The Merchant's Daughter

  Her lip trembled, and she bit it to make it stop. “I am almost certain of it.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be angry with you, even if you tell them everything.”

  “Oh, Stephen. Please forgive me … if I do.”

  “I will.”

  “I will do my best. I promise.” Tears stung her eyelids as she tried not to think about what might happen to Stephen. “I have to go.” Not wanting people to see her and Stephen together, she turned and fled back to Mistress Eustacia, plastering herself against her mistress’s side.

  Ranulf caught sight of Sir Clement standing by the corner of the manor house and started toward him, but Sir Clement was intent on watching two people several feet away — Annabel and Stephen.

  Annabel looked pale and distressed. But Sir Clement’s eyes were trained on Stephen, his head cocked as though listening intently. Annabel ran away, eliciting a grim expression from the young woodworker. However, Ranulf was interested in Sir Clement’s expression. His brows had pulled together to form a V between his eyes, and his mouth was slightly ajar.

  When Sir Clement turned his gaze on Ranulf, the coroner hurried over to him. “Ranulf, who is that man yonder with the impaired legs?”

  “That is Stephen Blundel, a furniture maker and woodworker.”

  “Call him over here, and the maiden Annabel.”

  Ranulf hadn’t obeyed anyone since his father died. But he had little choice now.

  “Stephen.” Ranulf beckoned with his hand then strode to where Annabel stood with Eustacia.

  “Annabel.” He spoke her name softly, but still she started and turned. “Come with me for a moment. Sir Clement wants to speak with you and Stephen.”

  Her cheeks were already devoid of their usual color, but she lifted her chin and followed. She must have known as well as he did that she had no choice.

  Stephen’s face was almost as pale as Annabel’s. Like sheep to the slaughter.

  Sir Clement focused on Stephen’s face. “Do you know who I am?”

  “You are the king’s coroner.”

  “And you must answer me truthfully. Where were you the night the bailiff was struck in the head, rendering him senseless to this day?”

  “I was here.”

  “Did you see what happened to him?”

  Stephen stood still and silent. Even his eyes didn’t blink.

  “Did you strike him?”

  “I was trying to protect Annabel. I wasn’t trying to kill him. That is all.”

  “What did you hit him with?”

  “He was holding a knife and was trying to hurt an innocent maiden.” Defiance mixed with the fear in his eyes.

  Stephen shifted his weight awkwardly, placing his hip at an abnormal angle that drew the coroner’s notice.

  Sir Clement’s lips parted, obviously deep in thought. His voice was somehow softer when he resumed. “You were protecting Annabel?”

  Stephen didn’t reply. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

  “Yes.” Sir Clement answered his own question then rubbed his palm over his cheek and chin. He stared in the direction of the circle of jurors across the yard, but his eyes were vacant.

  Shouts came from the direction of the lane that led to the village. Adam came running into the yard, panting and out of breath, with his father rather far behind him, also running.

  “Bailiff Tom is awake!”

  Several people exclaimed, “What?”

  “He’s awake,” Adam repeated. “My father sent me to fetch the coroner.”

  Annabel looked at Lord le Wyse. He gave her a grim smile and a nod. While she still appeared fragile, a new strength seemed to enter her as she returned his smile.

  Tom was alive. And awake. I’m glad he’s survived, God. I pray he will repent of his evil ways. But what would this mean for Annabel? Would he say that Stephen threw the rock, that Stephen tried to kill him? No doubt Annabel would be forced to tell what the bailiff had done, and had been planning to do, to her.

  But at least Stephen wouldn’t be hanged for the bailiff’s death.

  Ranulf hurried down the road, with Sir Clement close behind him. He was well aware that the entire village, which had turned out for the jury’s inquisition, was following close on his heels.

  When they arrived at Joan Smith’s house, Sir Clement demanded that the rest of the village go back to the manor, but he allowed Ranulf to go inside with him. They found the bailiff in a half-sitting position, eating some oat and pea pottage that his sister, Joan, was feeding him. He looked very weak, his head propped up with blankets and a pillow.

