The man dropped his shovel and hesitated, wondering whether to pick it up. Catching sight of the Abbot’s face, he let it lie and ran off. The Abbot sighed. “Only a few hours ago all was normal. It was merely a hectic Feast Day for St. Rumon, and now I have lost a novice to a murder, a pair of guests are to be hunted like venison, and-”
“My lord Abbot!”
Champeaux glanced at Baldwin with surprise. “Eh?”
“Hunted! Your hounds!”
He stared for moment, then groaned and slapped his forehead. “I must be the greatest fool alive!” and dashed off toward the River Gate. A few moments later he returned with a man, narrow-faced, and with a sallow complexion. Bright blue eyes glittered under dark brows. “This is my berner, the master of my scent hounds.”
“Berner, you have harrier hounds?”
“We have-twenty couple.”
“Could they chase men?”
He chuckled. “They could chase an ant from its smell.”
There was a commotion from the guests’ quarters, and when they turned to see the cause, they saw the lay brother coming toward them at a run. “Abbot, the servant is still here!”
Seeing the berner shrug and start to make his way back to his beloved hounds, Baldwin called to him, “Master berner, bring ten couples here immediately, and a horse for yourself. We shall be hunting men.”
Simon turned to the monk. “Where is he?”
“In the guestroom.”
“Good. Come on, Baldwin.”
Guests could be placed in various parts of the Abbey depending upon their rank and importance. Those of lowly position would stay in the communal accommodation above the Great Gate itself, while the most important would stay in the Abbot’s own private rooms alongside his hall. For others, when this was already being used, there was the main guest block overlooking the river, and it was in this building that the Venetians had been placed. Simon walked up the stairs to the first floor, and only when he arrived at the door did it occur to him that the man inside might be desperate and dangerous. He was uncommonly glad to hear the steady steps of Baldwin and his man behind him as he reached for his sword and tested the hilt in his hand. He glanced at the knight, then opened the door in a rush and burst in, drawing his sword as he went. He fetched up against a wall, holding the weapon before him.
“The sword is unnecessary, Simon,” he heard Baldwin murmur as the knight walked in.
In the far corner of what was a broad and long room, he saw the servant Luke folding clothes and stowing them into a light cloth bag, suitable for dangling from a saddle. The man stared in astonishment, eyeing Simon as if doubting his sanity.
“You are the servant of Antonio and Pietro da Cammino?” Baldwin asked, walking quietly toward the man. He nodded, which was a relief to the knight, who had feared that he might not speak English. “What is your name?”
“Luke, sir.”
“Good. Luke, do you know where they have gone?”
“No, sir,” Luke said, his gaze still fixed upon Simon as the bailiff carefully felt for his scabbard and thrust his sword home. “They collected their things and went; I don’t know where.”
“Did you help them pack?”
“Yes, sir. After the shouting and everything at the gate, Pietro came straight up here, and told me to pack his things.”
“How did he seem?” Baldwin asked.
“Very upset, sir. Flustered and cross. He said I must prepare to leave immediately, and from his look I imagined something must have happened.”
Simon shook his head. “They already have a good head start on us, let’s get going.”
His friend shook his head and held up a hand. “Wait, Simon. Let’s not rush off before we have to. The hounds aren’t ready yet, and we don’t have a posse. Now, Luke, you say Pietro was flustered and angry. Did he give you any indication what had angered him?”
“No, sir. He only said that he’d been a fool, and went out as soon as I’d started packing his things. Then he came back a little later with his father, and Antonio seemed depressed. He said nothing to me at all while he was here, just paced up and down the room.”
The knight remained staring fixedly at the servant. “When you were in Bayonne, weren’t you attacked by a mob there?”
Luke nodded. “Yes, it was fearsome, being chased like that. We had to leave almost immediately.”
“Did you know Pietro saw Avice’s father today? He told Pietro to leave and never see his daughter again.”
Simon interrupted, “Baldwin, is this really necessary?”
“Pietro must have seen the girl at some point, or how would he know she would go with him?”
“Fine, so the lad went to see her, and when she told him she’d be happy to go away with him, he came back here and prepared to leave. Can we get a move on now?”
“But there was this crowd at the Abbey gates, Simon. Was that just a fortuitous coincidence? And the mob dispersed as soon as the Abbot spoke to them. Did Pietro and his father really feel so threatened that they had to leave immediately? If he knew Avice would go with him anyway, what was the hurry? He could surely have waited until dark and gone then.”
“Baldwin, you’re quibbling over details, and all the time they’re getting further away. Come on, let’s be after them!”
“Patience, Simon. Now, Luke, I do not believe that Antonio would have rushed off just because of a crowd making a noise. He would be safe in the Abbey here. Why would he agree to go in such a hurry? Enough hurry, for example, to leave you behind, Luke,” Baldwin finished imperturbably.
Luke stared back. He knew he had to make the choice whether to protect his masters and hide their secrets, in which case he might be viewed with suspicion and possibly even accused with them, or discard them utterly and protect himself. He glanced quickly at the bailiff.
Simon gave an exasperated groan and dropped onto a bench. “I assume you have some reason for wanting to wait? Maybe the lad was in a hurry to go because he had killed the monk, and now we know he abducted the girl-”
“Simon, we know nothing of the sort! There is nothing to connect him to the murder of Peter, and we don’t even know that she wasn’t a willing accomplice in their departure. At this moment we know nothing about the matter.”
“Sir, my master Antonio was accused by the girl’s father of being a fraud, of inventing a bogus scheme to steal from the Abbot.”
“That made him suddenly run away?” Simon asked dubiously.
“Sir, I refused to go with them. I’ll tell you all I know, but only if I can be exempted from blame for what they have done.”
Baldwin nodded. “Speak!”
“I first met Antonio and his son two years ago in France. They had lost their servant to a disease, and they were glad enough to have me instead.
“Last year we went to Bayonne to the fair, staying in a small inn. At the time, I thought it was to find new stuffs to sell, for they had made a fortune out of selling a great stock of Toledo metalwork, but then I began to have doubts.”
Simon was interested despite himself. The servant’s story was halting, but the bailiff could see that he was coming quickly to his point.
“Antonio spent much time talking to the Abbot there, and whenever I overheard them, it was always about the same thing-how Antonio had a fleet and was looking for the best suppliers of goods to transport to Florence. It sounded strange to me, for I had never seen any evidence of a single ship, let alone a fleet.
“Then one night Antonio came to me and instructed me to pack everything and prepare to leave. I thought he had lost interest in the Abbot and wanted to avoid his bill for stabling and food, so I did as I was told, but when I heard Antonio talking to his son, he was scornful and contemptuous. I had no idea why; I just did as I was told. When all was packed, Antonio himself led the way to the stables, and I found that a pony had been laden with other stuff, but I thought it was just the things that Antonio had bought from the fair. It never occurred to me…Well, I’ll come to that.