Simon was intrigued by her rage. It was entirely genuine, he was convinced of that, but he was staggered that the woman could feel so degraded by the allegation. She felt no shame about her wanton adultery, but could be appalled when her husband felt she would give herself to a lowly tranter.
Baldwin interrupted her protestations. His attention had been fixed on Coffyn, whose face had taken on the appearance of a man who had seen a ghost. His hand had fallen, and now he sat as though struck dumb with horror.
“Mistress Martha,” Baldwin said. “I think you have said enough.”
“Who was it, then?” Coffyn’s voice was a whisper.
“Your friend, dear Matthew! Your favorite-your partner. Dearest Godfrey was my lover, and had been for months. You never guessed, because you were never here to see, but he was with me every night whenever you went away. He stole into my room each night, and he stole my heart when he left me.”
“Why, Martha? All I ever wanted was to please you, to make you comfortable. Why should you betray me in this way?”
“You’re pathetic!” Her anger made her enunciation slow and deliberate. “You think you own me because of a contract, but you never bothered to satisfy me. You thought by buying me new jewels and robes you could hold my love-but you never realized that to hold my love, first you had to hold me! Why should I betray you, you ask! Why should I remain loyal when that means living the life of a celibate?”
She turned sharply, the long skirt sweeping over the rushes. “Sir Baldwin, I have answered your questions. I hope my husband is not stupid enough to try to attack anyone else, but if he is keen to, perhaps the next man he springs on will do me the favor of sending my husband to Hell. I have no use for him.”
With that parting shot, she marched haughtily from the room.
Matthew shivered and rested his head on his hands. He had never before felt the vastness of his wife’s contempt for him. It came as almost a physical blow to his stomach to see Martha behave in this way. He felt sickened, revolted by her absolute disgust for him.
“Matthew, do you accept your wife’s word?” Baldwin asked softly.
“I believe her.” The words came as if wrung from his very soul. Matthew Coffyn shook his head. His future was blasted. There could be no hope of peace or renewed love in his marriage. Before her outburst there was still a chance, but now that chance was gone. Her words had scorched his pride. It was impossible that she would ever be able to reciprocate his feelings. He had hoped that with his competitor out of the way, her love for him would return-instead, her loathing for him had increased.
“You accept that John of Irelaunde had nothing to do with your wife’s infidelity?”
“It seemed so obvious!” He held up his head appealingly to the knight. “Everyone knows of John’s reputation. As soon as I realized what was happening with my wife, I was convinced it had to be that little sod!”
“On the night Godfrey died, you were here looking for John, weren’t you? You came home earlier than expected, and were searching for him in your home when you heard Godfrey’s scream.”
“Yes. The time before when I’d been away, I returned late at night instead of the following morning, and although Martha came fairly quickly to meet me, I heard someone jumping from the roof and making off through the garden. Well, John lives out at the back of Godfrey’s-I thought it would be easy for him to clamber over Godfrey’s wall and thence into my garden. It seemed so obvious that the little git was ravishing my wife, I hardly gave it a second thought.”
“It took you a long time to decide to have him beaten,” commented Simon.
“I intended catching him.” The merchant turned his angry, unblinking eyes on the bailiff, worrying at a fingernail. “What would you have done? I had no real proof. That was why I invented this charade of a final trip away. I said I had to go to Exeter for a couple of days, but after a few hours at a tavern on the way, I came back. My men I sent into the garden to block any escape, while I ran upstairs. There was no sign of anyone, and my wife insisted she was alone, but I searched her chamber, and went through all the chests. There was no sign of him. I just thought John must have heard us in the street before we got here, and then made use of the same escape route as before, climbing through the window and leaping from the roof before making off.”
“Whereas it never was John,” Baldwin reminded him.
“No. Instead, when I ran next door to save my neighbor from being attacked, I was in truth trying to save the man who had been cuckolding me. Oh, my God!” he cried, and covered his face with his hands. “I have lost my wife, and now I’ll be prosecuted for having my revenge on the wrong man! How could I have been so stupid!”
