Bone of Contention (36 page)

Raoul de Samur
stuck his head around the door, stepped in, and shut it tight. “Why the devil did you send for me when Lord William was here? I barely had time to grab one of the common girls to pretend… What if word gets back?”

“He was not here when I sent for you. And unless you opened your mouth, no one should know you were coming here. The girl was told to name another whorehouse, if she had to give a name. As for Lord William, he came to give me news of two friends, Niall Arvagh and Mistress Loveday, to tell me they are, as we all hoped, to be married and have gone out of Oxford to Noke. Nothing to do with you.”

“Then why did you send for me?”

“I have learned a secret that might be very profitable to you. You remember Aimery St. Cyr?”

“Of course I remember him,” Samur growled, grimacing. “The lout was in my troop, and more trouble than he was worth, I assure you.”

“St. Cyr found a place in the attic of Lord Waleran’s lodging above the solar where one can hear clearly whatever is said below.”

Samur stood staring at her. “And was killed for it?”

Magdalene did not answer, remembering that she had wondered whether Waleran had found out about St. Cyr and ordered his death.

After a moment Samur shook his head. “No. I swear no order was given to remove St. Cyr. I do not believe Lord Waleran knew he existed.” His eyes narrowed. “And there have been no workmen around the lodging. I cannot imagine that Lord Waleran would leave open such a crack in his privacy.”

“Neither can I. Which means Lord Waleran is still unaware that there is a place in which his private councils can be overheard. If you can find the place and listen—” Magdalene reached out and gently touched the gold ring that Raoul de Samur had hinted he had bought with what William had paid him for information “—it might be very profitable.”

“Why are you telling me this? Are you planning to betray me? Or do you want a share of what Lord William will give me?”

Magdalene laughed. “A share would not be amiss, but that is the least of my reasons. When Lord William is satisfied and happy, it is greatly to my profit. When he is harried—” she shrugged and mentally apologized to William who had never taken out his ill humors on her, except for a bellow or two “—I suffer for it. The more he knows, the more he prospers, the more do I.”

Samur nodded curtly. “Mayhap I will. Mayhap I will not use this information. It may be too dangerous.”

“Do what you think best,” Magdalene said shortly, stepping around Samur and opening the door.

She had not liked the speculative look in his eyes, as if he might ask her to convince him with her body to serve William. Likely enough he did not expect her to agree, he merely wanted to be able to tell William that she did not think his safety and profit worth ten minutes on her back. He opened his mouth, she suspected to
ask
anyway, and she thought nastily that two could play his game. She smiled sweetly at him but kept her voice very low.

“I asked Lord William’s permission to tell you,” she said, “and he approved.”

“Bitch,” Raoul remarked, but there was little heat in the word. “You’re as clever as they say.”

She kept her sweet smile, trying to look idiotic. “It is a wise man who thinks so, anyway.”

Samur lifted a lip at her and then went out the door. Magdalene could see that the rain was coming down again, although not with the rush that had soaked William when he came in. But he must be safe back in the castle by now.

The corridor was quiet and Florete smiled invitingly, but Magdalene was aware of being in her bedgown and, mindful of the trouble she had caused by being caught in that attire previously, she retreated to her chamber. She stood for a while listening to the rain and hoping that William had not gotten wet again. Then she chuckled at her fond foolishness: if he did, there would be a bevy of servants to take away the wet clothing and supply dry.

She considered changing into a gown, but dismissed the thought. She would not be going out in the rain, and in any case it must be well after Nones now, possibly near Vespers. Vespers. Surely the king was no longer holding Court. And then she wondered where Diccon was and whether he had ever found Bell.

That question answered itself before she had set another row of stitches in Ella’s ribbon when Bell simply opened the door and walked in. She did not bother to protest. Florete had seen her go back into the room alone and would have told him it was safe. He was wet but not soaked, and he dropped a blanket, smelling strongly of horse, that had shielded him half on a stool where it slipped to the floor.

“You went to the stable where Jules was killed?” she asked.

“That was what you wanted me to do, was it not?” He came and lifted her face and kissed her.

