Echoes of a Legend

Chapter EIGHT: Brother Nash and the Secret Told

“He was a real divl digger from an early age n pleasant enough to talk n confess too.” Jacob

There was no way he could wait until another cock-crowed before leaving so he left the manor house very late after organising all the workload with Jerold and some of the villein’s he trusted. There was a surprising amount to cover and he only now realised what it meant to be Lord of the manor.

This is not the time of year to be travelling, with the weather doing its best to unseat Ackerley from Clairvaux’s back, but the inclement nature is not at the front of his mind. Hunching over and hugging in his dark brown coat as the rain lashes down, De Godefroy cannot get his father’s image out of his head. That night will haunt him forever but will also drive his soul on to find the man responsible.

The sound of Clairvaux hoofs as they clip the stones on the road can only just be picked up as the rain intensifies and batters the horses’ black mane. Ackerley pats his neck and looks ahead at the moons reflection in the puddles below, then back to the watery haze in front of them. There in the distance is a light. Not far now and he will be able to stop for the night.

Clairvaux is a large yet agile horse, black as soot and seemingly very protective of the family. He has always been well looked after and appears to be paying equal respect to the De Godefroy’s with this secure ride and patient nature. Reaching their destination, his large rain slicked haunches amble through the unfastened main gate and into the open stable at the back of a small house. The stable is large and only has one door with the other off its hinges and propped up against the inside wall. Piled high with wood and straw the interior is much warmer than the night outside.

Ackerley dismounts and turns to see a short elderly man approach. Shuffling into the stable the man bows slightly when he realises the status of his visitor and says, ‘evening your Lordship,’ and without waiting for an acknowledgment he places two lanthorn’s on the floor and lights them with the torch he was already holding. Lifting the lights onto a large stone holder he smiles pleasingly as he takes Clairvaux reins out of De Godefroy’s hand. ‘Fair look like the rain will pass soon,’ he says as he turns and nods apologetically, ‘sorry-, I’m Jacob and I’m the Reeve of this village. May I ask which manor ye travelled from?’ Turning back to the horse and without glancing back for an answer, he ties Clairvaux to a long beam behind the door.

His Suffolk accent was welcoming and Ackerley already loves the way he winks after each word leaves his mouth.

‘Stowburgh,’ De Godefroy replies as he lifts Maven’s shield over his head and pulls off his sopping overcoat. His long wet hair clings to his head like a second skin and despite the coat, small wet patches have appeared in various areas of his beige tunic.

Ackerley has a simple looking face, although very handsome. Blue eyes like his father, his eyebrows have the same thickness but had not ended wildly out of control. His stubble covers his face evenly and matches his black hair, apart from a strip of unexpected ginger which runs from the tip of his chin to his lower lip.

‘That not be too far. I know the manor well. Now then-,’ Jacob scratches his chin while the wheels in his head did all the work, ‘Err, I believe that’s the good Lord Roldan. How is he?’

Ackerley is surprised that he could answer this question without his heart sinking in the mud beneath his boots. ‘I’m afraid he passed away,’ he says transiently. He is not sure why he makes the statement so short and matter of fact or why he does not include Burleigh, it just seems the right thing to say at this time. Saying murder would also send panes of anguish in his direction and he certainly doesn’t want that.

‘My Lord, sorry I am to hear that.’ He bows again.

‘No need to be sorry it was a while back.’ This also seems an easier response.