‘When?“ He thought, with an absent nod at Elena offering to refill his goblet while he did. ”It’s been warm. I’ve not needed it since it last rained. That was…“ He stopped, seeing what he was about to say.
Gilbey said it for him. “Monday morning. Today’s the first it’s rained since then.” He held out his goblet for his wife to fill.
‘You’re sure that’s when you had it last?“ Frevisse asked. ”That you had it then?“
‘Certain of it,“ Perryn said. ”I went before milking to see how things were at the church. I mind I stood in the house doorway putting on my hood, watching the rain and wondering if there’d be enough to help the corn along.“
‘When and where do you last know you had it?“
‘At my house, when I’d come back from the church that morning. The rain was stopped and the hood was wet, and I took it off before I sat down to breakfast.“ He thought a moment longer. ”I’ve no thought of it after that.“
Frevisse looked to Gilbey. “Your belt. When did you last have it?”
‘Sunday,“ he said. ”After that…“ He shrugged and looked to his wife questioningly.
‘He wore it Saturday when he went to fetch the doctor and was wearing it when he came home again,“ Elena said.
‘For all the good it did to bring that fool,“ Gilbey grouched. ”I had to pay him above his fee to make him come at all, and then when he’s here all he says is that the thing has to run its course, keep them in the dark and their fevers down, and then he offered some medicine we could have for a gold piece but if that swill was medicine, I’m a peascod. I wouldn’t have taken the filth myself if I was dying, let be give it to the boys.“
‘Nor did we,“ Elena said. She had set the pitcher down after Frevisse had refused more to drink and went now to stand behind Gilbey, putting her hands quietingly on his shoulders much as she had with Dickon. ”What Mistress Margery gave us…“
A thin, unhappy wail from overhead turned all their heads toward the stairs, and, “That’s Ned,” Gilbey said, rising. “I’ll go, before he can have James awake.”
Frevisse hoped she covered her surprise that he would go to tend to a sick child and maybe to two if the other awoke, but Elena only said to him as he went, “Send Agnes down if it’s possible. She’s as like to know about your belt, about who’s come and gone from the house since Sunday, as anyone.”
‘Aye,“ Gilbey agreed, disappearing up the stairs.
Suddenly not trying to hide how tired she was, Elena sat down in his place, her hands dropping into her lap, her shoulders slumping; but she managed her lovely smile, shadowed though her eyes were, and said, “I’m sorry. It’s not been a good week.”
Frevisse smiled back at her with full understanding and agreement. “No, it’s not been.” But that did not change what had to be done now, as quickly as might be before Montfort made things worse. “What else do you remember about Sunday and Monday? Who came and went from here is what matters, I suppose. Or maybe we should begin with what you last remember about the belt.”
Elena put a hand to her forehead and shut her eyes, thinking before answering, “I remember it Sunday night, Gilbey taking it off. We’d given the doctor our bed.” She gestured toward upstairs with a small twitch of her head. “Gilbey was going to sleep down here and Agnes and I with the boys, but Gilbey and I stayed talking a time before I went up after Agnes. He was angry about the doctor. I was angry he’d gone for him at all. Mistress Margery…” She broke off, said with a smile, “That’s neither here nor there. About the belt. I remember him taking it off while we talked because he was starting to ready for bed. He coiled it up and put it down here on the table.” She reached out to lay a hand on the nearest corner of the broad tabletop, fell silent with more thought, then shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing it after that. The doctor went very early the next morning. He’d brought his own man with him, so Gilbey didn’t have to go back with him. Ned and James were worsening by the moment by then, and I hardly heeded anything else all day. Or the next or next. I never thought about the belt at all from then until now.”
An older woman came down the stairs, sidewise as if she did not trust her knees on their steepness. Like Elena, she showed both the tiredness and untidiness of too many days spent caring for someone else and not herself, but when she turned from the stairs, the look she gave them all was sharp-eyed enough to show she was ready for more, if need be, and after a deep curtsy to Frevisse and while making a lesser one to Perryn and Elena together and ignoring Dickon, she said, “They’ll settle again now their father is there. He said you wanted me for something, mistress?”
By her speech she was from Banbury, rather than country bred, had probably come from there with Elena who nodded her toward one of the joint stools, saying, “Sit while you have the chance. Dame Frevisse has questions she wants to ask us about Monday last.”
‘Monday last?“ Agnes sat frowning over Monday last. ”That fool of a doctor was here who couldn’t tell you more than I already knew.“
That sounded like something Agnes would talk about at length, given the chance, and Frevisse put in quickly, “After he left, did anyone else come here that day?”
‘Monday,“ Agnes repeated, thinking about it. ”The boys were sickening by the moment that day, worse and worse, poor little things.“ She fixed an accusing stare on Dickon. ”You’re still well enough, it seems.“
‘I was meseled when I was little,“ he said uneasily, as if it were a matter of guilt. Or something he had had to explain too often of late.
‘And lived. That’s good.“ She looked to Elena who was making the sign of the cross over her breast. ”Ours will do fine now, too. You’ll see.“ But she and Perryn and Dame Frevisse and Dickon all crossed themselves nonetheless before she returned to the point. ”Monday. No, I wasn’t heeding much else than the boys, would I be? Mistress Margery came. After the doctor was gone. Said we should steep balm in water for the boys’ drinking, to help against the fevers rising, and chamomile, and said the nuns were going to send a columbine cordial as soon as it was brewed. She brought that Tuesday morning, yes. And Father Edmund, he was here on Monday.“
‘Ah,“ Elena said. ”I’d forgotten that. Yes, he prayed with us.“
‘And that old cat Esota Emmet,“ Agnes said. ”She came in hard on his heels, to see what was what.“
‘She came to see if she could help with anything,“ Elena said.
‘Since two of her granddaughters are meseled,“ Agnes returned, ”she had more business seeing to them than nosing in here.“
Leaving that argument behind, Elena said, “Jack was in here a few times of course.”
‘Jack?“ Dame Frevisse asked.
‘Jack Fleccher. He sees to the byre and cattleyard and helps out with anything else that’s needed,“ Elena said.
Frevisse remembered mention of him to Montfort and asked something that had occurred to her then. “He’s related to Bert Fleccher?”
‘Bert’s youngest son. We hire his wife, too, sometimes, to help in house or the fields, as need be.“
‘Was she here Sunday or Monday?“
‘Their youngest is sick with the others. I’ve not seen her since Friday, I think. Agnes?“
Agnes pursed her lips, thinking. “No, she’s not been here. There’ve not been many folk in and out, but I can’t be sure who was here which day, things being at sixes and sevens as they are. Was it Monday or Tuesday Joan Whit was here with those baked apples? And Walter Hopper sent that Hamon once, to ask if there was aught help Jack might need. That might have been Monday?”
She asked it of Elena, who shook her head and spread her hands palms upward apologetically to Dame Frevisse. “I don’t know. I would have said Father Edmund came on Tuesday, rather than Monday.”