Mischief At Aescham Manor Our medieval mystery serial

PART ONE: Pernelle fears that her Lady Maude may be in danger, but can manor Marshal Cavelier help her mistress?

When she thought about it afterward, Pernelle always blamed All Hallow’s for my lady’s paranoia. After all, old Samhain, summer’s end in the pagan calendar and the fabled time of spirits, could have that effect on even the least superstitious of minds, especially when a sinister blood-red moon had hung over the manor for the last few nights. If not for that, perhaps Lady Maude wouldn’t have been so on edge, seeing omens in the shadows of everyday routine that foretold doom for herself – or worse, her lord, away on military duties for King Henry Plantagenet.

As it was, the sight of a stiff rat in the alcove outside her chamber set her nerves popping like a fire’s sparks, and she screamed for her trusted maid.

In her efficient, smiling way, Pernelle soothed my lady’s nerves with soft words of reassurance, but it was only when the rodent was removed and she’d promised to report the incident to the marshal that Maude began to breathe more easily.

“There are evil spirits in this place…” Maude’s pronouncement echoed ominously in Pernelle’s head as she hurried to find the marshal. “Someone means mischief…”

Pernelle paused to catch her breath, looking out over the gatehouse steps she’d climbed toward the wooded horizon, the line of trees now in autumn’s fire-hue. She usually loved this place. The manor of Aescham, strategically situated on lush chalklands of the shires, was Sir John Richill’s largest estate, its flinted keep at the centre of a bustling community, and hamlet and mill in the dell below. But she was suffering from a sleepness night, and Maude’s suspicions had cast a shroud over everything.

Lady Maude was a special woman. In a world ruled by men, she had without bloodshed or malice won her way into the hearts of not only the infamous Queen Eleanor but John Richill, a stalwart knight of King Henry she met while serving as lady-in-waiting within the heart of the tempestuous House of Plantagenet. Pernelle adored her, but there was no denying that not everybody shared that opinion. Aescham’s marshal, for one, saw only the whims of an indulgent French woman who, since the absence of her husband, was growing increasingly erratic, which made his job more difficult. It was already challenging enough, thanks to the current rebellion that had rocked parts of France and England when King Henry’s queen and sons united to try and break his strict rule.

Aescham, like many keeps loyal to Henry, had tightened its defences as the dispute moved across the Narrow Sea to the East of England. Hence, there was an alertness around Aescham that had naught to do with the smoky, mysterious mists that gathered this time of year, as autumn marched toward midwinter. The marshal said so now to Pernelle. “I agree,” she said, “but there is something specific behind this incident that Lady Maude believes to be evil.”

He grimaced. “My lady is over-excited at the prospect of her husband’s return. As well, it is the season of spirits. She sees menacing fog where there is only mist.”

He was strong and sensible, this Peter Cavelier, and most efficient in managing the defences of Aescham that he had taken over from Pernelle’s father at his untimely death. But he could also be lacking in empathy.

“Perhaps,” she concurred. “We are susceptible to phantoms at this time of year. Yet you do not allow for Maude’s intelligence, nor the fact that a creature’s corpse was found outside her chambers.”

Cavelier focused an intense gaze on Pernelle, who felt those dark eyes had the unnerving ability to make one squirm.

“Verminous creatures die all the time, Mistress Vaux. So what is your point?”

His short hair and beard, so beloved of the Normans, lent his appearance a razor-sharp authority. Pernelle lifted her chin. Tired or not, she couldn’t allow this man to browbeat her.

“There were no marks on that rat, Marshal, that is my point. So unless the kitchen staff have begun to poison them since my father’s time, I wonder how that particular one expired. Besides, it is my lady’s wish that someone look into this matter. So I will obey that wish, however trivial the truth may turn out to be.”

