A Killing Season mm-8

by Priscilla Royal

  This time Hugh’s look was kind. “Master Gamel says the cross saved Umfrey’s life.”

  “That pleases me. My stolen object served a higher purpose than the mere reflection of a fat priest’s eyes when he looked upon the smuggled goods for purchase.” Raoul turned his face away.

  The knight inclined his head toward the monk. “Some would call that remark blasphemous.”

  Nodding in the same direction, Raoul replied, “The one who might has suggested that God used me to assist in the miracle of my brother’s survival.”

  The knight stared at Thomas.

  “From the beginning I doubted the smugglers had come here accidentally,” Raoul said. “The closeness to the castle and the dangers of the cove in winter argued against that. As I told you, I discounted my father’s leadership and began to think one or all of my brothers were to blame. When they began to die, I also lost suspects. Although I doubted Umfrey had anything to do with the smuggling, I did ask him if he knew of any crime he or our dead brothers had committed. He didn’t, and I believed him. My brother owns a womanish nature and was never clever enough to scheme.” Raoul looked up at Hugh and was surprised.

  The prioress’ brother was looking at him with an expression bordering on respect.

  “When only Umfrey and I were left alive, my suspicions turned reluctantly to my cousin. Since all communications went through Leonel, I realized that he might never have spoken to my father about the lights. The hasty nature of the investigation may have been his decision, or else he jested that the soldier must have imagined the sighting. If the last, the search party would have learned his desired conclusion from his light manner. Had there been questions later about this, he could have claimed that he did not want to trouble my father with a matter than seemed so insignificant.”

  “There were times in Outremer when I suspected your cousin of deciding problems on behalf of your father without consultation. The instances were minor, and I never questioned the baron.”

  Raoul exhaled with evident relief.

  Thomas rose from the bedside and made the sign of the cross over Umfrey. The baron’s son wore a smile radiant with joy.

  Hugh shook his head, then turned his attention back to Raoul. “Yet you never spoke of your findings to anyone at all?” He hoped he had kept his tone devoid of accusation.

  “Whom could I trust? I had no proof of guilt and little reason to believe my words would be greeted with anything except blows or insults.” He carefully shrugged the uninjured shoulder, then grinned to disguise his evident pain. “Although I did not suppose my cousin was the head of the smugglers, I suspected he knew and might have been getting a fee for his silence. So I delayed until I had irrefutable proof to name the leader of this band, and, had I done so, I could have demanded an audience alone with my father. He’d not mock facts. How better to prove myself a worthy son?” His grin vanished. “Or not. The wisest choice would have been to join the outlaws for a share in the wealth.”

  With those words, Hugh’s lesser opinion of Raoul returned. “In the cave, your cousin confessed he had organized the smuggling.” He waited for a response, then sneered. “So you claim never to have approached Leonel?”

  The son’s eyes flashed with guarded anger. “Why would I? If I’d found proof, I would have gone to my father!”

  “I wonder that you did not suggest to your cousin that he could pay for your own silence about his involvement.”

  “Despite your poor opinion of me, I own some sense of honor. I looked for more answers in the cave and found nothing. Some night I thought to spy on the men unloading the boats.” He glared at the knight. “If I had discovered the leader, I would have omitted any mention of my suspicions about my cousin.”

  “You didn’t slip into his chambers and search his possessions for proof of his involvement?”

  “Like some common thief?”

  Hugh nodded.

  “I have never met you before this visit,” a man said, “yet I believe you did go through his room for evidence.”

  Startled, Sir Hugh instinctively gripped his dagger as he turned to face the speaker.

  Brother Thomas smiled, then gestured at the baron’s son. “You argued well for the innocence of your father, took good measure of your brothers, and described your cousin as a master of semblance. Why not conclude that he was the chief smuggler, a task that requires just such careful stealth? Having pondered the question, I believe that you did think him guilty and most probably searched his room for proof. Greed may not be your favorite vice, but protecting yourself is your main strength. Roger had died unexpectedly and under questionable circumstances. Gervase soon followed him. You would have grown wary.”

  Turning pale, Raoul stared at the monk.

  “Had I been you, I would have waited for a chance to look through Leonel’s possessions.” Thomas folded his arms and waited.

  “Why? I thought my cousin was a good man who served my father well. Now you suggest that I believed him guilty of murder as well as smuggling?”

  “Only a fool would not have feared it to be so, and you are possessed of a clever mind. Even if the smuggling and deaths were unrelated, a wise man would not dismiss the connection too quickly until he was convinced otherwise.”

  Raoul began to deny the accusation again but chose not to dispute further. “Although I did not conclude he was guilty of more than gaining coin from the smuggling, I did search his room.”

  Hugh looked at both monk and Raoul with amazement.

  “What did you find?” Thomas spoke gently.

  “Naught that pointed to my cousin’s involvement in either transgression. I was both relieved and disappointed.”

  The monk considered that response. “I hear hesitation in your reply. You found something.”

  “An oddity, nothing more.”

  Thomas reached into his pouch. “Something like this?” He pulled out a roughly rounded and flaky lump, cupped the dark object in his palm, and extended it so Raoul could see.

