“Maud?” Eustacia’s voice sounded confused, though less groggy. “Whatever is the matter?”
Maud ripped her hands from her face. “Him.” She pointed a finger at Ranulf. “He was trying to take advantage of me, just as he did before my father’s attack. Now he wants no part of me.”
Heat rushed into Ranulf’s face as he understood her meaning. “That is a lie. How dare you tell such a thing to Mistress Eustacia.” And to Sir Clement. Ranulf watched the man scratch his head.
“I shall tell it everywhere, to everyone. You will be sorry for not — “ She stopped herself. “You will be sorry.”
“For not accepting your offer, you mean. What you are claiming is a complete falsehood. Sir Clement, you are also a witness.”
“So I am.” Sir Clement stepped forward into the faint light.
Eustacia hurried to light a candle and carried it back to the small group of people, moving close to Maud, studying her face.
All eyes on her, Maud glared at each person then settled on Sir Clement. “You must force him to marry me. He has ruined me.”
“Sir Clement, I’ve never touched this girl.”
“What proof do you have of this claim?” Sir Clement asked Maud.
“My word. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“I’m afraid it isn’t. What happened tonight carries weight as well.”
“Have you no interest in justice? Why are you here, then?”
“I am here to find out what happened to your father.”
“You should ask our lord, for he is the one who found the body, isn’t he? Should he not be under suspicion?”
“Everyone in Glynval is under suspicion, I assure you. Now I suggest you obey your lord and leave this room at once.”
Eustacia placed her hand on Maud’s arm, but Maud snatched it away.
“I won’t be so easily silenced,” Maud hissed. Pure hatred shone on her face. She spun around and stomped to the door, slamming it behind her.
What to do now? If he passionately protested his innocence to Sir Clement, he’d only seem guilty.
“Sir, if you will allow me to speak.” Eustacia placed her hand on her chest, staring in Sir Clement’s direction.
“You may.” It was fine for Sir Clement to sound so calm. He wasn’t being accused of bedding a servant he’d never thought of touching.
“The girl’s overwrought from her father’s injuries. The thing is impossible — I’m here with Lord Ranulf every night. If our lord had crept out to take advantage of her, don’t you think I would have known it? My word must surely convince you of Lord Ranulf’s innocence.”
“Indeed, madam, it does not convince me.”
Her eyes flew wide as alarm registered on her face. Ranulf hoped she wouldn’t start to cry.
Patting his jaw with a finger, Sir Clement shook his head. “No, you are a hard sleeper, Mistress Eustacia. You did not hear when your lord moaned in his sleep, apparently from a bad dream. And when Maud boldly opened the door and came into the room, you slept on. But no one blames you for any this.” He murmured the last statement as he waved his hand.
“I am innocent of these claims, Sir Clement.” Ranulf forced himself to breathe evenly.
Sir Clement looked him full in the face, though it was hard to discern the coroner’s expression in the dim light. “Yes, I know.”
Ranulf waited for him to explain.
“There are several aspects that appear to prove the girl false. For one, why would she come here to accuse you of immorality half dressed and in her nightshirt? And she accused you of trying to take advantage of her tonight. Obviously a falsehood, since I myself heard you refuse to allow her in your bed. But I have another reason that is yet more compelling, which I will keep to myself, for now.” He looked at Ranulf with a slight smile. “I again bid you a good night.” With that, he returned to his bed and climbed under the bedclothes.
Eustacia stared with her mouth open. And Ranulf decided not to ponder Sir Clement’s last reason.
Ranulf watched as Annabel strode into the upper hall, her back rigid. Her eyes moved, flitting like frightened birds. Father God, steady her. Give her peace and wisdom.
At least Sir Clement was allowing him to sit in on the interrogations. Ranulf only wished Annabel wasn’t the first person on the coroner’s list.
Sir Clement motioned her to a chair in front of one of the long windows — the morning light streaming in made her appear almost unearthly, with her golden hair and wide, innocent eyes.
