by Candace Robb
‘Why do you suppose she is here?’
‘Perhaps she is frightened by the two deaths in her travelling party?’ Geoffrey rose. ‘But you must come with me to the garden. Dame Clarice is there. With Princess Joan.’
Would she show Joan the stolen letter? Owen rejected that suspicion as soon as he thought it. That she was with the princess alleviated some of his sense of urgency, for she was as safe as he could possibly make her in Joan’s company. But he still needed to question the nun, and then to talk to Alfred, to ask Lady Sybilla about the brooch – the list seemed endless and uppermost in his mind was the need to stop the deaths now. He sensed a great wound in the community here in the palace with blood flowing unhindered. He must staunch that flow.
Yet here was a woman who might be she whom Michaelo had seen last night. He wanted to at least see her face. ‘First let us see whether Lady Eleanor needs assistance,’ he said. He crouched beside her, and, although the crackling of his knees and ankles sounded to him like explosions in this quiet room, she remained motionless, as if unaware of his presence.
Owen softly called her name. When she still did not respond, he placed the flat of his hand on her back to feel for heartbeat and breath. Now she stirred with a strangled sob.
‘Are you unwell?’ Owen asked.
With a shimmering swirl of silks, Eleanor rose to her knees and sat back on her heels, smoothing her veil, then her gown, all with her eyes downcast – but Owen had already glimpsed red-rimmed eyelids, bloodshot eyes. ‘I have been praying for Dom Lambert. And his servant,’ she said, in a tight, slightly quavering voice.
‘You have heard about our discovery in the woods?’ Or had a part in it?
‘God help us, yes, I have heard.’ Lady Eleanor crossed herself. ‘It is not my way to be so weak, so easily frightened. But that two have died, one in such a terrible fashion, in the midst of this sorrowful vigil – I can think of little else.’ She shook her head as she pressed her fingertips to her swollen eyelids. ‘God bless you for your concern.’ She did not glance back at Geoffrey, but said, ‘I don’t like how he watches me.’
‘I will take him away, my lady,’ said Owen. ‘Can I do anything more for you?’
She shook her head.
Something stopped him from questioning her further, a sense that if she were the guilty party it was best she not know how much he already knew. Or thought he knew. He felt as if he were juggling feathers in a windstorm.
‘I’ll leave you to your prayers,’ he said, rising.
Geoffrey glanced back as they stepped out of the chapel. ‘Of the two ladies, I find her the most disturbing.’ And then he suddenly grinned impishly. ‘I hope I am the first to tell you that a villager has come with a horse he found grazing in his field. Dom Lambert’s horse.’ He looked pleased at Owen’s surprise. ‘You see? I am of use to you. But first come to the garden. The villager is already gone, so you’ve no need to rush to the stable.’
But they came upon Alfred, who had been watching the doorway. ‘Captain, I’ve news.’
‘If it’s about the horse, I’ve already told him,’ said Geoffrey.
When Owen and Alfred both glared at him, he backed away. ‘I’ll be just outside in the yard. Don’t be long.’
‘He’s told you? About Dom Lambert’s horse?’
‘He has.’ Owen did not bother to hide his irritation.
‘You’re not relieved? You’re not thinking that there is no murderer, that we need not worry?’
‘I’m thinking we might have a very clever murderer who is playing this like a chess game, moving his pieces with great care.’
Alfred was nodding. ‘My thoughts as well. The man – Sam is his name – said he knew it was too fine a horse to belong in the village fields, and he’d heard of the great company that had arrived the other day, so he brought it here.’
‘What did you think of this Sam?’
‘Something in the way he spoke was too assured, as if he’d practised his lines.’
‘And you let him go?’
‘What could I do? He’d returned the property that was not his and everyone seemed to believe his story. If I’d questioned him too closely—’
Owen patted his shoulder. ‘Good. I’ll go to the village to talk to him.’
‘There’s more. Gilbert brought me a fool who had not thought it of any importance that he’d seen Lambert and Michaelo leave the stable with a horse last night.’
