Now the people of Lincoln were assiduous in attending Masses all over the city, sending up their prayers for the bishop’s recovery, fervently hoping that God would hear their pleas and save the saintly Hugh. As the little group went into the cathedral to stand with the rest of the congregation, all of the party were conscious of the seriousness of the occasion, and stood quietly as Mass was celebrated and God beseeched to turn His merciful eyes upon the good bishop. Afterwards, they drifted out into the cathedral grounds and, with Baldwin mounted on his pony, went to purchase cups of hot spiced wine from one of the stalls on the far side of the grounds. Alongside the wine stall was a vendor selling roasted chestnuts, his wares smoking tantalisingly on a grid above a brazier of charcoal. Renault bought enough for them all to have some. Washed down with the wine, they brought a warm glow to the innards.
Once the refreshments had been almost devoured, Osbert suggested that he take Baldwin and show him some stone carvings of the Nativity that Bishop Hugh had commissioned to be inserted on the facade of the north wall of the cathedral. Baldwin was eager to see them and they set off, Osbert leading the pony. Alinor, who had been watching Renault covertly, had seen the glances that he had been giving Alys when he thought no one was looking, and asked the squire if he would accompany her in following Baldwin at a discreet distance.
“Just in case he should feel ill,” she said. “I know my brother does not like to be cosseted, but it would be best if he were not left alone for long. If he should weaken, or be struck with an attack of breathlessness, Osbert is not big enough to bear him up alone. It can be quite frightening.”
Renault, giving her an assessing glance but nodding his acquiescence, fell into step behind her, leaving Alys with Hugo to share the last of the chestnuts.
Alinor walked slowly, allowing the Poitevan squire to catch up with her. Around them people passed, women with babes in their arms hurrying home after attending the service, merchants intent on getting back to their trade and a few clerics on errands for the church. Alinor let the crowd flow around her, keeping well behind her brother and Osbert, who had stopped beside a portion of the cathedral wall and were examining the frieze. Finally, when Renault’s casual footsteps drew him beside her, she looked at him sidelong and spoke.
“You are smitten with Alys, are you not, Renault?”
“She is betrothed to your brother, lady,” the squire said shortly.
“That is not an answer to my question.” Alinor turned to face him. “I have seen you look at her. Even though she is not aware of your fondness for her, it is plain for others to see-if one takes the trouble to look.”
“And why are you interested, lady? I am no threat to your brother’s affections. Alys is chaste, and would not betray her vow to be true to him.”
“I know that, Renault. It is not my brother I am concerned about.”
Richard de Humez’s daughter was not one to dissemble. She, like her aunt, had a forthright nature but, unlike Nicolaa, had not yet learned the wisdom of keeping a still tongue.
Alinor placed her hand firmly on Renault’s arm, forcing him to a standstill. “I have heard that you and Alain were nearby when an arrow was shot at the Templar. Did neither of you see who aimed it?”
Renault shook his head, not meeting her gaze and, for a moment, the nonchalant pose he always adopted stiffened. “There was much confusion; it would have been impossible to tell who loosed the shaft.”
“But you were questioned about it, were you not?” Alinor persisted.
“Yes, both Alain and I were.” He relaxed a little and said mockingly, “Is it your intention to interrogate me as well?”
Alinor dropped her hand and shook her head. “No, it is not, Renault.” She took a few steps, then stopped and turned towards him. “Did you know that my father was also subjected to an enquiry?”
Renault stared at her, both of them unmindful of people passing, or of the fact that Baldwin and Osbert had moved farther along the cathedral wall. The Poitevin’s languid manner was completely gone. “I did not. Surely he is not suspected of such a cowardly act?”
Alinor shrugged. Her face was smooth, her cheeks rosy from the cold. Tendrils of hair had escaped from under the confines of the fur-lined hood she wore and fluttered as she moved. Her expression was one of determination. “I overheard my aunt speaking to him. She did not so much question him as probe gently about his feelings towards the king and whether he knew of any way that Hubert was involved with those who are rumoured to plot for King John’s overthrow. I think she and my uncle, as well as Sir William, feel that the attempt to kill de Marins must be linked to Hubert’s death, and the murderer fears the Templar may discover his identity.”
Renault shook his head slowly from side to side as he pondered what Alinor had told him. “I can assure you I am not involved in any such treachery, nor did I kill Hubert for such a reason.”
Alinor, light brown eyes still intent on his dark ones, said, “But you may have killed him for another.”
Renault’s face narrowed at her accusation but she went on regardless. “I know you detested Hubert. There had to be more than simple dislike. You and Alain both knew that he had insulted Alys, did you not?”
Renault immediately resumed his languid pose and looked away. He made no reply.
“I know you did, Renault,” Alinor insisted, almost stamping her foot with anger at his lack of response. “Alys herself told me how Hubert had accosted and threatened her and so I went and questioned young Osbert, asked him if Hubert had quarrelled with anyone just before he was found dead. Osbert told me that Alain had warned Hubert that if he didn’t leave his sister in peace he would be sorry for it. And Alain would have told you that he had done so, I am sure.”
“Osbert should keep his mouth shut,” Renault drawled.
Alinor drew herself up, anger sparking from her. “As you do, you mean? The Templar was not told of this, was he? Nor my aunt?”
Now the squire let his own temper flare. “And why should they be? Neither Alain nor I had anything to do with that bog-spawn’s murder. Hubert was warned. By both of us. To have challenged him outright would have made the matter known, and damaged Alys’s reputation beyond repair. He knew well enough not to repeat attempting to inflict his loathsome attentions on Alys. If he had…”
“…either you or Alain would have been incensed enough to kill him,” finished Alinor. As Renault’s mouth set in a grim line, she went relentlessly on, “And he was killed, wasn’t he? Secretly. Perhaps to protect Alys?”
“And your father, lady?” Renault spat at her. “If he is involved in some plot against the king and Hubert was privy to it, would that not be a much greater reason to kill him, in order to stop up that loathsome cretin’s babbling mouth?” He looked at her askance, his lip curling slightly in disdain. “But then I suppose that Alain and I, both sons of knights of low station, are more expendable than a baron who comes of such high lineage as the constable of Normandy.”
Alinor, furious now, rounded on him, her voice rising so that passersby looked at the pair curiously and made a wide berth around them. “How dare you accuse me of such baseness? Alys is my friend, betrothed to my brother. I only want to find the truth so that the innocent may not suffer from misguided slander.”