There was a moment’s aghast silence and stillness before Simon let out a shriek. ‘You’ve broken my arm!’ Scrambling from the wreckage, he supported the useless member, his left, with his right hand, blood streaming from a cut over his left eye. Aided by one of the horrified servers, who had just entered the hall with the first course, he sank on to the end of the nearest bench, moaning and shaking with pain and fright. Dame Audrea, her face as white as the lace collar of her gown, swung round on her heel and dealt Anthony a blow across one cheek that ripped the skin from the bone. (The clawed setting of one of her rings must have caught him.)
‘Get out of this house now, tonight,’ she ordered, ‘or be prepared to take the consequences.’
Anthony, putting up a hand to staunch the blood trickling down his face, grinned insolently at her.
‘What consequences, Mother? I’m the master here and you know it.’
I could tell by her expression of frustrated rage that Dame Audrea did indeed know it. She had spoken at random, so angry, in spite of her display of self-control, that she was barely aware of what she was saying. She clenched her hand as though she would strike again, but then thought better of it and descended from the dais to attend to her afflicted younger son.
Mistress Wychbold, the housekeeper, was before her, sending a couple of maids scurrying to the medicine chest for a bag of powdered comfrey, splints and bandages, while a page was despatched to the kitchen for a bowl of warm water and with a request that someone make up a strong draught of lettuce and poppy juice to ease the patient’s pain. The rest of us, supper and our hunger forgotten, stood around quietly while the housekeeper and Dame Audrea skilfully made a poultice of the powdered comfrey and warm water and packed it inside two splints of oak wood, holding everything in place with bandages torn from what looked like an old white counterpane. Simon, who had lost consciousness during part of this procedure, revived enough to swallow the lettuce and poppy juice potion and to allow himself to be led away to his bedchamber, supported by his mother on one side and George Applegarth on the other. He had also recovered sufficiently to turn and hiss at Anthony as he passed him, ‘You’ll pay for this. Just see if you don’t. Even if I have to kill you with my own two hands.’
Dame Audrea said sharply, ‘That’s enough of such talk, Simon. You must rest for a week or so and your arm will soon be as good as new. I’d trust Matilda Wychbold’s skills with a lot more than a broken limb.’
Anthony suddenly stepped forward, blocking his brother’s slow progress.
‘Look, Sim’ — I guessed this to be a childhood shortening of Simon’s name, rusty from lack of use, judging by the awkward way it sat on the older man’s tongue — ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’d forgotten the dais. It was stupid, I admit it. But you shouldn’t have usurped my place. You won’t be able to alter Father’s will, and if it’s legal, which it is, the King won’t help you to overset it.’
He might as well not have spoken. ‘I’ll get you for it,’ Simon panted, ‘and that man of yours. I’ll kill you both.’
‘That will do!’ his mother snapped and urged him forward, she and the steward half carrying, half dragging the injured boy from the hall. As the door closed behind them, there was another silence before Anthony gave a loud, forced laugh.
‘Well, where’s the food, then? Humphrey, find me another chair. Back to your places everyone, the entertainment’s over.’ He picked up a half-full goblet of wine that Simon had been drinking. ‘Mistress Micheldever, your very good health!’
Rose gave a frightened sob and ran out of the hall. Her husband, after giving one murderous glance at Anthony, followed her.
I saw the prodigal’s eyes narrow furiously. The Devil had him by the tail now and he was in a dangerous mood.
‘Then here’s to another fair lady.’ He raised the goblet higher. ‘The lovely Dorcas Slye and her handsome son.’ And he grinned at the outraged chamberlain. But the fool hadn’t finished yet. ‘T-t-t-to you, Sir Henry, my s-s-stuttering f-f-friend.’ He sat down abruptly as Humphrey brought another chair, looking round for further mischief, as though he was unable to stop himself. He wiped away a further trickle of blood from his cheek and looked at the bailiff. ‘By the way, Master Kilsby, tomorrow, you may take whatever money is owing to you and go. I no longer need you here. I’ll not have you as a stepfather. In fact,’ he added loudly, as Dame Audrea came back into the hall, ‘I’ll not stand for a stepfather at all. Widows should stay widows and honour their husbands’ memories. Now, everyone fall to. Your supper’s getting cold.’
Eleven
I had forgotten that the next day was Sunday, so I naturally postponed my journey home until the Monday. Travelling on the Sabbath, then as now, was not generally acceptable unless it was a matter of life and death.
The night before, I had again shared Anthony Bellknapp’s bed, and had once more taken it upon myself to caution him about his conduct. I had, of course, no right to do so, being a guest and a stranger; but in the curtained intimacy of the four-poster, I felt I might stand a better chance of being attended to than George Applegarth and his necessarily perfunctory warnings. But I was wrong. Anthony merely yawned and told me to mind my own business. He was perfectly justified, and for me to have pursued the subject further would have done no good. Indeed, it could have done positive harm. So I changed tack and informed him that I would be returning to Bristol first thing on Monday morning.
‘Hell’s teeth! I haven’t upset you that much, have I?’ he laughed. ‘It’s just that I won’t have people instructing me what and what not to do.’
‘You are perfectly entitled to tell me to keep my nose out of your affairs,’ I agreed. ‘No, no! It’s not that. But I’ve done as much as I can and — ’ I broke off, realizing that my tongue had run away with me.
Anthony heaved himself up in the bed, arms clasped around his knees, and, turning his head, looked down at me curiously.
‘Done as much as you can about what?’ he asked, adding, ‘You know, I’ve had an idea there was more to your visit here than met the eye.’
I had told George Applegarth the truth, so I might as well be frank with Anthony. Besides, it suddenly struck me that I could try to enlist his interest in persuading Dame Audrea that she had no case against my half-brother without stronger support than that of Edward Micheldever. In any case, Anthony would probably enjoy putting a spoke in the receiver’s wheel. So I explained my personal interest in proving John Wedmore innocent of the charge against him.
‘What’s more, I fully intend to do it,’ I said with greater confidence than I actually felt.
‘Great boast, small roast,’ my companion grinned in a tone of voice that was bordering on a sneer.
Now I can honestly say that I didn’t often blow my own trumpet — in fact, I sometimes went to considerable lengths to keep my past achievements quiet — but there was a condescension in the way he spoke that riled me, and before I could stop myself, I was giving him details of all my past successes in unravelling the various mysteries and problems that had come my way (in the course of which I naturally had to touch on the work I had done for the Duke of Gloucester).
‘So you see,’ I finished, ‘I do have some experience of discovering the truth.’
By this time, of course, I was feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself as one so frequently does after deliberately setting out to impress. And succeeding. For Anthony was regarding me with a kind of resentful awe, while his disbelief in what I had told him vied with a conviction that I had not been exaggerating.
‘Well,’ he remarked eventually, ‘I must spread the word tomorrow that we are entertaining a friend of the royal family.’ He laughed again, but nastily. ‘You will no doubt find that Mistress Micheldever hangs, in future, on your every word. I shall be quite eclipsed in her affections.’