The Squire’s Tale (25 page)

‘I’ve sent someone for him.“

‘The crowner, too.“ The king’s officer who had to be summoned to any unexpected, ill-done death to determine if there was wrong and, if there was, where it lay and summon in the sheriff. ”He’ll have to come.“

‘Master Skipton will see to it someone goes for him,“ Master Verney said.

‘Oh, God.“ Robert pressed his hands over his face. ”Why this? Why to Benedict?“

‘Why,“ Master Verney said, looking to Frevisse, ”all those questions?“

She held silent, gathering her reasons before she answered, very evenly, “Because they had to be asked.”

‘Because you doubt it was a simple fall down the stairs in the dark and rain?“ Master Verney pressed.

‘Because I think there’s a chance that it wasn’t, yes.“

‘Why think that?“ Master Verney pressed again.

Robert was watching her now, too, and as much to him as to Master Verney she answered, “Because he made enemies yesterday and now he’s dead.”

Robert refused that with a shake of his head. “No. There’s no one here would want him dead.”

‘Sir Lewis in fear for his son? His son in anger at everything Benedict said, both to him and at Katherine? You for the same reasons? You,“ she said to Master Verney, ”for fear he’d ruin the peace you’ve been so much a part of making?“

‘God’s mercy, Dame Frevisse!“ Robert protested.

Unrelenting, she persisted, “There’s four without even knowing more than I do about him.”

‘That doesn’t mean he didn’t simply fall,“ Master Verney returned. ”Going in or coming out,“ he added, remembering her earlier questions.

‘How simple a fall could it have been?“ Frevisse asked. ”He was lying feet toward the stairs, head away, as if he fell coming down, but no one saw him in the hall last night, for him to be coming out from there.“

‘He might have gone by the screen’s passage to somewhere else.“

‘Where?“ Frevisse asked.

‘The kitchen,“ Master Verney said, but doubtfully.

‘Why?“ Frevisse pursued. ”Wouldn’t he have had food and drink already brought to his room for the night? Or if not, why wouldn’t he send his man for it?“ Which brought to mind a belated thought. ”Where is his man?“

‘He doesn’t have a servant of his own,“ Robert said dully. He bent to take up his dropped belt and dagger and began buckling them on with blindly fumbling fingers. ”His mother thought that since I’d been on my own at Benedict’s age, no one serving me, it would do him good to be the same.“

Keeping her thoughts on that to herself, Frevisse said, “Until more questions can be asked and someone says he was in the hall or somewhere else that he could have been coming from and down the stairs, we have to think that if he was on the stairs at all and fell, it had to be while going up them.”

Robert looked up from his belt buckle. “If he was on the stairs at all?” he repeated.

It had to be to the good that he was coming back enough to have caught that, though there was no pleasure for Frevisse in pointing out, “To fall while going up the stairs and land at the bottom stretched out and facing away from them as he was would be…” She paused to choose a word carefully. “… difficult.” To the point of being impossible.

‘You think he was pushed?“ Master Verney asked, frowning. ”That someone pushed him off the stairs?“

‘Or that he was never on them.“

There were other ways than by a fall for necks to be broken but she did not have to say so; Master Verney, catching up to her thought, said on a rising note of disbelief, “You think he was with someone here and they killed him and left him lying in hopes no one would think he was dead from anything but a fall? Is that what you’re saying?”

‘I’m saying it could have been that way,“ Frevisse said stiffly. ”Or that he could have been killed somewhere else and his body dumped here at the stairfoot to make it look like he died of a fall.“

‘That would be dangerous,“ Master Verney pointed out. ”There’d be the chance of being seen carrying the body, no matter what hour of the night. There’s always folk about.“

‘Less chance last night than most times,“ Robert said. ”There wasn’t a torch or lantern stayed lighted in the downpour and wind gusts there were. Except for when there was lightning, the yard was thick dark, black as pitch.“

‘How do you know?“ Frevisse asked, not fully keeping sharpness out of her voice.