A witness at last. ‘Lambert and Michaelo?’
‘So Matt claims.’ Alfred shrugged and shook his head, a slow, weary gesture.
‘Matt?’ Owen had almost sent Matt off many times for falling asleep on a watch or exaggerating reports. ‘You don’t believe him.’
‘I rarely do, and I don’t believe that, with so many men watching, only Matt saw Lambert and Michaelo.’
And Michaelo had seen Lambert with a woman, a woman dressed in the finery of the princess’s ladies. Owen nodded. ‘So we’ve no witnesses yet.’
Alfred grunted. ‘I’m grateful to see we agree, Captain. I wondered whether I was just looking for trouble, wanting it for some queer reason.’ He ran a hand through phantom hair. ‘But what is happening here, Captain? Who is this clever murderer? Where the bloody hell were our men?’ He spat and returned to the tired shaking of his head.
‘It’s possible that someone has offered them money or positions elsewhere. They know that the archbishop is dying, and that the new one will choose his own men.’
‘I hate to think that they are so easily bought.’
‘I feel the same.’
Alfred cursed. ‘It does makes sense. How could we be so blind?’ Again, Alfred raked his scalp. ‘I thought I knew them, all of them. Now I feel I’ve been a fool to think so. I should have taken care to pair one who has served under us for a long while with one of the newer men. Why did I think a few months was long enough to test loyalty?’
‘It’s not your fault, it’s the change – the death of an archbishop is no small event. Maybe it’s worse than that – our king is old, Prince Edward is very ill, and his own son is but a lad. The prospect of a child king brings out the predators. Everyone is choosing sides, hoping to be in the new regime.’ Owen stopped, realising that he was saying aloud what he had tried not to think about.
Alfred looked defeated, his eyes frightened. ‘What are we to do?’
Owen wished he believed he had an answer to that, but Alfred need not know the depth of his unease. He thought it best to calm his second in command.
‘None of this might have mattered had His Grace refused to extend his hospitality to the princess. We could not have foreseen such a visitation, such temptation for the men. We must have faith that no one wants guards who cannot be trusted. My hope is that the men have agreed to be silent, nothing more.’
Alfred did not look comforted. ‘But they might be concealing murderers.’
‘They may choose not to think about that. A man will accept much in order to provide for his family.’
‘Traitors.’ Alfred spat into the hay.
‘Loyalties are never so simple as we would like them to be, Alfred. What if you were already wed to your pretty widow? What if you had a child to feed?’
Owen could read in the slump of his friend’s shoulders that he understood the point.
‘So what do we do?’ Alfred asked.
‘Round up the men who were on the night watch. Gilbert must have been too gentle. I’ll talk to them.’
‘They’re sleeping.’
‘They don’t deserve to.’
Alfred bobbed his head and departed.
Geoffrey waited without, and hurried Owen along to the garden. Beneath a linden tree sat the princess and the nun in tense, albeit whispered, discussion. Dame Clarice was weeping. She looked pale and pinched – frightened. The princess gave her a little shake, imperiously angry.
Owen and Geoffrey withdrew to a quiet corner beneath the eaves.
‘What do you make of that?’ Geof
frey asked, as if he’d just shown Owen something delicious.
‘I had not realised that Dame Clarice and the Princess of Wales were acquainted,’ said Owen, ‘but that did not look like a conversation between strangers.’ It might explain why Master Walter was simply told she was to assist him.
‘Nor had I. I’d not seen them together.’
Owen sank down onto a bench. ‘I feel as if my mind is under siege.’
Geoffrey sat down beside him. ‘Dame Clarice had helped herself from a chest in the archbishop’s chamber. Is it possible that she was sent there by Princess Joan to look about, and, having been discovered by you, is now being lectured on the fine art of being clever enough not to be caught?’
‘A tidy summation,’ Owen said. ‘It might even be true.’ Though, surely a love letter was of no interest to the princess? He thought about Lady Sybilla and the brooch, Lady Eleanor weeping in the chapel, and Dame Clarice reading Thoresby’s book and possibly stealing the letter. The other sister had yet to misbehave. ‘But would Princess Joan have kept this from you, Geoffrey?’
