Whited Sepulchres (23 page)

The ladies were sewing and chatting, the bowl of dried fruit – which Edwin couldn’t help noticing had less in it than it had the day before – to one side of them. He was the only other person in the room, and he studied them as they worked. Mistress Joanna, of course, he was getting to know better every day. Matilda, the girl who was companion to the Lady Ela, was tall and willowy, with brown eyes and a languid movement. Her elegant long fingers were stitching gracefully. Rosamund, Lady Maud’s companion, was shorter, paler and more vivacious, stabbing her needle energetically into some kind of brightly coloured embroidery. They were all completely different from … well, probably best not to think of her while she was so far away, but her blue eyes came to mind, and her smile. Not to mention her courage, determination and bravery in the face of danger and overwhelming terror. It was hard to imagine any of the ladies before him coping with life in a besieged city, while caring for several children.

The door opened and the Ladies Maud and Ela entered. Immediately Edwin felt much less relaxed, even though they weren’t looking at him. Their companions fussed around them, settling them in chairs, fetching cushions and so on. They had hardly settled before the rest of the noble party came in, and the room was full of hustle. Edwin busied himself pouring goblets of wine at the side table, and passing them to the squires to hand over, so he wouldn’t need to risk going too near any of the lords and ladies. As he filled the final one and turned to pass it over, he looked down and saw that little Peter was before him. He looked pale and his hands shook as he took the cup – fortunately Edwin hadn’t filled it too full or it might have spilled everywhere. Well, thought Edwin, as he watched the boy walk with painstaking care over to Sir Roger, someone who’s even more scared than me. He felt quite protective as he saw the boy hand over the goblet – Sir Roger smiled and murmured thanks to him, which was more than the other nobles had done – and scuttle back to the wall. He took up position very close to Edwin, their sleeves brushing. Edwin tried to send out supportive thoughts without actually moving, in case anyone should notice him.

There was a slightly sombre mood in the room, as well there might be after the events of the early morning. The ladies hadn’t seen the hanging, obviously, but the men had, and it seemed even their hour’s ride afterwards hadn’t shaken the shadow of the gibbet from them. Edwin remembered how sick Thomas had looked, and glanced round to see how he was now. Odd, he wasn’t there, even though the earl himself was in the room, with Adam hovering behind him. The two smaller boys were playing quietly in the corner – there would certainly have been more fuss and noise if Thomas had been there as well.

As if reading his thoughts, the Lady Ela cast her eyes round the chamber. ‘Brother? Where is Thomas?’

The earl looked round, as if noticing for the first time that the boy wasn’t there. He glanced at Adam, who shrugged apologetically. The earl pursed his mouth. ‘Actually, I haven’t seen him since we were at the executions.’

Lady Ela squawked. ‘My precious boy! Lost in the forest!’ She half-rose from her seat.

Her husband made a dismissive gesture. ‘My dear, I’m sure he’s just about some boyish prank. Try not to worry so.’

The earl looked more serious. ‘This isn’t the first time he’s shirked his duties. William, you and I need to have a talk about that boy.’

William Fitzwilliam looked pained. He flicked an imaginary crumb off the front of his scarlet tunic and stroked his beard. ‘Yes. It’s time he – ’

‘William! How can you say such a thing!’ Edwin thought the Lady Ela was addressing her husband, but in fact she had rounded on the earl with a tone that would have seen any normal person flogged. Edwin winced, and felt little Peter move even closer to him. ‘He’s too young to be keeping up with the men and all these great lumps of lads you have here. He’s run off to rest, poor thing. You have to …’

The earl’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the stalk of his goblet. He put it down with precise care before turning to his sister to reply. Edwin felt Peter’s arm against his own, and he remembered the time he’d had to search for him throughout the castle grounds. There were many, many places in which a small boy could conceal himself, and if you included the estate, the village and the woods as well, Thomas could be very difficult to find.

The earl was saying something along the same lines, his voice controlled. He finished by telling his sister that the boy would no doubt come back when he was hungry, at which point he could expect to be chastised. The Lady Ela was becoming more indignant and Edwin worried that the scene in front of them was about to turn violent. He tried to remain calm. Peter had certainly never had the chance to turn up again when he was hungry – nobody would have thought to feed him, not before Sir Roger took him on, anyway.