She clenched her hands together in her lap and stared up at Sir Clement, who fixed her with his own probing stare.
Sir Clement finally broke the silence. “What is your name?”
“Annabel Chapman, sir.” Her voice was soft but steely.
“How long have you been in Lord le Wyse’s service here at the manor house?” Sir Clement examined his fingernails, as though the conversation bored him.
She blinked and hesitated. “Two or three weeks.”
“How came you to be here? You are the daughter of a freeman, are you not?”
“I am, sir. My father died three years ago, and my mother and brothers and I have not been able to pay the censum since then.” She took a deep breath and went on. “As we have no money and had avoided fieldwork, the hallmote decided that one of my family must be indentured to Lord le Wyse for three years, the length of time that the censum went unpaid.” Annabel finished, expelling a soft breath.
Ranulf swallowed, his throat constricting.
“I see.” The coroner stroked his chin, glancing out the window. “How did you feel about coming here?”
“I—” She stopped, her face draining of what little color she’d had. She sat up straighter. “I wasn’t eager to leave my home, but I wanted to help my family. One of us had to come. It was only right.”
“Why weren’t you eager to leave? Were you happy there?”
Annabel stared down at her hands in her lap. She shook her head slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I was not unhappy.”
“Was there a particular reason you did not want to come here, to the manor house of Lord le Wyse? Perhaps you had heard your lord was a hard man, unfair, lecherous, unseemly — “
Her head jerked up. “Oh, no! Lord le Wyse is none of those things.” Ranulf’s heart did a strange stutter at the way she defended him. He longed to intervene, to stop the questioning.
“There is nothing about Lord le Wyse that frightened you? I have known him many years, and he has a nasty temper. And I know the rumors people sometimes spread about his … beastliness.” Sir Clement gave her a sympathetic look, as if trying to get her to trust him.
Annabel glanced quickly at Ranulf and then looked back at the coroner, “I was a bit afraid of him when I first arrived, but I’m not anymore. His temper is not so nasty, not really. He has a lot of responsibilities, and it’s understandable that he might … get angry at times. And he is not beastly. That’s a terrible thing to say. He is a noble, good lord. No one who knew him could say anything dishonorable about him.”
Ranulf’s heart swelled at her words. She thinks I’m honorable. Her face turned red, her hands fidgeted, and she wouldn’t look at him.
Sir Clement was silent for a few moments. “So was there some other reason you did not wish to come to the manor house, to serve Lord le Wyse?”
“There were many reasons. My family depended on me, and I didn’t want to live among strangers.”
“Strangers? Were you afraid?” As Annabel began to fidget, a spark lit in the coroner’s eyes. “Of whom were you afraid, pray tell?”
“I … I already said I was afraid of Lord le Wyse.”
“But you were afraid of someone else, weren’t you?” Sir Clement peered closely at Annabel’s face. “Had someone given you reason to be afraid?”
She pressed her lips together, as if struggling not to speak. How Ranulf wanted to protect her from these questions. O God, help her. She had no choice but to cooperate with the inquest. And he
could do nothing to stop it.
Sir Clement pressed on. “You were afraid of a particular person, weren’t you? Was that person Bailiff Tom?”
The light from the window revealed a tear trembling at the corner of her eye.
The coroner leaned forward, studying her hard. “You were afraid of Bailiff Tom. Why? What did he do to you?”
“I didn’t say — I was afraid — of him.” Annabel hiccupped as she seemed to fight back the tears.
“You didn’t have to. But I wonder what the man did to you. If you don’t tell me” — a warning tone entered his voice — “I shall find out some other way.”
Ranulf imagined the coroner asking his probing questions around the village. Soon everyone would find out how the bailiff had tried to force himself on Annabel more than once. She would be embarrassed. He knew how that felt, to have all your neighbors whispering about you, about your deepest pain and humiliation.