“Did you discover anything?”

“Some things, but not who killed him, I am sorry to say.” He pulled the stool William had been sitting on closer and dropped down on it, stretching his long legs. “And I do not like what I learned. Ormerod was behaving as if he had lost his father and his only brother in one blow. His grief and desire for revenge seem a bit overblown to me. Do you realize that he stood to profit substantially from St. Cyr’s death and does profit enormously from Sir Jules’s?”

“Yes. Once St. Cyr was dead, Ormerod believed Jules would get Loveday. Then Jules could have repaid his debt to Ormerod and given the promised farm to his sister.” She hesitated and then went on slowly, “And with Jules dead, the sister gets everything and Jules could not continue to destroy the property.”

“Yes.” Bell did not sound happy.

“But I could swear he was not that kind of man,” Magdalene protested weakly, then sighed. “Of course, he did not come frequently to the Old Priory Guesthouse and I do not think I have seen him since his father died. Mostly I remember him as an awkward, blushing boy. He could have changed, grown more grasping.”

Bell sighed. “I would have said the same as you. On the other hand, I did not know him before his father died. It was afterward that there was trouble about the farm his father had bought and he came to the bishop for help. I was surprised by his insistence that the price was fully paid. The sum in question was not large.” He rubbed his arms. “Of course he may simply have objected to being thought a fool and easily cheated.”

“Why don’t you take off those wet clothes?” Magdalene suggested, although she suspected it was more his distaste for suspecting Ormerod than the dampness that had chilled him.

He nodded, removed his swordbelt and propped it where he could reach the weapon easily, and she rose to help him with ties and laces. When he was rid of his tunic, she laid it on the other bed carefully so it would not wrinkle as it dried, then found places for the rest of his clothing. Finally she handed him the blanket that William had cast away when he caught her to him.

“Had other company, have you?” he asked, but he was smiling.

Magdalene ignored the question. “Did you see the body? How did Sir Jules die?”

“Quickly. I doubt he felt more than the single blow that felled him, and drunk as he was, I suspect he did not even feel that.” Bell’s lips thinned. “But whoever hit him was a vicious man, or had come to hate him. He continued to strike him until…well, long after he was dead.”

“How did he dare—out in an open pen? And the stable is a busy place.”

“Mostly in the early morning when people come into the city to do business and in the late afternoon, near Vespers, when people ride home again. During the day there are far fewer customers. I was quite alone when I spoke to the stableman. I could have killed him easily, with no one the wiser, by just walking him farther back where it is dark.

“Then Sir Jules wasn’t killed in the pen.”

“No. He was killed in the back of the stable. I found the place because the stableman mentioned that the horses would not go there. One cannot see much on packed earth on which horses have been urinating and defecating for years, but when I pushed aside the bedding straw, there was a dark stain in the earth. I
think
it smelled of blood, but between horse piss and manure I could not be sure. But I did try to lead a horse there—a sorry old nag, not in the least fractious, and it jibbed.”

“Then he was carried to the yard?”

“Likely wrapped in a blanket. And hiding him in the pen was easy. It would have looked like a man forking hay.”

“But even if no one else was there, the stableman—”

“He says he ran out because something startled the horses in the pen, had a sack thrown over his head, was gagged so he could not call out, and his hands bound—”

“That was not what he told Ormerod, or the sheriff’s man.”

Bell laughed. “Would you have told Ormerod or the sheriff’s man that you allowed yourself to be pushed into a corner and told to stand there—and obeyed? He said if he had known of the murder, he would have called for the Watch, but when he was released, he ran first to look at the horses, and all were there, safe. And then he looked at the tack, and that was untouched. In fact, he could see nothing disturbed at all. He says he began to think it was some jest that he did not understand. I think that was true enough, but there was something else he was not telling me.”

“Bribed to be silent about the murder?” Magdalene asked.

“Not that. I think he was all but foundered when the body was discovered. I suspect he was paid to run an errand and is afraid to admit it.”

“After he was released? Released,” Magdalene repeated, frowning. “You said he had been released. How could that be done without him seeing the man who tied him?”

