A Man's Word (The King's Hounds series) Read online

I instructed Sigurd to remain in the room we shared until I managed to track down Winston. When I asked, Willibrord said he hadn’t seen Winston since that morning.

  He was probably off following whatever leads he could find at the marketplace and in town. I was heading out to go search for him when the door opened in my face and Alfilda’s red hair gleamed in the sunlight shining in from outside.

  “You’re alone,” I observed as the door shut behind her.

  She nodded and gestured toward a table at the back of the room.

  “Did you learn anything?” I asked, accepting the tumbler Willibrord handed me.

  “That Harold and Erwin are groveling in their admiration for Winston’s abilities.”

  There was a hint of something I’d never heard before in her voice. She gave me a look I couldn’t interpret.

  “He’s been at the mint ever since you left,” she added.

  “He hasn’t been investigating?” I asked, my brow furrowed.

  “Not the murders,” Alfilda said, exhaling in a snort. When I gave her a questioning look, she explained, “We do also have that assignment for the king.”

  I didn’t recall her being mentioned in Cnut’s instructions, but I let that go.

  “But there is some sense in his attentions,” she added, reaching up and brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Master Erwin is the king’s trusted coin maker, and he knows a lot about what’s going on in East Anglia.”

  I nodded. Winston was the one who’d pointed out that we would be tripping over the reeve’s legs anywhere we went here in Thetford. Still, I would have expected Winston to at least start investigating the murders as he’d promised Delwyn we would.

  “And you?” I asked.

  Alfilda raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  “Why aren’t you with him at Master Erwin’s?”

  She shrugged. “They’re spending half their time singing the praises of Winston’s abilities and accomplishments. I’m already quite familiar with those, so I’ve been at the marketplace most of the time since you left.”

  It wasn’t like her to spend her time shopping, which I pointed out.

  She chuckled softly.

  “I’ve been trying to avoid getting tripped up. Which it turned out has been easy since Reeve Turstan apparently didn’t bother to warn anyone to set up obstacles for me. Although he may have given orders about you two, or at least that’s what Winston suspects.”

  Ah, so she’d been investigating the murders. “And have you learned anything?”

  “Yes,” she teased.

  “Let’s hear it,” I said, leaning back on the bench.

  She eyed me for a while and then said, “What about you? Have you learned anything?”

  “Why, yes I have,” I replied.

  “So why don’t you let me hear that?” She seemed more encouraging than teasing now.

  Nothing doing. I was Winston’s man, and she didn’t get to hear what I had to say until Winston did. She nodded, understanding perfectly.

  “Look, it’s the same for me,” she said. “I’m Winston’s woman, and he should hear what I have to say first. So, if you’ll excuse me—I have to attend to something in my room but will be back down shortly.” She stood up, gave me an inscrutable look, and headed for the stairs.

  I sat there, indignant, feeling mostly like standing up and grabbing her. But I suspected that Winston wouldn’t approve, so instead I emptied my tumbler and held it up in the air to catch Willibrord’s attention. As I was doing so, the door opened and Winston walked in.

  20

  Winston stopped a couple of steps into the tavern, squinting in the dim light, and then continued toward the stairs after acknowledging Willibrord. I leaned back on the bench, stretched my legs, and yawned loudly. Then I said, “So you’re thinking about becoming a master coin maker?”

  “Halfdan!” Winston said, turning to look at me. “I didn’t see you there. Is everything alright?”

  “If by alright you mean to ask whether I have completed my mission and brought you a suspect, well then, yes, everything is alright.”

  “A suspect?” he asked, looking around at the half-filled tavern. Most of the patrons were conversing quietly over their ale tumblers. One grumpy-looking merchant picked his nose absentmindedly, and two soldiers slurped stew.

  “Interesting. Alfilda should hear this,” he said.

  I said she’d already gone upstairs, which made him put his foot on the first step.

  “Wait, Winston! She said she’d be down in a minute.”

