The Last Hours

A deadly plague is spreading across the land…

Minette Walters

• Publisher: Allen & Unwin
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN:
  9781760632144
• eBook ISBN:
  9781760638849
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Historical Literature
• Index: Literature

A deadly plague is spreading across the land...

June, 1348: the Black Death enters England through the port of Melcombe in the county of Dorsetshire. Unprepared for the virulence of the disease, and the speed with which it spreads, the people of the county start to die in their thousands.

In the estate of Develish, Lady Anne takes control of her people's future - including the lives of two hundred bonded serfs. Strong, compassionate and resourceful, Lady Anne chooses a bastard slave, Thaddeus Thurkell, to act as her steward. Together, they decide to quarantine Develish by bringing the serfs inside the walls. With this sudden overturning of the accepted social order, where serfs exist only to serve their lords, conflicts soon arise. Ignorant of what is happening in the world outside, they wrestle with themselves, with God and with the terrible uncertainty of their futures.

Lady Anne's people fear starvation but they fear the pestilence more. Who amongst them has the courage to leave the security of the walls?

And how safe is anyone in Develish when a dreadful event threatens the uneasy status quo..?

FIRST TWO WEEKS OF SEPTEMBER, 1348

Seventeen

Develish, Dorseteshire

THE MOOD IN DEVELISH CHANGED after the departure of Thaddeus and his companions. A new uncertainty gripped the people, as if something they’d come to rely on had been lost. Yet their doubts seemed to centre more on themselves than the six who had gone, and, in her mind, Lady Anne likened the demesne to a house. With all the elements in place, a well-built structure stood firm; with a handful of supports missing, it began to waver.

Isabella noticed it also, but she put it differently. ‘Thaddeus would never believe how much he’s missed, milady. He’s too shy to think he could matter so much.’

‘In what way does he matter, Isabella?’

‘In the same way you do, milady. He makes people feel important by listening when they speak. My father says his rearing would have turned him sour if you hadn’t taught him that everyone—even the humblest—should be heard.’

Lady Anne buried her own feelings deep, but she was less able to quell her anger against Eleanor. The girl’s behaviour worsened as the days went by. She raged against any serf who did something she didn’t like, and her temper became so uncertain Lady Anne ordered her to remain in her chamber. The servants were instructed to leave food outside the door, but as often as not it remained untouched.

A rumour spread that Eleanor was lovesick for Thaddeus, and Eva Thurkell played on the story to cause embarrassment for Lady Anne and her council. She claimed that Thaddeus had advised Lady Anne to send Eleanor away when news of the pestilence first reached them, cautioning against confining a girl so beautiful with boys of her own age. Foolishly, Lady Anne had refused, only to regret the decision later when her leading serfs, each eager for power, encouraged their sons to vie for Lady Eleanor’s favour. Pressured to succeed, the boys had introduced animosity to their sword-fighting and wrestling, wounding and bruising each other for all to see.

These facts were true. No one could deny them. Eva’s second son, Jacob, would still be alive if he hadn’t feared being hurt in the arena. To say that Thaddeus had encouraged the games—and had indirectly caused the death of his brother—was false, for, alone amongst the adult men, Thaddeus had not taken part. The same could not be said of Gyles and Alleyn Startout, John Trueblood, Adam Catchpole and James Buckler, whose aggressive vying with each other had not gone unnoticed.

Fearful of losing her authority, Lady Anne had ordered Thaddeus to remove the sons of these ambitious men. By doing so, she had killed two birds with one stone, for all Develish knew that Eva’s tall, handsome firstborn was Lady Eleanor’s true love. The distress the girl had shown since Thaddeus’s departure proved it; but if doubts remained, Eva reminded her neighbours of the warning Milady had given her daughter in front of the kitchen servants.

Worry more about Sir Richard’s displeasure when he learns how interested you are in Thaddeus Thurkell . . .

Lady Anne’s leading serfs urged her to quell the rumour. They were loyal to a man and resented Eva’s slurs. She showed them Thaddeus’s letter and gave permission for it to be nailed to the front door, asking them to draw particular attention to the fact that Thaddeus had left without her permission but promised to return within a fortnight. She found an unexpected ally in Isabella, who confessed shyly to her parents that her twin brothers, Ian and Olyver, had told her of their secret plans before they left. It was a small but necessary deceit, she felt, if it helped Thaddeus free her brothers from further intrigue.

