“Be silent, George!” The command was immediate and uncompromising, and Simon saw that Smyth’s eyes had gone black with a quick fury, but his rage died as quickly as it had flared, leaving him looking tired and oddly vulnerable, and the bailiff was reminded that this man was already old compared with most. When he spoke again, Smyth’s voice was slower, but the emotion was still there in the precision of his speech.
“Bailiff, I have lived here for many years and, as I said, I have a rough group of men to keep under control. Sometimes there have been troubles, but not very often, and each time I have kept the peace here, not like other places where even the knights have resorted to robbery. These last few years have been hard, but here on the moors I have made sure that the rule of law has survived. If I thought any of my men had killed Peter Bruther, I would see them pay. Compare that with the Beauscyr family. Look at that old fool Sir William, and his two young whelps. If you want to find the murderer, you need search no further than this family. Sir Robert Beauscyr in particular is a…”
“Father, that’s unfair!” His daughter’s outburst caught him by surprise. She spun away from his encircling arm. “Robert would never consider murder!”
“Alicia, be quiet!” His voice was not raised, but it was cold and angry. “Your views are not important; this is nothing to do with you. This is serious. Someone has done murder, and I think it may have been Robert.” He turned to Simon again, his daughter throwing him a tragic glance and walking over to George’s side as he continued: “Robert Beauscyr has always had a cruel thread running through him, and he can call on many men to assist him from his father’s men-at-arms. It would have been easy for him to have gone to the moors and killed Bruther.”
Baldwin’s eyes were on his daughter. She sat beside George, her eyes fixed on her father, while the old servant patted her on the back, his face filled with sympathy. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears, and the knight could see how close she and the heir to Beauscyr Manor had grown. They were of good ages: the boy a little over twenty, the girl ready to wed at fifteen or so, and they had presumably known each other almost all their lives, dwelling so close together here, while other settlements were far distant. There could be few others of their age nearby.
Simon was saying, “But what about you, sir? Where were you on the night Bruther was killed?”
“Me?” Disbelief faded, to be replaced by cold rage. “Here, bailiff – I was here! And if you want to check with an independent witness, ask Sir William Beauscyr. He was here with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”
He made his way to the door, but before he could leave, Baldwin said, “One thing, before you go, please. If you have no objection, could we go to your camp and ask there if any man knows what has happened to the three miners? If we can, it would be best to speak to them as quickly as possible, either to confirm their innocence in this affair, or…”
Thomas Smyth stared at him with a slight sneer. “Of course,” he said. “George will take you there and make sure your questions are answered, won’t you, George?” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him.
8
How long have you known your master, George?” Simon’s voice was conciliatory as they jogged their way down the incline from the house, heading southwest to the miners’ encampment. They had already left the stream far to the left, and were now passing through empty lands where the only sound came from their jingling harnesses.
Harang glanced at him suspiciously, his eyebrows almost meeting in a sandy line. Reassured by the frank openness he saw, he gave a shrug. “Some seventeen years, I reckon.”
“That was when you first came down here?”
“Yes.”
“And you began to work for him then?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve stayed with him since?”
“Yes.”
His taciturn unresponsiveness made Simon falter. He glanced at Baldwin, who said mildly, “So I suppose Alicia was born some time after you started working for Thomas Smyth?”
“Yes.”
“She must be… what – fifteen? Sixteen?”
“Fifteen. Born back in 1303. In the May time.” For the first time his voice grew softer, and his face showed the strength of his feelings for the girl.
“She looks a bright girl.”
“Very bright,” he told the knight, who now rode beside him. “Quick and alert, she is. I remember when she was young, I only ever had to tell her once what bird was singing and she always remembered afterward.”
“It’s a pleasure to be with someone who learns fast, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes, sir. And she’s nearly as strong as a lad, too. Growing up round here, she knows the moors as well as most folk know their own garden. She’s often out for hours at a time on her pony.”
“She obviously likes Sir Robert Beauscyr.”
“Why do you say that?” Suspicion darkened George’s face.
“She hardly made a secret of it, the way she leapt to his defense, did she?”
“Well… yes, they know each other,” George admitted unwillingly.
“Isn’t it…” Baldwin hesitated. “I mean, you must agree, this Robert Beauscyr, he may be wealthy, but he’s hardly a perfect example of a knight, is he? I’d have thought he’d be too dull for her.”
“That’s what I’ve said to her, but once she’s…” His face reddened as he went silent.
“A little willful, perhaps? She looked like she had her own mind.” George threw him a quick glance, then grinned suddenly and gave a definite nod. “Ah!”
“Look, sir.” George settled in his saddle. “It’s not that, see. If she’d set her cap at someone else, a farmer or someone, I doubt whether I’d have any complaint about it, but I don’t trust the Beauscyrs. I’ve known some lords in my time, and they’re never as strong as their sires, if you follow me. The sons always seem to be weaker, whether in the head or the arms, just as if the strength is reduced in the children. And that’s what I reckon has happened with the Beauscyrs. Sir William is strong enough, I can’t argue with that, he’s proved it in fighting for the King – but what of his son, Sir Robert? He’s got some brains, but he uses them all in books and reading, and that’s not natural. No, I don’t think he’s right.”
“Right for Alicia, you mean? Or do you mean he could kill?” Baldwin laughed at the man’s expression.
“Come, George. Like your master said, Robert Beauscyr had good reason to want the man back. Do you think he could murder?”
“Sir Robert Beauscyr kill Peter Bruther?” He considered, riding in silence as he thought through the implications. As he knew, the Beauscyr family had little enough reason to like Peter Bruther, but killing a man was different from disliking him. “I wouldn’t have thought he could kill, but if he had a group of men with him and they would do his bidding, he might order them to.”
“What do you know about his brother?”
“Him?” He spat. “If Robert’s got the brains, then John’s got the muscle. He’s one man I’d always want in front of me, never behind. But he’s no interest in the lands, he’s always riding out with his knight looking for more loot or spoil. Their sort are never satisfied, they always want more.”
“Their sort?” Baldwin shot him a glance, but George felt he had said enough and refused to explain himself, maintaining a reserved silence for the remainder of their journey. Luckily it was not much farther, and soon they were at the broad plateau where the miners held their camp. George led them to the blowing-house, where there was a small stable area near a slowturning waterwheel. Leaving their horses there, he took them to the house itself. “You wanted to see this last time you passed near,” he said, and motioned the knight inside.
Baldwin found it was as hot as a smithy, with two men working bare-chested at the furnace. Its flames filled the square room with an unearthly glow of angry red light. He puffed out his cheeks at the heat and winced. The air was so dry and pungent with the fumes of charcoal that it was difficult to breathe after the coolness of their ride,