  “Good morning, Bailiff Tom,” Ranulf greeted him, fighting to keep the disdain from his voice.

  The bailiff stared blankly back at him and swallowed a mouthful of pottage.

  “Tom, this is Sir Clement, the king’s coroner.”

  The bailiff stared at him as well.

  “Tom? Can you hear me?”

  “Aye, I can hear you,” he said weakly.

  His sister shook her head as she looked up at them. “He don’t know you, don’t know me, don’t know anybody.”

  Better and better.

  Sir Clement stepped toward the bailiff. “I wonder if you could tell me how you got that wound?” Sir Clement pointed to the front of Bailiff Tom’s head.

  The bailiff slowly raised his hand to his head, feeling gingerly at the bump that had receded so much as to be barely visible. “No, I don’t know.”

  “What is your name?” the coroner asked.

  The bailiff opened his mouth, but his eyes went blank as he stared past the two men. Finally, he said, “I can’t remember.”

  Sir Clement stepped back. “That’s all right.” He nodded at Joan. “Thank you. We won’t need to ask any more questions. Good day.”

  They left the house and walked slowly. Several villagers looked at them, obviously wanting to know what happened and what the bailiff had said to them.

  What would happen now? Ranulf wondered just as much as the villagers. But Sir Clement was silent all the way back to the manor house courtyard.

  Annabel didn’t have to wait long for the coroner and Lord le Wyse to return. When they arrived, the jurors went back to their places on their stools, and the clerk sat back down and took up his quill.

  Sir Clement stood in their midst. When everyone was perfectly quiet and every eye was on him, the coroner announced, “Praise be to God, who orders all our days, Bailiff Tom atte Water is awake and recovering from his injury. I’ve just spoken with him, and he is speaking as clearly as I am speaking to you now.”

  A cheer went up — a rather half-hearted cheer, as many had already heard this news and were more interested in how the inquest would proceed.

  “I am sure we all want to thank the hundred bailiff for coming and assembling this special jury to inquire into the suspicious circumstances surrounding the bailiff’s serious injury. And we want to thank the jurors who were willing to come and do their duty to their fellow man. However …”

  What had Bailiff Tom told him?

  Everyone, Annabel included, seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the coroner to continue.

  “Bailiff Tom, we all hope, shall recover from this injury. When he grows stronger, we pray he remembers all that happened.”

  Does he not remember?

  “And when he remembers, you may either summon me to return, at which time the hundred bailiff and jury may be reassembled, or you may assess this matter in your own manorial court with your own jury, as you please, since this is not a death inquest.” The hundred bailiff nodded around the circle at the gathered assembly. “Good day to you all.”

  With that, Sir Clement turned and strode away.

  As he came near to where Stephen stood, he nodded to him, and as he passed Annabel he nodded to her as well. He headed up the manor house steps, Annabel supposed, to collect his things.

  So, Sir Clement intended to conceal the fact that Stephen was the attacker and that Bailiff Tom had been trying to
assault Annabel. He wouldn’t force Stephen and Annabel to tell what happened after all.

  He chose mercy instead of justice.

  Thank you, God.

  Annabel closed her mouth and looked at Lord le Wyse for confirmation. He simply stared back, the lines in his forehead relaxing and his jaw going slack.

  Relief flooded her body, buckling her knees. She held on to Mistress Eustacia’s arm to steady herself. She wanted to go to Stephen and hug him, but instead she smiled across the way at him. He simply lifted his brows, as relieved as she was, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

  But their relief might only be temporary. The bailiff could regain his memory, as Sir Clement had implied, and when he did, he might accuse both Stephen and Annabel of trying to kill him — his word against theirs. But at least there was no threat of Stephen being hung.

  Lord Le Wyse gave her a whisper of a smile.

  As Annabel began to relax, Maud rushed to the middle of the disintegrating circle. “What of the teeth marks on my father’s hand?” Her brows were lowered in a fierce scowl, and she directed her question to the members of the jury, turning her body to look each person in the face.

