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Overview
Lady Philippa, the wife of Sir Aymer - a knight of the realm - disappears while travelling from her husband's manor to Bampton. She and her maid are travelling in an enclosed wagon, whilst her husband and his grooms and a squire are mounted. When the party arrives at Bampton Castle neither the lady nor her maid are within the enclosed wagon: they have simply vanished. As the disappearance may have happened while the travellers were on Lord Gilbert's lands, his surgeon and bailiff, Hugh de Singleton, is assigned to discover what has happened to the lady. Has she been taken? Her has she fled her husband? A few days later her husband receives a ransom demand, and Hugh is named to deliver the money. Why him? The ransom is paid, but the lady is not returned. Can Hugh help find her, or is it already too late?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781782642671 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Lion Hudson LTD |
| Publication date: | 09/20/2019 |
| Series: | The Chronicles of Hugh de Singleton, Sur , #12 |
| Edition description: | New edition |
| Pages: | 240 |
| Sales rank: | 462,565 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.10(w) x 7.70(h) x 0.80(d) |
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Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
June and July are hungry months. Hogs slaughtered and smoked and salted at Martinmas have been consumed, and unless a man is adept at setting snares to poach his lord's coneys and hares, he and his family will go without flesh upon their trenchers.
In the June of 1373 corn was also in short supply. The harvest was not bountiful last year, so in June of 1373 most folk of Bampton village lived with hollow bellies and prayed for an abundant harvest this year.
Two of my Kate's hens had gone missing since Whitsunday so we were without their eggs to feed ourselves and Bessie and John, and Kate's father. I was angry that some villager had made off with the fowls, but what would I do if my babes were crying from hunger? Would I steal to spare them? Or to keep them alive? I pray I must never be brought to such a pass.
Men sometimes wonder how they might conduct themselves in a crisis. Such a question can only be answered when a crisis visits. Better, perhaps, to never know the answer to such a question, for to know means that evil has come.
No man had made off with Kate's rooster, so the creature awoke me as he greeted the dawn on the twenty-first day of June – a Tuesday. I remember the day well, for before the sun dropped below Lord Gilbert's wood to the west of Bampton Castle my employer, Lord Gilbert Talbot, assigned me the most vexing task I had yet undertaken in his service.
I am Hugh de Singleton – Sir Hugh, since Prince Edward saw fit to award me a knighthood for my service to him some months past – surgeon and bailiff to Lord Gilbert Talbot at his manor of Bampton. My post often requires of me that I seek out miscreants who trouble the peace of Lord Gilbert's villeins and tenants. Because I have had success in such duty Lord Gilbert has sometimes seen fit to instruct me to assist friends who require the services of a sleuth to unravel some knotty trouble.
I broke my fast with a fragment of stale maslin loaf and a cup of ale, then set off for John Prudhomme's house. John has been chosen reeve of Bampton Manor for several years, and this day we must divide our duty – one to oversee haying, the other the ploughing of a fallow field of Lord Gilbert's demesne. I sent John to watch over the ploughing, to make sure the ploughmen turned the sod deeply so the roots of weeds were exposed, and went to observe the haying.
Ten of Lord Gilbert's villeins, with their wives and older children, arrived at the meadow shortly after the sun had dried the dew. The men set off with their scythes while the women and children followed, turning the hay to ensure that it dried evenly. My presence as observer of this labor was not really required. A successful hay crop means more animals can be kept over the next winter – for fresh meat, or breeding stock, or sale. So the men at their scythes swung them close to the ground and the women and children were careful to leave no clumps which would molder if the weather turned wet.
The day grew so warm that the haymakers had stripped to their kirtles by the fourth hour, and sweat mingled with dust upon their brows when the Angelus Bell rang from the tower of the Church of St. Beornwald, signaling noon and a break for dinner. The work was arduous, but the laborers grinned as they went to their meals. The hay crop was good.
