Cruel As the Grave (25 page)

Justin accepted the peace offering with an ungracious nod, broke off a bit of crust, and fed it to Shadow. Nell wiped her hands on her apron, pulled up a stool, and helped herself to one of her wafers. Justin waited, hoping she would not ask any questions about Claudine. But she was staring at the open sack.

"What do you have there?" She leaned forward to see. "Is that the rock you found in the churchyard?" When Justin nodded, she reached out, her fingers hovering over the dried bloodstains. "Poor little lass," she said softly. "What are you going to do with it, Justin?"

"I am going to use it as her killer did," he said, "as a weapon."

~~

"Why must you keep asking questions I cannot answer?" Daniel had retreated to the High Altar. "And why are you so angry? You said you believed me!"

"I believe you did not kill her. But I think you know who did-"

"I do not, I swear it!"

"Upon what, Daniel... Melangell's pilgrim cross?"

Sweat had broken out on Daniel's forehead. "I knew it was her cross," he admitted. "I'd seen it around her neck. I... I noticed what she wore, how she looked..." Candlelight caught the flush spreading across his cheeks and throat. "When you showed it to me, I recognized it straightaway. But I do not know how it got in our coffer... I do not!"

Justin moved closer, too close for comfort. Daniel was backed against the altar and had nowhere else to go. "Would you swear that upon her cross, Daniel?" When the boy nodded mutely, Justin reached out and thrust the rock into his hand. "And upon this?"

"What is it?" Daniel gazed down at the stone in bewilderment. "Why would I swear upon a rock? Is it a relic of some sort?"

"No ... a murder weapon."

Daniel stared at him and then turned toward the light. When he realized the significance of those dark splotches, he shuddered and dropped the rock onto the altar, wiping his hands hastily upon his tunic. "I do not understand. Melangell died when she hit her head on the churchyard cross. That serjeant, Tobias... he told us so. Was he lying?"

"No, that was the truth... as far as he knew. Melangell did strike her head on the cross, as he said. But her killer then picked up that rock, stood over her as she lay helpless at his feet, and split her skull open."

Daniel gasped, tried to shrink back, and Justin grabbed for his arm, held fast. "I do not know if she was already dying. I suppose we'll never know that. All I can say for certes is that the man who wielded that rock showed her no mercy, no pity. He wanted her dead... and this is the man you are protecting by your silence, Daniel. So pick up that rock again. You'll not get her blood on your hands, for it is dry by now. If you bring it close to the candle, you can see a black hair or two... her hair. You look upon that and tell me again how much you cared for her!"

"I did not know!" Daniel wrenched away from Justin's restraining hold. For a long moment, he stared down at the bloodied rock, his lips moving, and then he made the sign of the cross. "Why did you not tell me this sooner, Justin? Christ Jesus, this changes everything!"

"How, Daniel? Suppose you tell me how," Justin said, unrelenting. He was taken aback by Daniel's response, for when the boy looked up, he was smiling through tears.

"I've been such a fool. I thought she'd died by mishap, in a terrible accident, that even if she'd been pushed in the heat of anger, it was not meant..."

"And now that you know it was murder?"

"I know it was not Geoffrey," Daniel said, so simply that he took Justin's breath away. "I was so afraid, you see, for I told Melangell about Adela, about Geoffrey's coming marriage. When she was found dead in the churchyard, the place where they always met, I feared that they'd fought over Adela, that mayhap she'd stumbled and fallen back against the cross... That is why I could not tell you about our argument, for it... it gave Geoffrey a motive."

Daniel swiped at his wet cheek with the back of his sleeve, then smiled again, a smile lit by genuine joy. "But my fears were for naught. Geoffrey would never have struck her with that rock, never. So whoever killed her, it was not my brother. And now I know I am not to blame, either. I thought it was my fault, that if only I'd kept silent about Adela..." He choked up then, and Justin unhooked his wineskin from his belt, silently passed it to the boy, waiting while Daniel drank.

"Why did you tell Melangell about Adela?"

