A Man's Word (The King's Hounds series)

by Martin Jensen

  I wondered whether I’d sized him up correctly. Luckily his response showed I had.

  “All is forgiven,” he said. He was a man who fell for being asked for his forgiveness by another man. This allowed me, who dressed and acted like a nobleman, to show Alwyn I was inferior to him.

  “But, no,” he continued, as I had hoped he would, “there was never any money between Arnulf and myself.” He paused and then continued with a wry grin. “Not that he never offered, but borrowing money from him was the last thing I wanted to do. I bet he would have collected interest.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard from other people.” I gave him a knowing smile. “And I suppose your neighbors were just as wise?”

  “Oh you think so?” Alwyn said, giving me a look that was both sly and cruel.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Because if you thought that, you’d be wrong.”

  27

  Apparently generosity pays. A slice of rye bread, a little meat, and two tankards of ale were a piddling price for what the farmer seemed willing to tell me about his neighbors.

  I suppressed a smile. I had not misjudged the man across from me.

  “It’s been known to happen.” I leaned over the table and, seeing his confused look, continued, “That I’ve been wrong.”

  “Oh.” Alwyn ran his hand over his beard.

  “Not that I care. But my master expects me to do and think the right thing. So, maybe you would be willing to help me out a little?”

  The succession of expressions that flickered across his face showed that he was at a loss. Maybe he already regretted what he had let slip?

  I decided to help him along.

  “My master is infatuated with his woman and doesn’t believe she can do any wrong. For example, now he’s got it in his head that she’s correct in her idea that Arnulf was killed by someone who knew him. I completely disagree. What do you think?”

  Alwyn’s mouth slid open and his eyes took on a distant look, like someone struggling to understand something incomprehensible.

  “Someone who knew him? You mean one of us?” Alwyn mumbled.

  “Can you believe that?” I shrugged. “But he’s the master. I just obey.”

  He nodded absentmindedly and then said, “But . . .”

  My look of encouragement didn’t get him to say any more. He sat there in silence, apparently absorbed in his own thoughts. Finally he shook his head.

  “That would only make sense if—”

  A shadow falling over the table interrupted him, but I was in no mood to let him stop there.

  “If what, Alwyn?” I pressed.

  A strong hand grabbed my shoulder. Still, I managed to twist myself free and stand up. My sword was unsheathed the moment I was free of the bench, and as I turned all the way around to face the intruder, I squatted into a swordsman’s basic starting stance, with my weapon ready to lunge.

  “You live dangerously,” I growled to the soldier. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s foolhardy to grab men you don’t know?”

  His ring mail was in good condition, the narrow-necked ax that hung from his belt had an embellished haft, and his clothes were expensive though not pretentious. His blue eyes challenged me from beneath his helmet, and his meaty lips blew into his hanging mustache.

  “My master would like to speak to you,” he said.

  “That may well be.” I held my sword ready. “Is that supposed to give you the right to lay your hand on me?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “I wanted to get your attention.”

  “You have it. Tell your master he can find me here in a little while. I have a few matters to discuss with this farmer.”

  He responded by shaking his head and grunting, “Now.”

  “Not likely.” I smiled coldly at him. “My sword is ready; your ax is still fastened to your belt.”

  His smile was no warmer than mine.

  “Behind you,” he grunted.

  I glanced at Alwyn, who sat very quiet and straight. He looked over my shoulder and then nodded.

  With my sword still ready to fight, I slowly turned my head and looked behind me. There were three spearmen, all with their weapons lowered, tips pointed right at me.

  When I looked back at the soldier, he had taken two steps away. Those two steps meant that I wouldn’t be able to run him through with my sword before I had at least one spear lodged in my back.

  “Your master, you said?”

  “Thane Delwyn.”

  I furrowed my brow. I was expecting it to be the reeve. Why would Delwyn send armed men for me?

  “He wants to talk to me?”

  “You or your master. Bring me the illuminator or his hired man. Those were his words.”

  Hired man? I snorted.

  “Then find my master. I’m busy.”

  “I looked for him first.”

  Of course he did. Why make do with the hired man?

  “But you didn’t find him?”

  The soldier shook his head, which got me thinking. I had a clear inkling that if he looked in the mintmaster’s workshop, he would find Winston. But had I just received the best excuse I could wish for to give up following the trail Winston had pushed me onto?

  The soldiers obviously had the upper hand. Even Winston, who didn’t know much about arms or armor, would have realized that I couldn’t do anything against four well-armed, determined soldiers. And therefore I also couldn’t be blamed for disobeying Winston’s command.

  On the other hand, I was convinced that Alwyn was just about to tell me something important. What was it that made the idea plausible that one of the farmers from the village was the murderer?

  I looked at the soldier and said, “Just give me a moment and I’ll come with you.”

  He shook his head and grunted, “Now.”

  I bit my lip. Alwyn still hadn’t moved. “Would you like to head back to the tavern at the inn and wait for me?” I asked him. “You could enjoy a tankard or two at my expense.”

  He nodded. I stuck my sword back into its sheath.