Master Verney gave her a hard look but Robert only answered, “When I left Sir Lewis and the others at evening’s end, I didn’t want to see Blaunche again. I went to the children’s chamber to sleep instead of my own bed. It was storming again and the yard was dark then. I doubt anyone bothered with trying to keep anything lit last night. I assuredly gave no order for it.”

‘Who would be out in that rain to need the light anyway?“ Master Verney said.

Pursuing her own way, Frevisse said, “So moving Benedict’s body would have been a gamble but a fairly safe one and maybe one that had to be taken no matter what if the body couldn’t be left where it was.”

‘But why kill him at all?“ Robert asked on a sudden note of anguish.
”Why?“

‘Because it may be more convenient—or safer—for someone if Benedict is dead,“ Frevisse offered.

‘As you’ve already said,“ Master Verney put in.

‘As I’ve already said,“ Frevisse agreed.

‘One of us,“ Master Verney said bitterly.

‘No!“ Robert protested. ”None of us!“

‘Then whom?“ Frevisse asked.

‘He fell,“ Master Verney said.

‘He didn’t fall,“ Robert said flatly. ”Dame Frevisse has the right of it. Lying like he was, he couldn’t have been going up when he fell, and unless you can find someone who says he came back after you took him out of here, he didn’t fall while going down, either, and that leaves only that he was killed by someone and probably somewhere else.“ He looked at Frevisse out of far older eyes than he had had yesterday. ”Find out who killed him. The way you did with Sir Walter’s mother.“

‘That isn’t a task to ask of her,“ Master Verney said. ”It’s for the crowner when he comes.“

Robert had not taken his gaze from Frevisse’s face nor she from his. “She’ll do it,” he said. “Won’t you? You’ve started. Don’t stop.”

Frevisse doubted she could have, with his will or without it, because this time yesterday Benedict had been alive and now he was dead, and whatever trouble he had been making yesterday, it had been a trouble that would have passed, would have been dealt with and ended sooner or later, one way or another, and he would have gone on with the rest of his life, to other troubles, surely, but to happinesses, too. To his two years in Master Verney’s household and marriage and children of his own and maybe, God willing, even old age.

Now he wouldn’t.

Now there was nothing left for him, of him, except the hope his soul would find peace and the certainty that through the years when he should have been living his life, his body would be no more than rotting in a grave.

And, yes, the rights and wrongs of the matter were for the crowner to sift out, but, no, she could not let it rest because—she faced it squarely—she was angry. Very angry. And she asked, without directly answering Robert’s question, “Last night, Master Verney, when you left the solar with Benedict, where did you go with him?”

Master Verney sent a look toward Robert who answered only, “Please, Ned.”

And though he grimaced in displeasure, Master Verney said, “I took him to his room. It was the best place to have him out of the way, it seemed.”

‘You were there with him awhile?“

‘I stayed talking with him until he was quieted and I was sure he’d stay there, not go looking to make trouble again. We talked about having him out of here and into my household as soon as this Allesley matter was settled, instead of waiting until after Easter, and that helped enough that I thought he’d do well if I left him for the night and I did. Alive,“ he added pointedly.

Frevisse said nothing to that nor bothered with asking either him or Robert how long it had been before he had returned to the solar. It hardly made a difference how long he had been gone. If one knew how, it took only an instant to break a neck. What mattered was where Master Verney had been later, after everyone was to bed, when Benedict’s body had been moved, and she was about to ask him when Katherine came suddenly out of the hall doorway above them, her hair pulled free from its loose night-braid and her eyes wide with fear as she cried down the stairs, shrill with panic, “Robert, help! Lady Blaunche!”

Chapter 16

With fear lurched into his throat, Robert flung himself up the stairs toward Katherine but she had already spun back inside and he only overtook her in the screens passage, to catch her by the arm and demand, “What is it?”

