by J G Lewis
“I have cause to believe that he ordered the murder of my friend Drogo Blount, which took place in the barn on my own manor.” Her voice rang louder—with indignation.
“I see.”
“And, as I’m sure you also know, I was abducted and held prisoner in a house near here. When I heard the choir at St. Michael’s, it reminded me of the sound I heard while captive and I began to wonder if the grand residence behind St. Michaels—which Morhees emerged from—might be the place I was held.”
“Ah.” His big hand rested on the handle of his sword. “Naturally I need to question your guard for his version of events. I’ll send my men out to find them. Which direction did they go?”
Ela tried to give him directions but admitted she had no idea which route they took. They’d been gone far too long. Had someone killed the second guard and lay in wait for the first to return in order to finish him off as well?
And where were the other two men she’d sent?
The metallic stench of blood turned her stomach. She wanted the body of this foul villain removed as soon as possible. “Has the coroner been sent for? We can hardly come and go over this dead body in my doorway.”
Le Forester’s face betrayed a hint of exasperation. “How did he come to be inside your house?”
“My man dragged him inside. He’s young and lacks experience.” She was starting to wonder at the young guard’s judgment. Dragging a man through the streets of London was hardly a normal practice and would confound the coroner’s task in examining the body and exonerating him of wrongdoing. And bringing him inside the house… She hoped he was truly provoked into the killing and didn’t do it in a fit of nerves that might be hard to explain in court.
“How are you sure this man is Ficus…What did you say his name was?”
“Vicus Morhees. It’s certainly him. I had words with him myself in Salisbury. You can see he has a distinct style of dress, black with silver trim, and rings on several of his fingers.” She refrained from observing that Sheriff le Duc had a similar sartorial style. Which was odd, now that she thought about it.
“Who else might positively identify the dead man?”
Ela racked her brain. Who, other than her—and a host of people who were now dead—could confirm his identity? “Sheriff de Hal in Salisbury had words with him, I believe.” She might as well have mentioned the man in the moon. She knew de Hal wouldn’t ride from Salisbury for something so unprofitable as identifying a corpse. “And I presume that since he emerged from the garden gate behind St. Michael and All Angels, that someone there could identify him as well. Do you know who owns that house?”
An odd expression passed over his face. “I’m sure inquiries can be made. But I still don’t understand why you sent your own men to pursue this individual? This sounds like a matter for the sheriff.”
Because I don’t trust the sheriff. Ela cleared her throat. “Sir William Talbot and I attended Vespers at St. Michael and All Angels, and decided to take the air by walking a long way home. It was an utter surprise to see Morhees emerge from the gate behind it. I was simply curious to see where he would go. And, unfortunately, I don’t really know what happened after that.”
Le Forester’s face had a dark expression. “It would have been better if you had sent for the sheriff.”
Who would have ignored me, since no crime had yet been committed. “Indeed. Would you like a cup of wine?”
“No, thank you, my lady. I shall leave two men here to wait for the coroner while we look for your guards. Make sure the body is untouched until then.”
Morhees’ blood had dried into the floor by the time the coroner arrived. Theobald Crux was a corpulent man with a thatch of whitish hair. He fussed around the body for a few moments, his young assistant scratching notes on a much reused piece of parchment.
Ela told him everything she knew about Morhees and the incident, which wasn’t much. She mentioned that he was implicated as an accomplice of sorts for two murders in Salisbury, but that he had an alibi in Exmouth for both.
“I see. And I daresay you were surprised to see Master Morhees in London.”
“Indeed I was. And in connection with a building where I believe I was recently held prisoner against my will.”
Now his eyes widened. She explained her abduction and her investigation into the disappearances of the two children.
His expression shifted gradually from surprise to disapproval. “It sounds like you’re involving yourself unnecessarily in dangerous affairs, my lady. Surely this is work for the sheriff’s men.”
“The sheriff’s men are busy with a long list of crimes that expands every day. Where are they? My two guards should have returned a long time ago.”
“Indeed. I need to question the one who killed Morhees. Until I do, I have no evidence that this wasn’t an unprovoked attack on Master Morhees.”
Ela wondered if—as the guard’s employer—she might find herself liable for his actions if he was convicted of an unlawful killing. Morhees’s family might even sue her for damages. While she didn’t have any tears to shed over the death of Vicus Morhees, she hoped the young man had a good explanation for it.
The guards did not return.
The sheriff rode up late at night with his men. He dismounted and was invited into the house, where Ela met him in the parlor. She could smell drink on his breath. Bill Talbot joined them.
“My men have found no trace of your guards.”
“What?” Ela had assumed by this point that they had been taken to the Tower for questioning. “You didn’t find them down by the docks?”
“We didn’t find anyone down by the docks that wasn’t engaged in their usual business.”
“There must have been bloodstains leading the way to the place where the fight occurred.”
“Because your man dragged his victim back here by horseback.”
“Well, yes.” Her guard appeared in a less favorable light each time he was mentioned.
“Did he have orders to do so?”
