Season of the Raven (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 1)

by Denise Domning

  He offered Faucon his hand, the way warriors did when greeting each other. Then again, today they had been warriors, fighting a battle of a different sort as they sought out the cause of Halbert's death. "Come find me when you have solved the riddle of Halbert Miller's death, knowing that I shall wait breathlessly to hear the identity of the one who did this. And should you ever again come upon dead men who have signs on them you cannot read, don't forget that I am attached to Saint Michael's Abbey in Stanrudde."

  Faucon laughed as he took the monk's hand, well pleased by the offer of aid and friendship. "I shall indeed call upon you, perhaps more often than you intend."

  "I stand ready." Colin winked, then gathered up his pack. He crossed paths with a returning Edmund, then was gone around the corner of the mill in a trice.

  Edmund joined Faucon. "Now where?" he demanded of his employer, his tone as brusque and flat as ever.

  "Of course, Alf stayed the night. Do you think I'd let him go back to the mill when I knew that ass meant to have at him? Not in my lifetime!"

  Susanna the Alewife's voice was so deep she could have been mistaken for a man. She looked like a soldier, standing with her shoulders thrown back and her hands braced on her hips. A massive woman, she was taller than Faucon and as wide as she was tall. The sleeves of her dark green gown were rolled as far up her forearms as their meaty girth allowed. A pair of dark red braids streamed out from beneath the simple white cap she wore.

  She looked skyward and shouted, "I'm warning you now, Lord. If You don't send Halbert Miller straight to hell, You and I are going to have words when I make my way to Your holy gates." Her rooster took umbrage to the shout and crowed from its perch atop her roof. From the cottage across the lane, a babe squalled as if the alewife's cry had startled it.

  Offering a final scornful sniff at what she perceived as Faucon's foolish question, Susanna pivoted. Her braids snapped from side to side as she marched toward her cottage's open door. "Your inquest kept my trade away this morning, so I've plenty to offer. Sit anywhere you like." She threw the words over her shoulder as she stepped inside her home.

  Faucon stared after her, startled by her and this whole encounter, as he tied Legate to the gate and retrieved his cup from his saddlebag. He'd reclaimed his mount from the servant watching him, then sent the man back to St. Radegund's with a message to Prior Lambertus, warning of his visit.

  Hens worked diligently at the soil in what would have been Susanna's front garden, had she not filled it with a half-dozen makeshift tables—naught more than bare planks of wood set atop braces—and equally makeshift benches to accommodate her trade. He chose one close to her gate, sitting on the bench that faced the lane beyond Susanna's woven withe fence. That narrow path was no longer deserted as it had been upon Faucon's arrival this morning. Instead, folk moved this way and that along the lane, old men burdened with great bundles of branches collected against winter's coming, boys armed with slings racing toward the surrounding fields. A beyoked woman made careful headway over the ruts and stones, carrying her full buckets, while a tanner laden with his leather hurried past her. As he crossed the lane near Susanna's gate, the tanner glanced into the yard and nodded as he spied Faucon. Surprised and a little pleased at being recognized, Faucon returned the gesture.

  As Edmund found his cup in his sack, Susanna threaded her way back through the empty tables at her same thundering pace. She carried with her a good-sized iron pot and a tray on which stood a clay pitcher and a bread trencher; it was a fasting day for Edmund, so he was only drinking. After emptying her pitcher into their waiting cups, she set it on a nearby table. Laying the bread in front of Faucon, she ladled stew into the center hollow of the crusty trencher. She dropped a wooden eating spoon next to his cup, then set aside her tray and pot with the pitcher.

  "The stew's warm, and that's all I can say for it. I'm no cook. Now, the ale will be better than any you've ever before had," she promised with no show of humility as she dragged over a short bench. As she sat, she rested her elbows on their table top.

  The planks shifted so forcefully that Faucon snatched for his cup, fearing it might topple. Once it was in hand, he put the cup to his lips, preparing the polite compliments her boast required. Her ale was thick, malty and sweet, all in one delicious instant. He swallowed deeply in pleasure, draining half his cup. No wonder Halbert had bought his drink from a woman who hated him.

