The queen's man : a medieval mystery (13 page)

Justin crossed the street, too. A wilting branch drooped from a crooked ale-pole, and the door's paint was peeled and cracked. Inside, the alehouse was no less dingy, dank, and foul smelling. Slumped at a corner table, Guy was clutching unsteadily at a large tankard. As Justin watched from the doorway, Gervase's brother drank deeply of the ale, spilling almost as much as he swallowed.

THE QUEEN'S MAN

After leaving Guy awash in ale, Justin paid a surreptitious visit to the Fitz Randolph stable, where he briefed Edwin. He did not want to jeopardize the groom's job in any way, and Edwin needed to be warned that his name would echo like an obscenity in Fitz Randolph ears from now on. He'd wondered if he'd have trouble convincing Edwin. Not only did Edwin believe him, he had to talk the groom out of volunteering to spy on his behalf, so appalled was he that a member of the goldsmith's own family might have had a hand in his death. Justin made Edwin promise not to do anything foolhardy and left him pondering suspects.

As he wandered along the Cheapside, Justin noticed a crowd gathering up ahead. Quickening his pace, he saw that the attraction was a peddler's cart. The peddler was unkempt and greying, but he had a glib tongue and a practiced spiel, and for good measure, a small monkey on a chain. Banging on cymbals and turning cartwheels, the monkey soon had the spectators laughing at its antics, and the peddler then launched his hard sell, extolling the virtues of his wares.

The cart was well stocked with wooden combs, razors, needles, vinegar, salt, and the oil of olives, poppies, and almonds. Joking with his customers, the peddler seemed to have a product for every need. Wormwood for fleas. Sage for headache or fever. Green leeches for bloodletting. Agrimony boiled in milk as a restorative for lust. Senna as a purgative. Candied quince for anyone with a sweet tooth. Bantering with the men, flirting with the women, the peddler was soon doing a brisk business.

Justin paused to watch, amused by the haggling. He'd been there a few moments when he caught a whiff of perfume. He'd encountered it only once before, but he recognized it immediately, for Aldith Talbot had burned her way into his memory like a brand. As she came up beside him, he greeted her with a defensive coolness. He had not forgotten how she had used him to make Luke jealous, but his pulse still speeded up at sight of her.

"What a pity," she said, "that the peddler has no apologies

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for sale, neatly wrapped and ready to go. I owe you at least a dozen, mayhap more/'

"In truth/' Justin said, "I'd rather have an explanation than an apology."

Aldith's smile was rueful. "I was afraid you'd say that." Linking her arm in his, she drew him away from the crowd surrounding the peddler's cart. "If I tell you, it will be just between us?" When he nodded, she was quiet for a moment, considering her response. "I wanted to make sure that Luke did not get skittish about our wedding."

"Why would you worry about that?"

"I suppose I was being foolish. But I feared that Luke might have second thoughts about the wisdom of marrying me. It is not the most prudent of matches, after all. I am older than he is, my liaison with Gervase was known throughout Winchester, and I may not be the most fertile of wives. I have gotten with child only twice, and both times I miscarried of the babe. How could I blame Luke if he had qualms about the marriage?"

"Wisdom has naught to do with it. The man is besotted with you. He told me so last night."

"Did he . . . truly?" This time her smile was blinding. "He can be sparing with the words . . . except in bed, of course," she added, with a low laugh. "But what you men say in bed is not always gospel, is it?"

Justin laughed, too. "You do not really expect me to answer that?"

She shook her head, still laughing, and Justin found himself hoping that Luke did indeed mean to marry her. He'd sounded sincere, but Justin knew there were men who hunted for the thrill of the chase, losing interest once their quarry was brought to bay. For Aldith's sake, he hoped that Luke was not one of them.

Aldith's moods were as changeable as those blue-green eyes of hers. No longer playful, she was regarding Justin pensively. "Do you truly think that one of Gervase's own family plotted his death?"

THE QUEEN'S MAN

Justin was not surprised that Luke had confided in Aklith. From what he'd seen of the deputy m action, Luke followed his instincts, caring little if rules were broken in the process. "I think someone did, but I cannot say if it was a family member, not yet. You probably know them better than I do, Mistress Aldith. If you had to choose, who would seem most likely to you?"