As I turned from Bridge Street to Church View Street on the way to my own dinner, I saw Adela walking ahead, returning to Galen House from the baker with three loaves in her arms. Adela's father is a poor cotter of the Bishop of Exeter's lands in the Weald. My service to Prince Edward last year included discovering who had slain Sir Giles Cheyne, the prince's companion at the Battle of Crécy. For this labor I had been made Sir Hugh, and also awarded a sixth part of the revenues of the murdered knight's lands – prosperity enough for me to hire a servant to assist my Kate, who was now Lady Katherine to the folk of Bampton and the Weald.
Dinner this day at Galen House was a porre of peas, and the loaves yet warm from the baker's oven. Thrifty Kate had eked out the gammon, so we still had some scraps of it to flavor the pottage.
"Have Lord Gilbert's guests arrived?" my father-in-law asked as we ate.
"Nay, but Coleshill is not far distant and the roads are dry. Sir Aymer should arrive before supper."
The care and feeding of guests at Bampton Castle is not a part of my duties to Lord Gilbert, but his instructions for his cook, chamberlain, valets, and grooms regarding any forthcoming visit of guests were soon known to me and most others of the village.
Sir Aymer Molyns, the expected guest, was wed to Philippa Felbridge, cousin once removed to Lady Petronilla, Lord Gilbert's wife. Lady Petronilla had succumbed to plague when the disease reappeared four years past. Lady Philippa was Sir Aymer's second wife, his first bride, Lady Alyce, having also perished in the return of plague in 1369.
As we enjoyed our repast with its welcome flavor of pork added to the peas, we speculated about the mealtime conversations at the castle when Sir Aymer came to stay. Did the memory of old sorrow and the specter of plague stand in the shadows? Or were present friendship and married felicity cheer enough? Bittersweet, mayhap. We chewed it over along with our meal, then at last I must wipe my mouth, lay aside my napkin, and return to the tasks of the day.
A man with a scythe is expected to mow an acre of hay in a day. As there were ten men at work in the hayfield – which measured little more than half a yardland in size – they had nearly completed when, at the ninth hour, I saw riders, two carts, and an elaborately painted wagon approach the castle from Cowleys Corner. Here, I thought, are Sir Aymer and Lady Philippa.
A painted canvas stretched over hoops covered the wagon. As this had been a day of bright sun I assumed Lady Philippa traveled under the canvas so as to keep her complexion pale. Most gentlefolk think this a mark of beauty. And status. A tanned visage is the mark of a woman of the commons, who must labor in the sun. My Kate is usually tanned by Michaelmas. This does not diminish her beauty. Not to me. Why is it, I wonder, that the summer sun will cause skin to grow darker and hair to become lighter? Here is another question for my mystery bag, to be opened when the Lord Christ welcomes me to His kingdom. Surely He will know.
When I first came to Bampton in Lord Gilbert's employ I was surprised to learn of a practice I had not seen before. At the end of a day's haying, men are permitted to take for their own as much of the lord's hay as they can carry from the field upon their scythe. But they must not be over-greedy. If any hay falls before they carry it from the field, all they have piled upon their scythe is forfeit.
I watched as the villeins stacked remarkable mounds of hay upon their scythes and carried the fodder away, then I left the hayfield and walked to Bampton Castle's forecourt. Lord Gilbert's visitors had but moments before passed under the portcullis and into the castle yard. Arthur and Uctred, two of Lord Gilbert's grooms who had in the past been of service to me in seeking felons, were among the servants taking Sir Aymer's beasts in hand as he, his squire, and a dozen or so grooms and valets dismounted.
I had no business at the castle, no reason to greet Lord Gilbert's guests, but I passed into the castle yard to admire Sir Aymer's horse, a fine chestnut destrier. I was about to retrace my steps to the forecourt when I heard raised voices. I did not at first comprehend the words, but turned to see whence the din came, and heard Sir Aymer roar, "Empty, by heavens! Where is she? She entered the wagon this morn. Why is she not within now?"
The knight addressed these shouted questions to an elderly wispy-haired man who had, until a moment earlier, been mounted upon the first of the three runcies which drew the wagon. The fellow was frail, and glanced from Sir Aymer to the wagon with an open mouth and startled expression.
