The Burgundian's tale

‘She was sleeping soundly. And before you ask me, yes, I’m sure. I bent over her, shielding the candle flame so as not to wake her. She was lying on her side and snoring, bedclothes drawn up to her chin. She’d taken one of her sleeping draughts. The empty cup was still on the bedside table and I could smell the dregs. So I closed the bed curtains again and checked the door to the stair. It was bolted all right, but I looked around just to make certain there was no one hiding in the shadows. There wasn’t, so I came to the conclusion that I must have been mistaken. In fact, by that time, I couldn’t have sworn that I’d heard anything at all. The noise had faded from my mind. So I went off to my own chamber, got myself undressed and into bed, and slept like a baby until morning. The next thing I knew someone was hammering on the street door. Member of the watch to tell us that Fulk had been found murdered in Fleet Street, on the corner by St Dunstan’s Church.’

‘Was anyone missing from the house when you got up? Your son, Mistress Alcina, the housekeeper, William Morgan? Any of the other servants, if there are any?’

‘There are a couple of young girls who help Paulina — Mistress Graygoss — in the kitchen and generally make themselves useful about the house. Act as maids to my wife and Alcina. But that’s all. They share a room in the attics. There used to be a young lad, brother of one of the girls, I believe, who assisted William in the garden, but he doesn’t come any more. Don’t know what happened to him. Nice, polite, well-behaved boy …’ He was off again.

I sighed and repeated my question. ‘Was anyone missing?’

‘Well, Fulk obviously. No one else.’

I changed the subject. ‘Why did you permit Mistress St Clair to alter her will in her nephew’s favour? You must have known it would cause bad feeling. In the eyes of the law the money is yours.’

Godfrey gave vent to a sound that I presumed was a laugh, but came out as more of a derisive hoot. ‘You don’t know my wife very well, Master Chapman, I can tell. You’re right, of course. Legally, anything she owns is mine. But I’m a man who values his peace and comfort and she can be a Fury when roused. I’d never cross Judith unless I absolutely had to. It wouldn’t be worth it. And, to be fair, the money is hers, inherited from her first husband, as she doesn’t scruple to remind me. So when she demanded that I alter our will in Fulk’s favour, even though I could see it would lead to trouble, I did it.’

‘Mistress St Clair was very fond of him.’

‘Fond of him? She was besotted by him almost from the moment he arrived. To begin with, she was very upset about her sister’s death and Fulk comforted her. They grieved together. That was the start of it. After that, he could do no wrong.’

‘And what did you think of him?’

The abrupt question seemed to throw Godfrey. He looked startled and a little nonplussed, as if he had never really considered the matter before.

I tried again. ‘Did you like him?’

There was a further bout of fidgeting. I let him get on with it. I had realized by now that settling his body seemed also to settle his mind.

‘Did I like him?’ he repeated slowly, rolling each word carefully around his tongue and savouring it as though it were something new and foreign. Then he leaned back in his chair and regarded me over the tips of his steepled fingers. ‘Well, do you know, I really couldn’t say for certain. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t. Fulk could be very charming, but …’ Here he paused, deep in thought. Finally, he went on, ‘But there was something sly about him. On several occasions, when he wasn’t aware that anyone was watching him, I saw him looking at the others, even Judith, with a kind of mockery in his eyes. Oh … perhaps it was my imagination! One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. However, there’s no doubt in my mind that he positively enjoyed stealing Alcina’s affection from Brandon Jolliffe right under the poor boy’s nose. Not, I have to say, that I ever thought Alcina’s affection for Brandon went very deep. Indeed, if Jocelyn had continued to push himself forward more, as he was beginning to do just before Fulk’s arrival, I believe he might have been the one to win her favour.’

‘Would you have liked your son to marry Mistress Threadgold?’ I asked, wanting confirmation of the suggestion that had already been made to me.

‘Ah … Well now!’ Godfrey was suddenly wary, like an animal scenting a baited trap. ‘I’m not saying that. You modern young people nowadays, you won’t be pushed. You like to make up your own minds. Different when I was a youth. We did as we were told.’ He got to his feet. ‘That’s enough questions for the present, I think, don’t you? I must be off, back to Marcus Aurelius. “Let your occupations be few,” he writes, “if you would lead a tranquil life.” Wise advice.’