Lost Innocents (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 3) (20 page)

A few moments? It took longer than that for Edmund to arrange his writing implements, never mind the time it took for his scribbling. But with the murdrum fine even more firmly in hand and nothing but a long tramp in the woods ahead of him, Faucon could afford to be generous.

He smiled. "So you must, and as you do, know that I remain grateful to have you at my side."

The monk blinked rapidly at that. "My thanks, sir," he muttered, then stepped into the smithy, going to the workbench.

Faucon looked back at Ivo. "When did you first learn that Gawne and Jessimond were meeting?"

"Months ago. I shouldn't have given up chasing him when he escaped me that first time, racing into the woods. I should have persisted and brought him home. But I thought if he had some time to himself, he'd find his peace with his mother's death," Gawne's father replied in chagrin. "Instead, he found Jes."

"Your bakestress remains convinced that Jessimond was with child by your son. How is it you're certain that the two remained but innocent friends?" Faucon wanted to know.

Ivo looked startled at the question. "Because I know my son," he replied at last, then looked at his other boys. "What say you, lads? Do you think Gawne made Jessimond into more than a playmate?"

Rauf instantly shook his head as, once again, Dob answered for them both. "Not Gawne, not when he knew—" the youth started to reply.

But his father spoke over him. "All of this is my fault. After Mille died, I was so aggrieved that I think I lost my mind. I should have brought Gawne into the smithy that very next day, if only to work the bellows," the elder smith said.

"So you should have. We would have happily let him stack coal in the box," Dob offered in friendly jibe from his father's side. Rauf's expression suggested this wasn't a favored job.

"Aye, but you know Gawne. That wouldn't have been enough for him," Ivo protested. "He wants to know everything right away and his questions never cease. Just then, I couldn't bear to listen to him."

"Do any of you know who took Jessimond's corpse last night and where she might now be?" Faucon asked.

All three men looked at him in blank surprise. Dob frowned. "Why would someone take Jes's body?"

Then Ivo drew a swift breath. "Where is Amelyn?"

Faucon shrugged. "Gone as well."

"Ah," the smith replied, almost smiling. "Then it's certain that she took her daughter with her, fleeing Wike before Odger could return from the woods and drive her off as he promised. Amelyn loved that girl with all her heart, and more. From what I saw yesterday, I think no one could have wrested Jes from her arms, no matter what weapon Odger might have plied."

"You are certain of that?" Faucon demanded.

"Absolutely," Ivo assured him. "What Jes was to Gawne, Amelyn is—or was—to me, before she gave up all her childish things, including me, to have her Tom. Our parents were bound to each other in dear and deep friendship, and we two were their only surviving children, born but months apart. We became like brother and sister, and I knew her better than any."

He paused, his expression hesitant as if he fought with himself about whether he should speak further. When he did, his voice was low and quiet. "Jessimond was wrong to think that her mother didn't know the name of the man who sired her. I'm certain the opposite is true. I saw that on the day Odger took his whip to Amelyn. She withheld what Odger wanted, doing so for some reason of her own. But to this day I cannot understand what that purpose might have been. This is especially so, given what it cost her to still her tongue."

Here he shook his head. "What I don't understand is why she committed the sin of fornication in the first place. As beautiful as she is, there were a dozen men here and in Coctune, men who already had children who could inherit, who would have taken her to wife after Tom's death despite that she had proved barren."

"Only she wasn't barren," Faucon offered flatly.

"So it seems," Ivo agreed, nodding. "Nor was she ever a lightskirt, at least not until Odger turned her into one. Do you know she nearly starved to death before she bent and began trading her body to save her family?"

Falling silent, the smith threw back his head. He again dragged his fingers through his wild hair, leaving it wilder still. "Why didn't I aid her?" he whispered. "What sort of coward allows a friend to suffer so?"

Faucon gave him a moment to collect himself before he asked, "When did you know that Jessimond was missing from Wike?"

It was Dob who replied. "The morning after Meg said Jes had run into the woods."

"How long did the folk of Wike search before giving up?" Faucon asked.

All three of them shook their heads at that. Ivo made a bitter sound. "Odger wouldn't let us search, not after Meg told everyone that Jessimond had said she was leaving to become a whore like her mother. Instead, Odger said 'good riddance' and told us all that Jes wasn't worth forfeiting a day's work. That ended any discussion on the matter."

"And once again you didn't speak to defend a neighbor, this time a child?" The accusation leapt unbidden from Faucon's lips, driven from him by the difference between Haselor and Wike.

"But I didn't have to say or do anything," Ivo protested, brows high and arms spread wide. "The moment Gawne heard Odger's edict, he whispered to me that Jes wasn't lost. Once our bailiff was out of earshot, Gawne told us—" the movement of his hand indicated his sons and himself "—and those of our neighbors who knew the two of them had been meeting that he thought she'd fled to heal from Meg's last beating. My son was certain he could bring her back as soon as she was ready to come. We all were content to leave the matter of Jes in Gawne's hands. But as of that morning, I think we were also decided that once Jes returned she wouldn't go back into that kitchen, not after witnessing Meg's cruelty."

"If that's so, then I'm glad they finally came to that decision," Dob said. "A month is long enough to come to such a conclusion." He looked at his Crowner. "A good number of our neighbors came here then, urging us to find some way to keep Gawne in Wike. That's when we discussed removing Jes and Johnnie from Meg's custody." He glanced at his brother and father, seeking their confirmation to this. Rauf nodded. Ivo sighed.

Dob continued. "Moreover, when Gawne left that morning he assured me he'd have Jes back in Wike by day's end."

"And I told Gawne that when he found her, he should bring her home to us," Ivo added.

That brought both Dob and Rauf around to stare in surprise at their sire.

