“Nay and it’s becoming serious.” Sean led his horse in the direction of the forest where Jacob and the others waited. He bid them not to disturb anything, but to await him.
“Perchance the lass changed her mind and decided not to marry her betrothed. Happens all the time,” James said. “Many a lass is fearful of marriage.”
“I doubt it because she would have told someone. No one has seen her. She vanished.”
“Aye, ‘tis strange.” James followed as he rounded a bend of trees. “Men found Frances’ friend. Why did you want me along?”
“I thought you could tell me how she died. You always were the best at deciphering … at least, the best of all of us.” Sean kept up the pace and considered his words. James definitely was of a mind to look beyond the obvious. He also had patience which none of the other guardsmen possessed.
Nearing the clearing where the men stood, Sean slowed and noticed Jacob walking the outlying perimeter. He and James dismounted, as did the two others, and they waited for Jacob to reach them.
“My lord, I found a few odd things around the body.”
“Show us. James is here to help.” Sean motioned for Jacob to lead the way.
Jacob knelt close to the body and they leaned in.
“Her undergarments are here,” he said, and displaced a bit of debris covering the cloth with a stick.
“Whoever did this took his time and placed them with care. He was undisturbed and took his leisure,” James said, assessing the area. “It’s remote.”
Sean agreed by nodding. “Why would he place them so neatly and carefully?”
“He cared about her,” this came from Jacob.
James took the stick and lifted the hem of her gown, which had risen to the base of her knees. He lifted the fabric higher and lowered his head to look beneath.
“There’s no abrasions on her legs or any indication that she’d been fleeing.” He moved to where her head was and crouched. “Her eyes were closed when she died.” James continued to study the body, and when Sean tried to ask him a question, James held up a hand.
He should’ve known better than to interrupt him when he was studying. Sean and the others waited in silence.
“She’s been poisoned. Aye, see the black roughness of her lips? I deem it was either belladonna or thorn apple seeds.” James continued to inspect the body.
Sean knelt next to him and noticed the blackened of her lips as well. “What is the significance of the stem?”
James used the stick and tried to dislodge it from her hands. When it came free, he picked it up and pieces fell away from its brittleness. “It’s from a rose, there are thorns. It was a thick flower given the width of the stem, fully grown.”
“Anything else of significance?” Sean frowned at the scene. For even though there was no evidence of blood, it was still gruesome.
“Aye, there’s a piece of her gown missing, near the bottom of the hem. He cut it away and took a piece of her garment as remembrance.”
“He loved her,” this came from Jacob, who stood a few inches behind them.
“We need to find out who she was involved with before her death. There had to be someone. Frances said Lombard’s steward, Bantrum, had a fondness for Winifred. Mayhap he killed her. We’ll have to look into it.” Sean realized none of the men showed their true regard for what they looked at. Except for the few men who wouldn’t move forward and stood afar. One of them continued to retch at the base of a nearby tree.
“I don’t see any wounds and no blood stains on her garments,” James said. He removed his tartan and set it on the ground. He started to roll the body over onto the fabric, and Sean hastened to help. James searched the back of her body for wounds or sign of death, but didn’t remark on any.
Sean helped to lift her body and set it on the tartan. James wrapped her and he helped carry and secure her to a horse. Once they returned to the spot where she’d lain, James stared, seemingly in his own mind.
“Is there anything else of note?” Sean asked him.
James nodded. “Aye, she was killed when it was cold.”
“How do you know that?” Jacob asked.
“There was no growth beneath her when she was set here. The grass had died off long before.”
“Do you deem she was killed elsewhere and placed here?” Sean realized James was right, for there nothing was beneath her and he wondered if the killer had cleared the spot. “It is isolated here. No one would have seen her unless they happened upon her as did you, Jacob.”
James held his chin, in deep thought and then spoke, “She was somewhat protected by the elements, with the large tree trunks blocking the wind from ravaging her.”