‘They wanted to make you proud,’ she told Gyles and Martha. ‘Please don’t think badly of them because Eva is angry with Thaddeus for leaving. Lady Eleanor’s distress is shared by all the young girls in the demesne. I’ve seen a thousand tears shed for Thaddeus. There’s many dream secretly of becoming his wife.’

Martha stroked her daughter’s cheek. ‘Are you one of them, my sweet?’

‘Not any more, Mama, for he will never be content in Develish now that he’s travelled outside it. But I do yearn for his safe return with our twins. They swore to me they would not stay away beyond a fortnight . . . and that gives the lie to Eva’s story. They would not be coming back if Milady had banished them.’

With the help of Gyles and Martha, common sense prevailed and Eva’s jealous tongue found fewer listeners. Mothers shook their heads when their daughters sought to ape Lady Eleanor’s distress, warning they had no patience with such nonsense. Thaddeus had never shown interest in Develish girls. He searched the horizon too often to take a homebody for a mate. Better to stop fretting and look elsewhere for a husband.

Lady Anne’s feelings remained hidden. To outward appearances, she was as composed as she had always been, yet she could barely tolerate other people’s company. Master de Courtesmain’s exaggerated deference set her nerves on edge while the five leading serfs who made up her council treated her with such grave formality during their meetings that it was hard to be open with them. It seemed they were as much in need of Thaddeus’s quietly voiced opinions as she was.

Thaddeus had understood when to be silent and when to offer advice. If he had something to impart that he didn’t want others to hear, he wrote it down. Lady Anne did the same. So rarely did she have to explain what she was thinking that, at times, she believed he could read her mind. He foresaw problems as quickly as she did and offered solutions before she asked for them.

The same could not be said of Master de Courtesmain and her leading serfs, who looked to their mistress to provide answers for everything. Once or twice, Lady Anne found herself wishing her husband were still alive. Life had been simpler when she’d managed the demesne behind Sir Richard’s back. The serfs had been patient and forbearing of mistakes when he was the enemy and she their secret friend. Now there was no room for error. She had taken the role of liege lord and must be wise all the time, and the burden weighed heavily on her, for she doubted her ability. She governed through the goodwill of her people, and a single poor judgement would lose their support.

Five days after Thaddeus’s departure, Martha Startout brought her a jug of warm water, spiced with chamomile, apples and cloves. ‘You look tired, milady. This tonic might help.’ Martha poured the infusion into an earthenware beaker, pretending ignorance of the sudden rush of tears in Lady Anne’s eyes. ‘You work too hard, my dear. There’s never a moment in the day which you can call your own. You should take an hour for yourself now and then.’

Lady Anne pressed a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. ‘I doubt it’s possible, Martha. There’s nowhere for any of us to be alone.’ She took the beaker, thanking the woman for her kindness. ‘You mustn’t waste concern on me when you have more pressing anxieties. Your sons do a fine thing for Develish and I pray for them each day.’

‘I know, milady, and I thank you for it.’ The woman took a step towards the door, but changed her mind and turned around. ‘The mothers of all the boys give each other solace, milady. Clara Trueblood saw that Rosa Catchpole and Jenny Buckler were upset and begged me to join her in comforting them. She says worry and loss are better understood by people who share the same feelings.’

‘Clara has a wise head.’

‘Indeed, milady. So wise that she knows you are in pain also. She says it isn’t our place to talk to you about it, as you keep your feelings so private, but—’ She broke off as Lady Anne lowered her head and touched her fingertips to her eyes. ‘Should I stop? Do I offend you with my blunt ways? Gyles tells me constantly that I must learn to keep my mouth shut.’

‘No, Martha. I like to hear you speak.’

‘It troubles us that you carry so many burdens alone, milady. Our husbands do their best to advise you, but they’ve become shy without Thaddeus to prompt them—and Master de Courtesmain is not to be trusted.’ She paused. ‘At times like these, your best and closest confidante should be your daughter . . . yet Lady Eleanor seems more determined than ever to find fault with you.’

