Plague Land (34 page)

Cornwall bowed his head elegantly to the earl, since he now had no option but to reply to my question, no matter how foolish he felt it to be. ‘I’m a man of God, my lord. I always have the Bible with me.’

‘But can you read Latin?’ asked the earl. ‘We want to know.’ There was a moment’s silence, and then the earl slapped the table and began to laugh. There was neither a witty pun nor clever insinuation in this comment. In fact there was nothing to find amusing in it at all, but this didn’t stop the jury of leather-skinned knights and pimply squires quickly falling about in hysterics. Even Cornwall, who was the butt of this supposed joke, attempted to laugh, though his face was now blotched and sweating.

‘I am only teasing you,
Père Jean
,’ said the earl when the laughter had died down. ‘You are not on trial.’ He waved his arm at Ellingham as if he was shooing off a flock of geese. ‘
Alors
. Please. Continue. This is taking too long.’ He then yawned like a baby.

Ellingham appeared to understand, and quickly straightened his papers. The volume of the earl’s voice clearly had some advantages, if only to communicate effectively with a man who was hard of hearing.

Ellingham looked up at me. ‘Lord Somershill. Oswald de Lacy. You are accused of the murders of Alison Starvecrow, Matilda Starvecrow and Walter de Caburn, Lord Versey. How do you plead?’

‘I’m not guilty,’ I said with all the confidence I could muster. ‘And I am outraged to be standing here. I don’t—’ My attention was suddenly drawn to the squint, from where Mother waved at me as enthusiastically as if she had just seen me take my first communion. The earl turned to see what had caught my attention.

‘Your mother, eh?’ he asked, pointing up to the small window where Mother’s face and breasts were now squashed against the glass. ‘Madame de Lacy?’

‘Yes, my lord. I’m afraid it is.’

Earl Stephen once again slapped the table and dissolved into laughter. ‘He is afraid!’ His followers responded as before, each striving to guffaw more loudly than the next. ‘
J’ai peur aussi
!’ Tears stained his cheeks and ran into the black hair of his beard. ‘
Votre mère est une truie ancienne
!’

He had called my mother an old sow, and I might have challenged him, except I didn’t want to ruin his good humour.

‘My lord,’ said Ellingham after an acceptable pause, ‘should we continue?’ The earl made another of his goose-shooing gestures, and the trial resumed.

Ellingham peered across at me and, given the cloudy film across his pale blue eyes, I began to wonder if he were not also blind as well as deaf. The bright light of the room seemed to affect his vision, and he squinted. ‘We will commence with the murder of Lord Versey.’ An expectant hush descended. ‘Oswald de Lacy. You are accused of luring Lord Versey to the Convent of St Margaret to visit your sister Clemence. As he travelled there, you ambushed and murdered him.’

‘I was here at Somershill at the time of his death. I have witnesses.’

Cornwall broke in. ‘Men who will say whatever he tells them to. Their testimony should be discounted.’

‘What?’ Ellingham cupped his hand to his ear again.

I spoke loudly to prevent Cornwall’s answer being heard. ‘I didn’t lure de Caburn to the convent. You have no evidence to prove such a theory.’

‘I saw the hand-written note,’ said Cornwall, ‘from your sister.’

‘Where is it then? Who is to say it even existed?’

Cornwall folded his arms. ‘I say it existed. And it smelt of evil.’

‘You smelt the letter?’ I hoped my exaggerated astonishment might ignite the earl’s strange sense of humour, but he seemed more interested in picking his fingernails. I persevered. ‘Did you smell the letter since you were unable to read it?’ This, at least, raised a smile at the corner of the earl’s lips, but still he did not look up.

Cornwall, always conscious of the earl’s mood, saw his opportunity to pounce. ‘It is my contention that Lord Somershill committed this murder for personal gain,’ he said grandly. ‘With his sister as Lord Versey’s widow, he would hope to gain control of the Versey estate.’

Cornwall then flared his cloak to reveal a flash of red satin. What vanity to wear such expensive cloth, when it was usually the preserve of nobility. His mistake was not lost on the earl. He regarded the shine of Cornwall’s gown and suddenly frowned.

Now was my chance. ‘I think it more likely that you murdered Lord Versey, John of Cornwall. Your motive was fear.’

Cornwall clasped his hands upon the Bible. ‘What nonsense is this now?’

Deaf Ellingham cupped both ears this time. He was struggling to follow any of the proceedings. ‘What did de Lacy say?’ he asked Cornwall.

Cornwall raised his voice to the boom of a sermon. ‘Lord Somershill would debase himself so low as to accuse a man of God of these crimes. Crimes he himself committed. It proves his guilt.’ Nods and murmurs from the crowd seemed to support his claim, but still Earl Stephen said nothing.

Only as the hubbub died down did the earl divert his interest from his fingernails and speak. ‘Why do you say this, de Lacy?’ He pointed at Cornwall. ‘Why do you say
Père Jean
is guilty?’

I thought back to Brother Peter’s warning about implicating de Caburn in these crimes – but what choice did I have? ‘I accuse John of Cornwall of murdering Lord Versey,’ I said.

The earl shrugged. ‘Yes. But
pourquoi
? Why?’

‘Lord Versey and Father John liked to rape and murder young girls.’ Gasps were audible amongst the crowd.

‘
C’est vrai
?’

‘Yes. It’s true, my lord. I only discovered their guilt recently.’