“Indeed not! He had orders only to follow him and see where he went.”
“For what purpose?”
“I suspect him of being involved in the abduction of young children, including little Elsie Brice of Salisbury. I hoped he might unwittingly lead us to where the children are being held.”
“So you were conducting a sort of…investigation?” His eyes narrowed.
Ela stiffened. “In a way. I thought he might be involved in my abduction last time I was in London. To my knowledge you still have no suspects. On reflection, Morhees might be the masked man who warned me away from looking into the child abductions. I felt at the time that he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.”
“Are you sure you didn’t order your guard to kill him?” The sheriff asked the question in a matter-of-fact way—with a half smile, even—that made it easy for her to say yes.
“Most certainly not. I would never seek to pervert the course of justice to my own aims.”
“Except by conducting your own investigations into missing persons.”
“That’s hardly the same thing as commanding an execution,” she said darkly. “I think you should interview the inhabitants of the house behind St. Michael and All Angels and ask them what Vicus Morhees was doing there.”
The sheriff’s brows lowered. “That house is the residence of Abbot Abelard de Rouen. I hardly think he’d have any business with low criminals.”
“Then other members of his household did. I saw Morhees emerge from the garden with my own eyes.” She glanced at Bill. “And so did Sir William.”
Sheriff le Duc looked at Bill. “And you recognized him?”
Bill looked distressed. “Well, I’d never seen him before but—”
“You took your mistress’s word about his identity, naturally.”
“Indeed I did,” said Bill. “Countess Ela has a keen eye and an excellent memory.” Ela wished she could enjoy his vigorous defense of her finer qualities. In
stead she felt oddly patronized.
“You must question the members of Abbot de Rouen’s household,” she said, barely keeping her anger contained. Why did she feel like she was under investigation instead of Morhees?
Le Duc hesitated and looked behind her to the tapestried wall. “I shall call upon them tomorrow when it’s light.”
Frustration surged inside her. “You don’t consider this an urgent matter?”
“Not for Master Morhees. He’s dead.”
“What about my two young guards? Where can they be?”
He cleared his throat and looked around the room. “Probably out drinking. You know how young men can be after their first taste of blood.”
Ela found herself lost for words. “They’re in my employ. They’d hardly take off drinking without asking permission. Besides, one of them was injured in the exchange and the other returned to retrieve him.”
“I’m sure they’ll turn up.” Le Duc swept into a sudden bow. “I have urgent business to attend to. I’ll call on you tomorrow. In the meantime, please refrain from interfering in matters that are better left to the men entrusted with those duties.”
Early the next morning, the household was stirring when one of the sheriff’s men arrived with news that the two guards had been found dead.
“Washed up in the shallows at low tide,” explained the sheriff’s man gruffly. “Bound and gagged, they were.”
Ela felt a wave of nausea. “Has the coroner attended them?”
“Yes. The bodies are at the Tower, and he’s there right now.”
Ela saw no point in rushing to the Tower and further irritating the sheriff. Her presence would hardly bring them back to life. She’d have to inform their families of their death, and that weighed heavily on her heart. Both of them were young men from the countryside near Salisbury who’d trained in the king’s garrison. Although they had indeed died in a battle of sorts, their families would hardly feel them to be covered with glory by these events.
“Has the sheriff visited Abbot de Rouen’s house yet?”
“I don’t know, my lady.” The young man’s wide face was impassive as a stone block.
“Do you have any suspects in the killing of my guards? Naturally, I take this matter very seriously and intend to pursue their murderers to the fullest extent of the law.”
“I don’t know, my lady.”
“Well, who does know?” Ela pulled a shawl around her against the morning chill. “Surely there’s an investigation underway?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Must I ride to the sheriff to ask him myself?”
“He sent me here to inform you of the deaths, my lady.”
“I thank you for that,” she said with as little irritation as she could manage. “I shall seek out the sheriff myself.”
“I, er, I believe he’s—”
“Busy with more important matters?”
“Well, not more important but…” He turned and glanced over his shoulder at two fellows behind him. They shifted awkwardly in their saddles.
“Fine.” Ela crossed her arms. “Never mind. Tell the sheriff I shall take matters into my own hands.”
If that didn’t get his attention, nothing would.
Chapter 16
“What is he going to do? Kill me?” Ela marched around the parlor.
“These people are ruthless,” said Bill. He absolutely hated her idea of calling on Abbot de Rouen. “There’s no telling what they’ll do.”
“But Abelard de Rouen is a man of God.”
“He might not even be in residence right now. He might have manors all over the south of England. There could be someone usurping his house for a criminal enterprise.”
“An abbot’s residence is certainly a good place to hide. All the more reason we need to dig deeper.”
“But the sheriff…” Bill tailed off.
“The sheriff is not going to go knock on Abbot de Rouen’s door any more than he would go ask the king if he was involved in child smuggling. A religious house is the perfect cover for iniquity because it’s considered to be above reproach.” The more she thought about it, the more she grew convinced that Abbot de Rouen’s grand residence was her black-and-white-floored prison. “I shall knock on the door and introduce myself as their neighbor. They’ll have to invite me in or risk affront.”
