Bone of Contention

by Roberta Gellis

  “No!” she shrieked. “These are my people.”

  Bell made no attempt to sheathe his sword or rein in his horse. What Loveday said could be the truth or the result of her fear. However, although the men had closed in on her and the axes were lifted in readiness, none struck at him and when he pulled Monseigneur to a stop and turned back, Loveday spoke sharply to them in English and they quickly melted into the woods bordering the road.

  When they were gone, Bell sheathed his sword, which was not much good against bowmen anyway—not that he had seen any bows—and the quick response to Loveday’s order virtually proved they were her people.

  “You should not have ridden so far ahead,” he snarled at her and then, remembering Magdalene, kicked Monseigneur into action again and rode back.

  He was not really worried though. Atop her gelding, Magdalene would have had plenty of time to scream for help if she had been attacked, and the animal had a fair turn of speed. She could have ridden away from any threat. And, indeed, he found her safe, waiting just past the sharp left turn in the road where she could not be seen or be used as another target. They rode back to Loveday together, but instead of looking chastened, the girl looked smug.

  “It is just as well that I did ride ahead,” she said as soon as they were in easy earshot. “Those were my woodsmen. When they saw Bell, they were afraid that I had been taken by the man who threatened me and they determined to try to bring him down and capture him.”

  “Oh, indeed. How?”

  “I’m afraid they intended to kill Monseigneur.” She was smiling slightly.

  Bell’s expression froze and then he smiled. “I hope you cleared their minds of that notion. Between us my father, mother, and I paid near seven pounds of silver for Monseigneur. I would need to take all four of them and their whole families to sell as slaves before the price was made up. And I am rather fond of Monseigneur.”

  “Seven pounds!” Loveday was horrified. “He is only a horse. I have bought a stallion, fatted for servicing mares too, for less than one pound.”

  “But not trained for war, not unafraid of horns calling and the crack of siege machines and the smell of blood. Not for a horse ready on command to charge directly at a line of men or other horses. No, he is worth what we paid.”

  Loveday sighed. “I will issue a special warning about Monseigneur.” Then she looked alarmed. “Will Niall need to buy such a horse if he leaves Lord William’s service?”

  “How should I know?” Bell laughed. “Ask him.”

  “I will indeed,” Loveday said, turning her mare’s head down the path, and starting forward again.

  “She is already calculating how to make up the sum,” Magdalene said softly.

  Holding his breath at Magdalene’s amused and intimate tone and seizing the hope that she had forgiven him, he murmured, “Maybe the punishment of marrying her is too great, even for stabbing a man in the back.”

  Magdalene looked startled, then pursed her lips in pretended disapproval, and they both laughed. However, they had barely exchanged a few more bantering remarks at Loveday’s expense when they were at the gates of Noke. Those were closed, and when Bell looked up at the wall he could see what looked like a field serf with a pitchfork in his hand on a watchtower. There was no sign of armed guardsmen.

  The lookout had obviously already called a warning about them. Before Bell could try to see who, if anyone, was on the hoardings, the gates were pulled open and the steward came out crying a welcome. And right beside him, red hair blazing in the newly bright sun and smiling almost as brightly, was Niall Arvagh.

  Loveday slid off her mare into Niall’s willing arms. “Niall!” she exclaimed. “What if someone sees you?”

  “What do I care for that?” he said, giving her a squeeze with one arm while he caught her mount’s reins with an experienced hand.

  The steward took the reins from him and then stood aside politely to allow Bell and Magdalene to ride past him. They dismounted in the small inner bailey, grooms running from the stable to take their animals. Bell shook his head at the boy reaching for Monseigneur’s reins and said to Magdalene, “Get those two fools into the house where we can talk more privately while I care for Monseigneur.”

  Bell was not the only one who perceived the advantage of privacy. Loveday was already hurrying Niall toward the manor, so Magdalene had no more to do than follow behind. Once inside, when she saw that the hall was empty except for a few servants, she drew close. Loveday had flung her arms around Niall’s neck and was thanking him passionately for protecting her from St. Cyr.

