then he shook his head. His master had new proofs. Anything George had heard from the girl was unimportant now. He ran out to his horse.
Alone once more, Thomas Smyth turned back to his solitary vigil by the fire. Strange, he thought abstractedly, that the flames did not warm him anymore. Since Peter’s killing he had felt no rest or peace of soul, and the tiredness of inaction had eaten into his bones. Shuddering, he grinned wryly to himself. This, then, was old age, this exhaustion which sapped the will and eroded the hunger for money and power. It was not like before, when each day had been a new opportunity, a new chance to expand his mining area and enhance his wealth. Now nothing seemed to hold any interest for him.
His wife Christine opened the solar door. She saw his strained, taut features and hurried over to him, feeling as if her heart would burst. When she put her arms round him and held him, she felt the same as she had when she had rocked her children, offering protection and security; performing this little service to her man made the breath stick in her throat like the stone from a plum, and tears of sympathy sprang into her eyes. Of her children, six all told, only the one had lived. All the others had succumbed to the cold and the illnesses which assailed the young of wealthy and poor alike.
Thomas finally pulled away and looked into her tear-stained face with a sort of wonder, slowly reaching up with a hand to touch the heavy drops at either cheek; then he sighed and pulled her down on his lap in a snug embrace. While she sobbed in her own turn, gulping and moaning, he rocked her, and felt himself gain strength from her weakness. The abstraction and despair left him, and he was filled instead with a rigid determination. Come what may, he would avenge Peter Bruther.
Christine Smyth slowly felt her abject misery subsiding and the grip of her man increase as his strength returned. When she eased herself away from his embrace, in his now black eyes she saw firm purpose, and she sighed as she wiped the tears away with a hand, feeling her inadequacy anew. Taking a deep breath, she managed to say, “So you will go with the men to find his killer?” before the tears welled up once more.
“You heard us?”
“I did not eavesdrop; you spoke loud enough for the miners at the camp to hear.”
His face was serious. “We will go tomorrow.” He hated to see her vexation, but there was nothing he could do. She must understand that; he had a duty to Peter Bruther.
She gave him a brittle smile. “And you will catch John Beauscyr and hang him – lynch him like a common killer?”
“Did he treat Peter any better? Beauscyr throttled him from behind like any outlaw. What do you expect?”
“I expect him at least to be able to defend himself.”
“Why, so he can brief a lawyer for himself? What good would that do? We know he did it; no one else was there.”
“But Thomas, what if it wasn’t him?”
“It was,” he said harshly, and putting her from his lap he stood and strode from the room.
Her eyes sorrowfully followed his figure as he went. Though she dared not speak out loud, her lips framed the words again: “But what if it wasn’t him?”
17
Simon and the others arrived back at Beauscyr just as Sir William was returning from a hunt, tired and frustrated after a long day in the saddle with nothing to show for it. All the animals seemed to have disappeared. Those areas which usually guaranteed food were empty: the rabbits in the warrens had suffered from a predator; the wood pigeons appeared to have moved to another site; the fishpond was free of herons. He had finally decided to get back home and tell the cooks to kill some doves from the cotes for his guests.
Seeing the four men did nothing for his humor. To his eye they were always there whenever something was wrong, as if they brought misfortune with them. Had they helped him earlier on, when Peter Bruther had first run away, he would feel different, but the bailiff’s ineffectual response to the crisis – or, as Sir William felt, his complete lack of understanding and unwillingness to assist – had left him with a sour opinion of the man. As for his friend, he had appeared to derive amusement from the Manor’s predicament. So it was with a jutting jaw that the elderly man nodded to Baldwin and Simon. His anger was not dissipated when the bailiff immediately asked for an interview.
“Now?” he snapped. Surely the bailiff could understand that he wanted to get changed, then wash and relax for a moment before any more questions, but the bailiff was insistent, and eventually the knight agreed, but with a bad grace. Hugh and Edgar went to see to the horses while the three trooped up to the hall. Here they discovered a number of guards playing dice before the fire; they showed little desire to move to the guardrooms, which were draftier. In the end it took a furious bellow from their master to persuade them that he was not of a mood to be trifled with, and they moodily took their things and left.
“Right. What is it?”
Simon sat, and, realizing after a minute that the meeting could take some time, Sir William also dropped into a chair. Baldwin sat some feet away, watching the knight with interest. His anger was clear, and Baldwin could understand how he felt. As far as Sir William was concerned, the death of Bruther was none of his business. The murderer had saved him considerable trouble, and that was all. Conversely the law, represented by this bailiff to whom he had turned at the outset, had been of little help. He had behaved properly, calling on the King’s official when he had seen the problem, but it had given him no comfort. What had appeared to be a simple, straightforward case of a runaway snubbing the estate had become a tangled web of political maneuvering between him as the landowner, and the miners – and the bailiff had, in his eyes, taken the part of the miners in preference to his own claims. And the bailiff was still trying to find the man who had cleared away his problems like snow swept from a path. For all Sir William cared, Simon could search until kingdom come. Yet he could still be summoned to speak to the bailiff whenever the damned official wanted.
And the worst of it for the old knight was, the bailiff could do so when he wanted, Baldwin knew. Old he might be, but Sir William was no fool. Though he had an alibi, he knew full well that his sons did not, and any reticence on his part could be considered suspicious, especially since Sir Robert thought Peter Bruther’s death could benefit his inheritance. Even so, to be called to discuss the affair immediately after a day in the saddle was at best discourteous from a guest.
So now he sat regally, his brows beetling as he tried to hold his temper at bay, and his mood was not improved by the long, measuring stare to which Simon subjected him. “Sir William,” he said at last, “we too have spent many hours on horseback today, and have been to see several people…”
“Get to the point, bailiff,” Sir William growled.
“Very well. On the day Peter Bruther died, you rode out from here with your son John, your guest Sir Ralph, and two men-at-arms. Is that right?”
“You know it is.”
“Yes. On your way to Thomas Smyth’s hall, did you see anybody else on the roads?”
There was an edge to Simon’s voice which seemed to indicate that the question was important; Sir William considered for a moment, his face fixed into a scowl of concentration. “We went up past Coyt’s farm,” he said at last. “There was no one on the road there, that I know.”
“How about the rest of the way? Was there anyone else on the road between there and the hall?”
“No. I’m sure there wasn’t.”
“Good. Now, when you got to the hall, what exactly happened?”
“I dismounted and John and Sir Ralph decided to leave me there. They preferred to ride on to the inn rather than wait with me.”
“What of the men-at-arms?”
“I had told them to leave me beforehand, shortly after quitting Coyt’s road. I didn’t want them to hear what I was to discuss with Smyth, but I had to tell John. It was hardly an impressive position to be in, was it? Why should I let my men hear of such things? Anyway, I told you all this before; why do you need to hear it all again?”
