Wild Roses
Page 32
“If ye could find something the killer touched we could solve this puzzle right quick,” said Walter.
Pulling free of his dark thoughts about the possibility that his family was cursed, Tormand frowned at his squire. “What are ye talking about?”
“Weel, if ye had something the killer touched we could take it to the Ross witch.”
Tormand had heard of the Ross witch. The woman lived in a tiny cottage several miles outside of town. Although the townspeople had driven the woman away ten years ago, many still journeyed to her cottage for help, mostly for the herbal concoctions the woman made. Some claimed the woman had visions that had aided them in solving some problem. Despite having grown up surrounded by people who had special gifts like that, he doubted the woman was the miracle worker some claimed her to be. Most of the time such witches were simply aging women skilled with herbs and an ability to convince people that they had some great mysterious power.
“And why do ye think she could help if I brought her something touched by the killer?” he asked.
“Because she gets a vision of the truth when she touches something.” Walter absently crossed himself as if he feared he risked his soul by even speaking of the woman. “Old George, the steward for the Gillespie house, told me that Lady Gillespie had some of her jewelry stolen. He said her ladyship took the box the jewels had been taken from to the Ross witch and the moment the woman held the box she had a vision about what had happened.”
When Walter said no more, Tormand asked, “What did the vision tell the woman?”
“That Lady Gillespie’s eldest son had taken the jewels. Crept into her ladyship’s bedchamber whilst she was at court and helped himself to all the best pieces.”
“It doesnae take a witch to ken that. Lady Gillespie’s eldest son is weel kenned to spend too much coin on fine clothes, women, and the toss of the dice. Near everyone—mon, woman, and bairn—in town kens that.” Tormand took a drink of ale to help him resist the urge to grin at the look of annoyance on Walter’s homely face. “Now I ken why the fool was banished to his grandfather’s keep far from all the temptation here near the court.”
“Weel, it wouldnae hurt to try. Seems a lad like ye ought to have more faith in such things.”
“Oh, I have ample faith in such things, enough to wish that ye wouldnae call the woman a witch. That is a word that can give some woman blessed with a gift from God a lot of trouble, deadly trouble.”
“Ah, aye, aye, true enough. A gift from God, is it?”
“Do ye really think the devil would give a woman the gift to heal or to see the truth or any other gift or skill that can be used to help people?”
“Nay, of course he wouldnae. So why do ye doubt the Ross woman?”
“Because there are too many women who are, at best, a wee bit skilled with herbs yet claim such things as visions or the healing touch in order to empty some fool’s purse. They are frauds and ofttimes what they do makes life far more difficult for those women who have a true gift.”
Walter frowned for a moment, obviously thinking that over, and then grunted his agreement. “So ye willnae be trying to get any help from Mistress Ross?”
“Nay, I am nay so desperate for such as that.”
“Oh, I am nay sure I would refuse any help just now,” came a cool, hard voice from the doorway of Tormand’s hall.
Tormand looked toward the door and started to smile at Simon. The expression died a swift death. Sir Simon Innes looked every inch the king’s man at the moment. His face was pale and cold fury tightened its predatory lines. Tormand got the sinking feeling that Simon already knew why he had sent for him. Worse, he feared his friend had some suspicions about his guilt. That stung, but Tormand decided to smother his sense of insult until he and Simon had at least talked. The man was his friend and a strong believer in justice. He would listen before he acted.
Nevertheless, Tormand tensed with a growing alarm when Simon strode up to him. Every line of the man’s tall, lean body was tense with fury. Out of the corner of his eye, Tormand saw Walter tense and place his hand on his sword, revealing that Tormand was not the only one who sensed danger. It was as he looked back at Simon that Tormand realized the man clutched something in his hand.
A heartbeat later, Simon tossed what he held onto the table in front of Tormand. Tormand stared down at a heavy gold ring embellished with blood-red garnets. Unable to believe what he was seeing, he looked at his hands, his unadorned hands, and then looked back at the ring. His first thought was to wonder how he could have left that room of death and not realized that he was no longer wearing his ring. His second thought was that the point of Simon’s sword was dangerously sharp as it rested against his jugular.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright 1997 by Hannah Howell
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-3242-7
First Electronic Edition: August 2008
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3517-6
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