Lord Gilbert drew aside the canvas enclosing the rear of the wagon and as I watched he peered inside. The roads were dry. The wagon was closed front and back to keep out dust. When my employer withdrew his head his bluff features registered puzzlement. Apparently Sir Aymer's wife – who else would travel in such a conveyance? – was not to be found.
This disappearance soon set tongues wagging. Sir Aymer's grooms and valets put their heads together, and Lord Gilbert's servants did likewise. Meanwhile Lord Gilbert stood, arms akimbo, studying the wagon, and Sir Aymer continued to berate the dejected postilion rider.
The curious spectacle caught my eye. I stood near the castle gatehouse to watch and listen. How could a lady disappear between Coleshill and Bampton, a distance of but nine miles? This question was about to be assigned to me, for as I watched Sir Aymer berate the wagon driver Lord Gilbert's eye fell upon me. A moment later he beckoned vigorously and I approached him.
"Here is a puzzle," Lord Gilbert said over the clamor of competing voices pronouncing opinions regarding the vanished lady. "The Lady Philippa and her maid went into the wagon this morning at Coleshill, but are not within now. I fear some evil has befallen the lady."
Sir Aymer, meanwhile, left off castigating the hapless postilion and stalked to where Lord Gilbert and I stood. "My wife has been taken," he concluded. "I and my men will ride back along the way we came to see if Lady Philippa may be found."
"I will join you," Lord Gilbert said at once. Then, to me, "You come also, Hugh. Arthur! Uctred! Saddle my ambler and three palfreys! We four will accompany Sir Aymer."
Arthur and Uctred hurried to the stables to do Lord Gilbert's bidding, while my employer hastened to his hall. He returned a moment later buckling a sword to his belt.
"If there are felons about who stole the lady 'twill be well to be armed. Have you your dagger?"
I touched the hilt of my weapon in reply.
Sir Aymer, his squire, five of his grooms and valets, along with Lord Gilbert, Arthur, Uctred, and me clattered across the castle drawbridge a few moments later. We rode past Cowleys Corner, across Radcot Bridge, beyond Clanfield, out all the way to Faringdon, but we saw no trace of the missing lady, nor any sign that some felony had taken place along the road. Sir Aymer often called Lady Philippa's name. Silence was the only reply.
We occasionally saw men working late in the fields along the road, and once passed two travelers afoot. None of these had seen a lady and her maid. At Clanfield we questioned several folk. A woman of the village recalled seeing Sir Aymer and his party pass earlier in the day – Lady Philippa's colorful wagon would be remembered. Since then, she said, only a cart and men afoot had traveled the road before her house.
'Twas near to Midsummer's Eve, so we had ample light to inspect the road and verge. Nothing was amiss. Lady Philippa and the maid had vanished.
Even on this longest day, the sun had set when we returned to Bampton Castle. For six hours we had sought Lady Philippa without success. But the search was not ended.
As he dismounted, Lord Gilbert turned to me and spoke. "Hugh, I wish for you to discover what has befallen Lady Philippa. It may be that she was taken whilst upon my lands, near to Bampton. If so, I'll not have a guest so ill-used. Come to the castle early tomorrow and we will consider what must be done."
CHAPTER 2Kate, the children, and my father-in-law were abed when I stumbled, exhausted, in the dark to Galen House. After much thumping upon the door I roused Caxton from his bed and he lifted the bar to admit me.
I had also awakened Kate, and when I ascended the stairs to our chamber she insisted I tell her the reason for my tardy return. She had an opinion.
"Either the lady was taken by felons, or she conspired in her own disappearance," she said. "Either way, some man will be involved."
"Aye, a lady and her maid will not purpose to vanish into the country with no man to protect them … if they are willingly gone away."
"If men have stolen her," Kate said, "Sir Aymer will soon receive a ransom demand."
"Aye, he will. But how could such fellows take two women from a wagon and not be seen or heard at the business?"
"How could the lady have fled the wagon of her own will, with her maid, without being seen or heard?" Kate replied. "Either is unlikely."
"But one is necessarily true, else the Lord Christ took the women to Him. I do not know Lady Philippa, but it seems unlikely she would be so holy as to escape death."
