The Tolls of Death: (Knights Templar 17) (15 page)

Their lives had taken on a relaxed, even tenor since their
agreement. They made love whenever they wanted now, rather than when Letitia thought it was most conducive. There was less straining, more loving. Alex was a kind lover, and Letitia had never doubted that he adored her. He often told her so.

And now here was his moronic brother throwing their failure in their faces like sand.

Serlo had no idea he was doing it. He couldn’t ever get beyond his own petty desires and fears. Those of other people were irrelevant to him. Letitia felt her anger rise, peak, and then begin to subside. It was as Alex had always said: his brother was spoiled, and Alex was largely at fault for that. When Serlo had made a mistake, he rarely had to own up. It was Alex who shouldered all the responsibility.

She looked at her brother-in-law. Now he was going on about the folk up at the castle. He’d had enough of Alex’s strong ale to make him more calm, more expansive, and he sat back on his bench like a toad after eating a dragonfly, a broad grin on his face, his belly protruding. Letitia thought him never so repellent as when he sprawled back like this.

‘That little filly Nicholas caught is showing now. Have you seen her?’

Alex sighed. ‘Yes, but what of it? I heard she might be with child a long while ago.’

‘Ah, but who’s the father? That’s what I’d like to know.’

Alex shot a look at Letitia, but she was calm enough now. She shrugged slightly, then gave him a half-smile. Before long she’d go out and make sure that her chickens were all locked up, and then she’d leave them to it. The pair of them could talk for hours when the mood took them.

Alex returned her smile, but she could see that he was annoyed. ‘This sounds like more tavern gossip.’

‘Why don’t you speak your mind, Serlo?’ Letitia said, perhaps more sharply than she truly intended. ‘What do you mean to imply?
Don’t just repeat rumours!’ Alex gave her a quick look, but Letty didn’t care. She was staring angrily at Serlo. ‘Well?’

‘There’ve always been rumours about her, haven’t there? ’Twas said Gervase had his eye on her. I reckon he’s been forking hay in the wrong barn!’

‘Oh, don’t be so stupid!’ Letitia said scornfully, but then Alex held up his hand.

‘Why do you think that, Serlo?’

‘I saw them,’ the miller said smugly. ‘I saw them together, when they didn’t realise there was anyone about. Athelina too – she was there. It was four or five months ago, just before that last cold spell when the rain started a couple of days after. You remember? Well, I saw them down by the river, walking along the bank. They’d been over to the fields, I think, but then they stopped and sat by the river for a while. He put his arm about her, and—’

‘This is sheer malicious nonsense!’ Letitia burst out. ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’

‘If this is true,’ Alex said, ‘why didn’t you mention it before?’

Serlo gave a half-shrug. ‘What was the point? It wouldn’t do any good, would it?’

‘So why mention it now?’ Alex demanded astutely. ‘There’s a reason, isn’t there?’

‘You heard what Richer accused me of doing,’ Serlo muttered with embarrassment. ‘Taking gifts instead of tolls. I’m sorry about that.’

‘You admit it?’ Alex asked.

‘I did ask for cash from a couple of people, but nothing more than that.’

Alex had stood, and now he towered over Serlo with an expression of such hurt in his eyes that Letty found it hard to watch him.

‘So you lied to me, and then stole from me, Serl? All you had to do was ask, and I’d have helped you. Instead you cheated me.’

‘It wasn’t really like that.’

‘One third of the tolls were for me, but you didn’t take the tolls. That means you stole from me,’ Alex said quietly, and passed a hand over his face, sitting again as though exhausted. ‘Anyway, what is this about? Why mention Lady Anne now?’

‘I thought I could ask her to ensure that Gervase doesn’t press the matter. She wouldn’t want her affair in the open, would she? And I could even charge a higher toll, maybe? If the steward was squared, we could ask what we wanted!’

‘You’ve kept it quiet all this time so you could fleece the travellers?’ Letitia said scathingly. ‘How good.’

