Season of the Raven (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 1) (20 page)

Lambertus once more gave a graceful nod of his head. "That is certainly possible. Over the years I've spoken with a great number of the villagers from Priors Holston, offering my counsel where and when it's needed. That they seek me out to serve them in this way is a tradition between the village and our house. It rises from a past time when all the commoners in this vale owed the sweat of their brows and the fruits of their fields to my long dead brethren."

Faucon drew a slow breath, wondering how far the prior would allow him to go before he was stung enough to react. "You do not remember speaking with Agnes of Stanrudde? She mentioned she came to you only recently," he said, taking care to let no hint of emotion color his words. "It seems you instructed her to be patient with her husband, who was beating her out of anger and not in correction, and continue to pray that God might grant her a child from their union."

Something shifted in Lambertus' blue gaze. "Such a matter would not be one I would discuss with you, even if I did recall the event. Perhaps if I tell you what I know of Halbert Miller, you can find something of use in it.

"Five or so years ago, Halbert came to this house and offered my predecessor a substantial sum to sell to him the right to collect all the profit he earned from grinding grain at Priors Holston's mill. Along with that initial rich sum, he offered a yearly rent, and to grind our grain at no cost. I thought the rent he named a pittance, and, since we were already grinding our grain at no cost in our own mill, there was no gain to us in his offer to continue doing so. As this was the first such offer from a villager, much discussion ensued among my brothers and your lord uncle. There were some of us who held that the miller could not have accrued the sum he offered without borrowing from the Jews, and these brothers did not wish to take tainted coins. Most of the rest argued that he couldn't have borrowed from the Jews. That was the year so many of the Hebrews were slaughtered in this land. These brothers felt there could be no Jewish moneylenders left capable of lending so much. In my mind, that was even more damning. If the miller hadn't borrowed from a Jew, he must have borrowed from a Christian. If interest was being charged, that was the sin of usury.

"In the end, we could prove none of our suppositions, and agreed to sell the right to operate the mill with some restrictions. The deed was given in fee tail. None but the miller's legitimate heirs can claim the right to operate the mill, nor can the right we've given to Halbert and his line be sold or attached to another." The prior's tone was neutral, his words as careful and well-chosen as Faucon's had been.

"The only other thing I know of Halbert is that he returned to the priory for a second time only a few weeks past. On this visit he requested the aid of one of my brothers in Christ to act as a scribe."

Lambertus paused, his gaze catching and holding Faucon's. His brows rose. He offered a strangled smile. "It seems the miller wished to record his will." The barest hint of satisfaction colored his words.

It took every ounce of Faucon's discipline not to gape in astonishment as he deciphered the meaning behind the prior's strange tale. Someone held Lambertus in a grip that the prior found both repugnant and painful, a grip so tight that it tied the churchman's tongue, preventing him from revealing what he wished to share. Lambertus believed the key to releasing that grip was written into Halbert's new will, but he hadn't the freedom to make use of whatever was there. For that, he needed Faucon.

Having spoken his piece, Lambertus came to his feet in one graceful movement. "I can tell you nothing else, for I know nothing more to tell." That was a lie. The prior knew far more than he dared to share.

Faucon offered the expected response. "My thanks for the information you've offered. I'm certain I will find it helpful."

"Indeed," Lambertus replied. "Perhaps, once you have resolved the details of the miller's murder, you will return with the name of the man who did this foul deed. I am interested to know how this tale ends." However polite, it was a dismissal not to be brooked.

Faucon yet reeled at the oddness of this whole encounter. "But of course, my lord prior."

Once again, he bowed over Prior Lambertus' ringed hand, then started out of the room.

"There is one more thing," the prior called after him.

Faucon paused at the door, the latch in his hand. "Aye, my lord?"

Lambertus watched him the way a statuary angel might, his expression beautiful and remote. "About the business of your lord uncle's benefice. I'm sure you understand that we will have no payment for you until our Eastertide accounting. If our dear Bishop of Hereford wishes you to have our Michaelmas portion, he will have to disburse it to you from his own treasury as that is where it now resides."

"Of course, my lord prior. I completely understand," Faucon said.

"I thought that you did," the prior said. "Indeed, I was certain that you would understand all, from the description your lord uncle offered me of you," he added, then pulled his cowl up over his head and returned to sit in the place that demonstrated his authority over his house.

"Halbert came to the priory a few weeks ago and hired one of the monks to write a will for him," Faucon said to Edmund once he had closed the door behind him.

He hadn't expected Edmund to wait for him after the monk had closed the chapter house door, thinking their day's work had been at an end. Now he was thrilled to find his clerk in the passageway.

"If you wish to help me discover the name of the man who killed Halbert," Faucon continued, "you must seek out the monk who wrote that document and ask him what it contained. Or better yet, procure the copy if one was made."

Edmund sent him a strained look. "I can't ask after what is a private matter."

"Not even to discover the miller's murderer so we can place his estate into the king's hands?" Faucon used his words like a morningstar and Edmund flinched under the assault.

