“The girl?”
“She was here,” said the knight, getting to his feet with a groan and cracking of bones. “Here, Tanner said, between the body and the window. Why?”
“I wonder what she was wearing.”
“Simon, what are you talking about?” Baldwin demanded.
In answer, the bailiff pointed. At the side of the window, where the shutter met the wall, was a splinter of wood, and on the splinter was a torn piece of blue material.
“So? Anyone could have snagged their tunic on that,” Baldwin said dismissively.
“True enough,” Simon agreed, pulling it gently. “But it looks very fresh. The cloth hasn’t been here for a long time-if it had, it would have faded. This window faces south, it catches the sun all day, but this stuff has kept its bright color.”
Baldwin held his head to one side, gazing at his friend. He took the scrap from him and turned it over in his hand. “It does look new,” he admitted. “I wonder if it is Cecily’s or the thief’s.”
“Let’s ask her.” 9
T he guard fetched a maid, a pretty young girl with dark flowing hair named Alison, who was, they were told, Mistress Cecily’s servant. She took them back through the hall and into a warm parlor. Here they were told to wait, and she slipped out through a door. A few minutes later Cecily was with them.
Simon placed her at some twenty-five years old, perhaps a little more, but she had the natural grace and the elegance of a much older woman. She entered softly, seeming to float over the ground. The bailiff couldn’t help comparing her with the gorgon accompanying Jeanne de Liddinstone. Emma and Cecily were of about the same height, but that was where the similarity ended. Cecily had large, luminous eyes of a peculiarly intense shade of blue, and a fine, pale complexion that looked almost transparent. Her features were oval and regular, and there was a pleasing regularity in the high cheekbones, small mouth, and delicately arched eyebrows.
But that wasn’t what Baldwin noticed about her. It was her sadness that struck him. Her high brow should have been unmarked in a woman born to wealth, but the lines were etched harshly across her forehead like parallel scars, her cheeks were sunken, her lips swollen and bloody from being punched, her eyes red-rimmed from sleeplessness and weeping. Her whole demeanor was that of a beaten cur, worn down by constant ill-use, and the livid pink and mauve bruise that marked her chin and cheek only served to emphasize her distracted misery.
“Please, take a seat,” the knight said quietly. “We shall be as quick as we may be.”
She went to a seat near the fire, all the way her head hanging, the picture of grief. But just for a moment, after she had settled herself and arranged her tunic to her satisfaction, she met his gaze, and he could swear that he recognized a cynical, measuring look in her eye. It was only fleeting, and was immediately replaced by every appearance of sober misery, as he would have expected from a dutiful daughter when her father has been killed, but the impact of that swift glimpse into her mind wouldn’t leave him. Although he wanted to believe her, he couldn’t forget it.
“You are here to ask me what happened last night?” she asked softly, mumbling slightly as she tried to move her mouth as little as possible.
“Yes, if it will not upset you too much. I am the-”
“I know you. You’re the Keeper.”
“Yes, and this is a friend of mine, who is helping me to try to find your father’s killer. Simon Puttock, bailiff to the Warden of the Stannaries at Lydford. Can you remember what happened to you last night?”
“As if it was burned on my soul!” she declared, and gave a sudden shiver.
That, at least, Baldwin thought, looked genuine. “Please tell us all you can.”
“I was up in my room when it became dark, and walked downstairs. When I came to the hall, I noticed that a tapestry over one of the windows was loose. So I drew it back over the window, and was about to leave the room to look for my father or one of the servants, when I heard a noise behind me. I turned, and was hit.” She touched the tender bruise at her mouth.
“You fell unconscious immediately?”
“Yes.”
“And so far as you could see, your father wasn’t there then?”
“No. Father had the habit of going and walking the boundaries of the garden each evening, and I think he must still have been out when I was attacked.”
“What next do you remember?”
“Nothing. When I came to, I was in my chamber, and my maid was with me.”
“This man who hit you,” Simon asked, “what did he look like?”
She shot him a glance. “I don’t know. It was dark, and I think he had his face covered with a strip of cloth or something.”
“Was he taller than you? Than your father? Fat or thin? Muscled or weak?”
“I feel he might have been taller than me, but really, anything more than that I couldn’t say.”
Baldwin leaned forward. “We have heard that your father gave a loud cry. That must have been as he was struck. You heard nothing?”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “If I had heard him, I would have said.”
Baldwin bit back a sharp retort, reminding himself that the girl had suffered an attack herself. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Please try to concentrate. I know it must be very difficult, but if we are to find your father’s killer we shall need something, even the most trivial-seeming detail…”
“You think I don’t know my father’s dead?” she burst out. “Good God in Heaven, if I could tell you who it was, I would!”
“Then, lady, think hard. Did you see what he was wearing?”
“It was all dark clothing, I think he had a rich scarlet tunic, and a heavy cloak.”
“What color was the cloak?” Baldwin pressed.
“It was dark-one color looks like another!”
Baldwin sat back and threw a harassed glance at his friend. Simon shook his head. It was plain enough that they would get nowhere with Mistress Cecily, not unless she recalled some more hard facts they could deal with. Baldwin nodded to himself, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“There is another thing we have been told,” he said hesitantly. He was reluctant to bring the matter up, for it smacked of prurience. “My apologies again if it is distasteful, but I have been told that your father was heard to shout at your attacker. He bellowed, ”So you’d defile my daughter too, would you?“ You didn’t hear anything like that?”
She looked up at him, and he could see a tear moving slowly down her cheek as she shook her head. Her mouth moved slightly, as if to frame the word “No,” but no sound came.
“Putthe thought you were missing some plate. Have you checked it all?”
Cecily clutched for the arm of her chair. “The plate? You expect me to count up all my poor father’s silver when he’s lying in there dead? I neither know nor care whether someone might have taken it!”
Simon stirred. “Baldwin, I really think we should leave the lady alone now, she’s told us all she can.”
“Yes, of course. Lady, I am grateful to you, you have been most helpful, and I am terribly sorry to have had to bring it all back to you. If you could ask your servant to show us out.”
Simon glanced at him with faint surprise. Baldwin was not usually so keen to stick to formalities. The young woman called sharply, and they heard a pattering of light footsteps, then Alison was with them. Baldwin stood, bowed, and walked back into the hall with the maid, leaving Simon to mutter his own farewell and trot after them.
He found the knight by the body once more. Baldwin had paused, as if caught by a sudden thought. “Tell me, Alison. Your mistress-the last time I saw her, she was wearing a new blue tunic, I think. Very dark. Isn’t that what she was wearing last night?”
“Why…Yes, sir, she was.”
“Tell us what you heard, and what you found when you came in here and discovered your mistress.”
“Well, sir, I don’t know that I should. I-”
“Come along! You have already told all the gardeners and grooms, haven’t you? And your friends, so it is already all over the town,” Baldwin grinned.
“He wouldn’t-I mean…” She stopped, flustered.