Baldwin sighed. “You may well find that an apology to John will prevent him from taking you to court. For my part, so long as you ensure that he is furnished with money while he recovers, I will not try to take matters further. This is all a ridiculous mess. In future, don’t take the law into your own hands. If you are aggrieved, take your case to court and seek redress there.”
“Redress, Sir Baldwin?” asked Coffyn, looking up at the knight blankly. “Redress for losing my wife? What redress could I expect for having had my life taken, for having my future wrested from my hands, for having my opportunities for wedded happiness stolen? What hope is there for me, Sir Baldwin?”
Ralph left the chapel. He could see the limping figure of Rodde making his way from the gate, heading back to his room. The brother wondered whether to have a talk with him. Rodde was spending too much time outside the hospital for his liking; lepers were supposed to remain within their walls, devoting themselves to prayer, not wandering the roads whenever it took their fancy. Ralph considered, but decided not to speak to him yet. Rodde and Quivil both appeared to need time to themselves. If they were shown compassion, Ralph thought, they might come to appreciate God’s mercy, and find their own salvation within the hospital grounds.
Having deliberated over this for a minute or two, Ralph was about to go to his little room when he heard voices at the gate. Tutting to himself at this interruption to his routine, he turned to seek the source. His mouth fell open in astonishment.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“She wants to come in to see Rodde, the new one. I told her she can’t, but she won’t listen.”
“Lady, it’s impossible. This is a leper hospital, somewhere for men who have been inflicted by the disease. You mustn’t come in.”
“Brother, I would like to speak with you.”
“Very well,” Ralph sighed. “Wait there, and I’ll fetch a cloak.”
He signed to the gatekeeper to keep it closed and marched off to his room. His cloak was on top of his chest, and he pulled it over his shoulders. The sun was already dying in the west, and with its passing the warmth of the day was rapidly fading.
“Here I am, madam. Now,” he opened the gate and passed out, “What is the matter? Why make such a fuss here?”
“You have an inmate here, a man called Rodde, I believe?”
“Why, yes. He came here a few weeks ago,” Ralph said. He caught sight of the smith standing nearby and listening to her words with interest. Ralph frowned at him, and began to walk up the hill away from the town itself, circling the perimeter of the compound. “He came from somewhere in the north. Luckily his illness is not far progressed, and he has his own money, so he is little drain on the hospital’s resources. But what is your interest in him?”
“I wish to see him in the hospital.”
“I fear that isn’t possible.”
She smiled and reached for her purse.
“That’s not the difficulty, Lady,” Ralph declared hotly. He resolutely stuffed his hands into the sleeves of his robe as if to prevent their temptation. “I am afraid that the inmates are only allowed a certain kind of woman to visit them.”
“A certain kind, Brother?” she asked softly with a raised eyebrow.
“Not that kind, Lady,” he snapped, “They aren’t permitted to cross the gate at all. No, the only women allowed in here are the relatives of inmates, and even then they are only allowed in during daylight so that nothing untoward can happen.”
“You have that young girl in to help.”
“You mean Mary? She’s different-she’s the housekeeper.”
“I had thought that the housekeeper to a lazar house should be a woman of mature appearance, who couldn’t be attractive to the inmates and tempt them to lascivious thoughts or acts; someone who should be known for good conversation, but little else.”
Ralph shot her a look. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But when no one else will lift a finger to help these poor souls, it’s necessary to use whoever will volunteer.”
“She does look very young.”
“Her age is not something that bothers me. More important is her keenness to provide comfort to the men in there.” Realizing the equivocal nature of the phrase, he reddened, continuing hurriedly, “What I mean is, she helps to keep the chapel clean and tidy, and assists me in my duties such as they are. She has already indicated that she might wish to go to a convent and offer her life to God.”
“She is so young.”
“She’s old enough to love her God,” he returned piously.
“But I should still like to come into the house to see Thomas.”
“Mistress…”