“I don’t think so. If Anselm saw the thief and chased after him, he would have drawn his dagger, he would have been armed and on his guard. There would have been a fight, and he would likely have received other cuts as well as the one that killed him.” Janna paused to order her argument. “No, I think Anselm knew the thief and that was why he had to be silenced. I also believe he was taken by surprise, and by someone he trusted, and that was why he had no time to arm and defend himself before his throat was cut.”
But had that assailant been Odo—or Peter Thatcher? Janna recognized that her comments could apply to either man, but she knew Emma would hear nothing against her beloved. That possibility was something she must discuss later with Hugh, when they were alone.
“It could be that Anselm met Odo, either by chance or arrangement, near the ditch where his body was found,” she hurried on. “He would have had no cause for concern, no reason to fear a man he knew well. The attack, when it came, must have been sudden and completely unexpected. Odo had to kill your brother before he could take his purse, for he could not leave him alive to bear witness. I suspect he cut the purse off afterward, to make us believe it was the work of a common thief.”
“If that is so, the purse will be stained with Anselm’s blood!” Forgetting his wound in the excitement of the chase, Hugh jerked upright. He subsided with a groan. Sweat broke out across his forehead. Janna hoped the sudden movement hadn’t torn apart the newly healing skin.
“We must go after Odo,” Emma said with determination. “Hugh…” Her voice trailed away as she noticed his pallor.
“I’ll come with you,” Janna said quickly. “The fair is over and people are already leaving Wiltune. We must make haste.”
“It’s not safe for you to go alone. I’m coming with you.” Hugh swept aside the blanket that covered him, revealing a shirt stained with fresh blood.
“No, my lord, you are not.” Sister Anne had entered the cubicle and taken in the situation with one glance. “Look at the damage you have caused by rising from your bed too soon! You must rest and give that wound a chance to heal or I will not answer for the consequences.”
“I can go in the lord’s place,” Janna said quickly, adding, “if you will give me permission to leave the abbey, Sister?” The infirmarian looked somewhat doubtful.
“Please!” Emma was anxious to be gone, but fearful of carrying out her task alone.
“You have taken no vows, you have merely sought safety here in the abbey?” Sister Anne questioned.
“Yes, indeed.”
“Then you are free to leave whenever you will. But…” Sister Anne checked Janna’s rush to the door. “But if you leave, you may not find it quite so easy to return.”
“Why not?” Hugh demanded, before Janna could say anything. “Surely the pursuit of truth and justice is all part of carrying out God’s work?”
Sister Anne nodded thoughtfully. “There is some merit in what you say,” she conceded.
“Then let Sister Johanna accompany Mistress Emma, I beg you, for there are questions to be asked of those who may already be making preparations to leave Wiltune. There is no time to lose.” Hugh cast an uncertain glance at Janna. “But please be careful,” he said. “Both of you. And especially you, Johanna. Don’t take any chances, please.”
Chapter 11
Janna felt an exhilarating sense of freedom as they left the abbey. Nevertheless, she couldn’t resist a nervous glance over her shoulder as they came to the site of the fair. There were still a number of people about, those who were busy demolishing booths and stalls, plus some of the traders who’d occupied them and were now busy packing away their goods and loading them onto sumpter horses or stacking them onto carts.
“I don’t know where to start looking,” Emma said dismally. “What if Odo ran away from Wiltune straight after he attacked Anselm?”
“He stayed to identify your brother and raise the hue and cry for Peter,” Janna reminded her. “Besides, why would he run away and thus arouse suspicion, when he can bear witness to the quarrel with Peter, knowing that your lover will wear the blame for Anselm’s death?” Taking advantage of Emma’s silence, Janna continued. “He probably has a purse full of coins now. I think he might be tempted to stay on to enjoy his ill-gotten gains, for he won’t be able to spend them once he returns to your manor.”
Emma nodded, looking slightly more confident. “We came together, Odo, Anselm and I,” she said. “Perhaps he would not leave without me, for that too might look suspicious?”