Daniel blushed, averting his eyes in embarrassment. "It does me no credit, I know. Yet Geoffrey did not love her, not as I did. I knew he meant to marry Adela, and I told myself that Melangell had the right to know. I suppose I was hoping that she'd not forgive Geoffrey, that she'd turn to me for comfort..."

"But she did not," Justin said, and Daniel shook his head slowly.

"She became furious, would not believe me. She even put her hands over her ears so she'd not have to hear, insisting that Geoffrey loved her. 'He'll marry me now/ she said. When I persisted, she slapped me and ran off." Daniel raised his hand to his cheek, in remorseful recognition of that slap. "I convinced myself that by telling Melangell the truth, I'd be doing her a good turn. But in trying to keep her from getting hurt, I hurt her, too, and it grieves me greatly, that our last words were angry ones..."

Tears welled again in Daniel's eyes. Blinking them back, he gave Justin a shy smile, one that was both sad and hopeful. "It is a relief to have the truth out in the open at last. You'll say nothing of this to Geoffrey, though... will you? It would shame me beyond bearing if he knew of my suspicions. And I did not really believe it, not in my heart. Melangell must have been killed by a stranger, mayhap someone who saw her enter the churchyard and seized his chance. She was too trusting of men, would have been easy to take by surprise. It seems so cruel that she should have met with such evil in God's Own Acre..."

Justin nodded somberly; that, at least, he could agree with. Turning toward the altar, he retrieved the rock. It seemed to have gotten heavier in the time it had taken for Daniel to unburden himself at long last.

~~

Justin had chosen a table where he could watch the alehouse door. An ale sat untouched in front of him, and Shadow lay at his feet, nudging him occasionally in a vain attempt to get attention. Nell had been no more successful than the dog, and had finally withdrawn in a sulk. When Jonas opened the door, letting in a crack of late-afternoon sun, she picked up a flagon and hastened toward him.

"He's been in a foul mood ever since he came back from St Paul's. I've not been able to coax two civil words out of him, so I assume he had no luck in prying answers from the Aston lad."

"Then why," the serjeant asked, "did he send for me?"

Nell swung around to give Justin a probing look, then hurried after Jonas. She reached the table just as he took a seat and sat down herself, her chin raised, shoulders squared, her body's very posture daring either man to object to her presence.

Neither one did. Jonas reached for her flagon, signaling to Ellis for two more cups. "Well?" he said. "I doubt that you summoned me for the pleasure of my company, as charming as it is. What did you find out?"

Justin took a deep swallow of ale, then told them, succinctly and without commentary of his own, letting the facts speak for themselves. Nell was the first to break the silence that followed his revelation. "The boy's loyalty to his brother is admirable. But how sad that no one in that family knows how to share what is in their hearts. If only he'd asked Geoffrey outright, how much misery he might have spared himself."

"You are assuming that Geoffrey is innocent," Jonas pointed out, and Nell set her drink down with a thud.

"You think he is not?"

Jonas gave a noncommittal shrug. "He is what he always was - a suspect. I will question him again, but unless we can dig up new evidence, nothing will come of it. We still cannot prove he met with Melangell in the churchyard that evening, and his motive remains a weak one. So the Welsh girl knew about the betrothal... so what? Even if she'd threatened to go to Adela, what of it? It would have been awkward, even unpleasant, but not likely to put the marriage plans at risk. Why would Master Serlo care that Geoffrey had been bedding a peddler's lass? A wink and a nudge for the uncle, a promise to the bride-to-be that the liaison was over, mayhap a few coins for the peddler, and that would be that."

It was a jaded view, but one they could not argue with. London was full of Geoffreys and Melangells and Adelas. For young men on the prowl for clandestine pleasures, there were always girls willing to accommodate them, and long-suffering wives to turn a blind eye to such straying, provided it was not too blatant.

"Then Daniel's admission has changed nothing," Nell concluded. "It may have eased his mind, but he is still the one in the shadow of the gallows. Little wonder you're so disheartened, Justin. What now?"