‘Which makes me wonder why this has occurred to you now,’ Alex said.

Serlo’s face lengthened. ‘That bastard Richer’s determined to see me suffer, and the men I stopped today, they’ll try to make sure he’s supported in the castle’s court. One of them’s a Keeper, and the other one’s a Bailiff. I don’t stand much hope against them, unless Gervase squashes it.’

‘You could pay Gervase to leave the matter off the court’s rolls. Perhaps it’ll get forgotten. The Keeper and his friend can’t be here for long,’ Alex said ruminatively. His tone was quiet, but Letitia could see his inner tension by the way that his right hand picked at the arm of his chair, while his left cupped his chin. It was a posture she recognised only too clearly.

‘Aye, maybe I’ll try that,’ Serlo said, brightening.

‘But in the meantime,’ Alex said, fixing his brother with a glittering eye, ‘you’ll stop charging people these “gifts”. And you’ll stop making sour comments about Athelina. At least in front of us.’

And the note of suppressed anger in his voice was enough to calm Letitia again. She detested her brother-in-law, but Alex’s words had shown her why she was so happily married to her husband. They were so much in agreement.

She did love him.

Richer put his hands to his face again and pressed hard. His brain felt as though it was about to force its way through his skull, the pressure was so great. Rarely had he suffered from so much pain. He could scarcely comprehend that he had lost his love after dreaming of her for so many years.

The worst loss he had experienced was when his entire family was killed. Yet even that had not hurt him as much as this did. Somehow, losing Athelina was worse because God had given him the renewal of hope, then removed the object of his adoration. It was a terrible, cruel thing to have happened.

She was the same woman he had left fifteen years ago, with the same smile, the same kindly eyes, the same strong, taut figure, if a little bent from work, and if her face bore witness to the trials she had suffered, did that not apply to them all? No, she was his lovely Athelina, the same woman he had left when he learned of his family’s death. And now she was taken from him too. If only he had insisted on helping – rescued her from poverty and that damned miller’s clutches. She and her boys would be alive now.

It was this damned vill. Cardinham was an unwholesome, ungodly place. There was something evil here, that affected him, no one else. If there was any justice, the man suffering like this would be Serlo, or Alexander. Why should he, Richer, be forced to feel this? He’d done nothing to anyone and yet he was given the burden of grief.

Poor Athelina. She’d done nothing either, nor had her boys. Yet they were dead, rotting, ruined.

‘Aw, Christ Jesus, why?’ he howled to the sky.

‘Richer, come,’ Warin said gently. ‘We should go and fetch some food. You need to eat.’

‘Do you really think I’m hungry?’ Richer said, but without anger. He didn’t expect anyone else to comprehend his loss. Least
of all someone like Warin, who had so much. ‘Food would make me puke.’

‘You should try to eat, nonetheless, and if you won’t, you should attend on me, because I am ravenous,’ Warin told him. ‘The best cure for such an anguish is wine, and I should be happy to fetch you a pint of the best.’

Reluctantly Richer allowed himself to be drawn towards the hall. All the way, in front of him, he was sure he could see the shade of Athelina drawing him onwards.

It was a relief to Nicholas that Gervase was nowhere to be seen when he ushered his guests into the hall of the castle. Sad, but there it was.

In his early years here, before he had found his wife, Gervase was his close comrade. Ever since Nicholas had come here, Gervase had been his sole friend and confidant, but since Anne had married him, things had changed and the steward seemed to have withdrawn into himself. Nicholas was forced to consider that he might be jealous of the relationship between himself and Anne. Possibly because Anne was so obviously in love with him.

Whatever the reason, Gervase had become an embarrassment and irritation. He seemed to exude the hurt of a man who had once been a close associate, but who was now spurned … it certainly made Nicholas feel uneasy when he sensed Gervase’s reproachful eyes upon him. Whenever the steward entered the room these days, Nicholas felt uncomfortable. If only the man would leave and find himself a new position with a different lord! All he had done was to marry and be happy, for God’s sake!

