“Her agony ebbed and flowed. When it did ease, she moved well enough for an aged woman with such a bent back,” the monk said.
“That has been true enough, but the severity and frequency did increase of late.” Signy shook her head. “And with so much evil about, I cannot be the only one to fear the worst!”
Thomas glanced at the king’s man. “How I wish you and I had thought to speak together sooner. Now we don’t know where she has gone or why…”
“Perhaps you should find her, Crowner,” Signy snapped. “Or are you the only person in the village to have forgotten we have a murderer amongst us? We tremble while you do nothing.”
Ralf winced. “My men and I are not ignoring the danger,” he replied, and then turned to Thomas. “Your prioress did not say what we should do if we did not find the herb woman. If her theory is correct, we had best seek Hob or…”
“What new crime now rattles the wits of our valiant crowner?” Hob sauntered toward the group clustered around the old woman’s hut, his dog trotting close behind.
“At least that is one less person we have to worry about,” Thomas whispered to his companion.
“Depends on whether we find another corpse and whose it is,” Ralf replied softly, then moved apart from the group and gestured for the blacksmith to follow him. “I would speak to you at some distance away, Hob.”
“So you can shackle me and take me off for hanging?” Hob stepped back. “I think not!”
“I give you my word that he wishes only to ask you a question,” Thomas said.
Hob did not move. His dog began to bark.
“”S Blood! A man of God has sworn an oath to my intentions, and you dare to doubt it?” Ralf stepped forward. “I am no boy that spends the day playing games. Come with me as ordered or I shall…”
Hob clenched his fist.
“I share your misgivings about the king’s man,” Signy called out, casting a dark look in the crowner’s direction, “but Brother Thomas has earned the trust of the village. I’d take his word on this.”
The monk put a restraining hand on his friend’s arm. “If it will save time, let me ask the question. We have little enough to spare if another life may be lost.”
Ralf retreated a short distance.
Thomas walked slowly toward the blacksmith, avoiding the now growling cur’s eyes. “Tell your dog that I mean you no harm,” he said softly.
Hob turned to pet the creature. “He’ll not bite, Brother. Let him sniff and he’ll stay, unless I tell him otherwise.”
The dog calmed, Thomas put a hand on the man’s shoulder and directed him some few steps away. “We must find old Tibia,” he said after a moment.
“Since you ask, I assume she’s not in that hut. Why should I know where she’s wandered off? I’ve been working hard at the forge like any honest man to earn my bread, Brother. Now that my brother is gone, I labor for two.”
“Where is Will?”
Hob tensed. “Why do you ask?”
“He may be in danger.”
The blacksmith shook off the monk’s hand. “From the crowner, aye!”
“I swear not on my hope of heaven. Whatever your reason to dislike the king’s man, in this matter he is on your side.”
The man hesitated, then bent his head. “Brother, may God strike me if I lie to you. I do not know where Will has gone. I told the Crowner this. When my brother left, he said he’d return when the killer was found. Nothing more.”
“Would he have gone far from here?”
“I doubt it. He believed dragons lived outside Tyndal village and only the priory kept them away.”
“If you do not know his hiding place, tell me who might? Surely someone must. How else could he learn when it was safe to come home?”
Now sweating with panic, Hob gestured helplessly.
“Do you have any suspicion, no matter how vague? If not you, might he tell the innkeeper, the thatcher, some woman, a…” Thomas was counting off guesses on his fingers.
“I do not know and didn’t think to ask! It just wasn’t me.”
“Where did you hide as boys?” Thomas asked, desperation evident in his voice. “I am not from here. I would not know these things.”
“We had many places, Brother. I don’t know which are still here or if he would have chosen any of them.”
“When the stream near the village swells with rain, it carves out hollows and caves in the banks. Might he be in one of those?”
“And the stream just as often destroys those things the next year. I swear to you that I don’t know where he might have hidden!”
“Help us find all the places, then,” Thomas said, gesturing for Ralf to join them. “Cuthbert will search as well. With four of us, we can each look in a different spot.”
“If Will’s life is in danger, why not call the whole village out to find him? Someone may even know where he hides.” Suspicion warred with panic in Hob’s eyes. “Or do you want to keep secret what blows you will rain down on my brother if you catch him?”
Ralf shook his head. “The person who knows your brother’s hiding spot will not be here, Hob. As for calling out more men, that would take time to organize efficiently. I think the four of us will find your brother faster if we start now.” The crowner pointed to the path leading to the stream. “You go in that direction, and I will send Cuthbert over there.”
“Why not send out others?” Thomas asked in a low voice. “It would not take that long…”
“I want justice, monk,” Ralf replied. “As Signy has suggested, the village is frightened. Frightened men hang first, then ask if they did the right thing. As for Will’s safety, we may have naught to worry about.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Cuthbert’s mind was not on murder. The air was hot, and he slashed away at the lush underbrush with minimal enthusiasm. A soft spray of dampness misted his face from the cut greens. With unconscious pleasure at the unexpected coolness on such a warm day, he stopped and listened for a moment to the rushing of the nearby stream and hum of lazy insects. Nay, he no longer fancied rousting out thieves and murderers, although he knew he would continue to do whatever the crowner wanted.
Ralf was a good fellow. Unlike his one arrogant brother, Sir Sheriff, and the other, lordling of the Church, the crowner cursed those who protected their own while condemning the evil of others with sanctimonious ardor. He also told good tales of the soldiering life, while drinking at the inn like any other man, and never arrested someone just because he was the popular choice for hanging. Querulous the crowner might be, but Cuthbert would take an honest, bad-tempered fellow any day over a sweet-smiling hypocrite.
And hadn’t Ralf just told Cuthbert that he needed a bailiff, then asked if he would take the job even though the sergeant could barely read and could not write? “I need someone who knows how to run a farm, and your father tells me you’re as good as your elder brothers at that,” Ralf had said to him and slapped him on the back. As a landless man, Cuthbert would have been a fool to refuse-and foolish he most certainly was not!
Due to bad stewardship in the past, the land, now owned by the crowner, had brought little enough good to the village. If he ran it well, the farm would be more fruitful, and Ralf would be pleased to hire more poor men at harvest time. Given time and hard work, Cuthbert would also gain much status in the village for his success.
His mind more on his new position than where he was walking, the sergeant stumbled and his foot dropped through the forest floor into an invisible hole. Cursing from the pain, he fell awkwardly to the ground, then lay still, praying that the sharp stabbing in his ankle meant the injury was only a sprain.
“Aie!” he groaned, and then let his thoughts go back to happier things. Might he not even seek a wife, he wondered, swatting at gnats as they swarmed in a beam of light. He would have position enough now, and there was one lass he had always fancied, even as a boy, taking her nosegays of forest flowers until her father had chased him away.