Lilies for Love (17 page)

'Not carefully enough,' Janna assured him. 'There is a spray of blood spotting his sleeve. Can you see it, guard?'

The guard took a reluctant step closer and bent to inspect the marks. Odo's struggles increased. Fear had given him added strength. Janna wondered how long they'd be able to hold him if the guard didn't come to their aid.

'The steward asked me to identify Anselm. There was so much blood staining his face and clothes, I had to get close to make sure it was really him,' Odo protested.

'That might account for stains on the front of your tunic, although you were quick to wash away signs of your guilt. But how did Anselm's blood spatter onto your sleeve?'

Odo was silent. All his energy was now focused on his frantic struggles to escape. A crowd had gathered around them. There were mutters of sympathy as news of Emma's identity was passed around. Making up his mind, the guard reached out to take Odo into custody. Janna instinctively relaxed.

At once Odo lunged sideways, catching Godric off-balance. He tore himself from Godric's grasp and charged into the crowd like a rampaging bull. But the onlookers had heard enough to know where their sympathies lay, and they closed around him, hemming him in until the guard came close enough to grasp hold of him. A stout rope was hastily fetched from a nearby trader, who was busy packing the remainder of his goods onto a cart.

'Do you believe this man murdered your brother, mistress?' the guard asked Emma, once the villein was safely bound. 'We need proof for this accusation, for I must tell you we already have a number of witnesses to a fist fight between the thatcher and your brother. There's reason enough to suspect that the grievance between them did not end when the fight was broken up.'

'What about the spatters of blood on Odo's sleeve?' Emma asked quickly.

'And his purse is new – and still bulging with coin, even though he's been losing at dice,' Janna added.

'A lucky win at a cockfight,' Odo said. 'I have an answer for all your so-called "proof". More, there was no reason for me to kill a man I look up to, but every reason for the thatcher to kill the man who came between him and his betrothed.' Odo's struggles had ceased in the face of the guard's scepticism. It seemed to Janna that he might now have decided to try and brazen it out. She was equally determined that he would not succeed.

'What knowledge do you have of this matter, Sister?' The guard's tone was respectful, as befitted Janna's habit.

'She solved the crime, and she also helped me find Odo,' Emma said, earning Janna a furious glance from the villein.

The guard nodded thoughtfully. 'Do you know the accused? Or the man we already have locked away? Can you speak to the good character of either of them, Sister?'

Reluctantly, Janna shook her head.

'I know them, both of them – and I know the thatcher isn't guilty of this crime,' Emma insisted.

'You say that because you are in love with him!' Odo cried. 'But I know your brother opposed the match. I, myself, witnessed their fight over you, as well as the argument you had with your brother.'

'So you were at the cockfights with Anselm?' Janna interposed.

'Yes. I won some money there. I already told you that.' Odo's confidence was increasing by the minute. He turned to the guard, who was looking uncertain. 'Perhaps you should start your enquiries by interrogating Mistress Emma here. She is the dead man's sister, and she also had a reason for wishing him harm.'

'Oh! Oh, you . . .' Emma's hands clenched in impotent rage. 'I'll see you hang for this,' she hissed.

The unhappy guard turned to Godric. 'Do you know this man? Or the dead man, or the man they call Peter Thatcher?' he asked.

'No. But this is the man responsible for the killing, I'd be willing to wager my life on it,' Godric said, loyal to Janna as always.

'Take him to the steward,' Janna suggested. 'Let him tell his story, and see who the steward believes.'

Glad to have a face-saving way out of the bother, the guard nodded and led Odo away.

'You're quite sure of Odo's guilt, are you, Janna?' Godric fell into step beside her as she followed the guard.

