did what she did. Besides that . . .” Master Penteney’s voice softened and went low. “. . . how could I let her go alone? I love her.”
It all came down, very simply, to that.
“What of everything here?” Basset asked. “You’ll just leave it?”
“Richard is ready to take it over. More than ready. And Geva will be the happier, having a household for her own.”
In the garden Master Richard was collecting the others, small Giles protesting the end of his game.
“It’s Glover I’m wondering about now,” Master Penteney said. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing yet,” Basset said.
For the first time Master Penteney lost his certainty, shook his head with worry. “Damn. I hope he’s done nothing stupid.”
“You think he might have?” Basset asked.
“I’ve always suspected he never gave up lollardy so thoroughly as the rest of us but I’ve always been careful not to know for certain. What if that comes out in Master Barentyne’s questioning? What if it comes out he knew this Hubert Leonard?”
“I think that’s a matter about which you can do nothing,” said Basset. “You’ve enough to see to here.”
“And anything he accuses you of—about your brother or anything else,” Joliffe said, “just deny it all and go on denying it.”
Master Penteney looked at him, then back to Basset, and said quietly, “Just as we did all those years ago.”
“Just as all those years ago,” Basset agreed, quietly, too.
There was deep understanding in their looks at one another. Then Master Penteney held out his hand to Basset and said briskly, “Best you be out of it, then. If I’ve no chance of better farewell later, farewell now, with my wishes for good health and fortune on all your journeyings hereafter.”
Basset took his hand in a hard grip. “My wish to you for the same, and my thanks for all you’ve done for us. Good health and fortune to you and your lady.”
He and Master Penteney looked long into each other’s faces, then stepped apart, and Master Penteney held out his hand to Joliffe, saying, “Thank you for giving my wife this chance.”
Joliffe took his hand in a brief clasp, with no answer to make to that. He did not want Mistress Penteney to face death for what she’d done, but he was still angry for Lewis’s death, and so he settled for silence and a slight bow of his head before following Basset out of the room.
They passed Master Richard returning with Simon and Kathryn. Mistress Geva, carrying Giles on her hip, had stopped to direct a lingering group of servants toward setting up the tables for supper. Master Richard gave Basset a questioning look as they passed but asked nothing. Mistress Geva did not notice them at all, and when they were past her, Basset murmured to Joliffe, “I think we’ll have our supper somewhere other than here tonight, all being as it is.”
Joliffe was more than willing. The last place he wanted to be this evening was anywhere near the Penteneys and the wreck of what had been certainty and a family only a few days ago.
He and Basset came out of the house just as Rose and Ellis and Piers were coming in the gateway from the street. They met in the middle of the yard, Ellis asking, “What’s this with the crowner’s guard at the gate and asking do we know where Mistress Penteney is?”
Turning them around and toward the gate again, Basset linked one arm through Rose’s and another through Ellis’s, with Joliffe steering Piers with a hand on his shoulder after them, Basset saying as they went, “We’re going out to supper tonight, in some inn the other side of town. Over a good cut of beef and other things I’ll explain all. Or, better yet, Joliffe will.”
“There’s trouble, isn’t there?” Ellis groaned. “And it’s his doing, isn’t it?”
Chapter 20
Despite of everything, the players went as usual to break their fast in the hall the next morning. They mingled unremarked among the household’s ordinary folk and the Lovell servants, helping themselves to the bread, new cheese, and weak ale set out on the table. There was not much talk among the servants. Whatever the household had been told, they were subdued and no one lingered at their food but ate and went away to their duties. If this was sign that Mistress Geva had already taken the household in hand, it was a good one, but of the Penteneys and Simon and Lord and Lady Lovell there was no sign.
Like everyone else, the players did not linger but ate and left. Not that there was much to do but wait or anywhere to go but the barn. For them to take to the streets and make even seemingly merry at their work or anything else felt wrong. Like everyone else, they were set to wait for whatever word came next, and to pass the time Piers brought the wooden horse for Ellis to carve on and silently hung over his shoulder while he did. Rose took up the mending there always was and Basset and Joliffe tried to talk about what changes they could make in their plays to better use Piers.
Because they had set the barn doors wide open to the early morning light, a man’s long shadow thrown ahead of him into the barn gave warning that someone was coming; they were all on their feet by the time Master Barentyne entered. He had no men with him, which probably meant he was not bringing trouble, but still there was a hint of wariness in Basset’s greeting him with a bow and, “Good morrow, sir. How go things?”
“Well enough. Master Southwell, I’ve come to thank you for your help in the matter of Glover. He’s refusing to admit to anything as yet but all the evidence lies against him.”
“What did you find?” Joliffe asked.
“Most importantly, lollard pamphlets hidden under the floorboards of his bedroom. Not just single copies but many of each and paper for writing more. My guess is that Glover is not only a Lollard but a busy one. Living out there, well away from town, he could have people come and go without being much noted, bringing him news and whatever and taking news and pamphlets away with them.”
“But he denies he’s a Lollard?” Joliffe asked.
“He admits to that freely enough. He might as well. But he denies Hubert Leonard was there and that’s a mistake. There’s a place in the kitchen where what looks to have been blood has been lately scrubbed from the floor. Not that anyone with half his wits couldn’t explain that away and Glover does, but it looks like far more blood than you’d expect to come from a killed chicken. And why was he killing a chicken in the house anyway? He doesn’t know. Then there’s the way the back of the house faces nowhere but a pasture closed in by hedges and runs down to a marsh, just as you said, and can’t be seen from the road or anywhere else. Seems that when Master Penteney is dealing in particularly fine horses, which he does sometimes, they’re kept there, to be less obvious to thieves and better under Glover’s watch. The only gate into the pasture is beside the house, but there’s a narrow stile at the bottom of it that makes an easy way in and out for a man on foot and a private way for any Lollards who might want to come and go secretly. In the mud of the marsh edge we found the marks of what look like heels being dragged along. Besides that, there were two broken pottery mugs in the kitchen midden.”