In his companion’s eyes, Owen saw the absurdity of his question. ‘I cannot expect her to consult with me on everything, Owen. I doubt even her ladies know all. Certainly, my wife did not know all that was on Queen Philippa’s mind.’
Her ladies. ‘I forget that your wife was one of the ladies of Queen Philippa’s chamber,’ said Owen. That might prove helpful, though, at the moment, he could not think how. It might help to know how a woman like Joan chose her ladies. ‘For all her delight in hawking, it is strange that Princess Joan chose two ladies who do not share her passion.’
‘Two?’ Geoffrey looked at him askance. ‘You are misinformed. Lady Eleanor keeps several hawks. She is often teased about her passion for those beautiful creatures and the delicate hoods she has made and decorated for them. But Lady Sybilla, now she cares nothing for the birds. You would enjoy hunting with her – I’ve never seen a woman as skilled with the bow as she.’
Sybilla’s worth rose several notches in Owen’s mind. ‘I would not have guessed that of her. But, now you mention it, she does have an admirable posture.’
Geoffrey cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. ‘I thought you would find that enticing.’
But what he’d said of Eleanor disturbed Owen, begging the question of Lewis’s motive in telling him something so easily revealed to be untrue. ‘This is puzzling – Sir Lewis said that Eleanor does not hunt.’
‘He did?’ Geoffrey snorted. ‘A peculiar deception. He most certainly knows of her hawks. Perhaps he thought one question might lead to another and you would discover he’s bedded her. Though, why he would want to deceive you in that or in anything, I cannot imagine.’ He looked troubled.
‘Lewis and Eleanor?’
That brightened Geoffrey. He chuckled. ‘Oh yes. The heat had built for quite some time. I am almost relieved that they finally coupled and cooled the air about them.’ He glanced in the direction of the chapel. ‘I did wonder whether her tears were over her sin. Or perhaps that the passion is spent.’
‘I suppose that explains some of it.’ Owen rubbed the scar beneath his eye patch. ‘What matters to me is that Lewis lied. I’d hoped I might trust him. I don’t know in whom I can place any trust now.’
Geoffrey had grown solemn. ‘That is the crux of the problem, I agree. I thought Dom Lambert seemed trustworthy. But, of this I can assure you – Lewis Clifford is an honourable man. I can vouch for him. And where the princess’s safety is concerned, I am certain you may still trust her son John as well.’
Owen noticed the qualification regarding John – where his mother was concerned. ‘What of her ladies?’
Geoffrey sagged a little. ‘I am certain she chose them with care, but to what purpose I would not pretend to know. Binding their families to the young heir to the throne? Queen Philippa chose some of her ladies for reasons other than her fondness for them.’
‘I wish I knew more about Dom Lambert. Did he comport himself as a priest?’
‘If you are asking whether he lived chastely, I daresay he did not. Women were drawn to him, and he did not demur.’
‘Women in your travelling party?’
‘That is the only experience I’d had of him. I must tell you, in all honesty, that I saw nothing to suggest that he lay with anyone on the journey, but there was much flirtation, and, again, there are Lady Eleanor’s tears to make me wonder. Perhaps she thought that if only she had bedded Lambert last night … No. I am creating tales without substance.’
Had Michaelo seen Lambert with Eleanor, Owen wondered. ‘What of men? Lambert and other men?’
Geoffrey turned on the bench. ‘Brother Michaelo.’ He nodded. ‘It is unfortunate. I must point out to you that all eyes had been on Dom Lambert, so almost everyone knows that he spent some time in Brother Michaelo’s bed – for there’s little else in that enclosure – last night. If either you or Brother Michaelo think it is a secret, you are mistaken.’
‘Christ have mercy.’ Owen leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘But wait – that is all to the best. With Michaelo now the subject of gossip, they’ll jump to conclusions.’
‘It might be best to keep him out of sight, eh?’