'He wears his guilt on his sleeve.' Janna felt a twinge of pity. If found guilty, Odo would be tried and then hanged for his deed, but Anselm's murder might have been just a moment of madness. A chance meeting at the makeshift latrine perhaps, and a boast of a wager that had paid off handsomely. She looked at Emma then, and her pity died. It was true that Anselm's death had opened the door to her future happiness, but Janna was sure that the price paid was far too high. Anselm's unreasonable hopes for his sister surely reflected his love for her. Sooner or later he would have come to realise that he could not rely on Hugh to make her happy, and would have accepted Peter into the family.

'Try not to worry,' she told Emma, who had hurried to join them. 'The truth must come out and then Peter will be let free.'

'But the guard doesn't believe us.' A tear rolled down Emma's cheek. She looked thoroughly cast down.

'Then we must talk to the steward when we get back to the abbey, and see if we can convince him instead.' In spite of her words, Janna felt her confidence ebbing. Odo's guilt hinged entirely on her say-so – but what if the steward didn't believe her, and let Odo go free?

'We're all with you, we'll all be saying the same thing.' It seemed that Godric had sensed her fear. 'My lord Hugh, Mistress Emma, you and me – the steward will have to pay attention to what we say.'

Janna flashed him a grateful smile. He took her arm, and pressed it to his side. Together they walked on, while Janna ran through the evidence in her mind, wondering if it was enough to convince the steward.

She had an idea. 'Tell me, mistress, is there anything missing other than your brother's purse? Did he perhaps wear a token around his neck, or carry some lucky object about his person? Is there anything that might help connect him to Odo?'

Emma gave a forlorn sniff. 'No, he wasn't one for trinkets, he wore nothing like that. Except . . .' Her face brightened somewhat.

'Except?'

'He found a pebble once, in the stream near where we lived. We were just children at the time. He showed it to me. It was very pretty, with golden streaks through it. He told me they were real gold and that the pebble was worth a king's ransom. Oh, I so wanted that pebble and I begged him to give it to me, but he wouldn't – I think only because I wanted it so badly. He kept it in his purse, and sometimes he'd bring it out to tease me. Later, when I was older and had stopped coveting it, I noticed that he still had it and I questioned him. "Is that really gold?" I asked him, and he said no, but that he kept it now for luck. "It's my lucky pebble," he said – but it didn't bring him any luck, did it, Janna?'

'No. But it may well bring luck to your thatcher,' Janna comforted her, thinking that if Emma mistook the streaks for gold, so, too, might Odo. 'My lord Hugh will want to know what's happened,' she continued. 'He'll speak up for Peter, once he's seen for himself the blood splattered on Odo's sleeve, and the new and bulging purse at his waist. A lucky wager indeed!' She gave a snort of disbelief, earning a fleeting smile from the tearful Emma. 'Why don't you move from your lodgings and stay in the abbey's guesthouse so you can be close to your brother, and to the steward if he wants to question you further?' Janna suggested, returning to more practical matters. 'Even if he can't come himself, I'm sure that the lord Hugh could arrange for an escort to take you home, and your brother's body too, once it's released for burial.'

Emma nodded, grateful for the suggestion. 'Thank you, Johanna,' she said. 'Thank you for finding Odo and also for finding the proof to incriminate him.'

Taking comfort from Godric's support, Janna followed the guard and Odo towards the abbey gate. She was preoccupied, now, with a new problem, one that sent ripples of unease through her mind. Anselm's death had left one question that might never be answered. Was he responsible for the attack on Hugh, or was Janna the intended victim? She cast an involuntary glance over her shoulder, downcast to realise that, unless the culprit could be identified beyond doubt, she would always walk with danger at her back.

S
ISTER
B
RIGID
B
ARRED
their way at the gate, but reluctantly stepped aside when the guard dragged forward the new prisoner. 'The steward has gone to see the abbess,' she told them, as she produced the key for the holding cell.

'Please send for him,' said Emma. 'We need him to hear the evidence against this wretch.' She insisted on accompanying the guard and Odo to the cell so that she could comfort her beloved while they waited for the steward to arrive. Janna watched them mount the stairs beside the small wayfarers' chapel above the gate before she and Godric hurried on to Hugh's bedside. He was waiting impatiently, and anxious for news. An expression of great relief crossed his face when he saw they'd returned unharmed.

