For the Love of Old Bones - and other stories (Templar Series) (12 page)

‘No! If you have any questions, you can ask me,’ Eustace declared, putting a hand on his wife’s forearm.
 

‘Very well. When did you first suspect you were being cuckolded by Ralph?’

Eustace gasped and he shivered, once, convulsively. ‘Who told you that?’

‘It is common knowledge you will not let your wife out of your sight.’

‘That means nothing!’
 

‘No, but your response here, today, does. Would not a man who thought his wife was sleeping with another seek to end their affair? He might kill the man, his wife, or both, but few men would allow the situation to continue.’

‘I didn’t kill him.’

‘But you did suspect that he might have captured a small part of your wife’s heart, didn’t you? That much is obvious.’

‘I . . .’ he threw an anxious look at his wife. ‘I wondered, that is all.’

She smiled then, but this was not the gentle, soft-featured woman whom John had admired only a few minutes before. Now Anastasia wore a harsh expression, and instead of a gentle Madonna, John thought she looked more like a vicious harlot, a cruel and manipulative Herodias plotting a vengeful death.
 

‘So you accuse my husband of killing him, Brother?’

‘It would not be surprising if he did, maid. You sought to make your husband jealous, didn’t you?’

‘My husband is a poor fool if he thought I desired Ralph. What would I have done with such a pathetic creature? He was dim, an unreliable fool! The only thing he was good for, or good at, was hitting people. He was a brute, no less a brute than that monster of a dog of his: Rumon! Naming a dog after a saint is as sinful as naming a child after a demon! Both are evil, both are heretical.’

‘Tell me, maid - St Rumon. What was he made saint for?’ Peter asked in his most courteous voice.

Anastasia blinked, shot a glance at her husband, then squared her shoulders defiantly. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘Neither can I,’ Peter confessed happily. ‘So if we are so heretical as to have forgotten that, perhaps Ralph could be forgiven for naming his dog after the man. At least his dog is loyal,’ he said thoughtfully, glancing at the dog. He shook his head a moment, then peered back at the woman. ‘Why do you dislike the man so much, maid? Had he upset you?’

‘He was nothing to me,’ she declared.
 

‘Curious,’ Peter said thoughtfully. ‘I once spoke to him, and he told me that he had been married. He wedded for love, although the woman died during the famine. Who would she have been? Reeve, do you remember her?’

‘Yes. Cristine, her name was, a pretty, fair haired girl, as slim and as fresh and as lovely as a small white rose. All the men loved her.’

‘And she died young, I suppose?’ Peter asked.

‘Too young. So many died too early in those terrible years.’

‘Were you jealous of her?’ Peter suddenly shot out, staring at Anastasia.

She sneered at him. ‘Of her? Marrying
that
?’

‘Show some respect for the man, woman!’ Reeve Miria said. ‘It’s his corpse lying there!’
 

‘Why should I show him anything but contempt? I never liked the man.’

‘I thought you had once been sworn to marry him,’ Peter said gently.

Eustace stared at him, and for a moment John thought he was going to leap upon the brother. His face mottled with anger, and his hand rested briefly on his sword, but his wife put her hand on his, stilling the blade in the sheath.
 

‘Yes, it’s true enough,’ she said quietly.

John was shivering with nervous excitement as the little group calmed, but also with a faint fear that Peter was possessed of supernatural powers. It seemed as though Peter was able to guess at people’s innermost thoughts and rip from them their darkest secrets.

‘Thank you, mistress,’ Peter said, this time with a bow to honour her confession.

‘I did not kill him,’ she said. ‘But I hated him from the moment that he betrayed me to Cristine. I suppose I should have been grateful to her. She saved me from marrying him. Still, all I knew was, he had given me his word that he would marry me, and he reneged on it. Cristine and I grew up together, and she had been my best friend, and suddenly, he went with her and made his vows at the church door in front of the parson and the congregation. His words to me were conveniently forgotten.’

Her husband stared at her. ‘But I thought you were in love with him again? You spoke much of him when his wife died.’

‘Yes, we should consider you, Eustace, shouldn’t we?’ Peter said. ‘Because you knew your wife had loved this man, didn’t you?’

‘I still don’t see that my family’s affairs are any of your business,’ Eustace returned, but with less anger than before.
 