Ranulf leapt to his feet. “Is this necessary?”
Annabel felt the tear slip down her cheek as Lord le Wyse shouted the question at Sir Clement. His reaction brought a swell of gratitude for her lord and unleashed the emotion she’d been holding back. Tears coursed down her face and dripped off her chin.
Lord le Wyse thrust his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “These questions can hardly serve your purpose. This maiden didn’t try to kill the bailiff.” His voice was harsh and angry as his gaze flicked back and forth between Sir Clement and Annabel.
The coroner looked up at Lord le Wyse as though surprised. “Forgive me.” He spoke softly. “I only have a few more.”
Lord le Wyse expelled a burst of air. He glared at the coroner. “I will not allow this … torment much longer.” He started pacing beside them.
“Forgive me, but I must proceed.” Sir Clement’s voice was smooth, almost mocking. He nodded, as if Ranulf had given him his permission, and turned back to her. “You were afraid of Bailiff Tom, weren’t you?” His voice instantly became meek and coaxing.
How could she lie? Somehow, the man already knew about her fear of the bailiff. “He — did something — that frightened me.” She glared at the coroner before swiping the tears away with the back of her hand. She hated the man’s questions, hated the halting way she spoke, and hated that she couldn’t hold back the tears. O Father God, let me not say something that will endanger anyone.
“What did he do to you?”
“He grabbed me. He tried to kiss me.” Her hands were shaking badly as she pushed a lock of hair off her cheek. “I told him I wouldn’t marry him, but he threatened … to do terrible things to me. I … I was afraid of him.” Another tear slid down her face.
“Where did you last see the bailiff?”
She felt the burn creep into her cheeks and forehead. What could she say now? What did the man know already? Her stomach knotted even tighter as she held her breath, afraid to open her lips.
“Did you see him in the forest?”
She stared past the coroner’s head. Perhaps if she said nothing he would eventually ask something else, something she could answer without revealing too much. Her heart thumped painfully as the tears dried on her face, pulling the skin tight across her cheekbones.
Sir Clement came to within inches of her chair. “Answer!”
Annabel shuddered, staring up at the towering figure.
“Sir Clement!” Lord le Wyse’s voice was as loud as the coroner’s. He quickly closed the distance between them and stood glowering at the man, his hands clenched by his sides. “Get away from her.”
Chapter
14
Her heart pounded. O God, don’t let Lord le Wyse endanger himself because of me! Surely he wouldn’t strike the king’s coroner, though the two men stood nose to nose. After interminable minutes, Sir Clement took a step away from Lord le Wyse and turned back to Annabel. Her lord took a step back as well, relaxing his fists, but his face was flushed and he continued to scowl dangerously at the coroner.
Sir Clement focused on Annabel. “Did you see the bailiff in the forest?” His voice held a dead sort of calm that sent a chill up her arms and across her shoulders.
She closed her eyes briefly then replied, “Yes.”
“Did you strike him with a rock?”
“No.”
“Did Lord le Wyse strike him?”
Annabel drew back in horror. “No!”
Lord le Wyse slumped back two more steps, and she met his eye.
“How do you know Lord le Wyse didn’t strike him? You saw who struck him, didn’t you?”
She realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it, looking down.
“You saw!”
Stephen’s face flashed before her; she had to protect him. No matter what Sir Clement said or did, her lips would remain closed and her teeth tightly clenched.
Silence pressed in around her, but she didn’t dare look up.
“Then it was Lord le Wyse, wasn’t it? He was defending you.”
Annabel’s head shot up without her willing it. Her throat tightened and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. How could he accuse Lord le Wyse? And how could she keep silent?
The coroner is a fiend.
“Nay.” Her voice was raspy. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. “Lord le Wyse is a good man. He would never hurt anyone.” Tears pricked her eyes again, she didn’t know why. She glanced at her lord and saw his face was flushed. The urge to jump up and go to him was so strong that she grabbed the stool she was sitting on with both hands and clutched the rough wood with all her might.