“Yes, indeed. And was no-one else here from your manor?”
“Only Peter,” said Emma, thoroughly downcast once more. “Anselm and I wanted to come to the fair. Odo and Peter were both given leave to come, but Peter thought it wise not to travel with Anselm, so he came alone.”
“Let’s try the cockfighting pit first then,” Janna suggested. “If Odo saw your brother winning there, and if there are still fights going on and wagers being made, a full purse might tempt him to try his own luck.”
They turned toward the pit, and the ditch that ran beside it. The fairground was filthy with discarded produce, rotten and trampled underfoot, along with the excrement of the birds and animals that had been brought and traded, and had left their mark. Janna wrinkled her nose at the smell. She lifted the hem of her habit, and trod carefully through the refuse.
The cockpit was deserted now, and there were no signs of men making wagers over dice or any other means whereby a quick profit might be turned. Janna scanned the scene, then walked over to the ditch. Discarded bits of bread, rotting meat, fish bones and other uninviting objects lay half-submerged in the scummy water. She shuddered. “Where did they find your brother?” she asked, feeling sorry that she’d asked Emma to revisit this sad, dreadful place.
“Not here. Further along, near those trees.” Emma waved a hand to show where she meant. Janna set off to see for herself.
“The trees make a good screen,” Emma said thoughtfully, as she showed Janna the exact spot where she’d found her brother.
“Yes. Odo may have asked your brother to meet him here, for there’s no reason for him to be here else. Unless he came over to relieve himself?” Janna had detected the stink of stale urine in the air. This patch of trees had obviously formed a handy latrine for fairgoers. As such, Odo might have been taking a bigger risk than he realized if he had made such an arrangement. Someone answering the call of nature might easily have surprised them. But it seemed more likely that the attack had come about by chance, an impulse born of propitious circumstances.
She shrugged. It made no matter how or why they’d met but what had happened once they did. She looked at the stained and stagnant water in the ditch and the bloody marks on the ground where Anselm’s body must have rested after they lifted him out. Emma had gone pale. Janna hoped the young woman wasn’t going to be sick again. She moved away to inspect the ground nearby, drawing Emma away from the stinking ditch as she did so. She could find no other stains, nor any scuff marks to indicate that a body had been dragged from somewhere else.
She straightened. “Let’s see if we can find Odo,” she said, and began to pick her way back through the filthy fairground once more.
“I wish I could be sure Anselm wasn’t behind the attack on Hugh,” Emma said, as she followed Janna back to the marketplace.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Janna spoke over her shoulder.
“It’s possible I was the intended target.”
“But why?”
“It’s too long a story to tell you now. In the meantime you must try not to think badly of your brother. Really, there was no reason for him to attack Hugh.”
“My brother is usually open to reason, but he was very angry with Hugh when I spoke to him, angry enough, I think, to take action against even a once-beloved brother-in-arms. He talked about how Hugh had dishonored our friendship and brought shame to our family. I tried to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“I expect it was the drink talking. He must have known that attacking Hugh wouldn’t serve his cause at all, or yours. We can only hope that he came to his senses in time.” Emma’s confession made Janna feel a little more confident about her own safety. “You said Anselm was watching the cockfighting. Was he winning or losing then, do you think?”
“Losing, I am sure. He looked quite desperate.”
“Yes, I thought so too, when I saw him. But his luck might have turned later, perhaps shortly before he died?”
“I don’t know.” Emma looked wretched. “After the fight between Anselm and Peter, I wanted no more to do with my brother and so I stayed away from him as much as I could. He was so angry with me—and with Hugh.” Emma gave a half-strangled sob. “And so my brother died alone like a pig in a ditch, victim of an unknown hand, but after quarreling with those who loved him best. I’d give anything in the world to have him alive again so I could tell him…” Her voice trailed off into silence.
“That you would give up Peter?”
“No!” Emma’s voice was low, but fierce. “There’s no need! It was only Anselm’s stiff-necked pride that made a problem of my love for Peter.”