Janna quickly told him about their search for Odo and his capture. 'But Godric tells me Peter has been apprehended and brought back here,' she said. 'We must go, my lord, to speak on his behalf and against Odo. I believe there is evidence enough to hang him for this deed.'

'Then I shall come too, and lend my weight to your argument.' Hugh threw back the bedclothes.

'My lord, you really shouldn't move from your bed,' Janna protested.

'No, I wish to see Odo,' Hugh said firmly. 'I intend to make sure that he is fully punished for ending the life of my friend. He will not escape the hangman. Nor will an innocent man hang in his place.'

Janna gave a grudging nod, but insisted on checking that his wound was tightly bandaged before she allowed him out of the cubicle. By rights, she should have guided them from the infirmary out into open meadowland where stood the various barns, pigsty, byres, stables and dovecotes. A path circled the meadow in a wide loop, leading back into a smaller courtyard where could be found the kitchen, smithy, brewhouse, bakehouse and carpenter's shop. A moment's reflection convinced Janna that Hugh was in no condition to go on such a long detour and so she and Godric supported him through the inner passage to the parlour and out through the cloister. She had lost track of time, but realised that the dinner hour must have come and gone when she saw several nuns promenading on the grass. There was a scandalised hiss of indrawn breath. Strangers in the cloisters, and men at that!

'Custody of the eyes, Sisters,' the prioress said quickly, following her words with a glare in their direction while all the nuns about the cloisters reluctantly looked away.

'You'll have to leave the abbey with me now,' Hugh told Janna, struggling to restrain his laughter as he added, 'I fear your reputation is irrevocably ruined.'

'Do not make it worse by laughing at them.' Janna was all too aware of the presence of Godric, who had hold of Hugh's other arm and could hear everything he said. She was afraid he might misunderstand Hugh's comments and make of them more than he should.

'I suspect that, regardless of my demeanour, the good sisters will draw their own conclusions.' Hugh shifted his weight to lean more heavily on Godric. 'You don't have to keep hold of me,' he told Janna.

She let go of him with some reluctance, and dropped back behind the pair. At the same time, she began to marshal the argument she would use to defend herself in chapter, for there was sure to be much malicious gossip resulting from her actions this day.

They passed the carrel where Sister Ursel worked. A couple of sisters looked over her shoulder to admire the page she was illuminating. Another nun worked in the carrel beside her. A quick glance confirmed that Sister Ursel's work was far superior. There was a red blotch on Sister Philippa's sheet of parchment. It had been clumsily scraped, but the blotch still showed quite clearly. Even Janna, who did not know her letters, could see the difference between the fine strokes made by Sister Ursel and the thick, uneven letters formed by Sister Philippa. She wondered if the nun sought daily to improve, or if she did not mind the difference between them but simply carried out her task to the best of her ability.

Janna took a deep breath, enjoying the kiss of the sun on her face. Mindful of the urgency of their mission, still she envied these nuns their leisure to pull weeds and snip dead flower heads, and sniff the perfume of the last late-blooming roses.

She saw that several of the sisters were using this opportunity to give their pets a little fresh air and exercise. As they passed by, she noticed a small dog squat on the grass to relieve itself. Its owner gave a furtive look around, then bent and scooped up the steaming pile between two sticks, hastily gathered for the purpose. The young novice deposited her burden under a rose bush, poking the mundungus into the earth with the sharp end of one stick. While the abbess and obedientiaries turned a blind eye to the issue of pet-keeping, it was accepted, if not openly acknowledged, that the animals' waste must be put to good use. Consequently, the rose bushes thrived, as did all the shrubs planted within the cloisters.

A sudden cry set Janna's head swivelling. 'Filthy beast!' One of the sisters hopped about, her foot in the air as she attempted to undo her sandal. 'I stepped right into it! Who did not clean up after her animal?' She looked around, fired with righteous indignation.