“So the person who almost killed the bailiff was not a good man?”
“I didn’t say that. Oh, how would I know?” Annabel bit her lip, feeling she had slipped and said the wrong thing. But she couldn’t let the coroner think Lord le Wyse was guilty.
Sir Clement rubbed his chin again, staring blankly at the wall. “You must understand, Lord le Wyse’s involvement makes sense. After all, he’s the one who found the body. It’s only a matter of time before the people of Glynval start pointing fingers in his direction …” He let his voice trail off.
His words chilled her. Naturally, some people might suspect her lord. Few had seen beyond his scars and rough demeanor to the man inside. But everyone knew the bailiff, and he seemed well liked, though she couldn’t imagine why. If they knew how Tom atte Water actually behaved … How could she allow people to accuse Lord le Wyse?
Her mind went back to the first time he allowed her to read his Bible. And when he’d burned himself saving the ewe lamb, how her heart had gone out to him; and he’d borne his injury with such patience, never complaining. How could she allow anyone to falsely accuse him? She couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt again.
“Lord le Wyse is innocent.”
“The only way you can prove that is to tell me who struck the bailiff.”
“I cannot tell you that.”
“Then I cannot be sure your Lord le Wyse is innocent, can I?” The coroner began pacing toward Ranulf, intent in his eyes.
“It … was an accident.”
The coroner turned abruptly. “So you did see it. What happened?”
Annabel pressed her lips together so hard she tasted blood.
“Did you want to kill him?”
“No!”
“Who did?”
“He didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Who was it?” the coroner hissed.
“I will not tell you. But he never intended to kill him.”
“Perhaps you will tell the jury that is being summoned by the hundred bailiff. Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and a slight smile lifted his thin lips.
He then turned to Lord le Wyse. “I think I’ll take a walk. I shall return shortly, and then I’d like to speak with this Maud, the bailiff’s daughter.”
The coroner brushed by Lord le Wyse, whistling as he flung open the door and disappeared outside.
So i
t was over — for the moment. She had revealed so much! Too much. The coroner now knew that she had seen who struck the bailiff. How could she have allowed him to wrench that much of the truth from her? But at least she hadn’t betrayed Stephen — not yet. She would still have to face a jury and the entire village of Glynval.
Her hands shook. The shattered look on her lord’s face squeezed her heart. Was he angry that she had not revealed the identity of the person who struck the bailiff? After all, she was allowing suspicion to fall on him — the jury was sure to accuse Lord le Wyse as Sir Clement had. She had the power to clear her lord’s name forever, but she had chosen to protect someone else.
Her chest ached. She couldn’t bear to think she had hurt him, or that he might be angry with her.
Her words came out halting and slow. “I am — so sorry. Pray — forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” His brow creased.
“For not telling — who — struck the bailiff.”
Lord le Wyse let out a shuddering breath and passed his palm across his eyes. He looked at her with so much sympathy, he seemed to draw her to him.
Annabel slipped her trembling fingers into his large, warm hand, and he gently pulled her to her feet. “I forgive you,” he said, “and I understand.”
Without thinking, she leaned against him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. They stood like that, unmoving, while Annabel concentrated on calming her breathing and forcing away the tears that still threatened. She smelled the familiar lavender, which Mistress Eustacia placed inside his clean laundry, but also a warm, masculine smell that was distinctly Ranulf’s. She felt soothed, safe, and she never wanted this moment to end.
Ranulf stared down at Annabel’s tearstained face. He closed his eyes against the sight of her, savoring the feel of her hand in his.
His eyes flicked wide as he felt her body lean against his. Sweet agony. He hesitated to touch her, but finally he put his arms around her and drew in a deep, ragged breath. “Holy saints above,” he whispered.
“Jesus, help us,” she murmured in reply, no doubt sincerely praying about their situation.