making up the quartet, flooded into her mind and she smiled. It had been a fine upbringing, and she No. She made herself stop. It was not the moment to lose herself in an indulgent visit to the past, however happy it had been. She had a problem on her hands and her duty was to deal with it to the very best of her ability. So, having done what she set out to do and remembered why the name of de Villieres was familiar, she put the matter from her mind.
She heard the tramp of footsteps outside her door. There was a knock and at her response the door opened and Gervase de Gifford came in. Akhbir walked behind him, Sister Caliste at his side, watching him anxiously. Behind them came Josse, who closed the door and then stood with his back against it. For an instant he met her eyes and she gave him a quick smile.
She looked up at Gervase, who was stating formally that while the man Akhbir’s condition had been explained to him, nevertheless he must speak to him and so had agreed to do so in her presence and that of Sir Josse and Sister Caliste. Helewise turned to regard Akhbir. He stood with bowed head, his arms hanging limply by his sides. She said, ‘Akhbir?’ and for a moment he looked up at her. His skin was ashen and the flesh of his face seemed to have collapsed against the bones of the skull. ‘Would you like to sit down?’
She was not sure whether he understood; he did not reply but went on staring at her. She turned to Sister Caliste. ‘Sister, has he accepted any food or water?’
‘A little water, my lady. He refuses food.’
Helewise’s instinct was to send the poor wretch back to wherever he had been curled up and tell him to rest and recover his strength. But she knew she could not do that. ‘Gervase, proceed,’ she said. ‘Ask your questions.’
Gervase turned to Akhbir. ‘Five days ago a man was murdered on the fringe of the forest.’ He spoke slowly, enunciating his words clearly. ‘You and your late companion were hunting a man of similar appearance to the dead man; a man who had stolen something from your master. It is our belief that you mistook the dead man for the man whom you were hunting; that you tormented him to make him tell you the whereabouts of the stolen treasure, and when he could not, you killed him and stole his clothes and belongings.’
Akhbir said nothing. With a brief, exasperated exhalation, Gervase went on, ‘There has been another death. A fire was deliberately started in the guest quarters at the priory in Tonbridge, its purpose to disguise the fact that one of those within was already dead. The victim and his two companions were Knights Hospitaller who, like you and Kathnir, had come to England from Outremer to search for someone; in their case, a monk. We believe that the monk and the thief who stole from your master are travelling together and we further believe that you and Kathnir were-’
‘Not fire!’ Akhbir’s voice rang out so loudly and unexpectedly in the small room that they all jumped. ‘Not fire,’ he repeated more quietly. ‘Do not know of fire.’
‘Then you admit to knowing of the murder of the Saracen?’ Gervase instantly demanded.
Akhbir took a long, slow look all around him, as if searching for a means of escape. Then, his shoulders slumping, he nodded.
‘Why did you attack him?’ Gervase spoke quietly.
‘Kathnir believe him man we hunt. This — ’Akhbir lifted a fold of his robe and then touched his headdress — ‘this was like.’
‘You mean he was dressed in the same way as the man you were hunting?’ Josse put in.
Akhbir nodded. ‘Kathnir say to follow. Wait for quiet place, then jump. We fight him, overcome him, bind him, take him under trees. Kathnir-’ He swallowed, his face screwed up. ‘Kathnir must follow orders. Kathnir must find master’s precious treasure and take back.’
‘But you had caught the wrong man,’ Gervase said. ‘No matter what Kathnir did to him, the man you had attacked could not tell you what you wanted to know.’
Akhbir nodded. ‘He die.’
Josse had moved forward and now he faced Akhbir. ‘The man you killed was a Turk,’ he said. ‘We found his broken bow. You were hunting for someone like him whose name was Fadil, weren’t you?’
Helewise, closely watching Akhbir’s face, saw that he knew the name. But instead of fear or apprehension at hearing his quarry named, he just looked puzzled. ‘Fadil?’ he repeated. ‘Not Fadil!’
