‘My God,’ breathed Tuddenham. ‘There is my poor Isilia’s piece of satin. I wondered why Deblunville wanted that.’
‘Who is she?’ asked Bartholomew, unable to tear his eyes away from her.
A clatter to one side made him jump. Hamon had dropped his sword, and was standing open mouthed as he stared at the woman on the earthwork.
‘It is my Janelle!’ he cried in anguish. ‘Deblunville has taken her hostage!’
Tuddenham’s little army, Bartholomew and Michael all continued to stare at the small figure standing on the earthen bank. Hamon took several steps forward, as though he would race up and snatch her away, but an arrow snapped into the grass to one side of him and he faltered, standing helplessly with his hands dangling at his sides. Tuddenham and Grosnold were shocked into silence, while Walter Wauncy’s expression was unreadable.
‘Janelle!’ cried Hamon in despair. ‘Has Deblunville harmed you? I will kill him if he has!’
‘Of course he has not harmed me!’ she snapped. ‘I am carrying his child! Why should he want to harm me?’
In Bartholomew’s experience as a physician, a woman carrying a child was not necessarily cause for a man to celebrate, and he had attended several patients where prospective fathers had decided to prevent an unwanted birth by attempting to dispatch the mother.
Janelle ignored Hamon and addressed Michael, whose distinctive habit marked him as a Benedictine monk. ‘Please forgive our wariness, Brother, but not all visits from Grundisburgh and Otley over the past two years have been friendly.’
‘Watch your tongue, Janelle!’ said Tuddenham sternly. ‘And what are you doing here anyway? Have you been abducted? Do not worry, we will soon have you safely home.’
‘Of course I have not been abducted,’ said Janelle scornfully. ‘I came here of my own free will. Roland Deblunville and I were married yesterday in St Botolph’s, just after dawn. Did you not notice the wild flowers around the church door?’
‘No!’ cried Hamon in horror. ‘You cannot have done!’
‘That is preposterous!’ exploded Tuddenham. ‘You have no right to wander off and marry the first man you encounter. What will your father say?’
‘Ask him,’ said Janelle defiantly. ‘He is here, in the house. He attended our wedding, and is delighted that hostilities between his manor and Roland’s are finally at an end. Now we can devote our energies to something more meaningful than perpetuating silly squabbles – such as making our farms more profitable.’
‘No wonder Bardolf did not answer our summons and all his villagers were drunk,’ muttered Grosnold. ‘The man was busy marrying off his only daughter to the greatest scoundrel in Suffolk.’
‘Perhaps this is not such a terrible thing,’ suggested Wauncy carefully. ‘At least the child will be born in wedlock.’
‘Of course it is a terrible thing!’ shouted Tuddenham. ‘And never mind the wretched brat! What about us? What will Hamon do when Deblunville inherits Clopton from Bardolf and becomes the most powerful landowner north of Ipswich?’
‘Hamon will have your two manors,’ snapped Grosnold, pulling off his heavy black helmet to reveal a head crisscrossed with red marks where it had rubbed. ‘It is I who will be vulnerable. My cattle will never be safe now!’
‘No self-interest here, Matt,’ whispered Michael to Bartholomew. ‘At least our colleagues at the University are a little more subtle in their ambitions and desires.’
‘Janelle!’ yelled Hamon heartbrokenly. ‘What have you done?’
‘Well, I do not believe you married Deblunville!’ yelled Grosnold to Janelle after a moment’s reflection. ‘You are just making mischief. Your father would never betray us in so foul a fashion.’
‘And why should allowing his daughter to marry the man she loves be an act of betrayal?’ demanded Janelle. ‘It is my business who I marry, not yours. You had no right to attempt to prevent it in Lent, and you have no right to claim you have been betrayed now. It is none of your affair!’
‘Your father has been cruelly misled!’ shouted Tuddenham. ‘He has been misguided by that beast who seduced you. I will talk to him and we will have this marriage annulled. These Michaelhouse men are scholars – they will find a way to put an end to this vile union.’
‘We do not have the authority to meddle with that sort of thing,’ said Bartholomew in alarm, afraid that Michael might agree to help for the sake of the advowson.
‘My colleague is correct,’ said Michael, to Bartholomew’s relief. ‘You will need to apply to a bishop for that.’
‘We will apply, then,’ determined Grosnold, ramming his helmet on his head again. ‘I will show Deblunville that we mean business. I will not have my neighbours’ women married off with gay abandon.’
‘We should ascertain that Deblunville is still alive first,’ said Wauncy thoughtfully. ‘Janelle was married at dawn yesterday, but the scholars claim they saw a man wearing Deblunville’s dagger hanging on the gibbet by mid-morning. She may already be a widow.’
Hamon’s eyes lit with sudden hope, and Grosnold nodded keenly.
‘Perhaps you will allow us to question this lady,’ said Michael, sensing that if Deblunville was still alive he might not stay that way long, given his neighbours’ reaction to his choice of bride. ‘She can harbour no ill-feelings towards a harmless Benedictine monk.’
‘Then you do not know her,’ said Grosnold with feeling. ‘That is no lady, that is a vixen!’
‘She is an angel,’ whispered Hamon, gazing across at her. ‘And Deblunville has poisoned her innocent mind.’
Grosnold gave a snort of derisive laughter. ‘Lust has made you blind, Hamon. She has never possessed an innocent mind!’
Hamon stepped towards him threateningly, but Tuddenham pushed his nephew away. The young knight was strong enough to have taken exception to this rough treatment, but he yielded to his uncle’s stern glare, and stalked away to stand sulkily with the archers. Grosnold clicked his tongue, and shook his head in disapproval at Hamon’s behaviour.
‘May I offer you my congratulations, madam?’ called Michael. ‘Please accept the prayers of a humble monk for a happy and fecund union.’
‘It is already fecund,’ muttered Tuddenham. ‘That was the problem.’
‘I would like to speak to your husband,’ Michael continued. ‘Is that possible?’
‘Why?’ demanded Janelle. ‘So that Hamon’s archers can shoot him down in cold blood as soon as he makes an appearance? I do not think so!’
‘Madam!’ said Michael, sounding suitably shocked. ‘I am a man of God and abhor violence. I came here only so that I could be assured of your husband’s safety.’
‘And how do I know I can trust you?’ she demanded. ‘You have come to Grundisburgh solely to see what you can inveigle out of Tuddenham for your College.’
Bartholomew looked down at his feet so no one would see him smiling. She was astute, and would not easily become a victim of Michael’s smooth charm.
‘Hardly inveigle, madam,’ said Michael, offended. ‘I am here on God’s business, not my own. I do not know your husband, so cannot wish him harm. I desire only a few moments of his time.’