The outlaw's tale (13 page)

“Before or after he beat this woman?" Frevisse asked.

“You, Adam, you were the one was telling us," one of the women said.  “Which was it?"

Adam jerked his attention up from his food and looked around as if the answer might be hanging in the air somewhere close.  “Before."  His blunt face firmed into certainty.  “Aye.  Before.  He'd been at the alehouse-"

“Most of the village was," Jack said.  “Because of the rain."

“He'd been at the alehouse," Adam repeated, not to be put out of his way.  “And he and his man had left and weren't much outside the village when they were attacked."

“From behind," the third manservant said.  “Colfoot never saw who 'twas."

“A glimpse of the man's back going into the trees," Adam agreed.  “But he must have thought something about it.  And after he took his man back into the village for help, once he'd seen him settled in the widow's place for tending, that's when he went for Beatrice."

“He's the one who beat her?" Jack exclaimed.  “But not then surely.  Not until later, after all'd gone home."

“Aye, then, when there was none to help her," Adam said bitterly.  “When he knew there'd be no one there but her and Old Nan likely – and the door barred if there were so he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him, he'd just have to wait till anyone left."

He saw their faces and seemed belatedly to realize he had revealed rather much knowledge of Beatrice's ways.  He took a sudden interest in his food.

“He beat her near to death, they say," one of the women said.  “They say her face-"

“Lovie," Mistress Payne said, questioning rather than ordering, but with a significant look at the children who were listening avidly.  Lovie did not finish what she had been about to say.

Frevisse, with a thought of her own, said, “Colfoot wasn't known for beating women, was he?"

There was general agreement to that; it was folk's purses and hopes he mauled, not their bodies.

“And she wasn't his particular – friend?" Frevisse asked.  “He wasn't likely to be jealous over anything?"

“Oh, no."  Adam was certain of that.  “Nothing of that, I'm sure."

“Then he must have thought she knew something about the robbery," Master Payne said, with the same thought Frevisse had had.  “And beat her to make her tell."

Glad of the chance, Frevisse asked, “Did he speak of it when he came to see you this morning?"

“Not about the woman, but about being robbed and his man hurt.  He hated for anything of his to be damaged and, worse, to lose anything, particularly money.  He came to me because he said he knew now for certain there were outlaws around here, a band of them.  He wanted me to join him in demanding the sheriff move against them."

He was very particularly not looking at Frevisse.  Matching his neutral tone, Frevisse asked, “What did you say?"

“That I'd had no trouble, nor heard of any trouble lately in the area.  That his was surely a single matter, and though surely the sheriff should be told, demanding a great move against outlaws we didn't even know existed seemed unjustified at present."

“And what did he say?" Frevisse asked.

“That I was such a short-sighted fool it was a wonder anyone trusted property to me."  Master Payne smiled with a bitter edge.  “He had a temper that matched his arrogance.  It was probably that which brought him to beat that woman if he thought she knew aught."

“Perhaps this Beatrice killed him," Mistress Payne offered.  “Or someone who was angry at him for it.  If he hurt her so very badly, I mean."

“She's not able to rise from her bed," Adam said.

Lovie put in, “They say her face is ruined."

“But someone else then might have killed Colfoot.  To revenge her," Frevisse suggested.

“Who'd revenge a whore?" scoffed the third manservant.  “She's no one's particular woman."

“That forester fellow, maybe," said Jack.

Frevisse was aware of Master Payne's sudden, full attention on them.  Adam said, “He'd not stick his neck out for her.  Only a noddy'd think he would."

“I never said I thought he would," Jack protested.

The third man put in, “But look you, there's a kind of sense to it after all.  Why'd Colfoot go after her?  Because he thought she knew who robbed him.  That'd be the only reason.  We don't know what Colfoot knew, but suppose it was her man robbed him and Colfoot figures it out and takes out on her what he can't on old Nick."

“And when old Nick finds out, he goes after Colfoot," Jack agreed. “That's like enough."

Frevisse was suddenly afraid she knew who the forester fellow was; it was unlikely there would be two foresters around with the same name.

Master Payne put in, “Or maybe, by bad luck, it was only theft again, and this time Colfoot had time to fight back and died for it.  That would be the simplest way of it."

