An Honourable Estate (16 page)

Neville’s eyes blazed down at her and even when she stood up
Mabel felt threatened by his height as he walked towards her, but she resisted
the urge to back away from him and held his gaze.

“Look at the boy!  Look at him!” she commanded with as
much authority as she could muster and was gratified when Neville glanced down
at the whimpering child.  “What if he were a son of yours?” she asked.

“You have not asked if the boy deserved it.  You have
not enquired about his crime.”

“I have no need to enquire.  I know the boy has done no
wrong.  But I have seen him constantly and cruelly abused by this
man!”  She pointed an accusing finger at Lymesey.  “And whatever so
called crime he has invented, I urge you to disregard it for I will swear that
it is not true!”

“Hold your tongue woman!” shouted Lymesey.  “Else you’ll
find yourself and your own two brats sleeping in the forest tonight! 
Remember that I am the lord of this land until after the next Christmas, and it
is only because of my goodwill that you remain here at all!”

Mabel watched as Edmund Neville glanced from one to the other
of them.  “Take the prisoner out,” he said at last.  “I will have
this case heard before a jury.  Let others decide on his guilt.”

“Where will you take him?” asked Mabel as she watched Ned
dragged protesting from the hall.

“He will go to the gaol at Lancaster, my lady.  I urge
you not to interfere and to allow the law to take its course.”

“Sir Edmund, please,” she said, “do not do this.”

“I have no choice.  I cannot disregard the word of a
nobleman against a villein.  I can only relent if Sir Peter will agree to
withdraw the complaint.”

Mabel looked at Lymesey, nursing his injured face, and knew
that he would show no mercy.

 “I hope the man hangs,” he remarked and spat blood
amongst the floor rushes.  “Bring me some wine, woman!  And make sure
there is some decent food.  I will entertain my lord sheriff to dinner.”

She saw Neville raise an eyebrow at Lymesey’s attitude
towards her but he made no comment.  Ignoring them both, Mabel took Dicken
by the hand and helped him up from the floor.  “I will tend to this child
first,” she replied, defying them both. 

Edith jumped back from the door and flattened herself against
the kitchen wall as Mabel went in.  “You had better take them some wine,”
she said, “and more’s the pity I do not have a poison to add to it, for I would
gladly see them both dead!  Stand by the fire,” she said more gently to
Dicken, “and I will bathe your wounds.  Pour some of the wine in here,”
she said to Edith holding out a bowl and then tearing some strips of cloth to
dip into it.  “You can water it down for them,” she said, nodding her head
towards the door.  “Wait.”  She took the jug from the girl and spat
into it.  “There,” she said.  “Let’s see how they like the taste of
that!”

Mabel watched through the kitchen door, but the men took
little notice of Edith and once the girl was safely back in the kitchen she set
her to preparing food whilst she tended Dicken.  The boy had stopped
crying but was still trembling with shock and he flinched as she began to wipe
the blood from his scrawny back.

“What made him do this?” she asked as she worked.

“I was clearing away his breakfast.  There was a piece
of bread that I thought he didn’t want... and I ate it,” Dicken told her. 
“He caught me.  He said I was a thief and that he would teach me a lesson
I would never forget.”

He never would forget it either, thought Mabel, as she dabbed
at the lacerations.  He would carry the scars all his life from the brutal
attack.  Her anger mounted alongside her feelings of helplessness. 
She wanted to do something to protect the boy but didn’t know what.  She
couldn’t hide him in the village and if she sent him out into the forest then
he might fare worse than being at Haigh.

“Where are your family?” she asked him.

“My father has lands in Hertfordshire.  He sent me into
the household of Sir Peter to learn knightly skills and courtly manners.”

“And has he always treated you this badly?”

“Not as badly as this.”

“I shall try to send a message to your parents,” she told
him.  “I’m sure if they knew how you were being treated they would not
want you to remain in Lymesey’s household.”

“I have no mother.  She died when I was born.  I
did write once to my father.  He wrote back to say I must learn to do as I
was told, or take the consequences like a man.  He said I could return to
him as a knight, but never as a coward.”

Mabel turned the boy to face her and cupping his wet cheeks
in her hands she kissed his forehead, wondering how a parent could love their
child so little as to allow this to happen.

She looked up to see Edmund Neville in the doorway watching
her.  He frowned when she turned the boy to show him his injuries.

“Do you want to hear his crime?” she asked. 
“Hunger!  The boy was hungry and ate some bread that Lymesey has
discarded.  Do you think that merited this?” she asked him.

“Lady Bradshaigh,” he began and she was pleased that he still
used her title despite what Lymesey had said.  “I honestly regret what has
happened here today.  I wish that there was more I could do, but I cannot
compromise my position as sheriff.  I will ensure that your man receives a
fair hearing and that the circumstances of his assault are clear.  With
luck he will be sentenced to a flogging and a spell in the stocks and will not
hang.”

“And this boy?”

“He must learn to be more careful.  He owes a debt this
day to your man who prevented him receiving a worse beating.”

“I wish I had been here,” said Mabel, “to prevent any of this
occurring.”

“But you were ...?”

“At the chapel to make my confession.”

“I’m sure you have no sins to confess, my lady.”

“I think we all sin,” said Mabel, beginning to regret her
contamination of the wine, “though perhaps some of us are in more need of
forgiveness than others.  Where is my lord Lymesey?” she asked, glancing
past Neville into the hall where William’s chair was now empty.

“He has taken the last of the wine and his sore head to the
bedchamber.  I have declined his offer of dinner.  I know that you
will struggle to feed me and my men so we will not trouble you.”  He
glanced at Edith who was chopping dried herbs at the kitchen table.  “I
hope I have not inconvenienced you?”