Sir Roger and Sir Gilbert, away to Edwin’s left, were looking at each other, trying to find a way to stop the conversation in its tracks. Sir Gilbert, exhibiting real courage, dared to interrupt his future brother and sister with soothing words.

‘Come now, this may not be all it seems. The lad probably wandered away from the rest of us while we were out riding, following a deer or something, and he’ll find his way back as soon as he realises he’s late.’

The earl and the Lady Ela both paused in their argument and sat back. The Lady Isabelle threw herself into the conversation in support of her betrothed, remarking that she’d be very surprised if Thomas wasn’t there at dinner.

‘And speaking of which …’ Sir Roger had seen the man enter the chamber behind the earl, and he attracted his lord’s attention. The earl turned and nodded to the servant to speak.

The man cleared his throat and announced that dinner was served. There was a flurry of skirts and fuss as everyone got up and went out; Edwin followed them through to the passageway, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could go through to the top end of the hall. As they all paused and started to rearrange themselves in order of precedence he went out the door and into the ward towards the hall’s lower door, entering to look for a seat. He was very glad to be down at one of the lower tables in the hall, away from the nobles. Of course, everyone else down there was already seated, waiting for those who would sit at the high table, so it was a bit crowded. Edwin squeezed himself on to a bench where there was a spare trencher. He looked towards the door to the servery, remembering that he’d seen Hamo standing there on the night he died. He recalled that Hamo had seemed rooted to the spot, looking at him as though he had seen something which shocked him. Now why had he done that? As he had done many times in the past days, Edwin turned over and over in his mind the reasons anyone could have wanted to murder Hamo. But he was less and less convinced – it now seemed to him that Hamo hadn’t been the target, for it just didn’t make sense. Nevertheless he was dead, and even if he had been killed by accident, he deserved justice. Edwin wasn’t going to let anyone get away with this just because the victim wasn’t important enough. He was still haunted by thoughts of …

The noble party finally entered and Edwin stood, along with everyone else in the hall, as they seated themselves at the high table. His eyes were immediately drawn not to the earl and his family, but to the line of squires behind them. Thomas was not there.

Martin reckoned that dinner must be over in the great hall. There had been quiet for some while, but now there was noise and bustle, albeit muffled by the walls which surrounded him. He wished there was a window in the chamber so he could at least see outside to look at what was going on. But the grey expanse of stone to one side of him was the curtain wall of the inner ward, and no builder in charge of his wits would do something as foolish as putting a hole in it. Besides, it would only look out over the moat, which was stinking even more than usual in this weather. The other side of the room was made of wood and faced inwards, but there was still no way he could look out – the door was at the other end. It led to a covered but open passageway which ran around between the chambers and the courtyard, so that some light, air and sound leaked into the room, but that was about it. He didn’t think he’d ever in his life spent so long without going outdoors, and the lack both of air and of ability to stretch his limbs was pressing on him, suffocating him. He was going to have to get out of here.

He managed to heave himself up into a sitting position. He pulled the blanket away from his legs – he hadn’t really needed it in this heat, but he was only wearing a shirt and braies and it wouldn’t be right if Joanna were to come in. He looked down at his legs. The fronts of them weren’t too bad, but as he shifted himself and squinted behind him, he could just about see that the backs of his thighs were almost black. He guessed that his back would probably not look much better, either, judging by the stiffness in it. It felt as though someone had put a plank down the back of his shirt and then tied him to it. But he just had to get out of here. He manoeuvred himself so that his legs were over the side of the narrow bed, and slowly, carefully, he lowered his bare feet to the floor.

Someone came through the open door, and he nearly overbalanced as he started and clutched at the blanket, but it was just Adam, carrying a platter of food. He looked surprised – probably at seeing me the right way up, thought Martin – and shoved the platter on to the low stool before coming over to stand before him.

‘Are you supposed to be getting up?’ He sounded a bit harried.

Martin grunted. ‘I don’t care whether I’m supposed to or not – I can’t stay in this bed a moment longer. Help me up.’