  He looked at me sharply, tugged on his nose, and then headed for a bench at the back of the room, one half-hidden in a shadow that clung to the wall. I went over and sat down beside him so that I could look out at the room. I glanced around. No one was close enough to overhear us as long as we kept our voices down.

  “A suspect?” he said. “Are you sure?”

  I shrugged and replied, “Someone who has as good a reason to want Arnulf out of the way as anyone else.”

  “Hmm,” Winston studied me. “And Darwyn?”

  “Reason to want him out of the way, too. Truly.” I leaned toward him. “You see, I arrived at the farm . . .”

  “Let’s wait for Alfilda,” he said, placing his hand on my arm to stop me.

  Alfilda? Well, if that’s what he wanted. He was my master, so I leaned back against the wall and waited.

  Finally she came down to the tavern, stopping to scan the room. Winston stood up and walked over to her right away, but instead of bringing her back into the shadows, where I was waiting, he gestured me over and the three of us went back upstairs, the two of them first, Winston with his hand gently resting on the small of her back.

  Up on the top floor, Winston led the way to their room, opened the door, and waited while Alfilda and I entered. The window was open, and a sweet spring scent wafted in the window from the meadow outside.

  Alfilda sat down on the wide plank bed, pulled her legs up beneath her skirt, and leaned back against the headboard. Winston lay down, tall as he was, beside her, while I undid my sword belt, laid the weapon on the floor, and sat down at the foot end of the bed so that I could look at them. It was an uncomfortable position. After a bit, my back ached.

  “Now should I tell you?” I did nothing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “Yes,” Winston said, his voice utterly calm. When I glanced at him, I saw he was staring up at the ceiling.

  When I first started to work for him, I tended to make my reports too long—a bad habit he never failed to point out. It’s not that I needed to limit my speech to “yes, yes” or “no, no,” but he felt that I was more accurate when I spoke concisely and clearly.

  It really annoyed me, but after a while I saw the sense in his demand, and as time went on I had learned to report my news so briefly and accurately that he hardly ever needed to ask questions about what I’d told him.

  For his part, he used to interrupt me often with questions, which irritated me to no end. Now he had grown used to listening in silence to my words without commenting until I was done.

  And so I told them succinctly about my evening in the village. I described how Gertrude had received the news of her husband’s death, the strange relationship between Rowena and Gertrude, Sigurd’s arrival, and what I’d been told about the young people’s and Arnulf’s reaction to Sigurd’s offer to buy Rowena for his bride both before and after the decision of the Hundred Court. Finally, I recounted what Gertrude’s lanky farmhand had told me about Arnulf.

  “And,” I added, “that fit quite nicely with what I had figured out on my own.”

  They were both quiet. Alfilda leaned back and scratched her back against the headboard. Winston kept staring straight up at the ceiling.

  I stood up, rubbing my back to get rid of the pain from having sat in that uncomfortable position, and then walked over to the window and looked out at the meadow where a young couple was very preoccupied with each other behind a row of juniper shrubs
. They obviously didn’t realize that they were clearly visible from the high windows, since they were otherwise shielded from prying eyes by the junipers.

  I turned away, suddenly reminded that Brigit and I had made tentative plans to meet up. I would track her down later.

  “And you?” I asked, looking sharply at Winston. “I’m sorry; I hear you were entertaining the mintmaster. But Alfilda?”

  Winston didn’t look away from the ceiling, just raised a hand and stroked Alfilda’s hip.

  She complied with this encouragement and said, “I took a stroll through the market. People have been talking about the murders.”

  “And?” I urged her along.

  “And one opinion prevails among the men: Darwyn was killed because he acted unjustly. Arnulf was killed out of revenge.”

  “But Delwyn is willing to swear himself free. And Arnulf wasn’t alone at any point.” I stopped when I saw the mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Winston just asked, “And what about the women?”

  “Ah, the women. Yes,” she was looking downright taunting now. “The women know that the good Darwyn made a habit of taking by force what he could not obtain through flattery or kind words or payment.”