And for just an instant he smiled, as if the mistake amused him.
‘But you do know who Fadil is?’ Helewise said.
Akhbir turned his large dark eyes on her. ‘Fadil was prisoner,’ he said. ‘Fadil was beloved of my master and my master pay any price to have him back. There was meet in desert but men do not act true. Many killed and my master wounded. Fadil taken away. My master lost that which he valued above all else.’
He hung his head.
‘And your master sent Kathnir and you to follow the thief and regain the treasure?’ Gervase said.
‘Treasure…’ Akhbir put a hand to his head. Then: ‘Yes. Kathnir given order: succeed or die. Now Kathnir is dead. Kathnir die but he not succeed.’
‘This fire,’ Gervase began.
But a low howl was starting to echo round the walls and Akhbir slumped to the ground. Instantly Sister Caliste went to him, supporting his head before it could crash onto the stone floor. She looked up at the sheriff, eyes narrowed. ‘Enough!’ she cried. Swiftly turning to Helewise, she added, ‘My lady, I am sorry to speak out of turn, but this man is in my care.’
‘Take him back to his cot in the Vale,’ Helewise said. ‘Sir Josse, would you summon a couple of sisters to help her, please?’
He went outside and they heard him call out. Presently two nuns and a lay brother tapped on the open door and, the nuns taking up positions either side of Akhbir and grasping his arms while the lay brother fell in behind, they followed Sister Caliste out of the room.
Gervase watched them go. ‘I should arrest him,’ he said baldly. ‘He has just admitted to murder.’
‘He admitted to being there while murder was done,’ Helewise corrected. ‘He could perhaps have prevented it, which I suppose is also a crime, but I think he was used to doing what Kathnir said.’
‘I agree.’ Josse spoke up. ‘I saw them together at New Winnowlands and Akhbir barely said a word.’
‘He would have us believe that he is prostrate with grief for his dead companion,’ Gervase said, ‘yet he did not hesitate to reveal that it was Kathnir who carried out the torture and the murder. What do you say to that?’
Helewise waited to see if Josse would speak. He met her eyes and gave an encouraging nod; she said, ‘I can think of two reasons. One, Akhbir has been trained to speak the truth. When someone asks him a question he does not stop to think but simply provides the answer. Two, he is a practical man. Kathnir is dead and beyond justice; he is still alive.’
‘And with a mission to carry out,’ Josse added. ‘With Kathnir dead, we must presume that finding the thief and recovering the treasure is now up to Akhbir.’
‘That may be so,’ Gervase said curtly, ‘but it does not mean he is going to be free to carry it out.’ He looked at Helewise. ‘With your permission, my lady, I shall set a guard over him in the Vale and as soon as he is fit enough, put him in a prison cell in Tonbridge.’
Helewise understood his reasoning. ‘You hope to prevent another murder, should Akhbir be set at liberty and manage to track down his quarry.’
‘I do,’ Gervase confirmed. ‘The hunted man may very well be a thief who deserves to have Akhbir catch him but I do not intend to let that happen. Akhbir will have no further role in this matter; we for our part must undertake a search and hope that we succeed where Kathnir and Akhbir failed. Now,’ he added grimly, ‘if you will both excuse me, I’m going down to the Vale to organize a guard.’
He closed the door after him with a decisive slam. Helewise waited for the echoes to die away, then she said, ‘Sir Josse, what on earth can have gone on in the desert that night?’
‘That it had such far-reaching consequences?’
She sent up a small wordless prayer of gratitude for his instant understanding. ‘Yes. I am not familiar with the ways of war but I imagine that it is common practice to exchange prisoners and normally such matters are quickly done and swiftly forgotten?’
‘Aye, my lady. Some of the more spectacular arrangements may warrant a line or two in the chronicles — if a king, a prince, a noble or a particularly large sum of money is involved, for example.’ He glanced at her, raising his