Face flushed, Katherine said in a desperate rush, “She’s gone mad. We can’t stop her. Dame Claire said you were to come,” and would have pulled away from him then but he was quicker than she was, past her and into the hall where her own headlong coming to find him had left a startlement behind her and a clear path among the men that he took at a run, bursting into the solar and across it hardly aware there were men there, too, but he heard Blaunche’s screaming before he was to the stairs and hurled himself up their dark spiral, not knowing what he expected to find but finding it soon enough as he burst into the parlor where everything was witness that Blaunche had gone from numb grieving into grief’s high rage, with every cushion thrown from settle and window bench, joint stools smashed to pieces against the floor or into a wall, his chair heaved over on its back, the tapestry pulled half down, and Blaunche standing, her back to him, in the midst of it all, briefly out of breath for screaming but looking about her for more to do.

The women, even Dame Claire, were all driven back to the walls, Emelye clutching a torn cushion to her, sobbing uselessly, Mistress Avys crying out, “My lady, you’re childing! Pity the baby! Please!”

‘Pity?“ Blaunche gasped out at her. ”On the baby? Pity? If it dies before it’s ever born, that’s pity. You stupid woman. They’re all going to die. All my babies. Soon or later, they’ll all be…“ She ran out of breath, dropped to her knees and beat with white-knuckled fists against the floor until she could gasp out, ”They’re all going to be dead. Dead. All of them. That’s… all… there… is! Like Benedict!“

‘My lady…“ Mistress Avys sobbed, taking a step away from the wall.

Blaunche turned wild eyes on her, stopped her where she was and said, cold with a sudden, horribly false calm, “I told you… to bring them to me. I told you… I want… to see my children.”

‘My lady, I don’t think—“

‘No, you don’t think!“ Blaunche stumbled to her feet, back into her rage. ”And you don’t know. You’ve never gone through having children, only to find out that it’s all for nothing. That all it comes to is that they die!“ Wrenching her skirts aside from her feet with angry hands, she lurched toward the corner where the children’s toys were chested and Robert came loose from his frozen horror to follow her, unsure how much he should try to quiet her or whether it was better to let her wear her anger and herself out, until she threw open the toy chest’s lid, slamming it back against the wall, and grabbed out the first thing that came to hand, Tacine’s doll, and began smashing it down against the chest’s edge, screaming, ”Like this!“ Gasping with the force of her blows. ”All of it… all of it… for nothing. For…
nothing.“

She gave over beating it, began wrenching with all her strength to pull off its arm and might have except Robert caught hold of her from behind, wrapped his arms around her to pin her arms to her body—knowing even as he did it that he did it more for Tacine’s sake than hers—saying with what he meant to be gentleness, “Blaunche, no. There’s no need. Let be.”

Blaunche dropped the doll and twisted around, breaking his hold and reaching for his throat all in a single swift movement so that only barely in time he jerked backward and caught her by the wrists, pushing her away to arm’s length as she tried to come at his face with claw-crooked fingers. Then both nuns were there, Dame Frevisse taking hold of Blaunche from one side, Dame Claire from the other, pulling her arms roughly down, out of his hold, Dame Frevisse saying, “That’s enough, Lady Blaunche! Enough!”

Too blind with her mind’s pain to care whom she hurt along with herself so long as it was someone, Blaunche fought against their hold as fiercely as she had fought against Robert and he was trying to find a way to catch hold of her again and help them when unexpectedly Master Geoffrey was there, pushing him aside with, “Pray, pardon me, reaching between the nuns to grip Blaunche strongly by the shoulders and brace her to stillness, saying at her, his voice rich with calm and the certainty she would obey him, ”My lady, stop it. My lady, that’s enough. Stop.“

And for a wonder she did: went still and stood with head down and breast heaving for half a dozen breaths before slowly she looked up at him through the tangle of her hair.

‘Enough for now,“ Master Geoffrey said. ”Yes?“ And when she did not protest that, he took her by both hands and from the nuns’ hold and led her toward the window seat.

Mistress Dionisia, nearest to it, snatched cushions from the floor to put on it before they reached it and moved well aside, leaving Master Geoffrey to sit Blaunche down, then sit down beside her and, still holding her hands, begin to talk to her low and soothingly.