‘I merely wish to resolve some problems,’ Peter said with a calm smile.

Eustace studied him in silence for a long moment, then, ‘I knew she had loved him, yes. I grew up in Tavistock with both of them. It would have been difficult not to notice how fond they were of each other.’

‘And then Cristine married him, and you saw your opportunity to marry the woman you had adored for years,’ Peter said, with a wistful tone to his voice, John thought,
 
as though he had experienced the same chance himself.

‘Yes. I never had cause to regret my offer of marriage,’ Eustace stated stoutly.

‘Until recently, when you began to suspect that Anastasia might be carrying on an affair with Ralph.’

‘I wondered, that is all. We have been married seven years now, and I suppose it is natural for a man and his wife to become a little less romantic, but I thought there was a problem.’

Anastasia turned her astonished face to him. ‘You seriously thought I would consider an affair with a rough, dirty fellow like Ralph?’

‘I didn’t know what to think,’ Eustace muttered. ‘All I was convinced of was that you were less affectionate to me.’

‘Oh, husband! I need affection too. I thought if you were jealous of another man, you might show me more.’

‘Why? Are you so insecure?’

‘I am pregnant!’

Eustace’s mouth gaped wide. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

A little of the steeliness returned to her face, but only for a moment. Then she smiled. ‘Yes, husband, I am.’

‘That’s wonderful news,’ Peter said warmly. ‘Congratulations! Um. But where were you last afternoon, master Eustace?’

‘I? I was at the market, at my stall. I would think that almost everyone in the town could confirm that. Including the Reeve here, because you came to buy some eggs and a lamb with your lady, didn’t you, Robert?’

Peter looked at the Reeve, and there was a glitter in his eyes which reminded John of the times when the old monk had caught one of the novices with his hand in the biscuit jar. ‘Is that so, Reeve?’

Reeve Miria shrugged. ‘Yes. I was there most of the afternoon, apart from a short space when I had to go home.’

‘On business?’ Peter enquired.

‘Yes.’

‘Such as, for example, asking for a loan to be repaid?’

‘A man of business has so many affairs it’s sometimes hard to remember them all,’ Miria said loftily.

‘Perhaps you should try to exercise your mind, then, Reeve,’ Peter said. ‘Could it have been a meeting to talk about calling in a debt, do you think? Perhaps - correct me on this - but could it have been a loan to Ralph, for example?’

John felt his brows leap upwards in surprise as though they were on springs. Turning to face the Reeve, he saw that the man had blenched, and he fiddled with the thong that bound his swordbelt.
 

‘He come by at one point.’

‘Early in the afternoon, wasn’t it?’

‘I think it might have been.’

‘So you could have had plenty of time to follow him here, strike him down, and return to town to fulfil your duties as Reeve.’

‘To ride all the way here and back? And I didn’t even know he’d be coming up here. How could I?’

‘Maybe he mentioned he was coming here. It was part of his bailiwick, and he was always happy to talk about his work.’

‘I did nothing wrong,’ the Reeve said.

‘Nothing? Even though you wanted to make profit from lending money? You were committing usury, Reeve. That is wrong. Jesus taught that it’s sinful to make money from money. If you have enough, any spare is God’s gift. Using that to make profit is an abuse of his plenty, and that is a most serious crime. You demanded his loan to be returned, even though you knew he couldn’t afford it.’

‘I did what any man of business would have done.’

‘Perhaps in future you’ll consider doing what a man of Christian spirit would do,’ Peter snapped. His bushy eyebrows had dropped and now they all but concealed his eyes. Only an occasional glitter shone from them.

Then he took a deep breath. ‘Look at us all. Here we stand: one man who had a perpetual battle with him because of some rabbits; another who feared that Ralph wanted to steal his wife; the wife who hated him and wanted revenge for not marrying her, but who now was more concerned about her pregnancy than her husband; the Reeve who wanted profit, and damn any man who wouldn’t repay his debts even though the Reeve was not himself in need. This is a sad, terrible matter. I must pray and contemplate. John, come with me.’

He turned abruptly and crossed the clapper bridge, swiftly putting yards between them and the
 
silent and ashamed group. Without turning, he said, ‘Have any of them followed us?’

‘No.’

‘Good.’