Silence met her question. Several of the nuns lifted the skirts of their habits and dropped them over their pets, concealing the animals from sight. The offended nun looked from one to the other. 'Who was it?' she demanded, but no-one replied. With an outraged snort, she tried to scrape her soiled shoe clean on the grass. Janna wrinkled her nose. The smell was no worse – in fact, it was a great deal less offensive – than the stink of the fair, yet it seemed somehow more malodorous here in this quiet garth with its cool, splashing fountain.

Janna led the way to the cell above the gatehouse. She stood back as the guard unlocked the door and gave them entrance into the small room. At their appearance, Odo sprung to his feet. 'I tell you, I am innocent of all . . .' His protestations died as he glanced from Janna to Hugh. His eyes flared open in momentary alarm, and he shrank back against the wall and hung his head as if trying to become invisible. Janna studied Odo closely, wondering at the sudden change in his demeanour. He'd been ready to shout his innocence aloud when he thought he faced the steward; why now had his guts suddenly turned to water?

Emma stepped forward and touched Hugh's arm. 'This is Peter.' She flung out an arm to indicate a hunched figure sitting on the floor. He struggled to rise, but Emma pushed him back down. She sat next to him, and took hold of his hand. 'They've chained him up!' she said indignantly.

Janna could see the heavy fetters that bound Peter's hands and feet and kept him seated. He shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. 'I swear I am innocent of this crime,' he told Hugh.

'And we're going to prove it,' Janna told him, earning a disgusted sneer from Odo.

The door was unlocked once more, and this time the steward followed the guard into the small cell. 'I have already interrogated the prisoner, and I am satisfied that he is guilty of the crime of murder,' he said, addressing his remarks to Hugh, correctly assessing him as being the most important of their company.

'But there are some things you don't know about this man.' Hugh indicated Odo. 'Tell him, Janna. Tell him everything you know, everything you've observed.'

Janna needed no second invitation. Determined not to betray her nervousness, she launched into her explanation, pointing out to the steward the significance of the purse missing from the dead man's effects and why the murderer must have taken Anselm by surprise and slit his throat before he could put up any resistance. 'I believe the purse was taken after the murder, so it would have been stained with the dead man's blood,' Janna continued. 'Odo kept the money, but he had to throw the purse away and buy a new one.' She pointed at the evidence hanging from Odo's belt. 'Ask your men to search the ditch and the grounds of the copse where Master Anselm's body was found. The purse might still be lying there.'

Odo turned his face and would not look at them.

'There is no point denying your role in Anselm's death,' Janna told him. 'See, my lord, the spray of blood on his sleeve? I have seen animals slaughtered and I know that such a spray occurs only as their throats are cut, and not after death as this rogue claims.'

Hugh stepped over to the cowering man and grabbed him by the sleeve. 'Look at me, damn you!' He prodded him in the chest. Odo slowly raised his eyes to Hugh's face. Hugh glared at him. 'You wear the blood of my friend, and I'll see you hang for it.' He gave Odo a shove, sending him crashing back against the wall.

It seemed to Janna that, in spite of Hugh's threats, Odo seemed somewhat less frightened now. He straightened, brushed himself down and faced them with a defiant air. 'Master Anselm was my friend too,' he said. 'The blood on my tunic came after his death. I washed most of it off for it was unsightly, and I reeked of it. I didn't reckon that a few drops of blood on my sleeve would make any difference,' he added insolently.

'More than a few drops of blood. You wear the spray of death on your sleeve – and a new purse of ill-gotten coin at your waist.' Janna turned to the steward. 'There must have been even more money at the start, for we found this rogue in the alehouse, busy losing money at dice.'

'I won it! I won it all in a wager!'

Hugh raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 'And where would a lowborn cur like you find spare coin for such a wager?'

'It was my last coin on a lucky guess, sire.'

It seemed to Janna that for the first time, there was a ring of truth to Odo's words. Her doubts returned as she wondered if, after all, she might have misread the signs of his guilt.