But the earl did not seem convinced. ‘But why did
Père Jean
kill Versey?’

‘With their crimes exposed, they either argued. Or more likely, Father John wanted to silence de Caburn.’

Cornwall threw up his hands. ‘Listen to this false testimony. The boy would even accuse Lord Versey! Regard the evil of the boy.’

‘Do you deny I caught you and de Caburn in the forest with a girl?’ I asked the priest.

Cornwall turned to the earl. ‘My lord. We should not countenance such defamation and slander. Lord Versey was your friend.’ The earl rocked his head from side to side at this suggestion and then looked absently into the distance.

Cornwall was becoming irritated. ‘The boy speaks against Lord Versey, my lord. You should not allow this. What say you?’ The earl suddenly focussed and leant forward to stare at Cornwall, looking down the bridge of his nose with the full force of aristocratic condescension. An awkward hush fell upon the hall.

Cornwall pulled his cloak about him, shrinking into his seat and hiding the red of his satin lining. ‘He has no evidence for this accusation, my lord,’ he whimpered. ‘De Lacy’s attempting to trick you.’ Still the earl said nothing. His lips puckered into a grimace.

I broke the silence. ‘John of Cornwall. Do you deny I caught you and Lord Versey in the forest with a girl? You were about to rape her.’

‘That is a lie.’

‘Just as you and Lord Versey had already murdered the Starvecrow sisters?’

‘Another lie!’

The earl now gazed at me and it was my turn to feel the burn of his sneer. ‘I managed to save the girl, my lord. But otherwise she would have met the same fate as the Starvecrows.’ I felt blood rush into my face. ‘It should be John of Cornwall on trial. Not I.’

The earl heaved a sigh and stretched out his long grasshopper arms. ‘
Extraordinaire
.’

‘My lord,’ said Cornwall. Beads of sweat bubbled across his forehead like blisters. ‘I am a man of God. These are blatant lies and—’

I interrupted before he regained his momentum. ‘The girl will bear witness to Cornwall’s crime. I can call her to the court.’

The earl sat up at my words. ‘She is here?
Ici
?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘
Alors
.
Je l’écoute
. I will listen to her. Bring her into the—’

But his words were drowned by a sudden scuffle.

Through the mêlée I heard Brother Peter’s voice. He was shouting. ‘Let me speak. I have important information. I must be heard!’ He shoved his way through the crowd, but I have no idea how he had gained entry to the hall, since the main door was locked, and I had not seen his face before this moment.

Peter bowed as deeply to the earl as his back would allow. His voice was breathless and agitated. ‘My lord. I beg your indulgence, but I have news that will shed a new light upon this trial.’

The earl cocked his head to one side and stroked his beard. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Brother Peter, my lord. Of the Benedictine order. I am the infirmarer at Kintham Abbey.’

The earl turned to his entourage with a smile. ‘A saw bones, eh?’ The men began to snigger. ‘Are you unwell,
Père
Saw-Bones? You sweat like a
cochon
. A pig.’

Peter ignored the gibe. ‘My lord. I had the honour of treating your son two years ago.’

‘
Lequel
? Gregory
ou
Hugh?’

‘It was Gregory, my lord. He broke his arm hunting at Versey. I re-set the bone.’

The earl’s face dissolved into a broad smile. ‘Ah
oui
! I remember you.
Vous l’avez bien fait
. You did it well.’

Peter bowed again. ‘I trust Gregory’s arm is recovered. And that he may use it well again?’

The earl laughed out loud. ‘
Oui
.
Bien sûr
. His arm is recovered. And he uses it very well.’ He made an obscene gesture to indicate how Gregory was exercising his re-set arm and looked back to the jury for the obligatory roar of laughter.

Ellingham waited for the comedy to subside, with a face not able entirely to disguise his weariness. ‘Why have you disturbed the court, Brother Paul?’ he asked. ‘This is a murder trial. Not a meeting of old friends.’

‘I have discovered the true murderer of Lord Versey and the Starvecrow sisters.’

Ellingham cupped his ear. ‘What?’

Brother Peter shouted, ‘I have discovered the true murderer. You must release Lord Somershill.’

Ellingham screwed up his face and waved a bony finger. ‘You are wasting our time, Brother Paul. Please stand aside and let the trial continue.’

‘But if you continue, you risk—’

‘Stand aside, Brother Paul!’ said Ellingham. ‘I will not tell you again.’

Peter looked to the earl, but his new friend was once again picking his fingernail and didn’t care to respond. ‘But the court should hear what I have to say!’ Still no reaction from the earl. ‘You have arrested an innocent man. And my name is Brother Peter!’

Ellingham beckoned to the guards to take Peter away, but as the two men went to seize him, Peter managed to shake them off. ‘You must listen to me.’

‘Arrest the man.’

‘But I have discovered the dog-headed beast!’

The court became instantly silent. My heart missed a beat. ‘What are you doing, Brother?’ I tried to whisper to him. ‘This won’t help.’

But Peter ignored me. ‘Give me some men, my lord. I’ll lead them to the beast.’

‘Stand aside,’ repeated Ellingham. This time the two guards succeeded in taking Peter, but relaxed their grip, when the earl pulled the judge towards him. ‘
Non
!
Arrêtez
! I want to hear this man.’ He then bellowed in Ellingham’s ear. ‘
Frère Pierre
must speak!’