"What? Did you not hear me say that to him?" their father replied to their wordless question. Then he gave a quiet laugh. "Of course you didn't. You weren't there. Nor did I say it that first day. Instead, that's what I told Gawne on the second day, as I walked with him to the pale."

"Da, I thought—" Dob started to say.

"I changed my mind," the elder smith replied, cutting off his son as he looked at Faucon. "After Gawne returned without Jes that first day, he was adamant about searching again on the second. He was so distraught over his initial failure to find her that I did what I could to ease his mind. Offering Jes a kinder place to live seemed to soothe him."

He glanced at his sons, then looked back at his Crowner. "I admit it. When my neighbors came here, I resisted their efforts to part Jes and Gawne, and Dob's insistence that we needed a woman in our house again, one to care for us the way their mother had. My wise son had suggested that we take Jes and let her fill that role for us. On that morning as I walked with Gawne, I realized that once I brought him to the anvil, the smithy would more than provide enough to care for us as well as Jes and Johnnie. That was my intention, to make a place for both of them, had Gawne found the girl alive."

It was Dob's turn to sigh. "Would that you'd come to this before Meg drove Jes from Wike," he said.

"Spilt milk," Rauf added, his voice still no more than a whisper.

Faucon studied the faces of the three smiths. Where the smith's sons heard regret, all he heard in Ivo's words was confirmation of the elder smith's cowardice. Ivo's offer to Gawne had been empty, naught but a sugar tit meant to placate his more honorable son. If Hew knew that Odger had put Jessimond and Johnnie into Meg's custody for his own reasons and intended them to stay there, so did Ivo. Given Odger's nearly absolute control of this place, it seemed unlikely that the bailiff would have allowed either of Meg's wards to leave that kitchen, not if it meant losing what little control he had over the bakestress.

"So, do you say that after Gawne hadn't found Jes on his first day of searching, your bailiff let him try again for a second day?" Faucon asked in another carefully crafted question. "That seems out of character for Odger, at least from what I've seen of him."

The smith looked at Faucon. "Odger knew none of what Gawne was doing. Our bailiff had left Wike the day before Jes disappeared. His wife is from Coctune and her mother lingers in her final ailment. Odger only returned to Wike the morning after Jes went missing because Meg sent for him. He issued his orders to us, then returned to his wife's family where he stayed until yestermorn, when we again sent for him after Gawne told us Jes was in the well.

"And you weren't concerned when your son didn't return from the woods after his second day of searching?" his Crowner asked.

"He did return," Ivo replied, looking startled by this.

"If that's so, then he returned to the forest once you slept," Faucon said, unwilling to offer more, not when doing so meant revealing Gawne's relationship with Hew.

"You're wrong," Ivo insisted, then shifted to look at his older boys. "He was home all night before he woke us with cries about Jes being in the well. Right, lads?"

Dob looked uncertain. "As far as I know, aye."

Rauf offered a guilty shrug. "He wasn't home, Da," he said quietly.

"Rauf! You knew Gawne was outside our walls at night and you didn't tell me?" Ivo cried, sounding more shocked than angry that his son hadn't been honest with him.

"He said it was important and that he wouldn't be alone," Rauf protested. "I only vowed that I'd say nothing to you as long as you didn't notice he was gone. I warned him, Da, that if you asked after him, I'd tell all."

"You should have told me, no matter what," Ivo retorted. Again, his chide was no more than gentle words, one that would have once again earned him his neighbors' scorn.

"What can you tell me about the night that Jessimond fled the kitchen?" Faucon asked, leading them in a new direction. "Can you recall anything unusual happening anywhere in Wike on that night?"

Yet frowning over the misbehavior of his sons, Ivo shook his head. "It was a night like any other," he replied.

Dob laughed at that. He was a handsome lad when he smiled. "What say you, brother? Was it a night like any other?"

That drove the guilt from Rauf's face. He grinned. "Too much wine," was all he said.

"Da, it isn't often that you lose yourself in your cup," Dob said, wagging his finger like a scold. Then he sent a wink in his Crowner's direction. "Da's plum wine had finished fermenting and he had a sip or two more than he should have. How he groaned about his aching head the next morning!"

Ivo gave his elder son a friendly cuff to the back of his head that sent the boy's brown hair flying forward around his face. "Have a care with my secrets, son. I can't help it that I have a fondness for plums."

"And I thank our Lord for that," Rauf offered with another quiet grin. "You should drink it more often even if you end up sleeping in our doorway when you do. Your slumber was so sound that night that you didn't snore for hours."

"What of your neighbors? Did anything unusual occur when you might have expected them all to be within doors?" Faucon pressed, now looking at the younger smiths.

But it was Ivo who replied. "We wouldn't know. Once we bank coals in the box and leave the smithy for the night, we've all of Mille's—" his voice caught on his dead wife's name "—tasks to do. It falls to me to make certain we eat while the boys care for our stock and tend our garden as they can. Once we're inside our door, we see nothing more of the outside world until the sun rises again."

"I am ready, Sir Faucon," Edmund announced from where he now sat on one of the stools taken from beneath the workbench. The length of wood he used as a traveling desk was in his lap, a span of parchment stretched across its wooden top. He held the skin flat with one hand while in the other was an ink-stained quill. Behind him, arranged in a precise line along the edge of the workbench, were his tools, knife, inkhorn, extra quills, and a bag of sand.

Without waiting for his Crowner's permission, Edmund looked at the smiths. "State your names so I may note them," he commanded.

By the time Edmund had restored his tools and parchment to his basket, Ivo and his sons were back at their anvil, hammering at their half-formed tool. Just outside the shed, Johnnie paced, every jerk of his body transmitting his impatience. Each time he passed Faucon his gaze would move from his Crowner to the forest's edge.