“I did not take to the idea very easily either,” Bell admitted with a shrug. “But when he described what was done… What he said was that the rope, or whatever held the sack into his mouth was untied, then the rope was loosed from his hands, very swiftly, and then as the sack was pulled off his head, he was thrust violently forward so that he fell face down. By the time he scrambled to his feet, whoever had seized him was gone.”

“He did not look to see who had done it?”

“I think he was afraid at first.” Bell was slightly contemptuous, but not much; the stableman was a poor common creature. “Likely he gave himself the excuse that if he did his duty by looking after the horses and the tack he would not be blamed. And then when he saw nothing was missing or damaged, I think he was ashamed of not having resisted the ‘jest’ played on him. And then he was distracted. I think someone came into the stable and sent him on an errand.”

Magdalene’s eyes widened. “The killer?”

“Not impossible. The man is clever. Possibly he wanted time to look around and cover any traces he had left.”

“And once the body was well hidden, who could say when Sir Jules died? How soon would it have been found?”

“Who knows? Possibly not until someone smelled it in two or three days’ time.” Bell grimaced and then looked thoughtful and rather pleased. “But if that was the murderer’s purpose, then Ormerod is not the killer since he made all the fuss that caused the body to be discovered.”

Magdalene nodded slowly. “I suppose so, and yet there is no one else who profits so much from Sir Jules’s death. And he told me he had ridden into Oxford yesterday, even that he had stopped at the stable. He said he had seen that Jules’s horse was gone, concluded he had missed Jules somewhere on the road, and had ridden back to Osney. So if he was seen here…”

“What do we do, confront him?” Bell asked. “Perhaps if Lord William—”

Magdalene shook her head hard, then looked down at her fingers, knotting and unknotting in her lap. “William says all this has nothing to do with him.” She shivered, and added almost bitterly, “He does not care if the killer goes scot-free or goes on killing and killing…”

“Good Lord,” Bell said softly, dropping the blanket and getting up from the stool to embrace her. “You think that if the killer heard Jules say he had been in the back yard of The Broached Barrel, then he must know it was you to whom Jules was talking.” He hugged her tight. “Not to worry, dearling. I am here now, and if I have to leave, I will just warn Florete’s men not to let anyone in here.”

“I’m not frightened,” Magdalene assured him, hugging him back. “I’m…” She was going to say disappointed in William, but she would never say that to Bell, and it wasn’t true, she knew what William was. She shrugged. “I don’t know. William would act quickly enough if I told him I was in danger, but I’m not, not really. And I don’t know whom to tell him to act against. Jules didn’t tell me anything. If I were concerned it would be for Tirell Hardel, with whom Jules spent several candlemarks yesterday.”

“The merchant who has a mail shirt?”

“Yes. Instead of going home from The Broached Barrel, Jules went with Tirell to his lodging.” She then repeated the story Ormerod had told her.

“So this Tirell knew where Jules was going,” Bell said. “If he killed St. Cyr to keep Loveday safe and feared Jules had seen him, he could have followed Jules and killed him.”

“Master Woller told Ormerod that Tirell didn’t leave.”

“Then. I would have to look at the shop to see if he could have come down and crept out without Woller’s knowledge a little later. We don’t know whether Jules actually went directly to the stable.”

“And what happened to Jules’s horse? Ormerod said it came home by itself during the night, which means someone set it free on a road it knew.”

“Came home during the night? The stableman said a servant from Osney paid for stalling it and took it… Lord, that killer is a clever beast. He took the horse away so if he somehow missed Jules, Jules would berate the stableman and send him to look for the servant. Meanwhile, Jules would wait or, more likely, go to The Broached Barrel. Whoever killed Jules has the devil’s own luck because he didn’t even have to fetch Jules out of The Broached Barrel. He must have found him right in the stable.”

“Perhaps even asleep. Ormerod said Tirell told him Jules was, as usual, drunk when he left his lodging.”

Bell dropped a kiss on Magdalene’s head. “I don’t think I can do anything more this evening, so I think I’ll just step out and tell Diccon to bring us an evening meal.”