Cavelier sighed. “I admire your loyalty, demoiselle. But there is no denying that the current situation is causing a stir, making folk uneasy. It doesn’t help matters that this French visitor of Lady Maude’s and his arrogant manservant have strong links to Aquitaine and Queen Eleanor, an uncomfortable situation when we are technically at war with her.”

Pernelle thought of the swaggering servant of the French merchant Machel, and shrugged.

His DARK EYES had the UNNERVING ability to make her SQUIRM

“Faucon is like all those men from Eleanor’s courts of love, so my lady says. There’s no great harm in him.”

“He is a troublemaker,” retorted Cavelier grimly, “and there are those who resent his presence here, and that of his master, in a household who fights for King Henry. They wonder why my lady entertains him at such a time.” Pernelle sniffed. “Yves Machel is her kinsman. She could hardly refuse him residence.”

“Perhaps,” Cavelier bowed. “And mayhap her sense of doom stems from the uncomfortable atmosphere drifting round Aescham rather than any actual threat to her.” “That could also be true.” When Cavelier continued to observe her with a slightly dismissive expression, Pernelle only just stopped herself from stamping her foot. She returned his look with an irritated glare of her own. “Fine. I will investigate by myself.” With a dismissive nod, she swept from his presence. Hang the man! Peter Cavelier wasn’t the only one with authority – and more importantly, brains – around here. As the former marshal’s daughter and now maid-companion to Lady Maude, Pernelle had her own standing at Aescham. Now she was determined to put it to good use.

She set a resolute path for the kitchens and Cook. The irascible Celt was avoided by many, being renowned for his tempers when he’d had too much ale or too little sleep. But he was a culinary genius, with a soft spot for Pernelle, for whom he’d always saved a sweetmeat or two, so she was never afraid to approach him.

She listened with smiling patience to his details of the food he’d prepare for the feast then broached the subject of the poisoned rodent. Cook vehemently denied any use of toxins to get rid of pests.

“Got enough cats scurrying round here to take care of a Biblical plague! Besides, I’ve strict rules on poisons. They be dangerous things, and the work of a moment for a careless or unskilled hand to turn a dish fatal.” He raised his voice on his last words, punctuating them with a meaty right fist rammed into his left as he added, “And any bright spark messing about with such stuff will have me – or the hangman’s noose – to answer to!”

Pernelle decided it was time to take her leave. She was brought up short by Peter Cavelier waiting for her outside.

“Good day again, Marshal,” she said in a dignified tone of voice. “Did you forget something?”

He pushed himself upright from his leaning position against the wall, offering her a bow and a crooked smile.

“My manners, it seems. You are right, Mistress Vaux. Whether my lady is infected by All Hallow’s fancy or no,

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it is our duty to investigate.”

Pernelle tried – and failed – to veil the smile his words provoked her to.

“Apology accepted, sir,” she said warmly, making him frown. “I do not recall apologising.” Pernelle skipped past his brooding form. “As you please. Come, let us visit my lady.”

Pernelle had to give Cavelier credit. Whatever his true feelings, he behaved toward Lady Maude and her assertion of Samhain mischief with all due deference.

Yet who could fail to respect her? Maude had a noble Frenchwoman’s bearing and the attractive reddish colouring of Gaul, but it was for her compassion that Pernelle adored her. When her parents had succumbed to the sweating sickness, it had been Maude who’d comforted their crushed daughter; she who’d safeguarded Pernelle’s future by keeping her at Aescham as a maid-companion, despite already having the haughty lady Johanna Hynde in that role.

Pernelle grimaced at the thought of Lady Johanna, only realising she had done so when Maude asked, “What is it, mignon? You look perturbed.”

Pernelle schooled her features into a semblance of serenity, ignoring the knowing look on Cavelier’s features.

“I just want this matter of the dead rat to be given the attention it deserves.”

“It will be,” my lady assured her. “We have our marshal’s vow.”

“Please, I would like to assist him in his investigation,” Pernelle pressed, a warning glance in Cavelier’s direction daring him to deny her. “Your safety is of paramount importance to me.”