  Niall frowned. “Yes, but I haven’t, Loveday. And you know William’s men cannot stay here forever.”

  “But—” Loveday began.

  Magdalene didn’t want to begin an argument about the rights and wrongs of murder until Bell was with them. Niall might too easily dismiss her warnings of the danger to Lord William of what he had done. He would listen to Bell.

  So she interrupted Loveday to ask sharply, “Niall, where are William’s men?”

  “I didn’t want them walking the hoardings for anyone to see. We would have had all of Loveday’s neighbors here, asking questions, so I ordered that one of Loveday’s serfs be set to watch for St. Cyr.”

  “Yes, but where are the men?” Magdalene looked around the hall where men-at-arms usually lounged when they had no other duty.

  Niall grinned from ear to ear. “Making themselves useful. According to the steward, it is not Mistress Loveday’s custom for anyone lodging in the manor to be idle.” To Magdalene’s amusement he looked down at Loveday with considerable admiration. “Three are mending harness, two are working with horses, two more—”

  “Never mind. I believe you, but I am amazed at their docility,” Magdalene said.

  “They are my men,” Niall replied, his voice suddenly hard, but then he smiled again. “Well, they were bored, too. They spent the first day lying on the hoardings ready to jump up and defend the manor, but no one came. Then after they realized how small the place was, compared with the keeps we are usually set to guard, they complained about being sent to the hoardings, which I admit could not be comfortable, when they could run up to them in plenty of time, given a lookout’s warning. So, when the steward said that if they were not guarding the manor they would have to work in it and they saw I agreed…” He shrugged.

  “Very right. You did just right,” Loveday said with enthusiasm.

  “Murder in such a manner is not right.” Bell’s voice from the doorway was firm, exasperated.

  “Murder?” Niall echoed, turning to face Bell. “Oh, Bell, thank you for seeing Loveday home safe. Of course murder is not right…if it was murder.”

  Bell’s lips thinned. “A man stabbed in the back is scarcely a light jest.”

  Niall blinked. “No. That is murder.”

  “It depends on the circumstances,” Loveday said firmly.

  “Loveday?” Niall’s voice was uncertain and his frown, as he turned his gaze on her, was anxious.

  Magdalene had to choke back a giggle. It seemed that Niall was in no doubt at all about the character of his chosen bride. But then the humor became ugly. Magdalene knew that Loveday had not killed St. Cyr. Was Niall trying to thrust the blame for murder onto her?

  “Hmmm.” Bell made a thoughtful noise. “I never thought that the killer might be a woman. A knife in the back is easy enough to understand. A woman would not want to chance facing him and being seized.”

  “Him? Who?” Niall asked.

  “St. Cyr,” Bell replied, looking surprised. “Who else?”

  “It wasn’t Loveday,” Magdalene put in quickly. “She was in my keeping and I will swear she never left our chamber. You know it, Bell. You were there.”

  “I was fuddled with ale and…er…tired out. I doubt an army marching through the door would have waked me.”

  Magdalene knew that to be untrue. Any hostile sound would have brought Bell instantly awake, his sword in his hand. But he was
unlikely to think of the creaking of bed leathers as hostile. Loveday could have got out of the bed…yes, but not out of the room. Bell would have responded quickly to the sound of the bar being withdrawn and the door latch being lifted. And it was silly to be thinking about it anyway because she herself would have been alerted by Loveday trying to leave.

  “Loveday? Of course not,” Niall said, his fair skin beginning to redden again with temper. “How dare you accuse Loveday? If it was St. Cyr who was killed, half the people in Oxford probably have cause.”

  “You seemed to think Loveday not perfectly innocent yourself, just a moment ago,” Magdalene remarked, her lips twitching.

  “No one is accusing Loveday of murder,” Bell said, soothingly. “But Manville d’Arras has brought an accusation against you to the sheriff, Niall.”