Lady Anne made a gesture of apology, as if to take the blame for Eleanor’s hostility upon herself. ‘The error’s mine. Our ways and interests are so opposite that she believes me indifferent, and nothing I say or do changes her mind. She misses her father’s love.’

‘Only because she imagines it to be greater than it was, milady. You have been the only constant in her life. There was a time when she wouldn’t leave your side. I recall her as a small child, skipping from house to house in the village as you moved amongst us. She was never happier than to be in your company and the company of serfs.’

Lady Anne remembered. ‘I should have tried harder to keep it so.’

‘You weren’t given the chance, milady. Sir Richard punished you harshly for banishing him from your chamber after what he did to my Abigail, and Lady Eleanor was so young her affections were easily stolen. The justice you gave my family caused unhappiness in yours, and for that Gyles and I feel responsible.’

‘Without reason,’ said Lady Anne sincerely. ‘Eleanor was too like Sir Richard not to become close to him. The burden that weighs on me is that Abigail died. I would have saved your daughter if I could, Martha.’

‘I know that, milady, and I thank you most humbly for trying. But I worried when you defied Sir Richard to do it. I feared you hadn’t foreseen how lonely you would become if you made an enemy of your husband.’

A fresh dampness appeared in Lady Anne’s eyes. ‘I lost nothing except the unwelcome attention of a man I disliked.’

‘You lost a great deal, milady. For all the loyalty you’ve shown Sir Richard’s people, and they you, your position sets you apart. You deny yourself close friendships for fear of how they’ll be interpreted.’

Lady Anne lowered her gaze. ‘What would you have me do differently?’

The woman reached across the desk to place her palm against her mistress’s cheek, smoothing her thumb across the soft skin. ‘Worry less about how you are viewed and allow yourself to be loved in the way your people want to love you. You will not lose respect by accepting embraces from those who wish to comfort you.’

Lady Anne thought of the mother who had died giving her birth and the father who had fallen mortally sick before she reached her sixth year. She had never felt their loss as deeply as she did in Martha’s tender touch. Not even the abbess of her convent had expressed her affection for Anne so openly. She placed her hand over Martha’s by way of gratitude, but her mind told her she would be wrong to let her guard down too easily. Some burdens—those that had been sworn to secrecy—could never be shared.

Hugh de Courtesmain was gone from outside the door by the time Martha left, but he’d heard enough to pique his curiosity. Later, when Lady Anne was overseeing the noonday meal, he consulted the ledger that recorded Develish’s births and deaths.

Abigail Startout, daughter to Gyles and Martha Born summer, 1328—died winter, 1338.

No cause was given for the death, even though the passing of a child was a rarity in the demesne. He found the steward’s ledger of 1338 and searched through the entries in November and December. He read that the winter had been unduly wet, and footrot had been common amongst the sheep, but the only mention of a Startout was on Christmas Day.

There was quiet celebration in the village when Sir Richard let it be known that Gyles Startout will ride in his retinue. Such honour is usually reserved for free men.

Hugh began randomly selecting archived scrolls from the shelves around the room, unrolling parchments to examine the dates beneath the seals. Lady Anne watched him for several minutes from the open doorway before she made her presence known. He seemed most engrossed by a letter from Sir Richard’s sister, dated some fifteen years previously.

She moved into his line of sight, giving silent thanks that she’d had the sense to hide the documents she didn’t want him to find beneath her gowns in the coffer in her chamber. ‘What do you seek?’ she asked.

His face flushed a guilty red. ‘Understanding, milady. I know so little of the history of Develish.’

‘You won’t find it in Lady Beatrix’s letters, sir. I believe she and My Lord of Foxcote visited once when Sir Richard’s father first purchased the demesne for his son, but they haven’t been since. What is it you wish to know?’

‘I wondered why Sir Richard was in Dorseteshire when his family estates are in the north, milady. I presume Develish was the only demesne his father was able to acquire for him?’

‘It was the most distant.’

‘I don’t understand, milady.’

‘Sir Richard incurred debts that his family could barely afford. The price for...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Third Day of July, 1348
• Fourteenth Day of July, 1348
• The Second and Third Weeks of July, 1348
• August, 1348
• First Two Weeks of September, 1348
• About the Author
• Copyright