  The baron’s son touched it and nodded. “I did not know what that was and thought little more about it.”

  Hugh asked to see the thing, then sniffed and studied it for a moment. “I recognize it,” he said. “This explains what he meant by his reference to the Old Man of the Mountain and those who so willingly died after killing others.”

  “Hashish.” Thomas took the lump back.

  Hugh’s eyes widened. “You have knowledge of it?”

  The monk shook his head. “A soldier from Outremer told me that the substance intoxicates and expels all fear of death. Before I found this in the dead priest’s belongings, I had never seen it. Events kept me from revealing my discovery before Leonel’s death, but Master Gamel has since identified it.”

  “Leonel must have brought the hashish back with him from Acre,” Hugh said. “Perhaps he took it himself to gain the battle courage he did not otherwise own. And then he used it to slaughter the innocent in order to inherit his uncle’s lands and title.”

  Raoul frowned. “I do not understand how.”

  “If he slipped hashish into a spiced wine,” Hugh said, “the peppery taste would be disguised and all reason would not flee until some time later. By that time, Leonel would be elsewhere with witnesses to confirm his innocence. I suspect he persuaded Roger that the infusion would cure his fear of the sea and urged him to stand on a cliff edge to prove it. Unsteady and incautious, he fell to his death.”

  Raoul shifted uncomfortably.

  “You know still more than you have told?” The monk gently urged Raoul to explain.

  “Roger visited me the night before he died and confided he would soon prove his manhood to our father. As I did his tales of swyving women, I took this boasting lightly. He was drunk. I was impatient to reclaim my solitude and refused to hear more of it. Blame rests on me for my selfishness. I might have saved him, Brother.” The young man looked like he was about to weep. “He brought a wineskin with him. A gift, he said, but refused to
share it when I was rude. I drank a small cup with him, but the wine was my own.”

  Thomas took pity. “Do not put the burden of this death on your soul and be grateful you were so bad-tempered. Had you drunk from this wineskin, the gift might have been the undoing of two sons instead of one.”

  Raoul was little comforted. “What of Gervase? What caused him to leap from the window in front of both our mother and cousin?”

  “You said that he was to meet with you over a questionable debt.” Hugh remained unsympathetic.

  “I neither met with my brother nor did I understand the accusation. I was innocent.”

  Blunt skepticism was evident in Hugh’s eyes.

  “I believe you are,” Thomas said. Leonel must have tried to implicate Raoul in each death. Perhaps the nephew knew that the youngest son was least likely to fall into his devious traps, the monk thought. Leonel’s purpose would have been well-served if Raoul became the primary suspect in the deaths.

  “You are pensive, Brother.” Raoul looked worried.

  Dispelling the young man’s unease, Thomas finally remembered a discrepancy between the two stories told about Gervase’s death. There was a detail from Lady Margaret that was missing from Leonel’s version of the son’s fall.

  According to Prioress Eleanor, the lady had mentioned the nephew’s remark about angels being angry if Gervase did not show manliness. From the description of his actions, this son was probably drunk, and Leonel must have laced the wine with hashish. Had Leonel suggested that he might prove the strength of his faith by leaping into the arms of angels? Was this the oath Grevase swore?

  Thomas could establish nothing and chose not to speak his thoughts. “I fear that no one will ever know exactly what happened to Gervase,” he said.

  “As he promised, Leonel took many of his secrets with him.” Hugh’s expression betrayed acute frustration.

  “And returned them to his true liege lord, the Prince of Darkness, along with his soul,” Thomas replied.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Master Gamel directed those entering the baron’s chambers to the places where they might safely stand.

  Baron Herbert sat in a chair against the far wall, his head covered by a hood and his face in shadow.

  Waiting near the open door, Eleanor leaned close to her brother. “Did you visit Raoul and Umfrey earlier today? I have not gotten word on their health,” she whispered. “Sister Anne and Brother Thomas were still with the patients when I was summoned here.”

  “Both continue to thrive. Master Gamel said the danger of festering is now slight, and they will surely live.”

  Acknowledging the physician’s gesture, Hugh led his sister to their assigned places. The fortress commander bowed as the couple passed.

  “You had little cause to fear,” her brother continued. “Your priory healer has used so many foul-smelling concoctions that even the Devil would flee the stench. Master Gamel, on the other hand, looks upon her work with such a pleasant expression that I imagined him in a sweet-scented meadow. What odd creatures these healers are to find pleasure in so many strange potions.” He chuckled but quickly turned solemn. “Sister Anne and Master Lucas should meet one day.”

  Eleanor had feared this request. Although her brother’s physician from Acre had accepted baptism, few of his ancestry came to England. Since his arrival, many whispered their distrust and apprehension of the man. She herself was uncertain. Looking up at her brother, she decided that God would give her direction in this matter when the time came to deal with it. For now, all she need give him was a noncommittal nod.

  Slipping into the chambers at the last minute, Sister Anne and Brother Thomas found places near Lady Margaret. Two stewards stepped back to give them precedence.

  Master Gamel’s expression brightened, then he gestured to the servant who left, closing the door behind him.