Peter suddenly grabbed John’s upper arm and stared at him keenly. ‘Boy, whatever you do now, do not lie to me! I wanted all those to be here because I thought one of them had killed Ralph. I drank with him yesterday at an alehouse after he had met the Reeve, and I knew that each of them hated him. He told me so. After I left him, he came straight to the moors to check on his bailiwick. Some of those back there could have come here and killed him, but it’s not likely. However the chance of a lad seeing him, now that is quite possible.’

His eyes were intense chips of diamond. They cut into John as he spoke.

‘Boy, did you meet Ralph yesterday? Don’t lie to me, because if you do, I shall punish you myself, and you’ll regret it if I do. You were up here, weren’t you? Yesterday, like today, you rode up here to exercise the horse, but also to see if you could have some sport. It’s illegal to be up here, we all know that, but if a Forester like Ralph saw you, he’d threaten you with immediate exposure to the Abbot. Is that what happened? And then you hit him?’

John gaped, and such was the strength of his emotion, he felt the tears begin to fall. He couldn’t speak; his tongue was frozen and he was too shocked to deny Peter’s words.

‘I see, boy. Well, no need to say more. I shan’t propose to hold these others any longer. I understand. Come!’

He turned and walked back to the bridge, John following with his mind whirling and eyes streaming.

It was this that prevented him from seeing the disaster. As Peter climbed onto the clapper bridge, John sniffed and rubbed his eyes. Afterwards Peter wondered whether there was a similar command that the Forester had used for his mastiff, a signal that could be used silently at night to show Rumon what he wanted; whatever the reason, Rumon caught sight of John’s arms up at his face and instantly gave a joyful bark. He sprang up and leapt forward as Peter reached the middle of the bridge, and bounded on, over the bridge, and to John.

‘
No
!’

John heard the cry, but he had no eyes for anyone or anything other than the monster suddenly thundering towards him. He saw huge, pendulous jowls flying in the wind, drool trailing; he saw a slobbering tongue; ripples of sagging flesh moving with each step like waves on the sea; and then the creature was on him, knocking his legs away, and panting happily over him, tongue swabbing his throat and cheeks like pumice.

No one came to help him, and it was some time before he could push, curse and kick the dog from him and stand again. Realising at last that this was no reincarnation of his master, the dog sat again, cowed, and only then could John turn his attention back to the crowd.
 

He saw Anastasia, he saw the Reeve and Ivo, he saw Eustace, but where he expected to see Peter, there was nothing. Only two legs waving in the air near the bridge.

‘Will one of you moronic, demented, poxed sons of a Carlisle whore come and help me up?’ came Peter’s voice, roaring with an entirely unfeigned fury.

‘So that was that,’ Peter said later as he and John sat at their fire. The rest had departed, all strangely muted after their confessions of the afternoon.

‘Why did you want all those people up here?’ John asked.

‘They could any one of them have killed him. It was possible. Yet I wanted to show each that their motives were not good. Ivo wanted to kill the dog - is that justification for murder? He never tried to get on with Ralph. At least now, I hope, he will consider his behaviour and moderate it in future. Eustace I know has been jealous of his wife for years and it is about time he grew out of it. She is not so faithless as to throw herself at another man; although she could well seek revenge for a slight. And what worse slight could a woman receive than that the man she sought to marry should take her best friend instead?’

‘What of the Reeve?’

Peter chuckled. ‘He’s no murderer! But I detest this modern practice of seeking reward for that which God has granted. I tweaked the tail of his pride. Maybe in future he’ll charge lower interest.’

‘And me?’

Peter smiled grimly, perhaps with a faint indication of remorse. ‘There are times when even the best cleric makes mistakes. I thought that you were up here, and I saw that if you had met the Forester you could have been in great trouble, so it was possible that you could have grabbed a rock and stunned him. If he fell in the water, he would drown, but I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you hadn’t
intended
to kill him.’

‘Whereas in fact . . .’

‘Whereas in fact it was his faithful dog.’ Peter reached over and rubbed the mastiff’s head. ‘I wondered about that as soon as we arrived here. If a man had knocked Ralph down, I would have expected a dog like this to defend him. At the least I would have expected to find some material from a man’s coat nearby, bitten from him by the brute - but there was nothing! That should have proved it, I suppose, but you never can be sure, and some of the largest beasts I have seen have also been the most mild.’