"I cannot say that I know them well. Mainly, I saw them through Gervase's eyes. If I had to pick, though, I'd say Thomas."

"Interesting. Edwin is convinced that Jonet and Miles are the culprits."

"What say you, Justin? Who do you suspect?"

"Guy." Justin smiled, without humor. "I might as well flip a coin. It is all conjecture and suspicion, cobwebs and smoke. Unless I can prove—"

He stopped so abruptly that Aldith looked at him in surprise. He was staring over her shoulder, so intently that she turned to look, too. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she started to ask, "Is something wrong?" But by then Justin was gone.

Justin shoved his way through the crowd, heedless of the complaints and curses trailing in his wake. His quarry had darted around the peddler's cart. Hearing the footsteps behind him, he ducked into an alley and turned his back, like a man seeking a place to relieve himself. Justin followed, grabbed his shoulder, and swung him around.

Durand showed an aplomb that was glazed in ice; he didn't even blink. "What do you want?" His lip curled. "If you're begging, I have nothing to spare. A man able bodied ought to work for his bread or do without. And if you've robbery in mind, you'd best be ready to die unshriven."

"My mistake," Justin said, stepping aside. With the most disagreeable smile he had ever seen, Durand brushed past him. Justin waited until he'd reached the alley entrance. "My mistake," he repeated, with a disdainful smile of his own. "I confused you with a blustering knave called Durand."

The other man's sangfroid was capable of being shaken, after

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all, at least briefly, for the look he gave Justin was murderous. After he'd gone, Justin slowly unclenched his fist from the hilt of his sword. He'd acted on impulse and was beginning to regret it. Durand had been spying on him, but why? He could think of only one person who'd have put the knight on his trail. It was that troubling realization which had fueled his anger; he'd turned on Durand the fury he could not let loose upon the queen's son.

He'd not deny the confrontation had given him some satisfaction. For a few moments, he'd not felt like a pawn, a cat's-paw in a conspiracy of kings. Now, though, he wondered if he'd been too rash. Was it ever wise to challenge John outright?

Starting back toward High Street, he felt as if he'd blundered into a labyrinth, murky and serpentine, for that was how he envisioned the workings of John's brain. What was Durand's mission? Could it be more sinister than mere spying? And what would John do now that his man had been found out? But was Durand likely to tell John that he'd been outwitted?

The peddler was no longer selling his wares. Instead, he was embroiled in a shouting match with an angry youth, surrounded by an interested audience. Aldith was standing on the edge of the crowd and moved quickly to intercept Justin as he drew near. "What happened? Where in the world did you go?"

"I thought I saw someone I knew." To head off further questions, Justin pointed toward the men. "What is that all about ... a disgruntled customer?"

"No, a rival. The lad is from the apothecary shop across the way and wants the peddler to move on ere they lose all their customers."

Justin had no interest in a territorial dispute between merchants. "May I escort you home, Mistress Aldith?" he offered. "It is the least I can do after dashing off with nary a word to you."

She smiled and let him take her arm. He suspected that she'd be flirting with the priest on her deathbed; in that, she reminded him of the dark-eyed Claudine. They were threading their way through the crowd when people began to move aside in haste.

THE QUEEN'S MAN

Pointing toward the approaching horsemen, the apothecary's apprentice cried out triumphantly, "We sent to the castle to fetch the under-sheriff. You'll be on your way soon enough now, old man, with your tail tucked between your legs!"

The peddler spat an obscenity, then elbowed the youth aside so he could be the first to tell his side to the sheriffs deputy. Luke was mounted on a sorrel stallion. Reining in, he signaled a halt to his flanking Serjeants, his eyes taking in the scene, lingering longest upon Justin and Aldith, standing together in the street.

Dismounting, Luke was assailed by competing voices, all eager to enlighten him about the cause of this public disturbance. The noise did not abate until he shouted for silence. It did not take him long to resolve the dispute, finding in the apothecary's favor, The peddler was resentful, but shrewd enough to realize this was a fight he could not win, and he agreed to move on. Luke wasted no further time on them, striding over to Aldith and Justin.