There was general nodding to the possibility.  It would surely be more simple if it was a stranger, someone now long gone.  But it was not likely, and they all knew that, too.

“But whoever did it, didn't even take his horse.  'Twas there along the road not fifty yards off, grazing," Jack said.

“A bad thief then, not to take the horse," said the third man servant, grinning.

“Or one who knows horses are easier to identify than coins and didn't want the risk, not after he'd killed the man," said Adam, more thoughtfully.

“And maybe killing was what he wanted all along and not the horse or money at all," concluded Jack.

“Colfoot was well-hated enough by most everyone for that," said Lovie.

Frevisse noticed that now that Colfoot was dead, the hatred was put in the past tense, as if hatred stopped once the man had died.  It occurred her that love went on past death; surely hatred did, too.  But maybe it was considered less polite to say so.  Or less safe, if there was chance of a vengeful ghost hovering near.

“Not hated enough for killing," said the other maidservant.

“Well, he's dead, isn't he?  And he didn't fall on his own sword.  It was unbloodied."

“But drawn?" asked Frevisse.

“Oh, drawn, surely, lying there in the road beside him," said Adam, remembering.  “They didn't even take that."

“They?"  Frevisse looked to Master Payne.  “Was he attacked by more than one?"

From down the tables one of the men muttered, “Could have been.  There's men enough wanted him dead."

But Master Payne said, “There was really no telling.  The road is pastern-deep in mud and much used.  Everything along that stretch is a mire and no way to read how many might have been there."

“But it's still likely to have been someone from around here," Lovie said.  She was clearly fond of the notion they were near to a murderer.  “There's been no strangers here or around the village this week and more.  Not that anyone's talked about."

She clearly did not count Frevisse as a stranger:  She was a nun and well-accounted for, not likely to have been out murdering men in the road.  But Lovie would gladly hear talk of any others.  A pity no one could oblige her, Frevisse thought wryly, and leaned slightly aside to allow Edward to reach past her shoulder to set the last course in front of her.  It was apples sliced and lightly seethed in milk with cinnamon and sugar, a pleasant ending to a well-cooked meal she had not appreciated as fully as it deserved.

For just the moment she was thinking of food rather than the murder.  Then Master Payne, in the slow voice of someone just coming to a realization, said, “No.  There was a stranger around here today.  In the orchard.  And Colfoot saw him."

He had all their attentions.  They looked at him, and staring into empty air down the hall as if it were from there his thought was coming, Master Payne went on, “My sister was in the orchard this morning, alone.  A man, a rough stranger, came out of the woods across the stream and spoke to her."

Mistress Payne drew her breath in sharply.  Master Payne reached sideways without looking to lay a quieting hand over her own.  “Nothing came of it.  He offered her no harm.  He was only rude.  He – presumed to force her into talk with him.  Maybe it would have come to more, but it didn't.  Colfoot came on them when he went seeking her after he left me."

Lovie put in.  “That would be right.  He asked me where she was, and I told him-"

A glance from Master Payne silenced her.  In the same deliberate voice as before, he said, “Colfoot saw the man had no business being where he was; that he was alarming Mistress Dow.  He drove the man off and I doubt he was polite about it.  The fellow must have lain in wait for him later and killed him."

“Poor Magdalen!" Mistress Payne exclaimed.  “How upset she must have been!  No wonder she's keeping to her room.  She hid it so well when I was with her.  Poor dear.  The man must have terrified her."

Frevisse tried to hold her expression blank.  Whatever emotions Magdalen had been suffering this afternoon, she had given no sign of terror.  Nor had she mentioned any man but Will Colfoot.  Whoever the man was that Master Payne claimed was there, if indeed someone had been, he was someone more personal to Magdalen than a stranger come out of the woods.  Else why would she sit looking for him out the window?

On the back of that thought came another.  Where had Nicholas gone when he left Master Payne this morning?  To the orchard to meet with Magdalen?  And been surprised by Colfoot who recognized him and returned to the house to tell Master Payne that his sister was meeting with an outlaw?

That would surely account for Magdalen's tension and her brother's present careful choice of words.

And for Will Colfoot's death?  Nicholas could depend on Oliver Payne to keep quiet about him, but not Colfoot.  Or would Master Payne be desperate enough to protect his association with Nicholas to kill Colfoot himself?