Janna nodded in sympathetic agreement. She hurriedly picked her way across the marketplace toward the bush tied to a pole that marked the site of an alehouse. It stood close beside the shop of Fulk, the apothecary. The fair being over, both were now open for business, but the alehouse was by far the more crowded. She pushed through a group of men who, with full mugs of ale in hand, stood blocking the door.
“We can’t go in there!” Emma sounded scandalized. Janna glanced behind, and gestured impatiently for her to follow. “If Odo’s not in here, I wager we’ll find him in one of the other alehouses,” she said, and marched inside. She wondered if the alewife would recognize her, for she’d been there before, but her habit turned out to be an effective disguise. In fact, the alewife looked even more scandalized than Emma when she noticed a lay sister on her premises.
“You’ll be putting my customers off their drink,” she muttered angrily.
“We’re looking for someone, mistress,” Janna explained. The alewife flounced off and left them alone. “If you see Odo, don’t let him know your suspicions, don’t accuse him of anything,” Janna warned. “Pretend you’re glad to see him. Say you feel faint, and ask him to buy you a mug of ale. See if he takes the money to pay for it from Anselm’s purse.”
Emma hesitated, looking nervous. “Go.” Janna gave her a nudge to get her moving. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here if there’s any trouble.” She stayed beside the door, watching as Emma began to circle the crowded room. She was the butt of several ribald comments, for women did not frequent alehouses alone unless there was a purpose for their presence. With head held high, Emma ignored the lewd suggestions, but Janna could see the angry flush coloring her face as she tried to avoid a groping hand only to encounter another. Taking pity on her plight, Janna hurried over to join her, for she knew the alewife was right: her presence would inhibit the drinkers in more ways than one.
“He’s not here,” Emma said, once the circle of the room was complete.
“Then we’ll try another, and another, until we find him.” To Janna’s surprise, Emma nodded in agreement. She was glad not to have to argue her case, but her spirits sank low as they visited one alehouse after another without success.
“He’s already gone, hasn’t he?” Emma sighed.
“There’s one more to try.” Janna led her to a rundown establishment tucked away in a small lane off the marketplace. It was frequented by a bunch of rogues and layabouts, judging by a few patrons who were openly relieving themselves at a side fence when Janna and Emma entered the yard. They averted their faces and pressed on into the crowded alehouse.
“He’s here!” Emma hissed out of the side of her mouth.
“Lean on me.” Janna took her arm. “Say you want to go home; tell him I’ve been helping you look for him. And don’t forget to ask him to buy you something to drink.”
Emma sagged slightly, and allowed Janna to support her over to a table where two men were busy at a game of dice. Judging from the coins on the table, and the raised voices, the loser wasn’t happy about the sizeable gains being amassed by the winner. At sight of Emma, the loser sprang up and made a sketchy bow. “You should not be here, mistress,” he said.
“No, I should not,” Emma said tartly, “but I have been looking for you, Odo. I wish to go home now to…to…” Her voice faltered.
“To tell your lord what has happened here,” Janna said firmly. She patted Emma’s shoulder to comfort her and let her know she was not alone.
“I’ll come at once.” The man scowled at his associate, who sat back on his stool with a smug expression and began to count the pile of coins set in front of him.
“I-I feel faint. I need to sit down. Mayhap a drink of wine or ale will help to revive me?” Emma said quickly.
“This is no place for you, nor for you, Sister.” Odo’s mouth turned down in a thin line of disapproval as he surveyed Janna. Not giving Emma any chance to argue, he took her arm and led her outside. Janna made haste to follow the pair. She said nothing until they’d left the laneway and were back in the marketplace. As soon as there were people about and it was safe to stop, she called out, “I beg you, mistress, for the sake of your health, take some refreshment before you set out for home.”
“Oh, yes.” An expression of relief illuminated Emma’s face. “But I’ve spent all my money at the fair.” She turned to Odo in appeal. “Would you have a coin to spare for a drink and perhaps a pie from the cookshop, Odo?”