  "This is wonderful," Faucon told her, as he set the cup back on the table.

  Edmund nodded in silent agreement as he sipped his own brew, his gaze shifting warily between his employer and the alewife.

  Susanna accepted Faucon's praise with as much grace as Edmund might have done. "Everyone has a calling. Ale is mine, as it was my mother's before me." Then, rubbing her well-padded chin with her thumb, she studied him for a long moment. "Crowner. Is that what you're called?"

  "Coronarius," Edmund corrected. "Sir Faucon is the newly-elected coronarius for this shire. He is the Keeper of the Pleas for the royal court."

  Susanna turned her hard gaze on the clerk. "Then why did every man who stopped here to tell me what was afoot at the mill call him 'Sir Crowner?'"

  Edmund's jaw squared. His brows lowered as he prepared for battle. His mouth opened.

  Faucon held up a hand. "Coronarius or crowner, either describes me and my new duties to our king," he told Susanna. "All that matters is that I'm the one who must discover who killed Halbert Miller."

  Susanna grinned at that. "Whoever the glorious bastard is who did-in Halbert has my everlasting gratitude. My brother-by-marriage was a cruel bitch's son who killed my sister in soul, if not in body. And you'll never convince me that he didn't seduce Cissy so he could get his greedy hands on that mill."

  "If you hated him so, why didn't you refuse your sister when she wanted to marry him?" Faucon asked, surprised that a woman as forceful as Susanna might have so easily relinquished a piece of her inheritance. "It's your right to do so, when their marriage gave him part-ownership of the mill."

  "How could I refuse her?" Susanna shot back. "Cissy ran the mill all on her own."

  Faucon frowned. "Your parents didn't share the mill between their daughters?" Had Susanna and Cissy been born boys, the eldest of them would have taken all. But daughters usually split any inheritance left to them.

  Susanna brayed a laugh at his question, then waved a hand toward the lane and the folk walking it. "They told me you were new to our vale. My parents were Priors Holston's brewers, not its millers. I took to malting almost before I could walk, so it was a given that I would follow my mother into brewing. Although twins we be, Cissy hated ale-making, so she married Jervis. He was just a cottar, with no land of his own, but he ran the mill. Of course, that was years ago, and in those days the mill belonged to the priory. Back then, even though old Jervis did all the work of milling, he kept only a little profit, and paid his fee to the monks when he ground his own grain just like the rest of us.

  "As we wives so often do when our husband has a trade, Cissy became a miller alongside her man. She was my match in all ways," Susanna grinned at that and patted one burly arm. "There was nothing he did that she couldn't and didn't do. Turns out that was a good thing. Jervis died a few years after they were wed, having given Cissy no child, although he did leave her that cottage where Halbert and Stephen live now. Since there was no one else to run the mill, and even though the prior protested long and loud, Cissy became our miller. For a few years, she did the job well enough, all on her own."

  As Susanna spoke, Faucon dipped his spoon into the stew, then rolled the soupy mixture around his mouth. She'd spoken true, she was no cook; it was meatless and flat. But it was edible, and he was hungry, what with having had only oatcakes to break his fast. He set to eating with relief, if not gusto.

  "Then Halbert arrived," Susanna continued. "Aye, he was a handsome stinkard, but I think Cissy wanted him mostly because he was a stranger, someone she hadn't known for all her life. Someone who hadn't call
ed her 'a cock-less man' from time to time, the way I once again hear these days, now that the sweet fool I married passed last year.

  "There'll be some who'll tell you that Cissy made a good match when she wed Halbert, even though he had only a little wealth to his name. They always go on about how Halbert was able to buy Cissy's freedom from the priory, how he now collects all the profits from the mill and pays only a token rent to the monks. What they don't say is how he achieved all that. With sacks full of silver that he got by stealing grain from other folk, that's how!" She slammed a heavy fist on the plank in punctuation.

  Edmund's cup bounced. The clerk caught it, then stared wide-eyed at the woman across the table from him.

  "And then they'll go on about that home of theirs," Susanna continued, "how fine it is now, the beautiful things she had. To them, I say 'bah!' What good is luxury when Cissy was never happy? All she ever got from Halbert was that whining boy of hers, while each of the half-dozen babes who followed him died in her arms, taking a piece of her heart with them as they went, just as my babes did when I lost them.

