The Treason of the Ghosts

Molkyn wanted Sir Roger’s death and he had been given
information about Thorkle. I can imagine it happening. Do what I say, Molkyn
would bully Thorkle, or they’ll be planting cuckold horns on you for as long as
you live. I don’t think Thorkle would need much persuasion. He, like Molkyn and
the rest, had no love for Sir Roger.’
    ‘You
have no proof.’ Ursula tried to reassert herself.
    ‘Yes
he does, Mother.’
    Margaret,
in a nightshift, a cloak about her, sandals in her hands, had crept quietly
down the stairs to stand in the shadows. She came forward and crouched by the
fire, stretching out her hands.
    ‘You
are well, master clerk?’
    She
looked over her shoulder, her pale face lit by a smile. Her beauty looked
fragile in the morning light, blonde hair cascading down to her shoulders.
    ‘When
you first came here I thought you’d be back. The King’s crow,
ready to pick at the rottenness in our lives. Oh yes, that’s what they
call you,’ she smiled. ‘The King’s crow: dark-eyed and
sharp-beaked, eh?’
    She
got to her feet and sat on the bench between Corbett and her mother.
    ‘Our
Father who art in Heaven,’ she intoned. ‘Do you know what my idea of a father
is?’ Margaret’s blue eyes filled with tears, lips quivered but she controlled
herself. ‘What was your father like, Corbett? Did he come to tuck you into bed
at night? My father joined me in mine. Molkyn with his big,
burly body and heavy hands.’
    ‘And
you confessed this?’ Corbett asked. He hid his own sorrow at the hurt in this
young woman’s face.
    ‘I
felt dirty. When Molkyn married Ursula I told her. Who else could I confide
in?’
    ‘And
I protected you,’ Ursula retorted. ‘Whenever I could, I sent Margaret hither
and thither. Widow Walmer helped. I think she suspected.’
    ‘I
liked it there,’ Margaret continued dreamily. ‘She was very pretty. I think she
was in love with Sir Roger and he with her.’
    ‘So
you think he was innocent?’
    ‘I
do.’
    ‘And
did you tell your father that?’
    ‘I
never spoke to my father. We were strangers. When someone cut his head off, I
was glad that this terrible stranger was dead.’
    ‘Widow
Walmer — ‘ Corbett tried to ease the tension — ‘who do
you think killed her?’
    ‘The
day she died,’ Margaret replied, ‘she sent me a message not to come that night.
I half suspected the reason why. I also knew about Sir Roger’s gift to her.
After she was killed, I just thought Melford was a wicked place where people
commit mortal sins.’
    Corbett
studied the girl closely. He wondered if the terrible abuse had slightly
unhinged her wits, turned her mind.
    ‘Molkyn’s
dead,’ he murmured. ‘He’ll answer to God for his crimes. Whom did you tell?’
    ‘I
nearly told the priest, the young one, the one who died last night.’ She shook
her head. ‘But who would believe me?’
    ‘I
did,’ Ursula declared.
    Corbett
placed his elbows on the table. ‘And?’
    ‘I
let you speculate, clerk, on my relationship with Molkyn: a drunk, a beater, an
oaf, a man who abused his own daughter. Sometimes I felt as if I wanted to be
sick in his face.’
    ‘That’s
why you refused to go across to the mill on Saturdays?’
    ‘Of course! Let Molkyn drink, let him sleep like a hog. Do you
know something, clerk, sometimes I considered killing him myself and setting the whole place alight. I used to pray that one evening he would
stagger out and fall in the mere.’
    ‘And
whom did you tell? Did you ever accuse Molkyn openly?’
    ‘I
hinted at it.’
    ‘You
confessed, didn’t you?’ Corbett murmured. ‘You found all these burdens too
heavy: your marriage with Molkyn, Margaret’s abuse, Lucy and Ralph?’
    She
nodded. ‘Six years ago, on Ash Wednesday, I went to the shriving pew.’
    ‘With Curate Robert?’
    ‘No,
no, he was too young. He was frightened of me,’ she added with a half-laugh.
‘There was a visiting friar but he wasn’t there so I sat in church crying.
Parson Grimstone came in. I told him everything: my marriage, Margaret, Molkyn,
Ralph and Lucy.’
    ‘And
would he tell anyone else?’
    ‘How
could he? He was under the seal of confession.’
    ‘Did
Molkyn ever accuse you of telling anyone else?’
    ‘No.’ She placed her hands on the table. ‘But sometimes I’d
catch that murderous look in his eyes. He’d sit where you are, glaring down at
me. It was a matter we never talked about and I never went back to Parson
Grimstone.’
    ‘And
the night