Nature's Tribe

by Jacky Gray

  Cal winced, addressing the woman. “They are more than keen to speculate about your suitors. Your name was linked with Jarl’s for a while at Yule after the Wassailing.”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? People like gossip, the more salacious the better. One good thing; it will give me an excuse not to be seen in public with MD, which can only be beneficial.”

  Cal glanced at her, wondering exactly how far she had stooped to win the magister’s confidence. It was none of his business, but he hated to think of the courageous woman he’d come to know having to do things against her will. Uncle’s next words confirmed his worst fears.

  “Unfortunately, that means more clandestine meetings. I cannot imagine he would lose his appetite for you, even if you were to wed Cal. But hopefully it will not come to that and we shall uncover the evidence we need to bring him down.”

  ~*~

  “Hie, mate. Thank you for coming. I’ve a feeling we’ll need every good man we can get.”

  “Hie, yourself. Constable.” Jarl grinned as he punched Dennon’s arm. “I’m very pleased for you. It’s a fine thing when a knave like you gets such a grand position. You’ve some large shoes to fill, that’s for sure.”

  “Just because he was taller than me ... Oh. You weren’t ’aving a go about my height.”

  “Or lack of. Wouldn’t dream of it, mate.”

  “I believe I have you to thank for getting the council moving on replacing Bryce.”

  “Not before time. And not me. Ranly recommended it, and Osman chased it up with the sheriff.”

  “I know. He reckons the lack of a constable is small beer compared to what’s going on in Europe. A great pestilence has spread from the south of France to Paris in just six months, and they say not even the channel will protect us.”

  “That explains why no one has been sent to investigate Bryce’s death.”

  “Until today. The man is due before the Terce bell, and they asked me to get him a small team to help because he won’t be able to get it done in a day otherwise.”

  “If there’s anything left to see after all this time. If Domenyk knew, he’d no doubt have that ne’er-do-well, Zane, in there, throwing his weight about, insisting he’s some kind of deputy.”

  Following Dennon to the building, Jarl hoped the former soldier would forgive him for the role he had to play, but it was essential the sheriff’s man had no reason to doubt what he was about to uncover. His guts turned to liquid at the thought this could finally be the evidence they needed to get rid of the snake for good.

  Councillor Osman met them outside the council building and the investigator turned up shortly after, introducing himself as Steadman. Jarl admired the way he looked into each man’s eyes as he shook hands, reasoning that if he had the slightest doubt about any one, he would have dismissed him.

  The man was all business as he unlocked the door, bolting it shut behind them. He asked Osman and Jarl to wait in the lobby while he and Dennon toured the building, checking the access points.

  “The good news is there doesn’t appear to be any breach, which means I can be reasonably sure of any evidence we find. I read the report from the fire; I believe you were first to the scene?”

  Jarl nodded. “Dennon and I were outside the village hall at the finish of the rope-combats and we saw the smoke. I ran across while he rallied the fire wardens. If we had been maybe a quarter-hour earlier …”

  “Do not berate yourself. You did what you could. And your wife is the village healer?”

  “Yes. She and Lyrelie, our daughter, dressed the body. Senna smelt the oil poured on his clothes to make them burn faster. But from the position, face down on the floor, I think he was unconscious, most likely already dead. The back of his skull was,” he gulped, “shattered.”

  “Aye, it was in the report, very useful. The first thing I’m looking for is the weapon used to murder him. Can I ask all of you not to touch anything? If you spot something of note, call me over, but I must see it undisturbed before I can make a judgement if it is evidence or not.”

  They all agreed and he unlocked the door to the records office, holding up his lantern as he peered inside. “I think there is probably not much point in concentrating on footprints, because many people will have been in and out since then. Osman, can you open the shutters, please? Let’s have as much light as we can.”

  He beckoned the other two in, giving each a quadrant to search, taking the area where the body had lain for himself. The small room did not contain much in the way of furniture, two desks, two chairs and several bookcases. A thick layer of ash covered everything, but most of the damage was confined to the source of the fire.

  Jarl had the area by the door, which held a bookcase, two shelves of which were filled with identical ledgers, neatly filed in date order.

  “What’s this?” Steadman pointed to a small rectangle of scorched leather. He lifted it carefully and underneath lay the remains of a notebook, the pages blackened round the edges, but the writing still legible.

  “That’s one of Lyran’s notebooks. He stiffened the covers with slate to protect them. They were stolen from his house just before Imbolc.”

  “Lyran? That’s the healer who died at the quarry?” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy after he’d saved the men.”

  “He was my cousin and Senna’s husband. He noticed some irregularities in the quarry ledgers, and approached Magister Domenyk, but to no avail. All it did was warn the man of the existence of evidence.”

  “But this was over a year ago. The investigation concluded it was an accident.”

  “We believed it, too.” Jarl shrugged. “Until one of the quarrymen suggested differently. After the burglary, Bryce had a theory the two were connected, because the only things taken were Lyran’s notebooks, which had an account of his discoveries at the quarry.”

  “That does seem plausible.”

  “There is more. Domenyk had the ledgers removed for examination but they had not been returned, even after a year. Bryce spotted them last week and came here to examine them.”