He held out one of his hands for Adam to pull on, and used the other to push himself off the bed. A moment’s dizziness hit him as he stood upright, and he felt a strange draining sensation in his legs. He leaned on Adam’s shoulder for balance until the room stopped moving.

‘Good. Now, stay by me while I try walking.’

Movement was fairly difficult, but it wasn’t as impossible as it had seemed yesterday. As he hobbled slowly back and forth, his legs began to feel like part of him again; and his appetite was returning. He tried to pick the food up off the stool but he couldn’t bend at all and had to grab at Adam to stop himself falling over like a small child.

He stood up again, carefully. ‘I tell you what – you pass me the food, and I’ll stand and eat it while you get my clothes and tell me what’s going on.’

Adam nodded and handed him the meal. ‘I’m sorry it’s not on a proper trencher – I thought that would go soggy and fall apart while I was on my way here so I just put it in a dish.’

Martin didn’t really care, though it was odd to be eating out of a serving platter. He wolfed down the beef and what tasted like some duck as Adam found his hose, tunic, belt and boots and put them on the bed, talking all the while. He was just running his finger round the edge of the dish in order to lick the last dregs of the sauce when he caught the last thing Adam had said.

‘Missing?’

Adam nodded. ‘Yes, he’s been gone since this morning when we all had a ride in the woods after the hanging. Lady Ela is shouting at everyone, Sir Geoffrey thinks he’s done it on purpose, and our lord is furious.’

Well, that sealed it then. He couldn’t leave Adam on his own if the lord earl was going to lose his temper. He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ‘Come on – help me get dressed and I’ll come back out with you.’

He was rewarded by a very relieved smile. Adam had to crouch to help him put his feet into each hose and then roll them up far enough so that Martin could reach to grab the lace at the top and tie it on to the drawstring at the waist of his braies. The tunic wasn’t too bad as he could get it over his head without having to move too much, but he gave up when it came to the boots – too small, as his boots always seemed to be – and let Adam deal with them. He was good at it; all that practice serving the earl and his previous master, no doubt. Finally Martin buckled his belt, and, feeling like a man again instead of an invalid, he walked stiffly towards the door, glad to leave the sickbed behind.

Sir Geoffrey was striding about the inner ward talking to various men as Martin made his way carefully down the stairs at the end of the passageway. The knight turned as one of the men pointed, and greeted Martin.

‘So you’re up and about, eh?’

‘Yes, Sir Geoffrey. Adam told me about Thomas and I’d like to help.’

The knight snorted. ‘You wait until I get my hands on that boy. He’ll remember it until the day he dies. But yes, let’s get him found before the Lady Ela’s screeches raise the roof.’ He looked Martin up and down. ‘Most of us are off into the woods – Adam, go and mount up – but I don’t think much of your chances of staying on a horse.’ Adam scurried off. ‘You’d better take some men and search round the outer ward. There are dozens of places there a boy could be hiding.’

Martin refused to allow himself to look relieved, but he had to admit to himself that he’d been wondering how in the Lord’s name he’d be able to ride. He nodded and started to turn away. Sir Geoffrey looked as though he would move off, too, but he stopped and grasped Martin’s arm. ‘It’s good to see you, lad. You had me worried for a while back in the woods, but you’re a strong boy.’ The old eyes, lined with the years, looked into his own. ‘A strong man, I should say. Welcome back.’

With a final squeeze of his arm, Sir Geoffrey moved away. Martin stood looking after him, pain forgotten, floating in the air.

Hours later the afternoon sun was blazing in the sky. Martin had been through every nook and cranny in the outer ward and there was no sign of Thomas. None of the men there had seen the boy; he’d even stopped the imposing figure of Crispin the smith from his work to ask. Now he stood outside the entrance to the kennels and stretched. He ached all over, but the movement was slowly coming back. He nodded to his men to go and get themselves a drink, and they saluted and moved away while he stood looking around him. Another hot sweaty rider came in through the gate, empty-handed, shaking his head. Where in the Lord’s name was that boy? Martin had started off being angry that Thomas was causing everyone so much trouble, but now he was starting to get worried that something had actually happened to him. What if he were lying injured in the woods somewhere? What if …?