Kate made no reply, but sank back to her pillow and soon her regular breathing indicated sleep. I, however, stared at the rafters and considered what I might do to bring Lady Philippa back to her husband. The wagon driver seemed most likely to know what may have happened along the road, yet he could shed but little light upon the matter – and for sufficient reasons. So I thought.
I hurried to the castle as the morning Angelus Bell sounded, eager to set about solving this mystery. Sir Aymer was breaking his fast with Lord Gilbert when I arrived, and told me the postilion had made his bed for the night with Lord Gilbert's grooms. I found the man rubbing sleep from his eyes, his back toward.
Sir Aymer said the man's name was John. I spoke the name and received no reply. Uctred was near, and spoke.
"Deaf as a stump, that one. You'll need to shout."
I did, but a third and even louder call was required before the man turned his head to me. He blinked his eyes and I saw they were white with cataracts. I could deal with this malady, but had other, more pressing matters for my attention.
I managed to make myself understood, and asked the fellow of what he had seen and heard as he guided Lady Philippa's wagon to Bampton. I was not surprised to learn he had seen and heard nothing. "Three beasts hitched to wagon," he said. "I was ridin' first." I would need information from someone who had not lost vision and hearing.
The hoary fellow seemed genuinely grieved that his mistress had disappeared from under his nose and he could offer no help in finding her. I saw a tear upon his red, wrinkled cheek as I left him.
"The rooks," he croaked. I turned to the man. "Sir Aymer said sky was full of 'em. Hundreds of rooks. Evil sign, when rooks assemble. Evil."
Lord Gilbert and Sir Aymer had retired to the solar to discuss matters privily. I found them with heads together, trying explanations for Lady Philippa's disappearance, discounting one possibility after another.
"Have you learned anything from John … anything more than I, which was little enough?" Sir Aymer asked when I entered the solar. "Told me last eve he'd not seen or heard anything untoward. Of course, he'd not likely do either."
"The carter's vision is clouded and he suffers the disease of the ears," I replied. "He will be of little help in finding your wife, I fear."
"True enough. John served my father before me, and my grandfather before him. I'll not turn him out, and even if I would Lady Philippa would not hear of it. I thought he'd do no harm, riding postilion, with so many other eyes and ears in our party. Normally I'd have a younger man as wagoner, but he's been taken ill."
"Where were you and your other servants placed as you traveled?" I asked.
"I rode ahead, with Giles and most of my men."
"Giles?"
"My squire."
"Did any man ride behind the wagon?"
"Aye. Much of the time Maurice and Brom rode with the wagon."
"Much of the time? When did they not?"
"There is a hill leading to Faringdon, and another leaving Clanfield. The runcies on Lady Philippa's wagon had a struggle. The wagon fell behind for a time."
"Have you spoken to the grooms about this?" I asked.
"Aye. Said this morning they were with the wagon all the journey but for the hills near to Faringdon and Clanfield."
"Then that is where your wife was taken," Lord Gilbert said. "One of those places."
"Likely. But why did she not cry out? Maurice and Brom would have heard her, even if John could not. They had not gone that far ahead of the wagon, I think."
I wondered why the grooms had ridden on ahead of the slowed wagon. Why not hold back?
"We will begin this day's search at Clanfield," I said, "if this meets with your approval. Mayhap, if Lady Philippa or her maid struggled with those who seized her, there will be some sign. I wish your grooms had spoken of this yesterday, when we passed the place in our search. The trail, if there is one, would have been fresh."
If Maurice and Brom had been assigned to remain with Lady Philippa on the journey, had not done so, and feared Sir Aymer's wrath, there would be reason enough for them to hold their tongues.
"I intend to return to Coleshill," Sir Aymer said. "If felons have my wife they will soon demand a ransom for her return. They will expect me to be there, not here."
"We will accompany you as far as Clanfield," Lord Gilbert said, bidding me to ready the horses. "Do you wish your servants and squire to accompany you to Coleshill, or remain here to assist in the search?"
Sir Aymer considered the question. I spoke.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Without a Trace"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Mel Starr.
Excerpted by permission of Lion Hudson Limited.
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