  “Your lady friend has an easier time getting other women to talk than I do,” I told Winston. “But if Darwyn was killed in revenge for a different rape, we’re obviously going to be busy.”

  Winston looked me in the eye and said, “In my experience, women prefer to speak to women. And yes, it will be a larger undertaking to figure out all the men who had reason to hate young Darwyn for what he had done to their daughters and girlfriends—even their wives, from what I’ve heard.”

  I had an idea. “Has anyone else brought charges against him?”

  “No,” Winston replied. “A few people brought matters up with his father, who denied the accusations, but most of them simply chose to accept that they wouldn’t get anywhere by going up against a powerful thane.”

  “Well, but . . .” I flung up my arms in frustration. “I guess I’d like to know how many men we’re talking about. Or maybe you already know that, too?”

  Alfilda ignored my snide tone and didn’t respond. I raised my eyebrows at Winston.

  “I see that you’ve have already heard about this and are apparently familiar with the cases in question,” I told Winston. “And yet Alfilda told me you had spent your time being flattered by the coin makers. Was this wrong?”

  Winston chuckled as he propped himself up on his elbow.

  “Not entirely wrong,” Winston said. “I do appreciate praise from other craftsmen. But the good coin makers are a source of information. Men come through their workshop, noblemen, mind you. Not many farmers have call to visit a coin maker, of course, but noblemen play an important role in this case.

  “It is widely held that Darwyn had gone too far. Most people find it reasonable for a lad to dabble with the lasses, and many are willing to look through their fingers when a young nobleman takes an occasional girl by force.

  “But no one wants to tolerate someone who repeatedly rapes women. Those women belong to the thanes’ own farmers after all, the very farmers the nobleman is duty-bound to protect.”

  “A position that Delwyn apparently did not share,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” Winston pushed himself upright into a sitting position. “But his power was so great that his companions swallowed their outrage when he turned them down.”

  “But he was furious at his son that day at the court,” I pointed out, shaking my head.

  “Because his son perjured himself,” Alfilda said, resting her hand on Winston’s.

  “Not because of the rape,” Winston said. “Perjury is a worse crime in his eyes than the rape of a slave wench.”

  And then another thought struck me.

  “So there must have been a lot of support for Arnulf when he brought his case,” I said.

  Winston nodded. “People rejoiced that a free farmer finally dared to do what the villeins and other bound farmers and cowardly noblemen had refrained from doing. People didn’t care for Arnulf’s money-hungry motivation, but they supported him wholeheartedly in his case.”

  “Oh hell.” I realized what this meant. “Then I’m going to have to track down every man who has a violated woman back home. When Darwyn was set free, clearly one of the men who had been hoping Darwyn would be found guilty finally had enough. And killed him.”

  “That doesn’t explain Arnulf’s murder,” Winston said, shaking his head slowly.

  “Because . . .” I stopped.

  “Exactly.” Winston stroked Alfilda’s hand. “The two murders must be related. And besides, it would be a fool’s errand to track down everyone who had been wronged by Darwyn. Some will have discussed the matter with their friends and neighbors, of course, but most of them will have kept their mouths shut.”

  Hadn’t I just thought that? It’s a shabby man who does not take revenge for a rape. And men are not in the habit of drawing attention to their own wretchedness.

  “Then what are we going to do?” I said, flinging up my hands, at a loss for how to proceed.

  “Well, that’s obvious,” Winston said, standing up. “We’re going to go have a nice chat with Sigurd. That’s why you brought him back here, isn’t it?”

  21

  Wait a minute,” said Alfilda, who was still sitting on the bed. I was already at the door, but I turned around to look at her. She had Winston’s attention as well.

  “Something doesn’t add up,” she said.

  “A few things,” I admitted.

  “What do you mean?” Winston asked, watching us both.

  Alfilda clasped her hands behind her head, causing her breasts to rise within her thin linen blouse. I looked away.