  “I see. My instincts tell me you have more than a passing interest in finding out about these deaths. I must say you have given compelling reasons for a connection between them, but I’m a little uneasy about your presence here. We wouldn’t want any possibility of having the evidence disallowed due to irregularities.”

  “Absolutely not. That is the last thing I would want. Shall I wait outside?”

  Steadman narrowed his eyes as he glanced round the room. “I am satisfied that you could not possibly have tampered with anything in this room, but I would suggest maybe you sit at that desk and do not make any suggestions, only answer questions I direct at you.”

  “That is most generous of you. Thank you.”

  “You seem like a useful man to have around as you already know so much about the case. It would waste my time merely to raise questions when you can give answers.”

  Osman spoke up. “A wise decision, my friend. I can vouch for Jarl’s integrity. Oh. What’s this? I believe I have just trodden on something.” He took a step backward.

  “Where?” Steadman held up the lantern. “I see it. Looks like gold.” He squatted down and peered at the floor. “There is no disturbance to suggest this was dropped after the fire.” He picked up the ring and examined it. “The way the ash has adhered suggests it has been here some time.” He sniffed. “What type of oil did you say was on the constable’s clothes?”

  “I didn’t.” Jarl sought back in his memory. “Not herb-infused oil as Senna might use. If I had to choose, I’d say it was the sort used in oil lamps, rather than cooking.”

  “I would agree. I’ve smelt it in this area, and both the notebook cover and ring have that aroma. We may not have the murder weapon, but I would suggest the murderer’s hand was slippery with the oil when he soaked the body and the ring fell off.”

  He tested it on his finger. “Definitely a man’s, not a woman’s. Quite an unusual design.�
� He showed it to Jarl. “Do you recognise it?”

  “It does look familiar, but I cannot say from where.”

  The other two admitted the same, and Steadman set the notebook and ring on the other desk. “I think we have some solid evidence here. By the looks of things, our killer knocked the constable out and tried to burn the incriminating evidence from Lyran’s murder, using oil to make the notebooks burn faster.”

  “What about the quarry ledgers?” Dennon asked.

  “Them too. I found the remains of a page from a longer book, like those ledgers on the shelf.”

  “I only ask, because I think I’ve found something. I’ve been staring at the second row because one of them seems out of place.”

  “Show me.” He hurried over to the bookcase.

  “There. Them’s all got the spine facing left, and that one faces right.”

  “It’s out of date order.” He swung the lantern closer. “It has the same layer of dust as the rest, so I would suggest it has been there since before the fire.” He carefully pulled it out and placed it on the desk in front of Jarl.

  The front page bore the inscription: “Quarry Records, Avebury,” with the dates of the years it covered. The first half showed all the daily comings and goings. The back of the book contained the accident log and, on the first blank page, a message was scrawled:

  LYRAN WAS MURDERED.

  It was signed Constable Bryce, and dated Imbolc eve.

  ~*~

  Senna sat in her rocking chair, her mind whirling from all the information buzzing around in it. She could not believe what had been going on in the village without her knowledge. So many people banding together to protect and support her, and she had no clue about any of it. After the perplexing dinner hosted by Lyran’s father, of all people, she was exhausted. Jarl and Lyrelie had both fallen asleep immediately, but her poor, tortured brain could not settle while she had so many unanswered questions.

  She was still struggling to piece it all together, despite having heard the account from five points of view as each man added his part in the story. The idea that Eanje, of all people, had played such a significant part fell hardest.

  Particularly because the girl refused to speak. She merely sat between Ranly and Lyrelie, occasionally seeking her hand for comfort. Which Lyrelie happily gave, so grateful was she for the girl’s indescribable sacrifices. Who knew they had such a heroine in their midst?

  Dennon, as constable, had not taken part in the final scene, and he thirsted for every detail. Jarl had been his normal succinct self, so it was left to Osman and Ranly to vie for who could dominate the conversation, with occasional details from Cal. If she understood it correctly, the sheriff’s man returned to his office to compare the information in Lyran’s notebook with the quarry ledgers.

  Shortly afterward, the four men cornered Domenyk in his bedchamber, where Eanje had kept him entertained so Steadman could work uninterrupted.

  They had detailed the evidence against him and he protested that his ring was in his room. When it became obvious it was no longer in its slot in the velvet-lined box, Domenyk became violent, lashing out at Ranly, who happened to be closest. Between them, they subdued him, shackling him to a chair. The first thing he did was claim that the quarry foreman had actually caused the secondary landslide which killed Lyran and the others.

  Senna knew Lyran had already figured this out, visiting the foreman two days earlier. Terrified by the ghostly apparition, he’d confessed immediately, pleading coercion. Claiming the guilt had made him unable to sleep or eat, he promised to visit his family in Bristol and never return.

  When Domenyk heard the foreman had agreed to implicate him in court, he deflated, saying nothing as Ranly read out the details of their proposal.

  Whoever decided to give the rat a chance would probably benefit from Senna’s lunacy cure. She understood their desire that he would not have an opportunity to wriggle out of the charges, or be found not guilty by a jury. She imagined their expressions as they made it plain that, if he did not comply with their suggestion, Dennon would arrest him. And deliver him to the sheriff, along with any further evidence they found in his house.