Bill tried—unsuccessfully—to hide his exasperation. “If these men are as bloodthirsty as they seem I hardly think they’ll care about seeming impolite.”
“You’d be surprised.” Ela adjusted her barbette, which was tight enough to give her a headache. “Having something to hide makes people awfully circumspect. And I’ll leave my guards outside to wait for me. They can hardly make me disappear if my entire household knows where I am and eagerly awaits my return.”
“I’ll come in with you,” he said with a tilt of his chin.
“Good.” She smiled. She could tell he was hoping she’d protest but in truth she did want him there. He was a moderating influence on her that she suspected she’d need if she came face-to-face with the man behind the child abductions. “And while we’re there be sure to pay attention to every detail of the household and its occupants.”
Hilda dressed Ela in finery fit for a royal visit. A long robe of blue so deep it was almost purple, trimmed with braided silver and gold thread and tiny silver leaves. She wore her rescued rings and would have worn her mother’s heavy gold belt again if her mother hadn’t spirited it safely back to her country retreat.
Her veil shone like new snow, and her fillet was starched so stiff it might have been chiseled from white marble.
“You look so beautiful,” said Hilda, admiring their work.
“I’m not trying to look beautiful,” said Ela. “I’m trying to look important.”
“You look rich, too. If a woman is beautiful and rich, then she’s powerful,” said Hilda, still looking pleased.
Ela found this idea disconcerting. Poor Hilda’s beauty had brought her nothing but suffering so far. But if she’d been an earl’s daughter she’d likely have made an advantageous marriage already. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Still, she didn’t want Hilda’s head being turned by visions of herself as a glamorous lady of the manor. “Beauty and riches can be gone in an instant. Piety and a sense of duty give a woman her strength.”
“Oh, I agree.” Hilda rested her hand on her growing belly. “I’ve been praying every morning and night for the health of my baby. And I’ve been eating as well as I can so he’ll be big and strong.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Thankfully Hilda’s nausea had lessened, though she was still a picky eater. “Though don’t forget you might well have a daughter.”
“Will I still inherit Fernlees if I have a daughter?”
“I believe so. Spicewell didn’t make a distinction as to the sex of the baby.”
“I shan’t let myself get puffed up thinking about the possibilities,” said Hilda with an expression that managed to be both gay and deadly serious at the same time. “My duty is to serve you. And if your current appearance is anything to go by, I’m doing an excellent job.”
Hilda’s smile cheered her. “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, Hilda.” Oh, dear Lord, she did hope this girl’s prospects developed as they intended. With her natural ebullience and loquacity, Hilda didn’t have the humility and self-effacing nature required of a good servant. “Now I shall go see if they have the intended effect on my neighbor.”
Ela did not bring Hilda to the abbot’s house. If Hilda knew her mistress might be walking into a den of kidnappers, she would have prostrated herself on the floor in a fit of weeping. While it might have been useful to send Hilda below stairs at the abbot’s house for refreshments—and to ask probing questions—her present condition was too delicate for any further shocks.
Ela took Bill and four guards with her. She sorely regretted the loss of the two men who’d been killed yesterday and she warned them to be on their guard a
t all times. She chose two to come inside. She also told Bill that he was not to exert himself physically in any way, no matter what happened.
She knew her warning would prove futile if the need arose to defend her, but she was fairly confident that it wouldn’t. Everyone in the household knew exactly where she was headed and had instructions to immediately inform both the sheriff and the king if they failed to emerge within a reasonable amount of time.
Since the house was so close, Ela and Bill walked. Two of the guards came on horseback, in case a pursuit of any kind should be required. They would remain outside, paying close attention to anyone who entered and exited the abbot’s house and grounds.
Ela found herself strangely calm as they approached the door. Dark oak, carved with a pattern of chevrons and studded with heavy iron nails, it looked as defensive in nature as the cut stone of the house and its high garden wall. A small brass bell hung next to the door and she watched while a guard rang it. She waited, holding her breath, as the chime resounded off the stone walls.
Just when she began to wonder if anyone would ever come, the door opened slowly, revealing a floor made from big slabs of the same gray cut stone as the walls.
Ela’s heart sank slightly. “Good morning, brother,” she said to the monk who answered, a short man with beady dark eyes. His remaining hair bristled out sideways beneath his tonsure like a dark halo. “I am Ela, Countess of Salisbury, and I wish to make the acquaintance of my esteemed neighbor.” She forced a smile to her lips.
The monk stared at her. Surely it wasn’t so unusual for neighbors to introduce themselves in London? Perhaps it was odd for a countess to make the rounds, but this was a grand house and no doubt they’d be even more shocked if the fishmonger’s wife paid a social call.
“I find myself at a disadvantage, brother.” She managed after an awkward silence. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” She didn’t want to make the mistake of assuming this was a mere novice when in fact it might be Abbot de Rouen himself dressed to display piety and humility.