Talk had risen up around Master Payne's idea.  It saw them through to the end of the meal, with no one noting that Frevisse no longer joined in.

But she noticed Mistress Payne was also silent, and suspected her hostess was relieved when Frevisse refused her offer to join the family for the evening, pleading that she should not leave Sister Emma so long to someone else's care.  Frevisse washed hands as Edward held the basin for her again.  He was still silent, his eyes down.  Even Richard had no glimmer of a smile tonight.  No matter how disliked Colfoot had been, he was someone they had known, he had died very near by a violent hand, and his body now lay across the stableyard, unavoidably in mind.

Rather thankfully she made her escape upstairs.

As she came to Magdalen's door she was met by Sister Emma's voice.  It was thick with her rheum and a little raw but quite determined.

“I'm very sure it's sage that's to be used for rheums.  And horehound for my cough.  I'm sure that's what Dame Claire always recommends.  Not hazelnut.  And Dame Claire is very knowledgeable.  She has books about these things.  She's been infirmarian at St. Frideswide's for
years
.  Dame Frevisse, isn't that so?  Didn't Dame Claire use sage and horehound for all of us when we had that dreadful rheum last winter?"

Needing to blow her nose, Sister Emma paused, and Frevisse said quickly while she had the chance, “Dame Claire used sage and horehound, yes.  And would have used hazelnut, too, but that the wet autumn rotted the nuts before they ripened."

“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away," Sister Emma said philosophically.  “So it is sage and horehound, you see," she added to Magdalen standing beside the bed.  “But I'll take that if it's all you have."  Magdalen gave her the medicine.  She drank it and then sank deeper into her covers with a painful breath that ended in a cough.  “I'm much better," she assured the room in general.  “I just don't seem so yet."

Leaving Maud to draw up the covers and tuck them firmly about Sister Emma, who went on talking while she did, Magdalen came to Frevisse at the other end of the room.

“Is she indeed better?" Frevisse asked.

“She is.  The rheum is looser and the cough has gone no deeper.  But she won't stop chattering long enough to rest."

“Then she's better," Frevisse said.

Magdalen seemed to forget her patient.  In the small privacy that distance afforded them she asked, “And at supper?  What was said?"

With great care, trying to keep it all in order, Frevisse told her, even to the gossip of Beatrice and “old Nick", watching Magdalen's response through all of it.  But Magdalen, listening intently, showed nothing at all until at the end Frevisse brought out her brother's version of the stranger accosting her in the orchard.  Then a slight frown drew between her eyes.  Frevisse paused, then asked, “Was he a stranger?  Or do you know him?"

Magdalen hesitated a betraying instant, then shook her head, leaving it unclear which question she was answering, or if she were answering at all.  Frevisse waited, but Magdalen held to her silence, her eyes on her lap until Frevisse continued.  She showed no more emotion until Frevisse finished with, “So now the idea is that this fellow that Colfoot frighted off lay in wait for him and killed him."

At that Magdalen's head jerked up as if whip-struck and, nakedly furious, she cried out, “No!  That isn't so!  I won't let Oliver do that!"  And before Maud or Bess, coming from the other end of the room, could reach her or Frevisse stop her, she had flung herself from the room, leaving the door wide behind her.

“Now what was that about?" Sister Emma queried from the bed.  “Dame Frevisse, what were you thinking of to do that?  You've upset her.  It takes both guest and host to make a visit gracious."

Not even illness could daunt Sister Emma's Wise Sayings.  Distracted, Frevisse went to soothe her with assurances that it was a family matter that had alarmed Mistress Dow, not something she, Frevisse, had done.

“I should hope not!" Sister Emma declared.  “What Domina Edith is going to say about this I don't want to think about, and we certainly don't want to make it worse by causing trouble for this family."  Frevisse's conscience twitched with the realization that she had never written her second letter.  Sister Emma chatted on, “This is a fine house, judging by what little I remember of it and this room, which I gather this isn't the best one."  Maud and Bess, probably glad to escape their duties to Sister Emma for a while, were the length of the room away; Sister Emma dropped her voice to a whisper to ask,  “Who are these people we're staying with?"