Maude’s smile was tinged with amusement. “But of course, mignon. Our marshal will no doubt benefit from a little woman’s intuition.”

Cavelier, as he bowed, did not seem entirely convinced.

“So,” he said as they descended the twisting stairwell together into the main hall, the square heart of Aescham. “Based on the assumption that the creature was purposefully left as a warning, we must ask ourselves first who would wish my lady ill, then how they managed to do so without being seen.”

“We should speak to the night watchman,” Pernelle suggested, “find out if he noticed anything unusual.”

“If he did, madam,” returned Cavelier stiffly, “he would have raised the alarm. But there are others close by who should also have been alerted. Like you, for instance. You sleep within calling distance of my lady’s chamber, do you not? How is it you were not disturbed?”

Her face felt so hot, Pernelle just knew she had the appearance of a bright red rosehip right now. “I was… unwell in the night,” she mumbled. “I had need of the… er… privies, and so was not in my usual place the whole time.”

“I see,” Cavelier’s tone was soft. “That would account for the heaviness ’neath your eyes.”

Pernelle kept said eyes averted.

“What of the lady Johanna?” Cavelier wondered after a pause. “If you were unable to be within calling distance of Maude, could you not have roused her to take your place?”

Pernelle snorted. “’Twould have been a waste of time if I’d tried. Johanna sleeps as deep as the dead, and besides, she would never deign to rest her head in any place I would consider suitable.” “You do not like the lady, do you?” “’Tis more a case of she detesting me.” Pernelle shook her head to free it of thoughts that could only scratch at her. “She has done ever since Lady Maude took me under her wing. But why are we speaking of irksome misses? We have more important matters to think on.

“There could be a clue in amongst all this. For instance, nobody could have anticipated that I would not be at my normal post last night. So mayhap this means whoever left the rat is unfamiliar with this part of Aescham’s routine.

“What puzzles me more,” mused Cavelier, “is why leave a warning at all? Why did this enemy not just poison Lady Maude?”

His words stopped Pernelle in her tracks. “A frightening thought.” “Indeed.” Pernelle was frowning, her mind on this potential threat.

“I checked with Cook and he most certainly does not allow the use of poisonous ingredients in his kitchens. Any unwanted pests are taken care of by the Aescham cats. But that rat had not been despatched by any feline jaws.”

“You questioned Cook?” Cavelier’s brows hitched. “Brave soul!”

They had begun walking again, and Pernelle smiled her thanks at a page who had moved aside to allow them through the oak studded door onto the outer stairwell leading down to the bailey.

“A bear will only growl if he doesn’t get any honey. Now, sir, we must consider what has happened at Aescham lately that could result in someone wanting to scare my lady – or worse. There was that awful drunkard groom she had to get rid of after he set fire to the stables. He was said to be cursing her in the brewer’s hut afterward, vowing revenge.” Cavelier wrinkled his nose. “I cannot believe a sot like Will Nash would take such a chance near my lady’s private chamber just to give her a fright.”

“Well, we also know Yves Machel’s visit has created unrest, as you said earlier,” Pernelle continued doggedly. “Especially as he comes from Aquitaine, Queen Eleanor’s heartland. But surely no one would seek to harm my lady just because of these links with the queen?”

“There is a tactic from ancient times,” said Cavelier gravely. “The disabling of one’s enemy by means of something precious to them.”

Pernelle sucked in a breath.

“Who would seek to HARM my lady because of QUEEN ELEANOR?”

“So whoever planted that rat could be using Maude as a pawn to punish Machel? If that is true, we must find them, Marshal, before any such intention can become fact.”

“Please, demoiselle, could you not stop dead every time you have a thought? I am having trouble shortening my steps to your own as it is.”

