Thomas turned away as if he had been slapped. It had been many years since he had felt shame this fresh. He ached with it. “Let me be. I have finished my penance,” he whispered. “Since that time, I have served my prioress and done so honorably.”
“You do not mention God, Brother.” Durant’s voice was gentle.
“Her word comes from God.” He looked back at the wine merchant and clenched his fists. “If you think to silence me by threatening to tell Prioress Eleanor of my past misdeeds and mixed loyalties, then tell her all. I serve her will, not yours.”
“I have no intention of doing so and have said what I have for one reason only. Your loyalty to your prioress and the Church is unquestioned. I need you to serve your king with equal fervor.”
Thomas knew he could bear no more of this. His head swam with the agony of old wounds torn open. The room stank of foul death. He hated this man and yet he was drawn to him for reasons he had no energy to explore. “I honor King Edward. Bastard though I am, I am still my father’s son and his loyalty to the anointed king was unquestioned.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then said, “If I had answered otherwise, would you have let me walk away a free man as you swore?”
Durant suddenly embraced the monk, then gently pushed him back. “I gave my word, and I am, in my way, an honorable man. Had you been traitor to our liege lord-”
“Yours, not mine.” Thomas briefly smiled. “Mine represents the Queen of Heaven on earth.”
Throwing his hands up with mild exasperation, Durant continued, “I had little doubt of you. Few men can feign loyalty for long when their hearts do not own it. It is a rare skill, and I mean it as a compliment to you that I never believed that to be one of your many talents.”
“May we now cease this talk and concentrate on a swift search so the authorities may be summoned.” The monk gestured around the room. “What do you want me to do?”
Chapter Twenty-six
Thomas did not need to be told to replace everything with care after he had sifted through. He had searched enough rooms, chests, attics, drawers, and even under floor boards when he was an agent of the Church. As a result, he and Durant finished looking through Larcher’s quarters neatly, quickly, and thoroughly.
“Nothing,” the monk said, turning to his companion.
“Indeed,” the merchant replied, rolling up the last parchment roll and putting it back in the chest. “I had hoped for a name, but I am content that our corpse showed more discretion about his singular duties than I thought him able.”
Thomas circled the rooms one more time to make certain all was well. “Surely we may now send word to the king’s men.”
Durant nodded and started for the door.
The monk followed. “I would advise questioning the apprentices.”
“I agree, although I doubt they saw much.” He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “You do well at this work, Brother Thomas.”
Feeling an unaccustomed warmth, Thomas looked away, but he knew his face was flushing.
“You should talk to the lads. They might tell you far more than they would this strange and curious merchant.”
The two men walked out of the chambers. When Thomas shut the door, he noted that there was no evidence of it being forced. All question about whether the killer had been a guest or a man intent on robbery vanished.
“Larcher may have lived over the shop, but this staircase was private,” Durant said, carefully walking around the servant’s body. “When I arrived, I found one apprentice throwing up in the corner near the stairs. He must have seen the servant, but his reaction chases away suspicion that he killed the man, or even entered his master’s chambers. When he saw me, he screamed, fearing I was the murderer. The sound of his distress brought others from the shop. It was then I ran after you.”
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the monk noticed the puddle of vomit. “Will you wait for me to talk to them or are you going to fetch the sheriff?”
“The last, and I shall return with him. That will give you time to pose your questions without interruption, and you can tell me later if you learned any fact of note.” He opened the door to the street and began blinking in the weak sunlight as if he had emerged from a profound darkness. “I doubt anyone will think us guilty,” he said, turning to the monk. “I came on a matter of business that anyone at the inn might confirm. You wished to speak further with the craftsman, perhaps about a badge for your prioress. We delayed to search for a killer who may have hidden himself in the house.”
“Simple and reasonable,” Thomas replied.
As he watched Durant hurry down the road, he realized that he was enjoying this brief return to tasks similar to those assigned under the direction of Father Eliduc. But that past work for the Church had been performed as a duty and, as Father Eliduc had suggested, in penance for a sin Thomas never quite accepted as evil. This time, his sole motive was to avenge an innocent woman’s death and save the life of a king. As for the latter, the monk had not realized how deep his loyalty to King Edward was, but it was no less than his dead father would have expected of a son, legitimate or not.
Thomas set these musings aside and went around the corner of the house to the workshop entrance. As he had anticipated, none of the apprentices had gone back to their labors.
Several white faces stared at him as he walked in the door.
“We have sent for help,” he said. “I fear your master has been killed as well as his servant.” He watched for a reaction.
Larcher might not have been loved, but the consequences of his death would be significant for them and the future of their training. With one exception, they were mere boys, and one began to weep. The eldest, Thomas assumed, was the longest in the craftsman’s service and most likely to be the spokesman for them all. “Are you near the end of your apprenticeship?” he asked the young man.
The youth nodded. He had a spotty beard and scarred face, marks left from burns when he poured hot metal into the stone molds. “I am John from the High Street. Master Larcher left me in charge when he could not be here.”
Thomas asked if he had seen anyone entering or leaving the house by the private entrance.
The lad shook his head. “We have just discussed this. I was here and kept the apprentices busy, Brother. We have a large order for Ryehill Priory and little enough time in which to make the badges. Work keeps us occupied, and we pay no more attention to the world than a monk might in his priory.” He winked.
A young man not too ground down by a hard master, Thomas thought and smiled in return. “Why was an apprentice in the entrance?”
“Master Larcher had not been down to the shop this afternoon. Although we were delayed in completing the day’s allotment for Ryehill,” he said, glancing at a small apprentice hiding under a table, “we have individual requests as well as a large order from Walsingham Priory itself. I sent the lad to seek instructions on what design we should do next in the hours of light left in the day.”
Noting John’s look at the boy, the monk motioned for him to continue. If the craftsman was as harsh as Thomas suspected, he was glad there was one here who owned more benevolence. John would make a good master in his time.
“I heard the boy cry out and, with club in hand, rushed to discover the cause. A couple of the other apprentices followed without similar protection.” He shook his head. “Boys are curious creatures and often own too little sense.”
Unless she had a journeyman son, the monk thought, Larcher’s widow should be grateful for this fellow’s help until the continuation of the business was settled. The youth was wiser than many men of greater years.
“When I got there, I found one who called himself Durant of Norwich comforting our lad. This man had discovered the cause of the commotion. Then he swore he would take responsibility and sent us back to the shop. I saw him call to you. We know nothing else, Brother.”