“Yes, of course, mistress.” Odo’s hand went to his purse. He hesitated. “I, myself, had a lucky wager on a cockfight,” he mumbled, as he opened it to extract a coin. The purse was new, and made of fine leather. Bought with Anselm’s winnings, Janna felt sure of it, just as she felt sure that Anselm’s purse was now safely at the bottom of the ditch, or buried in a bush perhaps. How could they trap the rogue into admitting his foul deed when there was no evidence of it save a purchase he might well claim to have bought out of his own coin?
She gazed at the purse, and then at his tunic, noting how clean it was in front compared to his sleeves, which were dirty and travel-stained. Her gaze narrowed. A fierce exhilaration pulsed through her body.
“Pray fetch some refreshment for Mistress Emma,” Janna ordered, thinking to set his arrest in train while he was out of hearing.
Odo nodded and set off for the cookshop, moving with alacrity. Janna guessed he was relieved not to be questioned about his newfound wealth. But his turn would come, she promised herself.
“I didn’t recognize Anselm’s purse,” Emma said forlornly.
“It’s new, that’s why.” She looked around the marketplace, hoping to see the steward or one of the abbey guards, anyone with the authority to apprehend the villein on his return. Her spirits rose when she spied Godric in the distance.
“Godric!” she shouted, waving energetically to attract his attention.
He hurried over. “My lord Hugh asked me to come looking for you. He’s worried about you. And there is news.” He turned to Emma. “Word has come from the steward that the man who murdered your brother has been arrested, mistress.”
“Odo?” Not understanding, Emma looked about for the villein. He was walking toward them, balancing a pie and a mug of ale and looking very pleased with himself.
“Not Odo. Peter Thatcher.”
“No!” As understanding came, Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “But I told him to hide!”
“And it counted against him when he was caught fleeing from here.”
“But he’s innocent!”
“If that is so, he will be let free.” But Godric looked as if he didn’t believe it for a moment.
“He is innocent,” Janna affirmed. She felt great sympathy for Emma, and a seething sense of injustice on behalf of the hapless thatcher. “Where is
the steward now?”
“At the abbey,” Godric answered. “The thatcher has been brought there to await trial at the abbess’s court. But his own lord will have to be summoned, before the case can be heard.”
“Where are the guards?” Janna looked about for anyone with some authority.
“Have you seen any of them about?”
“I just walked past one of them. He’s over there.”
Janna looked where Godric pointed, and felt her spirits lift with relief. “Ho there!” she shouted, and beckoned the guard to come to them.
“Did I hear mention that the thatcher has been arrested for the murder of your brother, my lady?” There was a definite air of self-satisfaction about Odo as he handed the pie and ale to Emma.
“Yes, Odo; the thatcher has been taken into custody,” Janna answered for Emma. “But the wrong man stands accused. Hold onto Odo, Godric. Hold him tight!”
To her relief, Godric asked no questions but immediately made a grab for the startled villein. He had no chance to defend himself before Janna took a firm grip of his other arm, and called out to the guard: “This is the man responsible for the murder of the man found in the ditch!”
“We already hold the culprit.” The guard ambled over at a leisurely pace. He made no move to relieve Janna and Godric of their struggling captive.
“This man is guilty—and I can prove it!”
Odo strained against their grasp. “You are mistaken. Let me go!”
“See the blood on his tunic?”
“But I washed—”
“Not carefully enough,” Janna assured him. “There is a spray of blood spotting his sleeve. Can you see it, guard?” The guard took a reluctant step closer and bent to inspect the marks. Odo’s struggles increased. Fear had given him added strength and Janna wondered how long they’d be able to hold him if the guard wouldn’t assist them.
“The steward asked me to identify Anselm,” Odo blustered. “I had to come close to make sure it was him. There was so much blood staining his face and clothes, small wonder if I bear the marks.”
Unholy Murder: The Janna Chronicles 3 Page 17