“It doesn’t appear that animals got to her.” Sean didn’t like this one bit, not one wee bit.
James grunted. “I’d say she’s been dead many months. Because of where she’d been placed, she was kept dry and safe. Her skin is decayed and yet not as much as I’d assume, unless she’d been put here in late winter. She was positioned here on purpose.”
“He wanted to protect her,” this came from Jacob.
“But he didn’t want us to find her. Let us get her home.” Sean was glad he’d kept Frances away, for she would have been deeply affected by the sight.
He walked next to James and they went to the stream to wash their hands. Both remained silent.
Sean led the men from the area and at the cross trail in the field, he bade the Hume men return home. He, James, and Jacob rode toward Lombard land.
The late afternoon sun began to retreat below the tree line and yet the ground still heated. Spring was turning into summer, and warmth began to irritate them. Lombard land appeared and with it the large wall surrounding the keep. Night would soon be approaching and he wanted to make it home before then.
When they advanced, Sean bid the men to await him by the gate. He wanted to meet Lord Lombard by himself. He didn’t want to impart such disparaging news with others present. He entered the manor and was met by Bantrum, the tall man who oversaw Lord Lombard’s keep. Sean wanted to interrogate the man, but this was not the time. His plan would aid him in finding out if the man was the murder.
“I must see your lord.”
“He’s not here.” He showed him to the door.
Sean gripped the man’s tunic and shoved him against the wall. As tall as the man was, he was no match for Sean’s strength.
“He was here nary a few hours ago. Find him. Now.” Sean tossed him near the doorway and he scrambled away. He didn’t like the way the man dismissed him, and he’d be damned if would be shown the exit without at least being given an opportunity to state why he’d come.
The longer Sean waited, the more he paced and became frustrated by the lord’s absence and detainment. As he paced the long table in the hall, he reasoned the matter and decided it was best if his suspicion be hidden. He’d send someone from his clan to watch the man and report back his movements. Bantrum would make a mistake that he was sure of, and likely it would lead to his guilt.
After waiting for nearly half-an-hour, Lord Lombard returned. He removed his shield and sword, and placed them with a bang on the table. He retreated to the buttery and dunked a cup into the ale barrel. No greeting was spoken, and Sean was about to make his presence known when Lombard, with his back to him, spoke.
“My man tells me you threatened him. I will not have ye intimating those within my clan, young Hume.” Lombard chugged his ale, belched, and tossed the cup to the floor.
“I intimidate when it’s called for.”
“Why have you returned? Were you not here only this morn? You’re becoming a pesky neighbor, Hume. I have no time to entertain you.”
“We found Winifred.”
If he was surprised by this news, Lombard didn’t appear so. His expression changed little with his lips firmly closed and his eyes staid.
“It is not good news I come baring.”
“I expected not,” Lord Lombard said, without a h
int of remorse.
“I wanted to return her body to you so she could be buried properly.”
Lord Lombard walked around the massive table with his hands linked behind his back. Two servants came into the hall to set out items for the night’s supper. He seemed not to notice them, but when they noticed him, they fled.
Sean didn’t like the demeanor of the man. “My men await me. If you’ll tell me where to take her, I’ll be on my way.” He was beginning to sense the man misunderstood him. His silence unnerved him.
“You can take her back to where you found her. You may not bring that … that here. I care not where you take it. Dump it off the nearest cliff.”
“You don’t mean that. She’s your daughter. Surely you want to make certain she’s laid to rest.” Sean approached and wanted to grab the man and start shaking some sense into him.
“I will not be haunted by her. Aye, the good Lord condemned the lass and so shall I. Take her away.” Without another word, Lord Lombard left the hall.
Sean stood shocked for a few minutes, barely able to understand the man’s impudence. How could a man disrespect his own daughter? He’d never comprehend such a disparaging sentiment as not caring for one’s own child. He shook away the absurdity of his encounter with Lombard, and hastened to where his men waited. None of the men questioned him when he mounted his horse.