Justin was staring into the depths of his drink. At first he didn't seem to have heard her question, but then he said, very low, "I keep coming back to Melangell's own words. 'He'll marry me now,' she said. Why now? What made her think she had the upper hand over Adela?"

"That is easy enough to answer." Nell's mouth turned down. "She believed it because she wanted to believe it, because it was too painful to admit the truth. Girls like Melangell always learn the hard way."

"That makes sense," Jonas allowed. "But I think you have something else in mind, Justin. Am I right?"

Justin nodded. "Suppose she was pregnant?"

"Well, that would be another kettle of fish," Jonas said cautiously. "If the girl was carrying Geoffrey's child, that might well put the cat amongst the pigeons. At best, Geoffrey would have to satisfy the girl and her father, reassure Master Serlo and his own father, placate his betrothed, and make some provisions for the babe. At worst, his hopes of marrying Adela might have gone up in a puff of blue smoke. It would depend upon how determined Melangell was to stir up a scandal, how prideful or unforgiving his betrothed was. So a pregnancy would indeed complicate life for Geoffrey far more than a few moonlight trysts. Passing strange, for we expect – even encourage – young men to plough any unfenced field, then act surprised when there's a crop to be tended. What you're really asking, though, is whether I think Melangell's pregnancy would give Geoffrey a convincing motive for murder. I'd say so."

Nell had been uncharacteristically silent. When they glanced toward her now, she shook her head. "I do not think so," she said, refusing to meet their eyes. She seemed to hear the lack of conviction in her voice, for she bit her lip and then burst out with the truth. "It is just that… that I do not want it to be Geoffrey!'

Justin looked at her bleakly. "You think I do?"

Jonas smiled thinly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. At this point, all we've got is a handful of cobwebs and smoke. What put this idea in your head, Justin? Getting a shrug in reply, he studied the younger man with an eye that seemed much too knowing for Justin's comfort. "Well, no matter. We might as well pursue it, for what else have we got? This hunch of yours… do you have any evidence to back it up?"

"No," Justin said. "Not yet."

~~

Justin waited until after dark, for by then the peddler would be back from his rounds. Cati was sitting cross-legged on a stack of firewood in the communal kitchen, black head bent over a flashing knife. She looked up, startled, at the sound of her name, acknowledging Justin with a hesitant smile.

"Where's your dog?" she asked, her dark eyes shining when Justin stepped aside to reveal Shadow's presence. The young dog proved to be an admirable ally, frisking forward to greet the girl like a long-lost friend, and for the first time, Justin heard Cati laugh. Fending off Shadow's canine kisses, she giggled and politely made room for Justin on the wood pile. "I am carving a slingshot," she explained, holding up a forked stick for Justin's inspection. "My old one broke."

Justin admired her handiwork and didn't doubt her when she boasted that she'd once knocked an apple off a tree branch with la well-aimed stone. Watching as she played tug-of-war with Shadow over a stick of firewood, he asked after her father and was startled when she said he was already asleep above-stairs. I "So early? Is he ailing, Cati?"

She shook her head, so vigorously that long hair whipped across her face.

"No... he is just bone-weary. Ever since our mule died, Papa has been pulling the cart himself."

"That cannot be easy for him."

"Papa is strong," she insisted. But he saw the doubt in those wide brown eyes. "I try to help," she said softly. "I got some goose grease salve from Clara and I rubbed it into the blisters on his hands."

"I'm sure that did help, lass," Justin said, feeling as if he was offering a meagre crust of bread to a starving child. He hated to make use of Cati this way, hated what he might have to do to clear Daniel, hated where his suspicions were leading him, one reluctant step at a time. "I daresay all your father needs is a good night's sleep," he said, as heartily as his queasy conscience would allow. "He is not one to sicken easily. Not like Melangell."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, sounding surprised but not suspicious.

"I'd heard that she was ailing in the weeks ere she died, that her stomach was unsettled a lot," he said nonchalantly, and then held his breath, waiting for her response.