  Chuckling to herself, Senna recalled the expressions on people’s faces when Dennon had interrupted the joyous meal. With a flourish, he displayed three chests with gold, jewels and other riches Domenyk had extorted from various victims, along with incriminating documents which would all lengthen his stay in gaol.

  Senna examined her feelings about the option Domenyk had taken: to leave the room with naught but the clothes on his back and never again return to the county. The deal they’d made gave him a three-day head start. After that, Dennon would report to the sheriff he had fled, and that the ring had been identified as his. A warrant would then be put out to the effect he would be hanged on sight if he ever crossed the county border.

  Her greatest emotion was undiluted joy at the thought of never seeing him again, followed by relief that her family and friends were no longer under threat from his unholy machinations.

  “It seems to me you have the gist of it. Is there anything else which needs clarifying?”

  She smiled at Lyran’s timing. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but that ring. I’m sure he was wearing it at Ostara. Or Beltane. Both, probably.”

  “The man had many rings.”

  “But not like that, with a diamond set in a black stone. And etching on the stone’s setting.”

  “I couldn’t possibly comment. Anything else?”

  “Your notebook. Isn’t that the one Jarl found at the bottom of your chest? Two weeks ago?”

  “Possibly.”

  “It didn’t have a slate cover, you never normally did that till they were finished and falling apart.”

  “It wasn’t burnt round the edges either.”

  “So that’s what Jarl wanted the oil for. And all those ashes.”

  “He may have done.”

  “But how on earth did he get in? No, don’t answer that, I don’t need to know. Suffice to say my husband has skills I’d rather not think about.”

  “I hate to nag, but you should get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow, and a tiring journey.”

  “Goodnight, Lyran. Sweet dreams.”

  The following day was indeed long and tiring as they travelled down to Stonehenge, joining the throng of people who stayed at the sacred site overnight, singing, dancing and celebrating the longest day. After watching the most glorious sunrise they’d ever seen, they shared a small ceremony with Cal’s family before Lyrelie and Cal finally jumped the bonfire to announce their betrothal.

  In the quiet time before the long ride back, Senna and Jarl snuck away to find a quiet spot to celebrate their own union. Surrounded by the awesome power, and replete in their love for each other, Senna remarked how her life could not get any better than that particular moment.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m really sorry to do this to you, but I’m afraid I have some rather disturbing news for you both.”

  She watched Jarl’s growing concern as Lyran explained their destiny, and the parts they both had to play in the next few moons.

  6 – Lughnasadh

  Lyrelie sat in the back of Jarl’s cart, snuggling up with Cal, unable to believe how her life had changed in the past three days. Her recent weeks had been filled with fruitless afternoons spent trying to create her own healing notebooks to replace the stolen ones. But Rielle did not have her father’s shelf of detailed volumes, and the town’s small library was poorly stocked. The eves had been even worse: trying to convince her grandparents she was not in the grip of a hopeless melancholy – even though she clearly was. After so much desperation, her freedom from worry left her giddy.

  Senna sat on the driver’s seat, her arms around Jarl, the pair of them lost in their own connexion.

  As if reading her thoughts, Cal whispered into her hair, “They are like newlyweds. Did you see them skulking off to the bushes?”

  �
�Shhh, they will hear you.”

  “I do not think so. Can you not see the glow of energy binding them together?” He grinned. “I imagine anyone watching us will see something similar.”

  “Really? I have no notion of what you are seeing. Sorry, that is not true – I understand you perceive them surrounded in a bright light, but I cannot see it. Is this a new talent?”

  He shrugged. “I cannot be sure. I have been able to sense people’s vibrations for a while, but this is the first time I’ve seen anything like this.”

  “You have just spent many hours within the Stonehenge, and the day before that we gave thanks at Avebury henge. Maybe the combination of them …”

  He squeezed her waist. “I think it far more likely because you and I have finally joined as one. All the time I was apart from you I felt incomplete.” Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips, gazing into her eyes. “Like a part of me was missing. A huge part. The best part.” He kissed her, his lips warm and welcoming.

  When he finally released her, she sighed, linking her arms round his waist and dropping her head on his shoulder, her pose an exact duplicate of her mother’s, a few feet in front. As the gentle sway of the cart lulled her eyelids closed, she glanced forward, pleased with what she saw. “Oh, my. I can see it, too. The glow. It is like when the moon shines through broken clouds.”

  “That’s it exactly! Maybe this is a new ability which only happens when you are a couple. Like the way your father can speak inside your head. And even mine.”

  “Or the way we turned your father’s crops into the largest yield any farmer has ever seen.”

  “Aye. And now Domenyk’s not around scaring people with his talk of witchcraft, father can enjoy the benefits. He’s already talking about building another barn and paying a team to fix up the harvest cottages.”

  “There may be some empty rooms in Church Row. I cannot see many of those good folks staying on now Domenyk is no longer paying their rent.” She shuddered. “I should not be so unkind, but it would be a relief not to have to mix with the likes of Zane and his gang.”