The Holy Innocents

I was being fanciful. I pushed open the gate, walked up the short path to the door and knocked. After a moment or two, it was opened by an elderly woman, who I guessed to be Dame Tenter.

A voice from within called, ‘Who is it, Mother?’

I raised my own voice a little. ‘I’ve come to see Master Colet, if he’s here.’

The woman who came to the door, wiping her hands in her apron, fitted Grizelda’s description of Agatha Tenter, something more than thirty summers, buxom, with rosy apple cheeks and a fringe of dark red hair showing beneath her white linen hood. Her eyes were the bright blue of speedwells, her chin delicately pointed, and only her nose, sitting squatly in the centre of her face, marred what could otherwise be described as a handsome countenance.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded. ‘And what do you want with Master Colet?’

Her manner was abrasive, but I gave her as admiring a glance as I could conjure up, removed my hat and bowed.

‘My name is Roger and I am by trade a chapman. Master Oliver Cozin, the lawyer, has, however, seen fit to install me as tenant in Master Colet’s house, in the hope that I may afford it some protection should the outlaws penetrate the town’s defences. I am engaged to remain there until Saturday, and longer if it is possible for me to do so. I felt, therefore, that I should make myself known to Master Colet, so that he can see for himself what sort of fellow I am, and ask me any questions he deems necessary.’

Agatha eyed me suspiciously for several seconds, then mellowed a little. She moved back and held the door wide for me to enter.

‘Master Colet is not here at present, but we expect him back very soon.’ She nodded towards a stool near the central hearth and added, ‘You may be seated.’ And she began turning the spit over the fire where she had a rabbit roasting.

The older woman, a small, wizened creature who appeared to be of little account in her own home, retired to a corner and resumed her spinning without vouchsafing me a single word, seemingly indifferent to my presence. I held my hands to the small fire burning on the hearthstone, for the evening air had grown chill during the past half-hour. Now that I was here, I did not know quite how to begin. Agatha solved the dilemma for me.

‘You have no doubt been informed of the trouble surrounding Master Colet,’ she remarked abruptly. ‘Your free tenancy cannot have failed to arouse your curiosity, and, moreover, I should be surprised if the general gossip had not reached your ears by this time. But I’d be grateful if you would take care to say nothing of it in Master Colet’s hearing. He is extremely distressed by any mention of the subject.’

‘Understandably,’ I murmured, ‘if he is an innocent man.’

‘Of course he’s an innocent man,’ she snapped, the blue eyes sparkling with anger. ‘He has been found blameless by both Coroner and Sheriff on my testimony. And on that of Bridget Praule,’ she added as an afterthought.

I hesitated before saying, ‘Mistress Harbourne might not agree with their findings.’

‘You’ve not been talking to that woman, have you?’ Agatha’s face grew red, and not altogether because of the heat from the flames. ‘What does she know of anything? She wasn’t there when the children disappeared. She’d gone, and good riddance to her!’ The tone was scathing. ‘She never liked Master Colet from the moment she first set eyes on him. She saw him as a cuckoo in her nest, as coming between herself and Lady Skelton. She’d always preened herself on being my lady’s cousin, and so privileged in the household. A husband for my lady threatened her position. My lady had no further time for her. All her attention was for Master Colet, and Grizelda could not forgive him. She’s still intent on bringing him down with her lies and insinuations!’

‘You are certain, then,’ I inquired idly, as though having but small interest in the subject, ‘that your master could have had nothing to do with the Skelton children’s disappearance?’

‘Of course, I’m certain, you dolt! They were there, in the house, when he left, and not there when he returned. That I can vouch for.’

‘Then how did they get out? For it’s certain they did, or else they would not have come by their deaths.’

She resumed her task of turning and basting the rabbit whilst casting me a look of pity.

‘They went down the front stairs, of course, when that stupid wench, Bridget Praule, wasn’t looking. The girl’s a daydreamer. Whenever she helped me in the kitchen, I had to scold her for inattention: she was never thinking of what she was supposed to be doing. And afterwards she was too scared to admit that that was what must have happened. But I made my views plain, first to the Sheriff and, later, when the bodies were discovered, to the Coroner.’