He greeted Aldith by pressing a quick kiss into her palm. It was a simple act, but done in public, it took on symbolic significance, and Aldith glowed. When he suggested that she buy him some candied quince before the peddler packed up, she tactfully pretended to believe he had a sudden craving for sweets. Luke then jerked his head away from the peddler's customers and Justin followed.

"Well?" the deputy demanded. "What happened at the gold-smithy? Did they buzz about when you jabbed your stick into their hive?"

"They took it badly, which was to be expected. Were they all as innocent as God's own angels, they'd still be dismayed by the news I brought. By the time I was done speaking, they'd gone from bereaved to suspect. Even Miles saw that quick enough. But Guy seemed well and truly stricken. When I said we'd be digging into Gervase's past, he turned the color of curdled milk and fled to the closest alehouse."

"Did he now? Men who try to drink away their troubles can

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drown in them, too. And when they start flailing about, they give up the truth more often than not. I think I'll pay a visit to Master Guy this noon."

Justin nodded approvingly. "How goes the hunt for Gilbert the Fleming? Have you had any luck yet?"

"I might have a lead later this afternoon. But I can deal with only one crime at a time. Murder or poaching—which shall it be, de Quincy?"

Justin was not surprised; he'd seen flashes of the deputy's jealousy before. "You need not worry about poaching, Luke. I'm not one for hunting in another man's woods."

Luke's smile was almost too fleeting to catch. "I'm reassured to hear that you're so law abiding." Adding, "Stop by the cottage tonight after Compline and I'll let you know what I found out."

The snow had never materialized and stars were beginning to glimmer in the sky as Justin emerged from the abbey guest hall that evening. He'd taken only a few steps when he was accosted by a hooded, mantled figure. He knew this wasn't Durand—not tall enough—and assumed it was one of the monks. But when he raised his lantern, the candle's wavering light illuminated the angry face of Gervase Fitz Randolph's son.

"What sort of crazed quest are you on? Why are you meddling like this in my father's death?"

"You do not want your father's killers to be found?"

"Damn you, do not twist my words!" Thomas was almost incoherent with rage, his mouth contorted, eyes bulging and bloodshot. "My father was slain in a robbery. All this talk of hired killers is utter nonsense. But it is the sort of gossip that people will be eager to spread about, and some fools might even believe it. Let it be, you hear me! Let it be!"

"I can do nothing for you, Thomas. If you have a complaint, I suggest that you take it up with Luke de Marston."

Thomas would have argued further, but Justin was already brushing past him. "I am warning you, de Quincy!" he shouted.

THE QUEEN'S MAN

"It you jeopardize my chances of being admitted to the Benedictine order, you'll regret it till your dying day!"

"I'll keep that in mind," Justin promised and walked on. He'd not have been surprised if Thomas had followed him. But the goldsmith's son stayed where he was, watching as Justin crossed the garth. When he reached the gatehouse, Thomas suddenly shouted again. By that time, though, Justin was too far away to hear.

A stew simmered upon the hearth, and Aldith was busy stirring and tasting, assuring the men that it would soon be on the table. She'd insisted that Justin stay for supper, delighted by this opportunity to play the role of Luke's wife, not merely his bedmate. The two men retired to the settle with cups of malmsey and Aldith's gigantic Jezebel. Watching with amusement as Luke was overwhelmed by a display of slobbering mastiff affection, Justin told the deputy about his abbey encounter with Thomas Fitz Randolph.

Luke finally managed to shove the adoring mastiff off the settle. "I'll not need a bath for a week," he said, grimacing. "The more I learn about our little monk, the better he looks as a suspect in the goldsmith's killing."

"What about the brother? If ever I've met an unquiet soul, it is his. No one could be that fretful and uneasy and not be guilty of something!"

Luke grinned. "As it happens, you're right. After we spoke in Cheapside, I went looking for Guy. I found him still at that alehouse, sodden and wallowing in self-pity. It was almost too easy to bluff him into believing I knew all. He cracked like an egg, no sport whatsoever. He was indeed guilty as you suspected, but of embezzlement, not murder."

"So that was it!"

Luke nodded. "He took care of their accounts and kept the records, whilst Gervase sought to attract wealthy customers like the Archbishop of Rouen. A few months ago, Guy began to divert some of their funds to his own use and altered the accounts