“He refused her.”
James took the lead and said as he passed, “I wouldn’t bury my enemy on this land. Superstitious lot, they are. When Jacob told the steward here that we had Winifred’s body, everyone within hearing distance made off.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being superstitious,” Jacob said.
Sean’s jaw flexed. He kept the rage inside at how disturbing it all was. “Nay, but there’s wrong when you deny the dead their right.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The day grew warm, so much so that many only wore light tunics, shorter robes and worn breeches. Sean was glad for the coolness his tartan afforded. He stood with his legs braced apart, happy for any breeze that found its way there.
He stood beside Frances yet again at a grave site.
James and Jacob took care of procuring a box and two of his soldiers dug a hole large enough near the copse of trees where they’d buried Lord William.
The burial was sparsely attended. Father Cleve came and said many a prayer.
When word spread of their excursion, villagers and clansmen and women alike, strolled toward the services. By the end of Father’s sermon, there were at least fifty people present. All bowed their heads in respect for the departed. Sean found himself appreciating his clan’s reverence, because it meant they had good hearts and decency amongst them.
“Would ye like to say a few words, my lady?” Father Cleve motioned to Frances.
She stepped next to him and turned to the crowd. Sean was proud of the way she’d held herself strong. Winifred’s death greatly affected her. He’d heard her sobbing when he returned from Lombard’s keep.
“Many of you knew Winifred, she’d come to visit me often. She was my dear friend. Please pray for her. Her death wasn’t easy and we can only hope for her acceptance into God’s house was. For she was kindhearted, generous, and full of goodness. Thank you for coming.”
The rest of the service went by quickly and Winifred at long last was laid to rest. Frances remained reticent on their walk back to the keep with him. He was dismayed by her heartbreak.
* * *
Sean was appeased by Frances’ calm acceptance of her friend’s death. She didn’t say much about it the night before at supper or this morn, when he held her in his arms before he’d left their bed. At first, he considered she was distraught, but she seemed to be accepting it. Mayhap she was cried out and there was no room for more anguish in her heart.
After dispatching Angus, his stable lad, to infiltrate and watch Bantrum, he walked the lane that meandered to the village. He looked for Jacob who he’d been told went to get supplies for a cart he was making.
Sean also wanted to talk Sabine’s parents about her disappearance while he was there. The closer he got to the smith’s hut, the louder the noise became, but it wasn’t coming from the bang of the smith’s hammer or billows.
A large crowd gathered and many shouted blasphemous names at a man who stood in the center of the commotion. Sean couldn’t see who it was and hence he made his way through the crowd.
Sir John stood near another who held an ax at the crowd, keeping them at bay.
“I say, ye all return to your homes and businesses. This is an unlawful gathering,” Sir John said, his face grew angrier by the minute.
“Nay, we want answers. Someone is killing our lassies. What are you going to do about it?” A large man, whom Sean met, tended the Hume fields and had a cottage beyond the main keep. Archibald stood firm, glaring, as did many of those around him.
“I will … I am investigating the matter.”
Archibald stepped forward. “Aye, are you? Ye be the sheriff. How many more of our women need to disappear before you do anything?” He pointed a sharp pitchfork at the sheriff, almost reaching his chest with the sharp points.
Sir John’s comrade swung the ax, but missed Archibald’s pitchfork. Tensions rose and Sean knew he had to do something or all hell would run amok.
“I was just as upset about Winifred as the rest of ye. Now be off, I say, and let me do my duty.” Sir John appeared flustered.
The crowd didn’t budge.
Sean approached Sir John and helped him exit the crowd. Many were still wary of him, being the new lord, and didn’t remark on his actions. “I’ll speak with the sheriff. Let us pass. Go on to your homes now. I’ll see what can be done, you’ve my solemn oath.”
One by one the crowd dispensed.
“Thank you, Lord Hume. I thought they’d flay me alive.”