  Sir Clement stopped at the top of the manor house steps and turned to listen.

  “Teeth marks don’t appear by accident,” Maud continued, her cheeks red. “And the knife in his hand? What of that?”

  The other jury members squinted, looked away thoughtfully, or nodded.

  “Someone tried to kill my father. What do you say to that, Sir Clement? You are the king’s coroner. Shouldn’t you investigate?”

  Annabel’s stomach sank.

  Sir Clement shrugged and gestured with his hand, his eyelids half closed as though Maud’s outburst concerned him not at all. “As I clearly said, when your father is stronger, and remembers what happened, your jury may question any and all that you wish.”

  “No. The inquest jury is here. Why should we wait? My father may never remember what happened.”

  A murmur of approval went around the circle.

  Sir Clement hesitated then nodded to the hundred bailiff. “There is your hundred bailiff. Let him decide.”

  The crowd began to reassemble into a tighter circle, suddenly attentive and murmuring approval.

  “I agree with this young woman,” the hundred bailiff said. “Let the jury question those they wish to question.”

  The jury foreman stood. He cleared his throat, and when the assembly had grown quiet again, he said, “The first person we wish to question is the bailiff’s daughter, as she claims to have information to offer. Maud atte Water, come forward.”

  The crowd turned as Maud made her way through the press of people. Her lips were pursed together, barely able to cover her prominent top teeth, and her eyes glinted with malice. Maud moved to the middle of the circle as if she were on stage.

  “Maud, who do you think tried to kill your father?” the jury foreman asked in his loud voice.

  Sir Clement interrupted from the manor house steps. “This is not the time to speculate about who, if anyone, tried to kill the bailiff. You may question Maud about where she was the night of the bailiff’s death or about what she saw. Nothing more.”

  The jury foreman gave a slight bow to the coroner. “Maud, did you see anything the night of the bailiff’s death?”

  “I saw him” — she pointed a finger at Lord le Wyse — “coming out of the woods behind the manor house.”

  Chapter

  18

  The murmuring and whispering rose to a high pitch.

  “He knew my father would protest him seducing me and then refusing to marry me.”

  Loud gasps and cries arose with this declaration. Annabel’s face burned and her stomach turned. Lord le Wyse and Maud? The mere thought made her want to retch. But no, he would never do such a thing. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it.

  In a clear but monotone voice, Lord le Wyse replied, “That is a lie.” His face turned pale, but there was no other outward reaction from him. He remained expressionless, his eye unblinking.

  For her to tell such a lie, and in front of the entire village! A fire burned inside Annabel as she glared at Maud.

  A rumble of thunder, as if triggered by Maud’s expression, vibrated Annabel’s breastbone. The crowd lifted their eyes to study the clouds.

  Neither the jury foreman nor Maud reacted to the noise or the coming storm.

  The foreman continued with his questions. “Did you see the knife the bailiff had in his hand when he was found?”

  “Aye.”

  “Had you ever seen the knife before?”

  “Nay. It wasn’t my father’s.”

  Annabel’s insides turned cold.

  Sir Clement came closer and joined the hundred bailiff standing near the jury. The coroner absently chewed a length of straw. He drew it out of his mouth and proclaimed, “You have yet to establish that the bailiff was attacked or that any foul play was involved. This jury needs to be about the business of finding facts. Maud atte Water, do you have any facts to offer?”

  Maud’s tiny black eyes stared back at the coroner defiantly. Her hands were drawn up into fists at her side. “Someone tried to kill my father.” She stepped in Sir Clement’s direction and screamed, “I have nothing else to say!” A vein stood out, red and bulging, in her neck. She spun around and stalked away on stiff legs.

  The foreman then announced, “The jury now wishes to summon the one who discovered the bailiff’s body. The jury wishes to question Lord Ranulf le Wyse.”