"Nay, you misunderstand. It's that I
cannot
ask. While it is true our order isn't completely silent, and that we do share speech for part of the day, when the time comes for that sharing it's considered poor taste to broach subjects that aren't in keeping with the Rule. The Rule suggests we limit our conversations to those that are profitable to our brotherhood or necessary to convey information about tasks and goals of the house."

"The issue of Halbert Miller's will is both profitable and necessary, if we are to find the one who killed him," Faucon replied.

"To you and to me, that is true," Edmund agreed, nervously shifting the sack that contained his writing implements behind his arm again. Once more that parchment roll thrust up over his shoulder, quiver-like. "My brothers may not agree."

Faucon hid his surprise as he understood Edmund's hesitance. As brusque and outspoken as his clerk might be, Edmund was a newcomer here, and as such, feared making a misstep that might result in being shunned by his peers. Then again, Faucon well remembered the pain of being a newcomer, standing on the outside of the group until those at the center allowed him entry.

The urge to tell his clerk what the prior had shared caught Faucon by surprise. He swallowed it. However dearly Prior Lambertus wanted Halbert's will discovered, Faucon was absolutely certain the prior didn't wish anyone to know he was the one who had suggested it be sought out. It was a shame, but Edmund's 'honest' tongue made it impossible to entrust him with any confidence.

"I suspect this may be one time when you need not worry over a misstep," he said, trying to hint as best he could.

"I am not worried," Edmund shot back. "Nor can you assure me of what you cannot know."

"As you say, but what if you are wrong this time?" Faucon tried again. "What if a simple conversation between you and one of your brothers results in us acquiring the name of the man who killed the miller before day's end, and with no repercussions to you?"

Edmund's worry warred with his need to curry Bishop William's favor. As if he sought to hide his turmoil from Faucon, the monk whirled on his heel and started back through the refectory, head lowered and shoulders hunched. Faucon followed him to the exit, torn in twain between his desire to command his clerk to do what he was told and the equally pressing need to win Edmund's compliance, and his trust. One avenue promised a single success. The other might well guarantee a far easier time for them, as he and Edmund continued into their future.

It wasn't until they'd reached the door to the outside world that his clerk finally spoke. His words were grudging and low. "I will do what I can, but I make no promises."

Triumph and relief made Faucon smile. "I asked for none. Before I leave, tell me something else. How long do we have to identify the one who killed Halbert and confiscate his property?"

Edmund gave a tight shrug. There was a gentle clink from within his sack as one metal object touched another. "As long as it takes. If, when this man is discovered, he makes his confession, we can immediately claim his goods and property even though justice has not yet been meted out, although we cannot take his chattels or profits. All that remains in the custody of the bailiff or headman for the area until he is adjudged guilty. If he flees after he is confronted, he will be outlaw, and we can then claim his goods and property, holding them in trust until that time he is caught or abjures the realm."

"And if he is discovered but protests that he is innocent, refusing to confess? What then?" Faucon asked, more from curiosity than any need to know.

"We cannot take his property. Instead, he will sit in the sheriff's gaol at Killingworth until he stands before the Eyre and is judged accordingly. That is, unless he raises the funds required for his bail. Not an easy task that one, since he must also recruit neighbors to stand surety for him. They must agree to bring him to court when the time comes, or pay a fine if he flees before that day. But if he is able to pay his bail, he will remain free until he is called to court, and we must wait until he is adjudged guilty to take the king's portion. Why?" Edmund asked.

Faucon shrugged. "I once knew these things and have forgotten most of them, and I must know them again. I was concerned about needing to rush to resolve the murder of the miller, the way we had to rush to complete the inquest."

They exited from the dorter. Edmund stopped just outside the doorway, as Faucon started through the passageway that led out of the monks' rectangular world.

"God be praised! Sir Faucon!" The call came from a rider atop a dancing horse just inside the opening in the hedge. The man was dressed in mud-spattered hunting green. His horse whinnied in complaint and turned a nervous circle, harnesses rattling. The servant who had promised to care for Legate was racing away from horse and rider, running toward the field beyond the dovecote.

"Sir Faucon," the rider called again, "you must come at once. Lord Rannulf and Bishop William have found a murdered child."

As little as he liked it, Edmund bumped and jounced along behind Faucon on Legate's rump as they rode for more than an hour to reach the place where Bishop William and Lord Rannulf awaited them. It was an open spot, a great sweep of grassy hillside, undisturbed by homes or farms, trees or hedges, the drying vegetation rustling and shifting in a mid-afternoon breeze.

The hunting party had found their ease as they waited for their new crowner to appear. The horses grazed, while the hunting dogs dozed in a sleepy pile, ears occasionally flicking, a tail lifting now and then. The beaters and kennel master were just as relaxed in their own gathering, laughing and chatting as they reclined in the sun.

All that marred the idyllic atmosphere were the ravens. From high overhead, they threw down their raucous complaints as they circled. They had not appreciated being disturbed at their feasting.

Faucon looked from the carrion eaters to the valley that spread out below him. Although he did not yet know Blacklea's landmarks well enough to identify it from a distance, he could guess about where it must be. As near as he could tell, this was the same place he'd noticed yesterday when he'd seen the ravens from the road.