“Not at all,” lied Mabel and was pleased to see him look
somewhat chided at her sarcastic words.

“I would a private word with you, my lady, if you will return
to the hall,” he said, standing aside for her to precede him.

“A moment,” she replied and found a soft blanket to put
around the shivering Dicken.  “Pour the boy some wine and add a little of
the willow bark infusion to ease his pain,” she said to Edith. 

Mabel went and stood by the hearth and watched the fire for a
moment before moving the rushes over the bloodstains with her foot. She heard
Edmund Neville latch the kitchen door behind them and she looked up.  He
was an attractive man, she thought, as she studied his profile; not
conventionally handsome, his features were too pronounced for that, but there
were elements in his face – the strong jaw line, the long nose, the blue eyes −
that taken all together had a pleasing effect. 

“Lady Bradshaigh, I must ask you about Peter Lymesey.”

“The man is ill-mannered and despicable!” Mabel told him.

“So you do not find favour with him?”

“Does it seem as if I do?” she asked, thinking that what had
just occurred should speak for itself.

“No, which is why I am surprised to find you still here, my
lady.”

“And where would you suggest I go?” she demanded.  “This
is my home!”

“It was your home, my lady, but the actions of your
husband... your late husband,” he emphasised, “have resulted in the land being
forfeit to the crown.  But you know that well enough.  You know that
Haigh is not yours for at least the year and a day laid down in law.  You
have no rights here and should have vacated the manor.  The fact that you
remain led me to conclude that you and Sir Peter had come to some... some
arrangement.”

Mabel gasped in disbelief. “Did you think that I had agreed
to marry him, that we were betrothed... or that I am the man’s mistress?” she
asked as she began to see how the situation might appear.  “You must
understand that nothing is further from the truth!  I remain here only to
protect my home and my villagers from this... this intruder, so that as little
as possible will be spoiled until he is gone!”

“Please, sit down,” said Sir Edmund, moving forward to take
her arm and guide her to the chair. “Shall I call the girl to bring you some
wine?”

 “No.  I am quite well,” she replied, even though
her heart pounded in her ears and she found that her legs felt weak.  She
sat down gratefully and looked up at the sheriff.

“Is there nowhere you could go?” he asked.  “After what
has taken place today I must say that I am concerned to leave you alone with
this man.”

“This is my home,” she repeated.

“Where are your daughters?” he asked.

“They are with Mistress Palmer, in the village.  I do not
want them to witness anything that goes on here whilst their father is away.”

“That at least is wise,” replied Neville, “though I would
urge you to accept, my lady, that your husband does not live.”  He paused
awkwardly and turned away from her.  “You are vulnerable, my lady, and
Peter Lymesey sees that.  I fear that he will press his attentions on you,
if only to acquire the land more permanently, if you remain here.”

“And what protection have I now?”  she asked him,
staring at the broad expanse of his back.  “Now that you have taken the
one man I could rely on?  Without Ned Kemp my safety here is even more
precarious.”

“I cannot ignore his crime, my lady, no matter how much my
personal conscience tells me he was not entirely to blame for his actions.”

“And would you have me leave that boy unprotected to be
beaten again?” she asked, pointing towards the closed kitchen door.

“The boy is not your responsibility.”

“But I have chosen to make him my responsibility,” she told
him.  “This is what you do not understand, Sir Edmund.  I feel
responsible for every man, woman and child who lives at Haigh.  I cannot
abandon them because some court of law says my husband is an outlaw and that
the manor is no longer mine.”

“Are you saying that you do not recognise the law?” he asked,
looking at her again with a gleam in his eyes.  “That is dangerous talk,
my lady.”

“And would you arrest me as well?” she demanded, standing up
again to face him.  “For what?  For treason?”

“Your husband was a traitor.  Why should you not also
support his cause?”

  For a moment Mabel stared up at him and caught the
underlying threat in his voice.

“You would not dare arrest me,” she challenged him.

“Do not press me, my lady,” he warned her.  “What you
must accept is that Haigh belongs to Peter Lymesey and that you have no rights
here.  I advise you to leave.  Would you allow me to inquire as to
some place where you could go?  A nunnery perhaps?”

“No!” she told him.  “I have no intention of leaving.”

He shrugged his shoulders briefly in a gesture of irritation
and impatience with her.  “I cannot promise to protect you against
him.  You do understand that?” he asked.  “As soon as I ride away,
you are at the man’s mercy just as much as the boy in there.  Please God I
do not return to find you treated the same – or worse!”

“You need not distress yourself on my account,” Mabel told
him.  “My mind is set and I am sure I can take care of myself.”

“I hope you are right, my lady,” he said.  “But should
you change your mind I will be at the house of Robert Holland.  There has
been some thievery of venison from the king’s forest at Charnock that I must
investigate before I head north again.  Send a message to me there if you
decide to leave and I will offer what assistance I can.  Now, I will wish
you good day.”

Mabel watched as he strode to the door and called to his
men.  She watched as he mounted his horse and rode off without a backward
glance.  The only person who looked back was Ned as he was dragged
forward, securely tied by ropes between two of the horses.  His wife wept
on her knees as he was taken and Mabel felt her own tears flow too as she
realised that everything was beyond her control.

Chapter Eight

The Scot

The
women fell silent as William helped the limping Scot into the church as darkness
fell.

“You can’t expect us to agree to him sleeping in here, not
near our children,” said Martha, looking at the man as though the devil himself
had been conjured before her.  “I can’t even understand why you have
allowed him to live.”