  “Me?” Although he was a grown man, Niall’s voice squeaked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Loveday exclaimed, stepping closer to Niall and putting an arm around his waist. “You did it for me, and I will find a way to—”

  “I didn’t do it at all!” Niall bellowed. “Who the devil is this Manville d’Arras who says he saw me stab St. Cyr in the back? I won’t even bother stabbing him. I’ll choke his lies out of him with my bare hands.”

  “He didn’t say he saw you stab St. Cyr,” Magdalene offered in an attempt to soothe him. “He said he heard you threaten to kill St. Cyr if he ever came back to Noke.”

  “So I did.” Niall’s green-blue eyes glittered in his scarlet face. “And I would have killed him that first day, except that Loveday forbade it.”

  “And you were right,” Loveday said. “I am very sorry I didn’t let you kill him then. I was afraid you would get into trouble, and all I have accomplished is to get you into far worse trouble.”

  “Loveday!” Niall exclaimed, seizing her by her upper arms and shaking her gently. “Are you saying that you believe I would stab a man—even such a man as St. Cyr—in the back?”

  “Well, it was for me…”

  “I’ll kill anyone you want dead, Loveday, and that’s the truth, but not by stabbing in the back.” He drew himself up indignantly. “God, I nearly killed St. Cyr with the flat of my blade. What need had I to sneak up behind him to stick a knife in him?”

  “I never could understand that,” Bell admitted. “I don’t know you very long, I admit, but I could hardly believe you would kill that way.”

  “Then why did you believe it?”

  Niall was so angry, staring aggressively at Bell, that Magdalene felt it was time to intervene. “We didn’t believe it when Giles first told us, but when he said he had come here yesterday to ask you to come back and explain Arras’s accusation against you to William, and the servants wouldn’t let him in and said you were not here…we thought you had fled, taking William’s men—”

  “Taking my lord’s men? Without his leave? I’ve done stupid things in my life, but not so stupid as that!”

  “Yes, I realized that after a while. That’s when I also realized that you must still be here and the men wouldn’t force Loveday’s servants to let Giles in because they were helping you hide—”

  “I wasn’t hiding,” Niall roared. “I had no reason to hide, except from Waleran learning that Lord William had sent men to protect this property.” He took a breath. “I did tell the men that no one must know they were here. Of course they should have told Loveday’s steward to let Giles in, but you know how blindly men-at-arms tend to obey orders.”

  Bell nodded, but Magdalene asked, “Then where were you when Giles arrived?”

  “Likely on my way to Murcot. Soon as Father Herveus read Loveday’s appeal to me, I realized my father had to know all the details so he could support…” He stopped abruptly before he said ‘Loveday’s lies’, Magdalene nodded, and he finished somewhat lamely, “It was four years ago. My father might well have forgotten just what was arranged.”

  “But Giles told us that Leon Blound rode to Murcot and you weren’t there either,” Bell remarked.

  “Likely because I hadn’t yet arrived! In any case, what does it matter where I was—unless St. Cyr was killed between Prime and Sext yesterday?”

  “No,” Bell said. “He was killed on the night of the twenty-first, but his body was not found until the morning of the twenty-second.”

  “Then it does not matter if I claim I was up in a tree trying to fly yesterday. I could not have killed St. Cyr on the night of the twenty-first because I was here, right here in Loveday’s hall, and every servant in the place can speak for me…oh, and Father Herveus, too. He heard the news about St. Cyr and came to see if he could be of help to Loveday. By the time I had explained what had happened and where you were—and no, Loveday, I did not tell him you were lodged in a whorehouse—I am not an idiot—it was dark, so I offered him a bed for the night. Father Herveus shared my evening meal and we played chess until quite late.”

  “Good for you, man!” Bell exclaimed, swatting Niall on the shoulder.

  “I am very glad,” Magdalene said.

  Loveday threw her arms around Niall’s neck again. “I forgave you for anything you did for me, dear heart, but this is much better. I will not have to bribe the sheriff or—”

  “Loveday!” Niall said. “We all know it is done, but it is better if you do not speak so openly about it.”

