‘Good idea. I can’t have the monks looking after her. That wouldn’t do at all.’
They carried Agnes round to the little hermit’s cell, which had been built on the southern side of the priory. It was a small stone room, with a window cut into the wall of the Priory for the occupant to see Mass being celebrated on the high altar. It had been occupied for twenty years when the last occupant had died, but the bed was still firm and dry and there was a comfortable chair. Jane said she’d fetch some bed clothes and a rug for the floor. They laid Agnes down on the bed and Nicholas covered her with his cloak. She was still unconscious. They left her and went out, locking the door. Jane put the key in her pocket.
‘Thank you, Prior,’ she said. ‘I wish everyone was as charitable as you.’
‘I hate victimisation of innocent people,’ he said. ‘She’ll be safe there as long as I’m head of this house.’
* * *
The Prior went off to his bed. Nicholas turned to Jane. ‘You were right, Jane, as usual. I only wish I’d paid more attention to you before. Agnes knows something. Somebody wants rid of her, that’s for sure. When she wakes up, see if she can remember the names of anyone who’s been to see her recently. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t think they’re of any importance. We might think differently. Now I must go back to her house and see that the fire is put out. I’ve sent for the Sheriff and asked Geoffrey to keep hold of anyone who refused to co-operate in putting out the fire. Tomorrow, the Sheriff will start an investigation. Have you got any ideas yet about who killed her cat?’
‘So you’ve already heard?’
‘Geoffrey told me.’
‘It was awful, Nicholas. They strung him up on a tree and hung an obscene notice round his neck. I’ve been to see two people today; one, the mother of the baby who died; she might have had it in for Agnes. The other was the churchwarden, who knows most things in the parish and can read and write. You see, whoever killed Ambrose knew how to write. But one thing’s certain, Edgar Pierrepoint would never kill anybody’s cat, not if it belonged to the devil himself, and Abigail had nothing but good to say about Agnes. Also, none of her family can read or write. However, Pierrepoint said he’d go down to the ale-house and talk to the regulars to see if they know anything. But at least Agnes is safe here. No one’s going to burn down the Priory to get at her.’
He stared at her in admiration. ‘Jane, what would I do without you? Local knowledge is vital if we’re to fit all the pieces together. I go dashing round the county to talk to the Sheriffs and Southamptons of this world and you stay here and fill in the details. I always knew we’d make a wonderful team. Come and report to me tomorrow. Usual place. After your father’s midday meal. Now I must be off to Agnes’s house and see that it’s made secure. We don’t want thieves in to make the situation worse. Tomorrow I shall see the Sheriff. Jane, dear Jane, sleep well.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘This is a pretty kettle of fish you’ve got landed with, Lord Nicholas,’ said Sheriff Landstock, drawing a chair up to the kitchen table. It was Sunday morning and he’d just returned from checking out Agnes Myles’s house. ‘Who’d want to burn down an old woman’s shed? Not her house, mind you, her shed. Thanks to your prompt action last night Agnes Myles has still got a house to come home to. Now, I suppose we ought to take a look at these two wretches you’ve hauled in. Who are they, by the way?’
‘One’s called Bovet, Tim Bovet. The other’s a Will Perkins. Not from round here. Seem to be a couple of ne’er-do-wells. They earn a bit here and there and spend it in the taverns. They sleep where they can and help themselves to whatever they can lay their hands on and then move off before they get caught. However, that doesn’t make them arsonists.’
‘Why did you bring ’em in then?’
‘Because neither of them lifted a finger to help put out the fire and both shouted insults at Agnes Myles.’
‘Not enough to make an arrest. Do you want me to take them back to Marchester? I can hold them for questioning. They can cool off in my gaol and I can cross-examine them. If they’ve got anything to hide, we’ll soon get it out of them.’
‘That sounds the best idea. I can’t hold them here for ever in my cellar. Here, Richard, help yourself.’ Nicholas pushed the jug of ale across the table.
‘The thing is, my Lord,’ said Sheriff Landstock, pouring himself out a tankard of ale, ‘have these two got any connection with this fellow we’re looking for? The traitor who’s going to cause mayhem when the King arrives. The one with the damn silly name?’
‘You mean Ultor? The answer is, I don’t know. All I can say is that I’m uneasy about what’s going on here. One murder – we know who was responsible for that – one suspected murder, and now a persecution of a harmless old woman who’s never been threatened before. At the moment, I regard everyone as a possible suspect.’
‘That’s the best thing to do, but I can’t, for the life of me, see any connection between setting an old lady’s shed on fire and finding out who Ultor is. Sometimes people just gang up against someone for no particular reason. It takes just one rumour and the mob’s ready for action. Very nasty. It mustn’t be allowed to happen. We can’t have mob rule.’
‘Quite right, Richard. We must nip it in the bud.’
They drank their ale in silence, both men lost in thought. Suddenly, Sheriff Landstock looked up and glanced across at Nicholas.
‘It’s possible, of course – though I can scarcely believe it – that Agnes Myles could’ve been a witness?’
‘It certainly is possible. I’m coming round to thinking that she might have seen or done or heard something that could incriminate Ultor. Once she loosens her tongue we might learn what it is. She needs protection and that’s why I’ve put her in a safe place.’
‘You said she’s in the Priory. Is that safe enough?’
‘I’ve put her in the anchorite’s cell and Jane’s got the key.’
‘Jane?’ The Sheriff raised a bushy, ginger eyebrow.
‘My accomplice.’
‘You’ve got an accomplice, and she’s a woman? I’m amazed, my Lord. You do like making things difficult for yourself. Murder, treason, arson – these are not things a woman ought to get involved in.’
‘Jane Warrener’s the best spy anyone could have. She can go where none of your men could go. People talk to her.’
‘I can see that. But watch out she’s not the next victim. If she asks too many questions she’ll end up face down in the village pond.’
Nicholas winced. It was what he most feared. As soon as possible he’d have her off the case; not that she’d take a blind bit of notice, he thought ruefully.
‘Anyway,’ said Landstock, getting up and going over to the fire, ‘that’s your affair, and I hope you know what you’re doing. But, back to Agnes Myles. If she really is a witness, then why doesn’t Ultor simply bump her off like he did with the other witness, Bess Knowles, if you’re right about her? Why go through all this charade putting it about that she’s a witch? Why not burn her house down when she’s asleep? It’s easy to make it look like an accident.’
‘I’ve thought of that. I think that if Ultor’s behind this, he wants the mob to do his dirty work for him. If he did kill Bess Knowles, he won’t want to kill again too quickly. We’ve got a cunning devil here, Sheriff. He knows he’s running out of time. It’s only nine days before the King arrives. He doesn’t want the finger of suspicion pointing in his direction. One old lady, who might have heard something that could incriminate him, could blow his cover sky high. He’ll be wanting the mob to take over and whilst we’re trying to restore law and order in the village the heat will be taken off him.’
‘God, let’s hope that woman starts talking soon.’
‘At the moment she’s in such a state of terror that she’s still drifting in and out of consciousness. Jane’s going to try and get her to talk when she recovers. When she does, it could take a long time before she gets her wits together. It’s more than likely that she’ll have lost her memory. A shock can do that, as you know. Also, she has a constant stream of people coming to her house for healing herbs and to ask advice about all sorts of problems. She’s known all over the county. I doubt whether she’ll remember who they all were.’