He loved Anne. It was so strong, the link between them both, that he felt almost sick with longing when he was away from her. The only time, thank God, he’d had to leave her was when the King had been involved in his spat with the Lords Marcher. Then Nick had left his comfortable existence here and travelled up to
Wales, helping protect the border with a small force against the might of the men who would seek to remove the King from his throne.

Well, nothing much wrong with that, in Nicholas’s view. He’d be perfectly happy to see the King gone, and those appalling thieves the Despensers, so long as the replacement was stronger and safer. Trouble was, the next man was usually worse than the first.

The main thing was, as soon as he returned, his wife proved her adoration for him, and now, as a result, he was confident of a child, a boy who would take his name and reputation onwards.

Christ, but he was proud of his darling wife. Thank God Gervase wasn’t here with his long face and cow-like eyes, spoiling everything.

He almost made Nicholas feel guilty. And what angered him was he had no idea why he should feel that way.

When she was introduced to the two strangers, Lady Anne was struck first by Sir Baldwin’s quick, searching observation of her, and then by his smile. It lit up his whole face.

It was in the hall, early in the evening, while servants set out the table on the dais for them. This was not to be a great banquet, for the household had already taken their food at their accustomed time, a little before noon, but in the presence of such guests Anne had seen to it that there was a good selection of dishes prepared. It was only a shame that they had been so long in coming.

The hall itself was an excellent place to entertain. With the high ceiling of smoke-blackened rafters and thick thatch, it was Anne’s favourite room in the castle. Large enough to squeeze all the vill’s men inside for winter’s celebrations, yet cosy enough with a good fire for a more intimate gathering.

She had set stools and benches about the fire, which was glowing and crackling nicely, throwing light against the walls. A pair of cressets at the wall flickered warmly, and candles of good quality lit the table on the dais. There was a pair of heavy chairs for Nicholas and herself, and opposite them a bench for their guests. They could eat at the table, then relax before the fire. More than adequate, she thought.

‘My lady, I am honoured to meet you.’

‘This is Sir Baldwin de Furnshill,’ Nicholas said. ‘And his companion, Bailiff Simon Puttock.’

She saw the dark-haired knight smile. ‘Hardly my “companion”– Simon is not my servant, he is my oldest friend. We have been
on pilgrimage together to Santiago de Compostela, and are on our way home. It was the merest chance that we happened to be passing here.’

‘But your presence was welcome, especially since you could confirm my suspicions about Athelina’s death.’

‘So far as we could,’ Sir Baldwin sighed.

‘And her poor children,’ said the Bailiff. Simon Puttock looked to Anne as though he had a less firm stomach than the knight. His face was decidedly pale, and she gave him an understanding smile.

‘It must have been a horrible sight. My husband told me a little about it.’

The servants entered, trays laden. This might not be the greatest castle in the land, but the men knew how to present themselves. Each carried the platters high, while all had a large towel draped over their shoulders. Anne began to usher her guests to their places at the table. As she took her own seat, she cast an eye over the dishes, but confessed herself content. Ralph, the cook, had exceeded her expectations.

Sir Baldwin sat and surveyed the dishes with a sober expression, like a man who was interested but not devoted to food; for his part the Bailiff appeared to lose his yellowness, and instead his face took on a ruddy hue. Probably the normal colour for a man who spent much of his time in the saddle, Anne thought. He was a pleasing-looking man, with his regular features, dark hair and pale-grey eyes. When he caught her glance, he grinned. ‘This makes me feel more at home! Real English food.’

‘You missed it on your travels?’

Seeing Nicholas begin to eat, Simon speared a slab of meat with his knife and almost thrust it into his mouth, only hesitating when he realised he should answer. ‘I did. Foreign food is peculiar. It isn’t so hearty as ours. Doesn’t mix well in an English stomach. Down in Galicia, I was ill for weeks. It must have been the food that did it.’

‘You must stay here as long as you like and rebuild your strength, then,’ she said warmly.