  With evident hesitation, Baron Herbert rose. Keeping his head bowed, he cleared his throat. “Since returning home, I have distanced myself from all who greeted me. They celebrated my safe arrival from Outremer with joy. I answered their smiles with harsh words and turned my back on their shouts of hosanna.” His voice was hoarse. “To all, my actions were cruel. Some wondered aloud if I had lost my reason.” Coughing, he took time to glare at the rushes around his feet as if something there had offended. “I have even heard it murmured that my wife caused me grave displeasure. For her offenses, I rejected her.”

  Lady Margaret bowed her head but not quickly enough to hide her pallor and moist eyes.

  “Then my sons, one after the other, suffered strange, violent deaths.” He fell silent. Turning to stare out the window, his mouth twitched. “I soon heard tales that God was punishing me for a dark and secret sin.” He looked back at the assembled, carefully looking over their heads. “I undoubtedly sinned, yet my greatest wickedness lay in trusting one of Satan’s spawn, a viper I held to my breast as if he were my son.” Tears began to flow without restraint down his cheeks. “Had God not revealed the serpent’s true nature to Prioress Eleanor, I might have remained blind to the evil by my side.”

  “Such love may have been misguided, my lord, but not sinful,” Brother Thomas said.

  The baron nodded with a bitter smile. “So you have said to console me, Brother, but snakes bite. I was blinded to Leonel’s nature by my own sinful pride, seeing in him an image of myself. I thought him perfect in his manhood, fighting in Outremer as I did for God’s honor. In comparison, my sons were weak things, little better than daughters.” He clenched his fist. “Because of my arrogance, God ripped my boys from my arms, one after another until, in His mercy, he left me two. For a short while, I thought one of those was dead and the other a murderer…”

  “I seek pardon for misleading you, my lord,” Eleanor said.

  “God guided you in that decision,” he replied, “for my soul had to suffer utter despair. Only then could I learn compassion. When I grieved that I had discovered it too late, God saw repentance in my heart and gave me back two sons.”

  Lady Margaret began to sob.

  “Raoul was a child when I left,” the baron said, “a boy whom I humiliated without true cause. When I returned, he had grown to manhood, but I never looked at him, casting my loving gaze only on my nephew. Leonel was Satan’s creature, feigning the son I longed to have, blinding me to the son who had become all I wished.” He rubbed at his eyes, angry with the tears they bled. “How my boy must curse me!”

  “Take comfort, my lord. Both your sons speak passionately of their love for you. Indeed, their only sorrow was hearing the news of your…” Sister Anne stopped, her face flushing, and bowed her head.

  Baron Herbert turned to Master Gamel. “You have told them?”

  “I did, my lord. Was it not best that they hear the news from me rather than rumor-whispering servants? Your sons begged permission to stand by your side today, but I forbade it in your name, fearing the visit would endanger their still fragile health.”

  “Then I shall no longer hesitate to reveal the horror of my state to those assembled here. When you leave, you shall convey the truth to those of lower rank under your authority. It is my wife, however, who must bear the greatest burden.”

  Lady Margaret raised her head and stared at her husband.

  He did not meet her eyes. “My strange actions since returning home were not due to any fault in you, my beloved wife. I stand back from your embrace only because I am now the vilest of creatures. My desire to remain separated from my beloved family lies in a contagion I brought back with me from Acre.” He gestured around the chambers. “I do not look at you because the noxious disease may be transmitted through my poisonous gaze. In order to protect you from my deadly breath, Master Gamel has asked that you come no closer to me than you have been bidden.” He stopped, his mouth opening and closing with the effort to speak, but no words came forth.

  The physician gasped, fearing apoplexy had struck his patient.

  “I am a leper!” Baron Herbe
rt howled, covering his face with his hands.

  Lady Margaret shrieked, stretched forth her arms, and collapsed to her knees.

  Kneeling beside the lady, Sister Anne hugged the trembling woman close and murmured comfort.

  Herbert turned his back and tried to swallow his pain. “Lady, our union came about because our families found profit in it. On our marriage day, I prayed only that you might prove fruitful and obedient. In return, I vowed to grant you the respect due a mother of sons. Then God blessed me beyond all hope, and I grew to love you beyond all measure. The birth of our five sons further proved He smiled on our union.” His voice coarsened with tears. “Now I must flee from you, a corpse without a coffin, and make a widow of you while I still live.”

  With the help of Sister Anne, Lady Margaret rose to her feet, her face bereft of all color. Her lips quivered.

  “I may deserve this curse as punishment for my sins,” Herbert said, “but you do not. Can you ever forgive me for the affliction I have laid upon you?” No hope softened the question.

  The lady stiffened, then gently pushed aside the nun’s arm. She stepped forward, hesitated, then took another step.

  Even the wind outside grew hushed, waiting for what she might say.

  “My lord.”

  Herbert turned, drew his hood closely over his face, and stared at the floor.

  Lady Margaret walked up to her husband and knelt at his feet.

  Master Gamel reached out to restrain her, then drew back when she glared at him with determined fury.

  “Look upon me, my lord. I beg it of you.”

  Herbert obeyed with eyes shut.