  “Sigurd can’t be the murderer,” she said. “Well, of course he could be, and he had good reason to do it, but that doesn’t seem right. Because the court found against Arnulf, he refused to keep his promise that Sigurd could pay the standard bride price for Rowena.” As Alfilda proceeded, her voice grew increasingly confident. “But who else would be willing to overpay for a raped slave girl?”

  “You mean Arnulf couldn’t sell her to anyone else?” Winston absentmindedly scratched his crotch. “Did Sigurd realize that?”

  I shook my head. Sigurd was so in love, he was blind to what was right in front of him. “But Sigvald must have realized it,” I pointed out.

  Winston looked at me. “You said earlier that when Sigurd told you about Arnulf’s break of promise, you accused him of following the farmer and killing him. Correct?”

  Like anyone, I hate to be caught in a mistake, but now I was forced to nod.

  “It’s true,” I admitted. “I didn’t ask him what happened. I claimed I knew.”

  “Hmm,” Winston said with a shrug. “No harm done. We can ask him now.”

  “But what about Darwyn?” I asked, looking at Alfilda. “Sigurd was the closest to wanting him dead.”

  She chuckled. “Apart from about twenty other people we’ve chosen to ignore, yes.”

  Winston sat back down on the bed.

  I wanted to speak, but the look on his face told me it would be pointless. He was staring into space, tugging on his nose, lost in thought. Alfilda and I exchanged glances. I leaned against the door and waited while she made herself comfortable on the bed. A while passed, the silence broken only by birdsong from outside. I glanced out the window, but the two young lovers weren’t in the meadow anymore.

  Finally Winston got up and said, “Let’s go.”

  We went and fetched Sigurd. He had apparently obeyed my orders to remain in our room, and he was sitting on the bed but leapt up as soon as I opened the door.

  “Come on,” I ordered him gesturing with my head and leading the way down the stairs behind Winston, who scanned the tavern and sat down at a table.

  Winston had also asked Alfilda to fetch Gertrude and Rowena. “I think it might be a good idea to have all
three of them together,” he said.

  While we were waiting for them to come downstairs, Winston studied Sigurd, who returned his gaze, unabashed.

  “Your father didn’t come see you?” Winston asked him.

  The boy shook his head. I glanced over at Winston. How would Sigvald have known that his son was back? I’d sent him straight upstairs as soon as we’d arrived and as far as I knew, he had obeyed my orders and remained behind closed doors until now.

  When the women joined us, Winston made sure they and Sigurd sat down against the wall, while he sat down across from them with Alfilda at his side and his back to the rest of the room. I grabbed a stool, which I pulled over to the end of the table. Gertrude had let the two young people sit side by side, and now Rowena squeezed Sigurd’s hand. The young lout didn’t take his eyes off Winston.

  Winston shook his head to Willibrord, who was scurrying toward us. He withdrew back behind the counter with a glance at Rowena. Winston leaned forward over the table. “You disobeyed Reeve Turstan’s orders.”

  “I wanted to . . .” Sigurd began.

  “Be with your girlfriend, yes.” Winston scrutinized him. “Did you kill Arnulf?”

  “No,” the boy’s voice was hoarse, but firm.

  “What about Darwyn?”

  I saw Rowena’s mouth tremble, then her arm jerked as she squeezed her boyfriend’s hand hard.

  Sigurd’s answer was just as firm. “No.”

  Winston smiled and said, “I believe you.”

  Sigurd turned to face Rowena, whose lips curled into a triumphant smile while Gertrude nodded. She hadn’t expected otherwise.

  “I believe you could have avenged your girlfriend.” Winston waved at Rowena dismissively when she looked like she was about to say something. “You seem unafraid. It wasn’t fear that held your hand back when you heard about the rape, was it?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “It was your desire not to provoke Rowena’s master,” Winston stated this as a fact and Sigurd agreed.

  “Arnulf wanted to take the case to court,” Sigurd said. “He wanted the money for the fine.”

  “And if you took your revenge?”