Owen shook his head. ‘He refuses. With the palace filled with important guests, the household staff needed his guidance.’
‘Lewis and John will not like that.’
Owen cursed.
Geoffrey leaned close, asking in an earnest tone, ‘How might I help you, Owen?’
He considered Geoffrey, wondering whether he should tell him of Marguerite’s letter to Thoresby. But it did not seem necessary, for Geoffrey would surely tell Owen if he heard of something so unusual. ‘Listen to the gossip. Watch especially Dame Clarice and the ladies Sybilla and Eleanor. If you hear anything you think I should know of, come to me. Time is our enemy.’ Straightening, Owen felt the tension in his back. ‘I must leave you now. I face the unpleasant task of letting my men know that I suspect some of them of protecting those behind Lambert’s death.’ In the silence after his words, a sorrow welled up in Owen’s heart and he bowed his head. He had faced and accepted that Thoresby’s death would cause a great upheaval for him, but he had not been prepared for this possible betrayal – of him and Thoresby. It was as awful as if the pall bearers had dropped the casket and abandoned the archbishop. As awful and as infuriating.
Geoffrey watched him with concern. ‘I see that it is a bitter thing, to suspect your men of treason. May God be your strength and your guide in this.’
Though grateful for the sentiment, Owen was rendered speechless by the anger that had closed his throat, and he merely nodded to Geoffrey and departed.
A crowd had gathered around the great doors of the stable. Gilbert broke away from the crowd and moved towards Owen scowling, though he smoothed his expression as he caught his captain’s eye. Gilbert was a squarely built, sturdy man.
‘Captain, I’ve already talked to the men. As you commanded.’ There was an angry edge to his voice.
Owen almost growled at him. ‘And the only one to speak to you was Matt. It’s a game with him, and he’s played it too often for me to believe him.’
Gilbert frowned. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t. But now you do. Has Alfred gathered the others who guarded last night?’
‘In the stables.’
‘Good. Take care of this crowd. Send them off to their duties.’
Inside the stable a bleary-eyed, cranky group awaited him, some sitting on the hay, others lounging against the walls. Owen decided to launch right into his purpose in meeting with them and then depart for the villager’s house. They could come to him on their own, with as much stealth as they desired, once he’d returned.
‘I won’t keep you from your rest for long, men. Look round you. There are twenty of you, and more than half of you have much experience in this household. I trusted you to do you
r duty. Yet, right in front of your eyes, at least two men left the palace and went into the woods last night – one of them came here and saddled a horse—’ He interrupted himself to ask Alfred, ‘It was saddled?’ With Alfred’s nod, Owen resumed. ‘And apparently not one of you witnessed anything of any significance. You don’t look refreshed, but you don’t look as if you’re recovering from stupors caused by strong sleeping potions in your ale. I want to hear of anyone you noticed moving about. Anyone. I’ll be the judge of whether it’s important.’ He held up his hands as Matt and another man would speak. ‘I don’t want you to say anything to me now. Come to me on your own. But let me say this – I thought all of you had wit enough to realise the importance of your mission. Your lord, the second highest churchman in the realm, has entrusted you to guard the wife of Edward, Lord of the Aquitaine and Prince of Wales, and your next king. I expect you to guard his lady with your lives. If someone has promised you a post in their guard as a reward for betraying your duty here, you have been most cruelly used, for they’ve taken you for the fools you must be. They would hardly hire someone they knew could be so easily coaxed to betray them in turn. I’ll leave you with that cold truth.’
Turning to Alfred, Owen ordered his horse saddled and then strode out of the stables before the fire in the pit of his stomach inspired him to beat someone senseless. In the yard, he found Archdeacon Jehannes talking to Gilbert. The crowd had dispersed.
‘How is Brother Michaelo?’ Owen asked.
‘Sleeping. Master Walter gave him something to help him rest, concerned that he’d been weakened by his night in the woods. Sir Richard has remained with His Grace until Michaelo wakes.’
‘Would you care to ride with me to the village?’
