not buried her. We thought, when we discovered who she was, her family would want to do that.”
“Aye.”
“I have her at my house, in Bampton. Galen House. Will you send someone for her, or would you have me send her with one of Lord Gilbert’s men?”
“Nay. I’ll come for her tomorrow. I can borrow a cart.”
I told the smith where to find Galen House, bid him good day until the morrow, and left him sitting grief-stricken on the sack of coals.
I made my way to Bampton Castle early next morning to report my discovery to Lord Gilbert.
“The broken foot settles the matter, I’d say,” he remarked when I told him the news. I nodded agreement.
“Now you must discover who has done this. And soon. I wish to have this matter cleared before I go to Goodrich for Christmas.”
“I know not where to begin,” I protested.
“You have begun well already. Now you need but to conclude. A job well begun is near done…so wise men say.”
“I sometimes wish wise men would keep their thoughts to themselves,” I muttered.
Lord Gilbert chuckled. “I wish to leave for Goodrich in three weeks, after St Catherine’s Day and the procession. Find the killer in our midst by then, or I must return here on winter roads to do justice when you do find the man.”
Chapter 5
A lard, good as his word, arrived with a horse and crude cart at the sixth hour next day. Together we lifted the box of his daughter’s bones to the bed of the cart. Alard could have done the work alone, but I felt it a last service I could perform for the girl. Surgery is a service for the living. I have no skills to aid the dead. Had I a wish to serve the dead, I might have taken holy orders. But what use was a priest now to Margaret, only child of Alard, the smith? To pray her out of purgatory? What priest would concern himself with a smith’s daughter? If she had not done the work to position herself for heaven, no priest or monk was likely to bother now. A wealthy father might endow a chapel where monks might pray for her soul. Alard the smith could not. So would she remain in purgatory, with no prayers to set her free? Did not our Lord himself say that it was more difficult for a rich man to enter heaven than for a camel to pass through the needle’s eye? Margaret was not rich. Would she then gain her soul’s rest more easily than Lord Gilbert? Lord Gilbert could endow a chantry for himself. Would this propel him past Margaret to the gates of heaven? I puzzled over these thoughts as Alard turned the cart and drove north past St Beornwald’s Church and out of the town.
Lord Gilbert had assigned me my next task. That’s what nobles are best at – assigning work to others. They would say in their defense that someone must organize society. I suppose that is so.
After a midday meal I wandered back to the castle. I had no reason. I did not need to see Lord Gilbert again. I saw no path open to me whereby I might discover a killer, but I look back now and think I must have believed proximity to the place of crime might provide some fresh interpretation. It did, to my chagrin.
My presence in Bampton Castle was so regular that no one paid me any attention as I wandered the castle yard and forecourt. I studied the garderobe tower, as I had done the day I was summoned to inspect the bones, and several times since. The garderobe tower had been added to Bampton Castle as an afterthought, some years after Aymer de Valence, Lord Gilbert’s grandfather, had received permission from King Edward II to fortify his house in Bampton. So the tower stood outside the wall, attached to it. But there was no danger of an enemy battering it down to gain entry to the castle. Its only openings were those inside the tower, at each level of the castle, and the opening outside the tower, at the base, now closed with wooden planks, from which Uctred and his companions were at work when they discovered the bones.
Could one man lift those planks? If so, Margaret’s
“Aye.”
“I have her at my house, in Bampton. Galen House. Will you send someone for her, or would you have me send her with one of Lord Gilbert’s men?”
“Nay. I’ll come for her tomorrow. I can borrow a cart.”
I told the smith where to find Galen House, bid him good day until the morrow, and left him sitting grief-stricken on the sack of coals.
I made my way to Bampton Castle early next morning to report my discovery to Lord Gilbert.
“The broken foot settles the matter, I’d say,” he remarked when I told him the news. I nodded agreement.
“Now you must discover who has done this. And soon. I wish to have this matter cleared before I go to Goodrich for Christmas.”
“I know not where to begin,” I protested.
“You have begun well already. Now you need but to conclude. A job well begun is near done…so wise men say.”
“I sometimes wish wise men would keep their thoughts to themselves,” I muttered.
Lord Gilbert chuckled. “I wish to leave for Goodrich in three weeks, after St Catherine’s Day and the procession. Find the killer in our midst by then, or I must return here on winter roads to do justice when you do find the man.”
Chapter 5
A lard, good as his word, arrived with a horse and crude cart at the sixth hour next day. Together we lifted the box of his daughter’s bones to the bed of the cart. Alard could have done the work alone, but I felt it a last service I could perform for the girl. Surgery is a service for the living. I have no skills to aid the dead. Had I a wish to serve the dead, I might have taken holy orders. But what use was a priest now to Margaret, only child of Alard, the smith? To pray her out of purgatory? What priest would concern himself with a smith’s daughter? If she had not done the work to position herself for heaven, no priest or monk was likely to bother now. A wealthy father might endow a chapel where monks might pray for her soul. Alard the smith could not. So would she remain in purgatory, with no prayers to set her free? Did not our Lord himself say that it was more difficult for a rich man to enter heaven than for a camel to pass through the needle’s eye? Margaret was not rich. Would she then gain her soul’s rest more easily than Lord Gilbert? Lord Gilbert could endow a chantry for himself. Would this propel him past Margaret to the gates of heaven? I puzzled over these thoughts as Alard turned the cart and drove north past St Beornwald’s Church and out of the town.
Lord Gilbert had assigned me my next task. That’s what nobles are best at – assigning work to others. They would say in their defense that someone must organize society. I suppose that is so.
After a midday meal I wandered back to the castle. I had no reason. I did not need to see Lord Gilbert again. I saw no path open to me whereby I might discover a killer, but I look back now and think I must have believed proximity to the place of crime might provide some fresh interpretation. It did, to my chagrin.
My presence in Bampton Castle was so regular that no one paid me any attention as I wandered the castle yard and forecourt. I studied the garderobe tower, as I had done the day I was summoned to inspect the bones, and several times since. The garderobe tower had been added to Bampton Castle as an afterthought, some years after Aymer de Valence, Lord Gilbert’s grandfather, had received permission from King Edward II to fortify his house in Bampton. So the tower stood outside the wall, attached to it. But there was no danger of an enemy battering it down to gain entry to the castle. Its only openings were those inside the tower, at each level of the castle, and the opening outside the tower, at the base, now closed with wooden planks, from which Uctred and his companions were at work when they discovered the bones.
Could one man lift those planks? If so, Margaret’s
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