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Authors: Margaret Frazer
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was dead.“
‘Where were you the afternoon that he was killed?“
‘Here, visiting my grandmother, from dinnertime until the servants came exclaiming there was a man killed at the nunnery.“
‘And you were seen here during that time?“
‘Neither my grandmother nor her servants being blind, I was certainly seen here, yes.“
There was laughter at that. Ignoring it, Master Christopher said, “Thank you,” and dismissed him.
The questioning of both Master Champyon and Stephen had been a makeweight, Frevisse decided, watching Stephen bow and return up the stairs two at a time. She could see the outward purpose of it—they were the foremost concerned in the matter that had brought Montfort to Goring—but their testimony had done little more than add bulk to the inquest. Why? she wondered. Unless Master Christopher wanted, for some reason, to have on record where they claimed to have been when Montfort was killed.
With a wink for Nichola and a grin at his grandmother, Stephen took his place again, Master Haselden whispering something from his other side that made Stephen force down a smile and Nichola giggle, while below them Master Christopher was asking the jury if they could come to a conclusion based on what they knew by their own seeing and what they had heard here. Obediently, the men twisted around and toward each other on their benches, bringing their heads together. Around the hall a buzz of talk started up, only to fall away a few moments later when the jurors straightened themselves around into their places again and Master Wilton rose from among them to say into the waiting hush, “My lord crowner, from what we know and have here heard, we conclude that Master Morys Montfort, esquire and of this shire, was murdered by someone unknown and at present unknowable.”
It was as safe and unfortunately as fair a conclusion as could be made from what had been presented to them here, unless they wanted to bring accusation against Master Gruesby, the only person known to have been in the garden with Montfort that afternoon and apparently they did not. Master Christopher accepted their conclusion as if he had expected nothing else, thanked the jurors for their service, and formally closed the inquest.
What Frevisse expected then was a great deal of standing about and talking, but several of the crowner’s men moved from their places near the door, one of them going to open it wide, the others beginning to shift the onlookers toward it, skillful as sheepdogs working a herd of sheep. Even Master Champyon and his wife had just time to speak briefly to Mistress Montfort before one of them was beside them, courteously urging them away and Mistress Champyon’s son and daughter with them. They went, Master Champyon and his stepson in immediate talk together and no backward look from either of them or the daughter. Only Mistress Champyon paused to cast a long glare upward to the gallery, at Lady Agnes and Stephen, Frevisse thought, returned in kind by Lady Agnes though Stephen met it with a slight bow from the waist that probably accounted for the increased anger with which Mistress Champyon turned and swept after her family.
‘Ill-bred b—“ Lady Agnes began but broke off with a glance at Frevisse and said instead at Stephen, ”Help me down the stairs, boy. I want to have a word with Mistress Montfort if I may.“
‘My lady,“ Letice put in. ”You’ve been on your feet a long while. Should you maybe lie down before dinner?“
‘I’ve never needed to rest before I ate in my whole life and I’m not starting now,“ Lady Agnes snapped. ”Stephen.“
Her tone left the choice between quarreling or agreeing. Frevisse saw Stephen exchange a look with Master Haselden, who shrugged, holding in a smile, and Stephen said cheerfully, “As you wish, dear Grandmadam.”
He went down the stairs as he had before and turned around to wait while Lady Agnes
‘Where were you the afternoon that he was killed?“
‘Here, visiting my grandmother, from dinnertime until the servants came exclaiming there was a man killed at the nunnery.“
‘And you were seen here during that time?“
‘Neither my grandmother nor her servants being blind, I was certainly seen here, yes.“
There was laughter at that. Ignoring it, Master Christopher said, “Thank you,” and dismissed him.
The questioning of both Master Champyon and Stephen had been a makeweight, Frevisse decided, watching Stephen bow and return up the stairs two at a time. She could see the outward purpose of it—they were the foremost concerned in the matter that had brought Montfort to Goring—but their testimony had done little more than add bulk to the inquest. Why? she wondered. Unless Master Christopher wanted, for some reason, to have on record where they claimed to have been when Montfort was killed.
With a wink for Nichola and a grin at his grandmother, Stephen took his place again, Master Haselden whispering something from his other side that made Stephen force down a smile and Nichola giggle, while below them Master Christopher was asking the jury if they could come to a conclusion based on what they knew by their own seeing and what they had heard here. Obediently, the men twisted around and toward each other on their benches, bringing their heads together. Around the hall a buzz of talk started up, only to fall away a few moments later when the jurors straightened themselves around into their places again and Master Wilton rose from among them to say into the waiting hush, “My lord crowner, from what we know and have here heard, we conclude that Master Morys Montfort, esquire and of this shire, was murdered by someone unknown and at present unknowable.”
It was as safe and unfortunately as fair a conclusion as could be made from what had been presented to them here, unless they wanted to bring accusation against Master Gruesby, the only person known to have been in the garden with Montfort that afternoon and apparently they did not. Master Christopher accepted their conclusion as if he had expected nothing else, thanked the jurors for their service, and formally closed the inquest.
What Frevisse expected then was a great deal of standing about and talking, but several of the crowner’s men moved from their places near the door, one of them going to open it wide, the others beginning to shift the onlookers toward it, skillful as sheepdogs working a herd of sheep. Even Master Champyon and his wife had just time to speak briefly to Mistress Montfort before one of them was beside them, courteously urging them away and Mistress Champyon’s son and daughter with them. They went, Master Champyon and his stepson in immediate talk together and no backward look from either of them or the daughter. Only Mistress Champyon paused to cast a long glare upward to the gallery, at Lady Agnes and Stephen, Frevisse thought, returned in kind by Lady Agnes though Stephen met it with a slight bow from the waist that probably accounted for the increased anger with which Mistress Champyon turned and swept after her family.
‘Ill-bred b—“ Lady Agnes began but broke off with a glance at Frevisse and said instead at Stephen, ”Help me down the stairs, boy. I want to have a word with Mistress Montfort if I may.“
‘My lady,“ Letice put in. ”You’ve been on your feet a long while. Should you maybe lie down before dinner?“
‘I’ve never needed to rest before I ate in my whole life and I’m not starting now,“ Lady Agnes snapped. ”Stephen.“
Her tone left the choice between quarreling or agreeing. Frevisse saw Stephen exchange a look with Master Haselden, who shrugged, holding in a smile, and Stephen said cheerfully, “As you wish, dear Grandmadam.”
He went down the stairs as he had before and turned around to wait while Lady Agnes
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