  "If you ask me, that son of hers is almost as bad as his sire. At least Stephen had the sense to marry 'Wina. Now there's a worthy woman. No fragile flower like Aggie, that lass. Instead, she's one that even Halbert would never dare cross. At their wedding, I told 'Wina right there in Halbert's hearing that if her father-by-marriage ever raised a fist to her, she should wait until nightfall, then douse him with a pot of boiling water."

  The memory of that moment made the alewife grin. For all her smile was broad and vicious, the movement of her mouth made her dark eyes sparkle and revealed a glimpse of the girl she had once been. "I said I'd stand in court and swear it was an accident, that she slipped and fell while carrying it.

  "Thing is, Halbert knew 'Wina wouldn't have any trouble doing the like. For sure, he's never laid a hand on her. If he had, she would have told me, and I would have helped her empty that pot on him. Nay, I would have brought a bigger pot!" She shouted another laugh.

  "A vicious man, indeed," Faucon said, swallowing more ale to wash down the last of the stew. "Agnes tells me she thinks he broke her pig's leg, for no other reason than cruelty."

  Susanna made a feral sound deep in her throat. "Sounds like Halbert."

  Faucon eyed her, then decided that with this woman, he might as well give up subtlety and simply ask. "Do you have any idea who might have killed Halbert?"

  That made her grin again. "Me, most likely. At least, that's what I thought when I saw Halbert under his own wheel this morning. I was sure he'd finally gotten senseless drunk on my strongest ale—that's the weakest you're drinking now—and done himself in. Imagine my disappointment when friends and foes alike began to pass by my fence, all of them calling out to let me know that Halbert hadn't drowned but had been killed with his own awl, then put into the race. Not that I never considered killing him outright. I just never had the opportunity, more's the pity. I definitely didn't have the chance last night, not with both Alf and Aggie here as my companions."

  "Both of them? All night?" Faucon asked.

  She eyed him curiously. "All night long, until Simon awakened us with the hue and cry after he found Halbert in the water. That was just after dawn. Why?"

  "There's no chance that Alf might have departed and returned in the middle of the night without your knowledge?" It was a desperate question, filled with hope's last gasp.

  She cocked a russet brow at him, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the entrance to her home. "There's only one door. At night, I lay my pallet against it and put my back to it. It serves me better than any bar. Do you think even Alf could move my bulk and not awaken me whilst he did so? And he'd have to have done that twice, going out, then coming in again. Nay, Alf was within my walls from the moment I found my rest until Simon's shouts awakened us."

  Faucon grimaced in disappointment. Why had Alf lied about his whereabouts? Whatever his reasons, they were his alone. The truth was that Alf hadn't killed his master, no matter how badly Faucon wanted it to be otherwise.

  Susanna leaned back on the bench so she could put her hands on her hips again. "If you want the name of the one who killed Halbert, I'd be looking at Stephen, were I you. Worm that he is, that boy's been panicking over his father's marriage since the day Aggie arrived here. Two weeks ago, he even came crying to me about how his father was giving away the mill. It was newest and loudest of his ongoing complaints about how his father had brought a stranger into their life that Stephen had to support on what he thought of as his profits."

  She winked at Faucon. "Of course, then I had to prick him a little by saying Aggie was no stranger to me, seeing's how she and I were living here together, and if she asked it of me, I'd help her make a go of the mill after Halbert was gone." She laughed at her own jest, then shook her head.

  "I don't know why Stephen bothered to fret. His father is—was such a churl. We all knew Halbert would never have given anyone so much as a straw, unless his hand was forced or he was well paid for his trouble. As for Aggie, he wouldn't even give her a smile. Why did Stephen think his father would give her the mill? That's the most curious thing of all in Aggie's coming to Priors Holston. Why did Halbert marry Aggie in the first place, because he surely didn't want to be married to her. Among my trade, we're most of us wagering there were coins involved. Some are laying odds on Halbert having been paid to marry her, but I'm putting my silver on the opposite. I think Halbert would have lost coins if he hadn't wed her."