  “Good then.” I turned to the soldier. “Take me to the thane who is so eager to speak to me.”

  Thane Delwyn wasn’t staying at the inn. Nor had he set up a tent in the meadow behind the marketplace.

  He was staying in a solid-looking, two-story building. I don’t know if he owned it or just rented it while the market was under way, but there was no missing the fact that it exuded wealth.

  I was received in a hall on the ground floor that ran the length of the building. From a narrow hallway, I was ushered into the long, wide room, in which hung embroidered tapestries. It looked more like a nobleman’s hall than a room in a town building. A high seat occupied the center of the far end of the room, and benches lined the walls. Two other chairs were positioned so that whoever sat in them would face the high seat.

  A fire burned on the hearth. Four andirons shaped like dogs surrounded the fire. There were candles in sconces along the walls—wax, not tallow—and two torches flamed behind the high seat, which Delwyn occupied.

  The thane calmly watched me walk through the room, sizing me up. So I figured I might as well accept the challenge and size him up in return.

  He was just as splendidly dressed as when I had seen him the first time at the Hundred Court. He wore crimson wool breeches wound with wide leather ties. His tunic was of white linen with embroidery around the neck. His doublet was a deep blue, and his sword, which was leaning up against his seat, had an ornately embellished hilt and was stuck in a silver-chased sheath.

  His eyes were calm beneath his gray-speckled hair, which, like his beard, was neatly combed. Only a slight tremble at the corner of his mouth revealed that this was a man who had just lost a son, even if that very son had wronged him by openly perjuring himself.

  There were no other noblemen present. A row of soldiers stood between the candles along the wall, each with a spear in his hand. Three heavily armed soldiers stopp
ed me at the door and demanded my sword. It wasn’t until the axman shook his head that they obeyed my loud protests so that I now walked toward the thane as his equal.

  “Am I your man, Delwyn?” I stopped in front of him without greeting him.

  His eyes widened in surprise and he said, “Not that I know of.”

  “So why do you think I will allow you to summon me here as if I had pledged an oath of fealty to you?”

  His eyes narrowed and he replied, “I asked you to come.”

  “Asked me?” I avoided looking at the soldier, who had stepped forward next to me. “Are your invitations always delivered at spearpoint?”

  “Sven?” The thane’s mouth became a narrow crack as soon as the name was spoken.

  The soldier next to me shrugged and said, “Your orders were to fetch the illuminator or his hired man.”

  Delwyn looked down at my sword. I kept my eyes on him until he acknowledged that he understood.

  “I wished to speak with you. I apologize if you feel disparaged by the manner in which you were fetched.”

  Not that I believed him, but I appreciated that he was wise enough to realize that an apology, although not strictly necessary, was nonetheless appropriate. So I returned his courtesy.

  “Well, here I am.”

  “My son has been brought home. What about his murderer?”

  “He may go free,” I said. I figured I might as well persist in showing that I would not allow myself to be bullied.

  “Free?” Delwyn’s eyes darkened and his lips pursed in anger.

  “When your men came to get me just now I was in the middle of questioning a man who might have been able to put me onto the killer’s trail.”

  Delwyn glared at the soldier beside me in fury. Might as well continue along the same line, I figured.

  “Actually, I asked to be allowed to finish the conversation but was declined.”

  “Sven?” Delwyn’s voice was hard as iron.

  The soldier scraped the ground with his foot and then sulked, “You said to bring one of them. Without delay.”

  “You’re right.” Delwyn flung his hand up in frustration and then turned to me. “I must apologize yet again.”

  It would be stupid to gloat, but inwardly I congratulated myself at having earned his respect.

  “No harm done. And yet, the man is waiting for me.”

  Delwyn slowly exhaled, then looked around the hall, snapped his fingers, and said, “Sit down.”

  I sat down in the chair he pointed to.

  A slave brought a little table over, set it next to me, and then stepped aside as a woman placed a silver chalice on it. A similar table was brought over to the high seat. Delwyn poured wine into my chalice from a silver ewer.

  “Do you honestly believe the murderer might go free?” He asked and then drank to me.

  “Not necessarily,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Do you know his name?”

  I shook my head again and wondered how much I should reveal to him about the disagreement between Winston and myself.

  As Sven had led me here through the market, I wondered whether whatever Alwyn was going to tell me might make me change my mind. I had decided that it probably wouldn’t. Neighbors always irritate each other, and it was probably just such a squabble that Alwyn planned to bring up.

  The only logical connection was that Darwyn had been killed and after that Arnulf had paid the price for knowing something he might not even have realized he knew.

  I kept quiet. There was no reason to reveal my disagreement with Winston to someone who would interpret it as weakness.

  The wine was sweet and tasted of honey. I took a sip, rinsed my mouth with it, and swallowed.

  “Your son . . .” I began.

  Delwyn gave me a look of encouragement.

  “I hear tell that this wasn’t the first time he took a woman by force.”

  Delwyn became guarded and quietly said, “And?”

  “And could you give me the names of some of them? Or more accurately of their relations who might have wanted revenge?”

  Delwyn shook his head.