  Annabel’s gaze flicked to Lord le Wyse, but his face was unreadable. O God, please be with him. Don’t let him take the blame.

  Lord le Wyse stood before them all, looking both stoic and calm.

  The foreman looked a bit nervous and cleared his throat, his shoulders rounding a bit as he faced the lord of the demesne.

  Lord Le Wyse’s dark brown hair was skillfully cut and combed into place, though his black eye patch gave him a look of danger. His beard was, as always, neatly trimmed, and he wore his finest silk doublet — sapphire blue with gold embroidery — along with a purple velvet robe with an intricate border along the hem, fastened at his right shoulder with a jeweled pin. He would have been welcome anywhere in that attire. Anywhere except, perhaps, here.

  In stark contrast, the jury foreman, as well as the other members of the jury, wore the typical dress of the villagers. The foreman’s dull-brown hood hung down his back, its folds draped around his neck and shoulders. His hay-colored hair was stiff and in need of a scrubbing, but his brown tunic was clean. It hung down to his knees over his dull earth-colored hose, and was cinched with a belt at his waist.

  The foreman cleared his throat again, looked down at the ground, then finally raised his eyes to meet Lord le Wyse’s. “Did my lord find the body of our bailiff in the woods?”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “And was my lord the first to discover him?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Had you heard the bailiff set up the hue and cry?”

  “No.”

  “Then how came you to be in the woods at that time of evening?”

  “I was on the path to the men’s privy. You do know that some people use the privy?”

  This drew several chuckles from the crowd.

  The foreman didn’t even smile. “Did you find anyone there with the body?”

  “No.”

  Maud cried out from the inside edge of the circle of spectators. “Did you kill my father?”

  “I did not.”

  Turmoil erupted as the hundred bailiff and Sir Clement said, at the same time, “Girl, you may not speak.”

  “You are out of order, young woman,” the hundred bailiff said.

  Maud ignored him, never taking her eyes off Lord le Wyse. “Then how came my father to lie on the ground with a knife in his hand and teeth marks upon him?”

  “I have no explanation to offer.”

  “My father was in pe
rfect health!” Maud screamed even as two men grasped her arms and tried to remove her from the gathering. She broke free from the men’s hold and spun away from Lord le Wyse to look at the jurors. “Now my father doesn’t even know who he is! Since this man came to our village we have had nothing but bad fortune. There is a curse upon us! A drought has ruined most of our gardens and pastures. Fire destroyed our grain crop!” She pointed at Lord le Wyse. “This man has brought this curse upon us. I charge you, look upon him! See that he is accursed!”

  Annabel cried out in distress, but she was hardly heard above the muffled exclamations of the crowd. How dare Maud say such things? She clutched her hand over her mouth as she stared at Lord le Wyse, almost expecting to see him laid open and bleeding from such a violent, unfair assault. Her only thought was to go to him and shield him, defend him and lash out at this ludicrous attack. She stepped forward.

  “Nay, Annabel. You mustn’t.” Stephen caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

  She shook off Stephen’s hand and crossed her arms, her eyes fastened on her lord’s face.

  Gradually the crowd quieted, and the hundred bailiff spoke quite loudly. “Jury, you are to assess a fine to this woman for this disturbance.”

  Maud allowed herself to be taken outside the inner circle of the court without further struggle while the jury conferred about her fine.

  In a few moments, the jury foreman said, “For contempt of the court, the jury fines Maud atte Water fifteen pence.”

  The hundred bailiff then addressed Lord le Wyse. “Would you like to respond to the accusations?”

  From between clenched teeth, Lord le Wyse ground out, “Superstition shows ignorance. I neither caused nor could I have prevented any of those events. It’s her spite that drives her to cast suspicion on me. And I may be accursed, but at least I don’t tell lies under oath.”

  Annabel wanted to cheer. The crowd around her mumbled and whispered to each other.

  Maud’s cheeks turned fiery red.

  The jury seemed to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened as they called two other people forward and questioned them, but neither had any new information to share.