  Loveday smiled at him and then at Magdalene and Bell. “Oh, I would not, in general, but we are among friends,” she said.

  Bell looked a little sour, but even he had to laugh, acknowledging that none of them ever had any intention of allowing Niall to suffer for the crime if he had killed St. Cyr.

  Chapter 10

  23 June,

  Noke and the Soft Nest

  “But if Niall did not kill St. Cyr, who did?” Magdalene asked somewhat later.

  Loveday had moved smoothly from fugitive to mistress of the manor, ordering dinner and swiftly solving those problems of household management that had arisen while she was gone. The question of Niall’s innocence being settled, the men had quickly shifted to political matters and the pros and cons of Salisbury’s absence had been worked over while they ate.

  Magdalene’s attention had drifted. Although she was concerned in a general way about a rift between the king and his chief ministers, political turmoil would have little effect on her whorehouse—unless William was killed in the fighting. She shuddered and jerked her mind away from such an eventuality. She told herself not to be ridiculous. William had been fighting one war or another since he was fifteen or sixteen years old. But she saw again the gray in his hair, the way he blinked to clear his vision. He was not so young, so quick… The need to think about something else prompted her question about St. Cyr’s killer.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Bell said emphatically. “The man deserved killing and I am not in the least tempted to hunt down his murderer.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Magdalene sighed. “I suppose I am just curious.”

  “There are better things to be curious about,” Bell said sharply.

  “Most likely it was simply a drunken brawl,” Loveday offered, peacemaking. “I would not be too surprised if it happened at one of the other alehouses and they dropped the body by The Broached Barrel to save themselves and make trouble for a rival. Better forget about it.”

  “We can’t forget about it completely,” Niall said, frowning. “I must ride back to Oxford and clear myself of Arras’s accusation.”

  “No,” Loveday protested. “The sheriff’s men might take you, and you know how they are when they think they have an answer. They do not want to hear any evidence against it.”

  Magdalene nodded. “Loveday has a point. I think we had better tell William that you are innocent and can bring proof of it and ask how he wants this done. I mean, if the sheriff takes you and William orders your release, even if he brings proof of your innocence with him, there are bound to be rumors of undue influence. If he brings the proof of your innocence before you a
re taken, the sheriff will never arrest you.”

  “Yes, which means the proof will need to be written,” Bell put in. “Lord William cannot go to the sheriff with Father Herveus and all the servants of Noke trailing along. Magdalene and I will ride back to Oxford while you and Loveday see that Father Herveus writes a testament and also writes down under oath what the servants have to say.”

  Niall looked troubled. “Are you all sure I should not ride back to Oxford at once and report to Lord William myself?”

  There was a little silence and then Magdalene nodded. “Yes. Honestly, I believe that will cause the least trouble. And I will send a message to William as soon as I arrive. That will give him the news just as quickly as you could bring it. If he still wants you to come to Oxford, he can send for you.”

  “I hope he will not do that,” Loveday said. “If Niall goes, who will protect me?”

  “St. Cyr is dead. From whom do you need protection?” Bell asked, fighting the corners of his mouth.

  “If one man came to seize me, others might come also.” Bell might be tempted to laugh, but Loveday was not amused. “Lord Waleran will have heard by now that his attempt to marry me to his man has failed. Will not he send another?”

  “It is possible,” Niall said. “Then if you do not think I am honor bound to return to Oxford, Bell, I will stay here and guard Loveday.” He turned his head toward Magdalene. “I thank you for offering to be go-between. Please be sure to ask Lord William what I am to do about the men. There is no longer any reason for them to stay here and give Waleran cause for complaint, if he hears about them.”

  * * * *

  Soon after that decision was made, Magdalene and Bell were ready to leave, but they had to wait out another fierce downpour. A third caught them when they were on the road and drove them to take shelter in a tiny village. That storm lasted so long that they did not arrive at the Soft Nest until late in the afternoon. Magdalene went in at once to find Diccon so she could send her message to William, and Bell took the horses to the back to be unsaddled and curried free of drying mud.