  “My son . . . my son took what he thought was his right. But when it was not, I made good on it.”

  I looked at him, noticed his eye twitching and his mouth tightening in anger.

  “You paid them off?”

  That would fit with his offer to Sigurd. Delwyn nodded.

  “All of them? No one refused to accept payment?”

  He bit his lip and I understood. It is possible to make men offers they can’t reject.

  “There must be some you’re not aware of?”

  Delwyn slowly shook his head from side to side and said, “You didn’t know Darwyn.”

  I was on the verge of agreeing, about to add a silent “And thank God,” when the significance of his words dawned on me.

  “He boasted about his conquests?”

  A nod, then Delwyn turned his face away. I waited, giving him time until he once again looked me in the eye.

  “You were mad at your son. About the perjury,” I added by way of explanation.

  He took a deep breath and then nodded again.

  “Do you have any idea why Darwyn wouldn’t let you pay Arnulf off?”

  “Because . . .” He inhaled and glanced at the soldiers lining the wall. From the corner of my eye, I saw that they were all looking down. “Arnulf brought the case.”

  “Oh.” I closed my mouth on my own surprise. Everyone else had bowed and scraped when they heard they would be remunerated. Arnulf had hoped to get even more, thus digging himself the grave that he tumbled into after the court ruling.

  “Your anger . . .” I began.

  Delwyn stared at me.

  “You took revenge against this Bardolf lad.”

  The thane’s mouth twitched and he snarled, “That youngster. He let my son degrade himself.”

  I opened my mouth, but shut it again so that you could almost hear it snap closed.

  In Delwyn’s eyes, I supposed that made sense. If Bardolf hadn’t been willing to perjure himself, Darwyn wouldn’t have been able to either. It was a father’s logic, I realized.

  And I noted something else, too: a man who thought like that about his son wouldn’t have killed him. He doted on him too much.

  28

  I thought for a bit, gaining time by sipping my wine and looking around. Delwyn’s wealth was obvious. I was visiting a man who didn’t hide his power. And now? What would happen to his wealth now that his heir was dead?

  “Do you have other sons?” I asked, setting down my chalice.

  “Do I . . .” Delwyn’s eyes widened. “What . . . ?”

  I held up my hand to stop him.

  “If you want to get to the bottom of your son’s murder, I’m afraid I have to know a little more.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Didn’t you lead me to believe a few minutes ago that you were in the middle of questioning a man who could lead you to the murderer?”

  I held out my chalice. The thane filled it politely without taking his eyes off me. Did he know I was trying to buy time? Again I considered revealing the disagreement between Winston and me, but again I held my tongue.

  “A man who might be able to lead me to the killer. In my experience you can never know too much in cases like this. So, if . . .” I left my inquiry hanging in the air.

  “My daughter Alburga is married to Asmund, Jarl Thorkell’s stable master.” The thane’s pride was obvious, which was understandable. A marriage to one of the jarl’s most trusted men made Delwyn a man of importance.

  And, I realized with a jolt, a possible participant in the jarl’s power plays.

  My heart raced as I took a sip of wine and slowly set down the chalice. Was I close to solving the mystery? I smiled at Delwyn, ran my hand over my forehead, and thought like crazy. The killing could have been a warning to Delwyn. But from whom? Or a way of striking at him. Had he had a falling out with Thork
ell? Or with one of the jarl’s enemies? Was Cnut’s mission for us tied to the solution of these murders?

  I became aware of how quiet the hall was. Had I given myself away through my silence?

  I smiled apologetically and said, “Forgive me. My thoughts got away from me. It was the name Alburga. My father’s favorite saint was Saint Alburga of Kent.”

  My lie lightened the thane’s mood, I could see from his face, which had at first hardened at the thought that I was going to compare his daughter to some random servant, but now softened to realize I was thinking about a Saxon princess.

  “And I congratulate you on the marriage. That’s quite something.”

  He smiled self-consciously.

  “Almost like having the great jarl himself as your son-in-law, isn’t it?” I continued, seemingly ruminating.

  “Thorkell is jarl of East Anglia. I am a thane within his jarldom.”

  Did I detect a reluctance to be too closely affiliated with the jarl’s name? That’s how his response struck me. Not the jarl’s thane, but a thane within his territory. Had Delwyn not pledged an oath to Thorkell?

  “Were you in Oxford?” I asked.

  He stared at me blankly and then said, “I feel like you skipped something there.”

  “With your leave, allow me to explain. Did you participate in the large meeting in Oxford, where Cnut swore to uphold the laws of England?”

  Delwyn nodded. I could see in his face that he was trying to figure out where I was going with this.

  “And were you one of the thanes who pledged their oaths to Cnut?”

  Yet another nod, reserved this time.

  “Get to the point,” Delwyn said. “I don’t see what this has to do with my son being killed.”

  How far should I go? How far could I trust this rich and powerful thane? I decided to follow my brother’s advice from ages ago: Never trust whores, dogs, or noblemen. So I sidestepped the issue.

  “Had your son pledged an oath to anyone?”

  Delwyn shook his head. “He didn’t have any land yet or a title. Where are you going with all this?”