“They might have, Sir John. Och you can understand how troubled they are.” Sean stopped down the lane from the smith’s hut and found it odd he heard no sounds from within or smelled the burning fires needed to do the tasks of a smithy.
He watched those around him, waiting for Sir John to explain what he’d do about the situation.
“Aye, I do understand. I haven’t found a person who knows anything about the young maid’s disappearance. I heard tell you found the Lombard lass?”
“Aye, we buried her last eve. Not much to tell. We found her near the border of our land and Lombard’s. Seems her father wanted nothing to do with her burial. My wife was aggrieved by the loss.”
Sir John set his arms behind is back and began walking toward the gate. “I wish to speak to my lady about the matter. I shall go see her at once.”
Sean stepped in front of him, stopping his progress and blocking his path. “I cannot permit it.”
“Is she unwell?”
He wasn’t about to allow the man near Frances. “She is well, but … I wish to give her time to mourn. With her uncle’s passing and now her friend’s, she won’t want visitors.”
“I’m not a visitor, my lord, but a confirmed agent of the King’s, and should be allowed to question your wife.” His voice lent to his outrage.
“You should question the men who found the body and those who are closest to the maid and the Lombard lass.”
Sir John smirked. “Do ye presume to tell me how to do my duty?”
Sean turned to face him, he stood close. “Nay, why don’t ye try doing your duty before the crowd does more than demand answers? Be gone, Sir John.” He dismissed him and started walking toward the smithy’s hut.
Sir John called after him. “Give my lady my sympathies, my lord, I will let you know if I find out anything.”
Sean found the man an odd sort. The last time he’d seen Sir John at the border meeting, he’d behaved in an unfriendly manner. This day he acted as if he were somewhat civil. Of course Sean did save him from being torn asunder by the crowd.
It didn’t appear the sheriff was wont to do an
ything about the happenings and that gave him pause. Sean would do what he could because he didn’t like the fact that such evil took place near his home.
Home. Sean considered the Hume keep his home and it struck him that it had taken little time to become accustomed to his new role.
He reached the smithy’s hut, but Herbert, the smith, wasn’t there. Sean stood outside and saw Mistress Ina approaching.
She sang in Gaelic: “‘Young man that came from over the sea, you are not welcome here, Come lay your head on my knee, and I will play harp and sing for you. She snatched the sharp sword from her belt, and sliced his head from his shoulders; That is the end of my tale, and as the Sweet Sorrow would sing it.”’
Sean raised a brow for that was not a song a mistress should be singing, and he’d recognized the ballad which wasn’t meant for a woman’s ears. The song foretold how Finn Mac Cool and his warriors won the day, overcoming the monsters from the north.
“Mistress,” he called with amusement.
“Oh, my lord, I didn’t see ye there. Good day.” She curtseyed and grinned. “The smith and his wife went to stay with his wife’s family if that be who you’re looking for. Poor lady is distraught.”
“Aye she must be.”
“My lady is taking Winifred’s death better than I thought she would.” Mistress Ina tisked. “Such an indignity, what happened to Winifred.”
“Frances realized it was likely she was gone and has accepted it. I must be off, Mistress.” Sean had no time for small talk, he had plenty of duties to attend to and he hadn’t seen Frances for hours.
But Mistress Ina stepped in front of him before he trekked off. “Shame, my lord, Winifred was indeed a lovely lass. She was the prettiest lass too when she was wee. I heard tell that her father betrothed her to Sir John.”
“He said nothing of it and neither did Sir John.” An instant awareness came. Sean’s gut had been incisive. The man had a connection to Winifred.
“Oh aye, my lord, and he wouldn’t. Lord Lombard wouldn’t accept the bride price. Said it was too little for the likes of his daughter. He shamed Sir John in front of many a guest at his keep at the betrothal feast. I heard tell that Lord Lombard was dishonored by her, because she should’ve gained him more wealth. ‘Tis truly disgraceful, my lord.”
A Highlander In Peril (Gunn Guardsman) Page 16
