Justin was beginning to understand why she'd shown so little interest in his revelations about the goldsmith's kin. "So…" he said cautiously, "you are saying that if the guilty are found at the Fitz Randolph hearth, you'd be content to let the sheriff see that justice is done?"
"Yes," she said. "I do want to see the guilty punished. But I have a more urgent need. I must know if the killers were after the letter. You see, I fear that the murder may have been done at the behest of the French king. If that is so, I need to know and as soon as possible. If Philip is desperate enough to set assassins loose in England, it does not bode well for my son. I cannot hope to thwart him unless I have proof of his treachery."
She paused, choosing her words with care. "You must find out for me if the killers were in the pay of the French king. If you can prove that this deputy or one of the Fitz Randolphs is the culprit, well and good. It would ease my mind considerably to have my suspicions refuted. But either way, I must know and soon. Speed is of the essence, for time is not on Richard's side."
She paused again. "I know it is a dangerous mission I've given you. But you're the only one who can recognize the killers. I must rely upon you to serve me well. Do not let me down, Justin."
Her urgency was as compelling as it was daunting. Justin had not bargained upon being entangled in a foreign conspiracy. At that moment, though, he could imagine nothing worse than breaking faith with her.
"I cannot make the same promise as before, my lady. I cannot swear that I will solve this crime for you. But I will do my best, that I vow."
Eleanor needed more than promises. But she'd learned to take what she could get. "Godspeed, Justin. And be wary, watch whom you trust. It is not easy to trap a killer, and for certes, not safe."
~~
After learning that Justin had come straight to her upon his arrival in London, Eleanor had suggested that he seek lodgings for the night at the nearby priory of Holy Trinity, Aldgate. Justin decided to do so, for he need only show the queen's letter to assure himself of a warm welcome, a more appealing prospect than trudging through the city streets in search of an inn.
Having taken his leave of Eleanor, Justin paused on the Tower steps. High above his head, an easterly wind herded flocks of ice clouds across the darkening sky. He'd be racing a storm back to Winchester. It was too cold to linger out in the bailey, and he headed toward the stable to retrieve his horse.
Within, the stable was dim, already sheltering night shadows; torches were not left burning, for fear of fire. The grooms were nowhere in sight. A cat stalked mice up on the rafters, and an aged stable dog gave a halfhearted bark before burrowing back into the straw. Justin's stallion snorted loudly at the sight of him. Entering the stall, he was about to lead Copper out when a hand grasped his shoulder. Spinning around, he found himself face-to-face with Eleanor's son.
"Master de Quincy!" John smiled, his teeth gleaming whitely in the light cast by his lantern. "This is a surprise. I was tarrying out here to see who claimed that chestnut. Had I but known you were the owner, I could have spared myself a wait in this drafty, dark barn."
"How may I serve you, my lord?" There was movement in the shadows behind John. Several men came forward, flanking their lord. They said nothing, watching Justin impassively, showing neither curiosity nor hostility. He suspected that they'd slit his throat with equal indifference should John give the word.
"You can sell me your horse." John reached out, stroking Copper's muzzle. "A right handsome beast. I've always fancied chestnuts. So… what say you, de Quincy?"
Justin shifted uneasily. If gossip held true, it was not healthy to possess something that the Lord John wanted, be it a horse, a woman, or a crown. "He is not for sale, my lord count."
"Are you so sure of that? You may name your price."
"I am quite sure," Justin said firmly. "But I am willing to give you the right of first refusal, should I ever change my mind."
John was still smiling. "You are a stubborn one, for certes. Think it over, though."
"I will." Justin was positive that John was lying. As much as he cherished Copper, the chestnut was not likely to tempt a king's son; John would have stables full of finely bred horses. No, this was merely a pretext. Whatever John wanted from him, it was not Copper.
John continued to stroke the stallion's neck. He had Justin's coloring; his lantern's glow revealed hair blacker than midnight. The dark one in a fair family, for his brothers and sisters had all been sun kissed. Richard was said to be lance-tall, towering over other men, with sky-color eyes and hair brighter than molten gold. John was of no more than average height, if even that; Justin topped him by half a foot. Yet he was not a man to pass unnoticed in any company. His intelligence was evident, as formidable a weapon as the finely honed sword at his hip. But if even half of what Justin had heard about John was true, he knew nothing of moral boundaries. Not a comfortable man to encounter in the shadows.
"Have you been in my lady mother's service long?"
"No, not long."
"I understand you delivered an urgent letter about ten days ago. I would be most interested in learning the contents of that letter, Master de Quincy."
Justin swallowed. "I regret that I cannot be of assistance, my lord. I would never dare read a letter meant for the queen's eyes. As for that particular letter, I remember nothing of urgency about it. You must have been misinformed."
"Not likely. Those who serve me know how much I value accurate information. I hope you change your mind — about the horse. I would naturally make it worth your while."
"I will think upon it," Justin said, as noncommittally as he could.
"It would help if I knew where to reach you — in case you do decide to sell."
"I have no fixed abode, my lord, so it would be difficult for you to find me."
"You'd be surprised how good I am at finding people, Master de Quincy. What of your family? Surely they'd know where you might be?"
Hoping his voice held steady, Justin said, "Alas, I have no family, my lord. But I do know how you can contact me. You need only ask the queen."
There was a silence that seemed endless, and then John "Now why did I not think of that?" He sounded genuinely amused by Justin's audacity, but Justin's tension did not abate until he signaled to his men. "I daresay our paths will cross again."
"Farewell, my lord count." Justin's throat was still tight. He stood where he was, not moving until long after John had departed the stable. The queen had twice warned him about the perils he was likely to face in Winchester. But what if the greatest dangers were to be found in London?
5
WINCHESTER
January 1193
The alehouse was crowded and it took a while for Justin to attract the attention of the harried serving maid. Ordering two more ales, he watched disapprovingly as his companion gulped his down in several vast swallows. "Are you sure, Torold," he prodded, "that you can remember nothing more about that morning?"
Torold belched, then shrugged. While he was more than willing to drink Justin's ale, he'd been doling out answers in miserly portions. "I already told you, I only remember one man for certes. A swaggering lout with a fine furred mantle and a finer grey stallion, demanding that I open the East Gate early, just for him. He was sorely vexed, too, when I refused, cursing and ranting like he was the missing king! After him, there was a monk… I think. But none after Master Fitz Randolph rode out, for by then the snow was coming down thick as pottage."
Draining the last drops in his cup, Torold glanced over to see if Justin seemed inclined to order another round, then got to his feet. "That is all I remember, and what I told the deputy. I do not see why he saw a need to have me go over it again…"