  Her words drove the breath from Faucon's lungs. He froze, his cup lifted halfway to his lips.

  "You need more ale," she said, misreading his hesitation. "The pitcher's empty. I'll be right back with more."

  She thrust to her feet. Once again, their makeshift table top shifted. Faucon barely felt the movement of the boards, as the tidbits of knowledge in his head jostled, settling into a new order in his thoughts. But no matter how they rearranged, they kept coming up against how the miller had been put into the race after he was dead. This time, Faucon sidestepped his frustration over the race and the wheel, and moved on. That left his thoughts once more circling around Alf.

  Edmund tapped the tabletop with his fingers, his hand stretched out so it was almost next to Faucon's trencher. Faucon blinked, reclaiming his awareness of the world around him. Across the table his clerk watched him, his expression curious. As Edmund realized he had his employer's attention, he retracted his hand and put his elbows on the table.

  "This is the second time you've done that today. The first was just before you asked me to tell you what our archbishop said about the Keepers. Now here you are looking at me when I don't think you see me. Have I again done something amiss?" Edmund's admission that he knew he'd done wrong this day was almost more startling than his question.

  "Nay, you've done nothing. I am only thinking," Faucon explained, as Susanna returned with that heavy clay pitcher in her hand. She filled his cup, set the pitcher in the center of the table, and reclaimed her bench.

  "You're not the first to tell me that Halbert had no desire to remarry after your sister passed," Faucon said. "In all the time you've spent with Agnes, did she never mention how Halbert came to take her as his wife?"

  The alewife shook her head, her chins jiggling with the movement, then smiled. "Aggie is very good at saying nothing, while filling the air with words. Every time I tried to pry, she would change the subject and natter on, until I finally realized I was wasting my breath and ceased to try. All I'm sure of is that Aggie was as desperate to escape that marriage as Halbert was to have her gone, when they were well and truly trapped in holy wedlock.

  "So was 'Wina, caught between them by no fault of her own, the peace of her home shattered. And although I know 'Wina wouldn't mind keeping Aggie at her side, now that Halbert's dead, I'm sure Stephen will soon have Aggie and her goods standing outside the door of his home. As much as I'll miss her companionship—I've had no one to share my empty hours with si
nce that man of mine found his just reward, may the good Lord bless him—I think Aggie will be pleased to see no more of Priors Holston."

  This time, when Susanna laughed the sound was gentler, almost feminine. "'Wina has to be breathing in relief this morning, knowing Halbert has departed this earthly vale. I tell you, as distraught as she was over losing her dam, she was even more worried about leaving Aggie alone while she went to lay her mother to rest. It took quite a bit of talking before I convinced 'Wina it was safe for her to go spend time with her family."

  Faucon looked at Susanna in surprise. "Stephen's wife didn't want to attend her mother's funeral?"

  Susanna shook her head. "Oh, nay. She wanted to go more than she wanted to breathe."

  Here she paused and stared out over the lane, as lost in thought as Faucon had been the previous moment. In the distance, a couple fought, their voices rising and falling in anger. That babe now wailed in true distress.

  "What a wonder it must be to come from parents who have a care for you and from whom you've only ever known love," Susanna murmured, then brought her attention back to the knight and monk at her table.

  "'Wina wanted to go, she just wasn't certain that Stephen should come with her. But there was Stephen, hounding her over how they had to go, not just for the burial, but also for the wake the night before. This, when it's usually he who frets over leaving his father unwatched in that house. Halbert's been known to break things when he's besotted, and God knows Stephen can't afford to lose a single thing," she added sarcastically.

  "How far from Priors Holston is 'Wina's family home?" Faucon asked.

  "Well, that's the thing, isn't it?" Susanna shot him a hard look. "There was no need for Stephen to stay the night if he wanted to go to either wake or funeral. The hamlet 'Wina's from is no more than a mile in that direction." She pointed to the west. "He could have worked the day, then gone to spend the evening hours with his in-laws, having missed nothing more than the first tear-filled moments of drinking at the wake. If he'd wanted, he could have returned to sleep in his own bed for a few hours, then walked back for the funeral in the morning, couldn't he have?"