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asked, to find if someone remembered whether or not Adirton had gone near Barnsley’s body this morning. In the meanwhile...
Frevisse turned back to Master Richard. “Were you able to learn anything toward who gave Tom Kelmstowe away to the reeve about that land?”
Master Richard must have been aching to tell her that; his effort at dignity showed the strain as he answered quickly, “Most I asked didn’t know. The two that said they did said it was him.” He gave a sharp jerk of his head at Adirton. “That he slipped word to Barnsley about it on the sly, like.”
Master Richard had grown up here, around the nuns all of his life, and when he was eager over something he sometimes forgot propriety. A nudge of his father’s elbow to his ribs reminded him to add, “my lady.” It was lost under Adirton saying strongly, “I have enemies.” He added, likely thinking it was for good measure but unfortunately not thinking it through, “Women talk.”
Frevisse fixed her look on him. “They do,” she agreed.
Across the hall Dame Claire had been standing in the doorway to Anneys Barnsley’s room these past few moments. Now Frevisse looked toward her. Dame Claire nodded and Frevisse nodded back, then said, “Master Naylor, if you’ll bring him this way, please. Anneys Barnsley is better enough to see him.”
She noted that Master Naylor’s grip on Adirton’s arm was needed to set him moving, and when Adirton showed unwilling to follow Frevisse into the small chamber, it was Master Naylor’s strong pull that brought him through the doorway, while Simon Perryn and the other villager kept close behind him, blocking even slight retreat.
At this sudden filling of the room with people, Anneys Barnsley turned her head on the pillow and stared among them, befuddled at first until her gaze caught on Adirton. With a whimpering cry, she rolled to her side and a little up on one elbow, to hold out her other hand to him as she exclaimed, the words still thick with the leavings of the drug, “Oh, John! It didn’t keep him safe! You said it would but it didn’t !”
Frevisse instantly moved between her and Adirton, asking, “What didn’t keep your husband safe, mistress? Something you did?” Anneys Barnsley blinked up at her, confused, and Frevisse urged, “Something Adirton said you should do?”
“Aye. That.” The woman’s blurred thoughts caught up to what she was being asked. She let her hand fall to the bed while she peered up at Frevisse. Fumbling, pulling the words almost singly from her befuddled mind, she said, “Say Tom tried to have me. So he’d run off then. Not be here to hurt my Henry. He’d be gone, see. It frighted me how he was so angry at Henry. John said I should do it. To make him go away.”
Behind Frevisse, Adirton said in an awed voice, “Her wits are altogether gone. Seeing her man dead has turned them all the way over.”
Not seeming to have heard him at all, Anneys Barnsley whimpered, “But he came back,” and dropped to the pillow again. Beginning to weep softly, she said at the ceiling beams, “John said he wouldn’t come back. But he did. Now he’s killed my Henry. Killed him dead.”
As her weeping turned to a low wail on those last words, Adirton turned to Master Naylor and the other men and demanded, “You hear her, right enough? She knows it was Tom Kelmstowe did it. Who else but him?”
“Who else but Kelmstowe is just the question we’ve been asking half the day,” said Frevisse said, moving aside as she spoke, out from between Anneys Barnsley and Adirton.
The woman, her heed drawn by the movement, returned her tear-blurred gaze to Adirton. “You said,” she pleaded. “You said if I lied it would keep him safe. That you’d keep him safe. Why didn’t you?”
“For the same reason he killed his wife,” Frevisse said.
All the men except Master Naylor startled at that.
Frevisse turned back to Master Richard. “Were you able to learn anything toward who gave Tom Kelmstowe away to the reeve about that land?”
Master Richard must have been aching to tell her that; his effort at dignity showed the strain as he answered quickly, “Most I asked didn’t know. The two that said they did said it was him.” He gave a sharp jerk of his head at Adirton. “That he slipped word to Barnsley about it on the sly, like.”
Master Richard had grown up here, around the nuns all of his life, and when he was eager over something he sometimes forgot propriety. A nudge of his father’s elbow to his ribs reminded him to add, “my lady.” It was lost under Adirton saying strongly, “I have enemies.” He added, likely thinking it was for good measure but unfortunately not thinking it through, “Women talk.”
Frevisse fixed her look on him. “They do,” she agreed.
Across the hall Dame Claire had been standing in the doorway to Anneys Barnsley’s room these past few moments. Now Frevisse looked toward her. Dame Claire nodded and Frevisse nodded back, then said, “Master Naylor, if you’ll bring him this way, please. Anneys Barnsley is better enough to see him.”
She noted that Master Naylor’s grip on Adirton’s arm was needed to set him moving, and when Adirton showed unwilling to follow Frevisse into the small chamber, it was Master Naylor’s strong pull that brought him through the doorway, while Simon Perryn and the other villager kept close behind him, blocking even slight retreat.
At this sudden filling of the room with people, Anneys Barnsley turned her head on the pillow and stared among them, befuddled at first until her gaze caught on Adirton. With a whimpering cry, she rolled to her side and a little up on one elbow, to hold out her other hand to him as she exclaimed, the words still thick with the leavings of the drug, “Oh, John! It didn’t keep him safe! You said it would but it didn’t !”
Frevisse instantly moved between her and Adirton, asking, “What didn’t keep your husband safe, mistress? Something you did?” Anneys Barnsley blinked up at her, confused, and Frevisse urged, “Something Adirton said you should do?”
“Aye. That.” The woman’s blurred thoughts caught up to what she was being asked. She let her hand fall to the bed while she peered up at Frevisse. Fumbling, pulling the words almost singly from her befuddled mind, she said, “Say Tom tried to have me. So he’d run off then. Not be here to hurt my Henry. He’d be gone, see. It frighted me how he was so angry at Henry. John said I should do it. To make him go away.”
Behind Frevisse, Adirton said in an awed voice, “Her wits are altogether gone. Seeing her man dead has turned them all the way over.”
Not seeming to have heard him at all, Anneys Barnsley whimpered, “But he came back,” and dropped to the pillow again. Beginning to weep softly, she said at the ceiling beams, “John said he wouldn’t come back. But he did. Now he’s killed my Henry. Killed him dead.”
As her weeping turned to a low wail on those last words, Adirton turned to Master Naylor and the other men and demanded, “You hear her, right enough? She knows it was Tom Kelmstowe did it. Who else but him?”
“Who else but Kelmstowe is just the question we’ve been asking half the day,” said Frevisse said, moving aside as she spoke, out from between Anneys Barnsley and Adirton.
The woman, her heed drawn by the movement, returned her tear-blurred gaze to Adirton. “You said,” she pleaded. “You said if I lied it would keep him safe. That you’d keep him safe. Why didn’t you?”
“For the same reason he killed his wife,” Frevisse said.
All the men except Master Naylor startled at that.
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