“Apologies! ‘Tis a regrettable habit of mine.” Pernelle offered Cavelier a sheepish grin and did not object when he took her arm to steer her round the pack of hounds streaming toward their kennels after a working run in the woods. “Do not think I have missed your methods, by the way.” “Oh?” “Um… You still do not believe in Maude’s enemy, and are merely going through the motions until you can report back that her rat expired of entirely innocent means.”

“On the contrary.” Cavelier withdrew his steady hold on her as dogs and houndsman disappeared. “It is my job to question everything, and suspect all souls and situations, if I am to keep this manor and all within it safe.”

“Ah.” Pernelle looked enlightened. “That explains it.” “Explains what?” “Why you are so cynical all the time.” Before Cavelier could respond, an imperious calling of Pernelle’s name drew their attention. Over by the thatched chapel, a slim elegant woman with golden hair tucked behind a glistening veil was gesturing irritably at them.

“You have need of assistance, Joanna?” Pernelle enquired in a suspiciously gay tone as they directed their steps her way.

“The entertainers have arrived early for the Hallow’s Eve feast, and nobody knows what to do with them,” Johanna snapped. “Please tear yourself away from gossiping and take care of it. I am required to attend to my lady.”

Why, Pernelle wondered crossly, did she always feel the childish urge to stick out her tongue whenever that woman

ordered her around? “This matter of the dead rat, my lady,” Cavelier said before Johanna could turn away. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary last night, perchance?” Johanna shuddered. “I retired early,” she replied, pert nose wrinkled, “trusting Mistress Pernelle to see to Lady Maude’s needs. I did not anticipate that she would be unwell.” She cast an insolent glance Pernelle’s way. “Though she seems to have made a remarkable recovery.”

Pernelle gave Johanna an overbright smile. Tossing her head at the gesture, the older lady glided away.

Pernelle sighed. “I’d better see to the new arrivals,” she said reluctantly.

Cavelier was frowning at Johanna’s departing form.

“I will look into this matter of Master Nash,” he told her, “then come and find you later with an update.”

Pernelle was not sure if she liked how that simple promise made her feel.

The hired mummers were enthusiastic and inclined to play up to anyone who viewed them with anything other than animation. They warmed immediately to the smiling young woman welcoming them into this comfortable manor, and were eager to show her a taste of the tricks and music they would be performing for Lady Maude.

Pernelle watched and applauded, and after seeing them fed and settled, went up to her mistress. She was looking happier than she had in weeks, greeting Pernelle with a wide smile.

“Did you see the messenger, mignon?” When Pernelle shook her head, she said, “Sir John sends word. The king’s men have secured victory at Fornham and he hopes to be back at Aescham in time for the All Hallow’s feast.”

Pernelle clasped the hands held out to her.

“That is wondrous news! And the mummers you’ve hired are going to be perfect for his homecoming. Shall we prepare you for dinner?”

When Maude nodded acquiescence, Pernelle began to unpin her long sandy hair and tease out the braids ready for recombing.

“What is it?” she asked when Maude’s smile faded.

“I hope my lord has forgotten our little contretemps before he left. I cannot deny my support of Queen Eleanor, though I would always be completely loyal to Sir John above all others.”

“I am sure he knows that,” Pernelle said reassuringly, “and he will just be so happy to be reunited with you, I doubt he will recall your parting. Though I am no expert in matters of the heart, of course.”

Lady Maude, a strange smile on her lips, was about to reply when there was a tap on the door. Upon Maude’s inviting entry, Cavelier strode into the chamber.

“Ah, marshal,” she greeted him with a forced return of cheer. “Have you heard the good news?”

“News, my lady, yes,” said Cavalier, and Pernelle realised then that he was frowning. “But not of the good kind.”

Maude unconsciously reached for Pernelle’s hand. “What mean you, sir?” “’Tis your kinsman’s servant, Faucon. There has been an accident.” Maude looked alarmed. “Is he all right?” “I am afraid not, madame. His body has been found at the bottom of the hay store’s steps, and his neck is broken…”

“It is my job to SUSPECT all souls if I am to keep this manor SAFE”