Read Online The Clerk’s Tale by Margaret Frazer - Free Book Online Page A

“No one says they saw anyone anywhere near there through the midpart of that day.”
     
    He sat down again without being bidden. Master Christopher nodded thanks to him, then nodded to his clerk, who had been waiting and now straightened in his place to declare to the hall, “Master James Champyon is called before the court.”
     
    The man on the forward bench rose from beside his wife, took a pace forward, ignoring the rustle of people shifting and craning to have better view of him, and announced firmly, “Here, sir.”
     
    ‘And be damned to you,“ Lady Agnes said under her breath. Nichola twitched with a suppressed laugh.
     
    Master Christopher’s questioning of him was brief and to the point, neither man seeming to expect much of it. He affirmed that he was indeed Master James Champyon, esquire of Henley-on-Thames, and that he was presently husband of Cecily Bower, widow of Rowland Englefield and sister of the late Rose, who had been wife of the late Sir Henry Lengley, knight. No, he and his wife did not live in Goring but were come, with her grown children by her first husband—here he somewhat turned and made a small nod at the younger man and woman beside his wife—in the matter of his wife’s manor of Reckling…
     
    ‘His wife’s manor?“ Lady Agnes hissed under her breath. ”I think
not.“
     
    ‘… presently in dispute,“ Master Champyon rolled on, ”after the death of my wife’s sister’s son, Sir Henry Lengley’s heir, Henry Lengley the younger.“
     
    ‘Tedious bastard,“ Lady Agnes muttered.
     
    Stephen leaned behind Nichola to whisper with smothered laughter, “Grandmother, no. It’s me, not him, who’s supposed to be the bastard.”
     
    Lady Agnes made an angry noise at him, while below them Master Christopher asked, “This is the matter that the escheator Master Montfort was here to deal with?”
     
    ‘It is,“ Master Champyon agreed.
     
    ‘But no decision had yet been reached?“
     
    ‘No. He had only come to town the day before his death.“
     
    ‘Did you see him the day of his death?“
     
    ‘I saw him in the morning, at the inn where my wife and I are presently staying. The Swan in High Street.“
     
    ‘Did you see him in the afternoon of that day?“
     
    ‘No, sir. I spent the day at the inn with my wife and never went out.“
     
    ‘And were seen there by various servants and other folk, I suppose?“
     
    ‘Yes.“
     
    ‘Thank you. Pray, be seated. Clerk.“
     
    Frevisse saw Master Gruesby’s head twitch to attention before he must have realized he was not being summoned. It was Master Christopher’s clerk, as Master Champyon took his seat again, who declared, “Master Stephen Lengley is called before the court,” and looked around and up.
     
    So did everyone else in the hall, and Stephen calmly moved to the head of the stairs, made a slight bow toward the clerk or maybe the onlookers in general, then leaned forward, grasped the rope railings on either side of the steps, and in a single, long movement, swung himself out and down, to land gracefully and a small flourish at the stairfoot. A ripple just short of open clapping ran through the onlookers while Stephen, seeming to notice nothing, strolled around to the front of the table, bowed deeply to Master Christopher, and said, “Here, sir.”
     
    ‘Yes,“ Master Christopher observed flatly. ”Thank you,“ and set to questioning him much as he had done Master Champyon, with Stephen’s answers coming as readily as Master Champyon’s had. He affirmed he was indeed Stephen Lengley, younger son of Sir Henry Lengley, knight, resident here in Goring, and, yes, he was on the opposite side from Master Champyon in the dispute over this manor of Reckling but, no, he had not seen Master Montfort the day of his death. ”He questioned both Master Champyon and me the day before and told us he would summon us again when he’d found out more. That was the last I saw or knew of him until after he