It seemed Hugh did not share her misgivings. 'There is no point in denying your role in this, for the evidence against you proves that you are lying. You killed a man to get at his purse, do not trouble to deny it.'

'May I suggest that you search through the contents of this man's purse?' Janna looked at the steward, trying not to betray her fear. She was wagering a man's life on a lucky guess. If she was wrong, Peter might well hang instead of Odo. She wiped her sweating palms down her habit, and turned to Emma. 'But before the purse is searched, will you tell the steward about your brother's lucky pebble?'

'It's small, round and dark brown, with gold threads running through it.'

Odo stiffened. He backed away until he fetched up tight against the wall and could go no further. He struggled to speak, moistened his lips with his tongue, but seemingly could utter no sound. His hands clamped tight around his purse. Janna watched, hardly daring to breathe.

The steward held out his hand. 'Give it to me or I'll cut it off your belt. Your hand too, if it gets in the way.'

Reluctantly, Odo did as he was bid. The steward opened the purse and spilled its contents onto a small table.

'There!' Emma swooped down and picked up the pebble, holding it aloft for all to see. The steward nodded thoughtfully.

'You don't understand. I only took what was rightfully mine,' Odo blustered.

'
What?
'

Hugh's roar of disbelief was answered by a sullen mutter. 'That's
my
money.'

'You expect us to believe you won all this money at the cockfights?' The steward took up the interrogation with somewhat more enthusiasm.

Odo was silent.

'Speak up, man, and tell me the truth, for you can be sure that if you won such a large amount, people will have seen and noted it. And I shall certainly be asking around to find witnesses to your good fortune.'

'I didn't win the money, Master Anselm did,' Odo admitted sullenly. 'But it was my money to start off with. Mine!' A note of aggrieved bravado crept into his voice.

'Explain yourself!'

Odo hesitated. But there was too much evidence against him now to pretend innocence. Nevertheless, he tried to put his actions in the best possible light.

'I was with Master Anselm at the cockfighting,' he said, addressing his remarks to Emma. 'I was only watching, but Master Anselm was making wagers on the fights. He told me he was determined to increase the amount of your dower.' Odo's glance flicked towards Hugh, then turned back towards Emma.

Emma's hand went to her throat, but she said nothing, only waited for Odo to continue.

'He wagered his last coin, and lost. He lost everything,' Odo continued.

'Yet you seem to believe that Anselm owed you money,' Hugh cut in quickly. 'How did that happen? Did he borrow from you?'

'He took all I had. As a loan, he said.' Odo sounded resentful now. 'He took my only coin, wagered it on a fight, and won. And from there on, he kept on winning. But it was
my
money he wagered, and therefore I should have had his winnings. But he would not give them to me, he would not even share a half, but offered me only the coin I had given him.'

'Which is fair enough,' Emma said quickly. 'He was the one with the skill to increase the original stake, not you.'

Odo's eyes narrowed; his face mirrored his rejection of her words. 'I, too, have a lass I would wed,' he said bitterly. 'I, too, wanted something to offer her, an incentive to share my life and my bed, for she has shown as unwilling as has your own suitor, mistress.' His glance flicked once more to Hugh, then away again.

Janna watched him. She felt uneasy. Something was not quite right; something had been said, or not said, something important. She was sure the rogue had given away more than he knew, perhaps more than they all realised, if only she could work out what it was. What had she missed during this exchange? While the steward began to interrogate Odo more carefully, Janna closed her eyes, allowing her mind to go back to the start of the interview. What Odo had said. How he'd reacted. His unexpected change in demeanour after Hugh cornered him. It seemed that he knew Hugh, but Hugh did not know him. Was that significant? Because it seemed also that Odo had taken some comfort when he realised he had not been recognised. Was there some connection between him and Hugh, and if so, what was it?

'You know the lord Hugh, don't you?' she interrupted, knowing that she would have to proceed cautiously if she was to trap Odo into any admission that might damage him.