“Who?”
“Harold Greencliff. When we came to the edge of the trees, where the lane meets the road, I saw him.”
“With Stephen de la Forte?”
“Not that I saw. I didn’t see Stephen, only Harold. I thought he was alone.”
“What was he doing?”
“Nothing. Just standing there with a horse.”
“His own horse?”
She gave a quick laugh. “Harold have a horse? No, he does not need a horse. Anyway, it wasn’t a man’s horse. It was a nice little mare, brown with a white flash on her head and little white mark on her left foreleg like a short stocking. He was standing and holding her just off the road, almost in the trees. He looked like he was trying not to be seen.”
“If it was Greencliff, did Sarah Cottey see him?”
She smiled sadly, but shook her head. “No. Sarah would have commented. She couldn’t have seen him.”
“Why?”
“Sarah and Harry grew up together. They were as close as brother and sister. I think she still expects him to…”
Baldwin gently prompted her. “Expects him to what?”
Sighing, she stared at the flames. “To ask her to marry him. She’s always loved him. But he doesn’t love her.”
“Who is he in love with?”
“I don’t know, but find the owner of the little mare and I think you’ll find out.”
Outside once more, they found Hugh lurking sulkily, still holding the three horses by their reins. He was about to make a comment when he caught sight of the two men’s expressions and decided quickly not to. The look on his master’s face told him that this was not a good time to mention the weather. Handing their reins to them, he watched sullenly while they mounted their horses, then climbed on to his own and, shivering slightly, trotted off after them.
There was no conversation as they went. His master and the knight were sunk deep in thought, and Hugh found himself wondering what had been said in the mill. Both seemed morose, glowering at the trail ahead as they retraced their tracks to the road. He shrugged, putting their mood out of his mind. His priority was a warm meal and drink. Drink mainly: a pint of mulled wine or ale. It was so cold out here, with the wind whistling and howling between the branches of the trees like lost souls.
At the onslaught of a fresh, bitter blast that cut through his flesh to the bones beneath, he turned his head aside and groaned with the sheer pain of it.
“Are you all right, Hugh?”
Looking up he saw Simon swivelling in his saddle to peer back. Seeing the question in his master’s eyes, he tried to answer through his chattering teeth, but all he managed was a grimace. It was with relief that he heard Simon say, “Baldwin, we’ll have to stop to let Hugh warm up. I think he’s frozen colder than the mill leat.”
“If you’re sure,” said Baldwin giving Hugh a sour look. “But what with him not liking horses and needing to sit in comfort with a fire, I honestly cannot see why you don’t simply pension him and have done with him!”
“He’s not that bad!” Simon laughed as they carried on. Hugh carried on in silence, but kept his ears open. “And he was outside all the time we were indoors by the fire.”
There was a pause for several minutes, and then Hugh heard Baldwin mutter, “So what do you think, Simon?”
“About Greencliff? It looks suspicious, doesn’t it? He was there, after the women seem to have left the witch alive, we know he was nearby.”
“Yes,” Baldwin mused. “But why? Why was he there? And whose horse was it? Why would Greencliff want to kill Agatha Kyteler?”
“Are you going to arrest him again?”
“I don’t think so. Let’s see if we can find out more first. Maybe it was just sheer coincidence he was there. I don’t want to arrest the boy every other day! And what about the horse, and this other woman? Maybe she can help us.”
“Maybe. But who is she? How can we find out who she is?”
By the time they clattered into Wefford, Hugh felt as if he was frozen to his saddle. His hands seemed to have taken on a will of their own and refused to obey him as he tried to force them to open and release the reins. When Baldwin sprang lightly from his horse, at first he stood impatiently and watched with his face set into an irascible grimace. Then, slowly realising that Hugh was having difficulty, he stepped forward, peering at the servant with concern. Seeing the miserable set of Hugh’s face, he quickly moved up and helped the dejected man from his horse, assisting him to the door of the inn while Simon handed the horses to the hostler.
Coming into the hall, he saw the innkeeper bustling, moving men from the fire and making space for Baldwin and the frozen servant. Simon could see that the knight had a look of perplexed concern, while Hugh merely wore his usual glower. But there was no mistaking the pain on his face as the beat began to thaw him, the warmth sinking into his flesh like stabs from needle-sharp darts of pure agony.
Sitting near his servant, the bailiff contemplated him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll live. I’ve been worse,” Hugh grunted.
The innkeeper returned with jugs of heated wine, setting them beside the fire to keep hot, and nodded to Hugh while pouring a mugful. To Simon he looked like a leech trying out a new quack remedy, watching intently while the servant took a gulp, then leaning forward to top up the mug before standing and walking off to see to another customer.
Baldwin took another mug, then sat with his head down, staring at the hearth, sipping every now and again at his drink like a merchant testing a new batch of wine. When Simon glanced over at him, he was surprised to see that the knight had stiffened, his eyes gazing into the distance.
“What is it?”
“I was just thinking…” He broke off as the innkeeper came back and stood near Hugh, watching him carefully as if to see whether his medicine would work or not. “Ah. I was about to call for you. Tell me, has Greencliff been ill recently?”
“Harry? No.” His eyes flitted to Hugh, clearly comparing the strong and healthy farmer with this weak- seeming servant. “He’s been fine.”
“Oh. And his friend? Stephen de la Forte? Has he been unwell?”
The man’s face was baffled as he shook his head.
“Trying to find out if Greencliff or de la Forte might have needed to go to Kyteler for something?” asked Simon with amusement as the innkeeper hurried off to serve another customer.
“It was worth a try!” said the knight. He shrugged. “But it’s no help again. Greencliff was there the day Kyteler died. He was in the lane after Oatway saw the old woman. Some other woman might have been there too, after Oatway. Apparently Greencliff was very annoyed with the old woman that afternoon, so he may have seen her, though we don’t know why. He may have had a chance to get to her.”
“But de la Forte said…”
“That they were together all afternoon? That’s true.”
“He would, wouldn’t he?” said Hugh glumly.
Simon glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“They’re close friends, aren’t they? Maybe this de la Forte knows Greencliff has done it and wants to protect him. So he told you he was with Greencliff all afternoon when he wasn’t.”
Baldwin grunted assent. “It would make sense.”
“I don’t know,” said Simon thoughtfully.
“The only other people who had a real reason to kill Kyteler were the Oatways,” Hugh continued doggedly.
“But if Kyteler was still alive after she’d been there…” Baldwin began, and was interrupted by Simon.
“Was she? We don’t know that. Grisel Oatway could have killed her. We don’t know for sure that any other person saw the witch alive afterwards. If they did, we haven’t spoken to them!”
“Witch!” muttered the knight with a brief display of disgust, then took another sip at his drink. “All right, so
