"And let me guess. He showed his gratitude by contributing… what? His good wishes?"
"He promised Father Jerome that he'd send us a wagonful of to get us through the winter. Of course," Job added dryly, "he did not specify which winter."
Justin unfastened his wineskin, took a pull, and then offered it Job. He accepted it with alacrity, and drank deeply before saying, "Next, I remember a Black Monk on a lop-eared mule. From him, I got God's blessings. Then you and your chestnut. At first you seemed like to pass me by, but you changed your mind just in time. I suppose that was why I recognized you again, that and the fact that you were riding a right handsome beast. He
must be… sixteen hands at least, no?"
"Yes, he is. You know your horses, for certes!"
The corner of Job's mouth curved, ever so slightly. "I ought to," he said, with echoes of an almost forgotten pride, "for I was I was a farrier, with my own smithy."
Justin did not know what to say. In his mind's eye, he could imagine the farrier in his prime, muscles bulging as he swung his hammer and heated his forge, those once-powerful hands now so maimed that he could barely grip the wineskin.
It was quiet for a moment, and then Job said abruptly, "The last men to ride by that morn were the goldsmith and his groom. May God assoil him, for he had a good heart, did Master Gervase. In all the time I knew him, he never failed to give alms and a cordial 'good morrow,' too. I do not know why you are seeking to track down his killers, but I hope you get them."
"I hope so, too." Job was holding out the wineskin and Justin swiftly shook his head. "Keep it if you like. On a cold day like this, a man needs a little wine to warm his bones."
"Indeed," Job agreed, sounding pleased. But as their eyes met, Justin saw in the leper's level gaze a cynical understanding: that Justin would never — in this life or the next — have drunk again from that wineskin.
~~
Hyde Abbey lay beyond the city walls, but still within walking distance, and when Justin decided to return to town that evening, he chose to go on foot rather than resaddle Copper.
Admitted through the North Gate, he started down Scowrtene Street.
An early winter dusk had long since settled over Winchester, but the morning's cloud cover had been dispersed by a brisk wind and the night sky was salted with stars. Raising his lantern, Justin veered around a rut in the road. He was heading for Edwin's favorite alehouse on High Street, hoping to find the groom had slipped away for a quick ale. Buying Edwin a drink would be an easy way to learn of any new developments in the Fitz Randolph household. He hoped, too, to spur the other man's memory. Mayhap Edwin had seen more than he'd realized at the ambush.
Justin had stopped at the lazar house again on his way back to Winchester, and Father Gregory had confirmed Job's story. He'd even been able to give Justin the name of the grey stallion's ill-tempered owner: Fulk de Chesney. Justin was not sure what use that might be, for the man could have no knowledge of the ambush. Still, he was grateful for any scrap of information he could muster. He'd seen women sew a quilt out of scraps of material. Who was to say that he could not take these random fragments of fact and make of them a discernable pattern? Not a quilt, but a map, one that might lead to a killer.
There were few people out and about, for activity dwindled drastically once the sun set. But one man had been trailing after Justin ever since he'd left the abbey, matching his pace to Justin's, staying a constant twenty feet behind. When Justin began to walk faster, so did he. When Justin stopped to scrape mud from his boot, the man halted abruptly. It did not take long for Justin to become aware of him. Could this be the same man who'd followed him from the alehouse to the Fitz Randolph manor? But that was like being stalked by a shadow. This one was far more clumsy. Justin was tempted to swing around and confront him, but he wanted to be sure. Better to put his suspicions to the test.
High Street was still a block away, but when he reached the first intersecting street, Justin made a sudden left turn. Soon after, so did his pursuer. Justin deliberately kept his steps unhurried, although his heart had begun to race. There was a tavern up ahead, an alley to his right. He chose the alley. It was narrow and black as pitch. Blowing out his lantern's flame, he flattened himself against a closed door and slid his dagger from its sheath.
He had not long to wait. Footsteps approached the alley, slowed. By now Justin's eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he tensed as a figure filled the entrance. After a moment's hesitation, the shadow entered the alley. As soon as he passed, Justin lunged. The man gave a grunt of alarm, but did not struggle for Justin's knife was at his throat.
"What… what do you want?"
"Answers, but I'll settle for blood if need be. Why were you following me?"
"You're daft! I was not following anybody!"
"Wrong answer. Too bad."
The man yelped. "Christ, you cut me!"
"No, I nicked you. But the next lie will draw blood and a lot of it. So let's start again. What do you want from me?"
"Nothing, I swear it! I was just passing by!"
Justin swore under his breath. But his bluff had been called. He eased his hold and then shoved. The man lurched forward, stumbled, and went down. Swearing and sputtering, he scrambled awkwardly to regain his feet. But Justin had already drawn his sword. Continuing to curse, the man began to back away then whirled and fled down the alley.
Justin watched the man disappear into the darkness, then turned and hastened back to the street. Up ahead a sudden flare of light spilled out into the night as the tavern door was flung open. Within moments, he was inside. Ordering wine, he found himself a corner table with a view of the door.
He'd been more unnerved by that alley confrontation than he cared to admit. It was the uncertainty that he found most troubling. Had he thwarted a robbery? Or foiled an assassination? A month ago it would never even have occurred to him that he might be a target for murder. Now he found it all too easy to believe.
~~
The candle on Justin's table had burned down to a stub. His wine was almost gone, but he thought it best not to order another one. He'd need his wits about him on that long, lonely walk back to the abbey. How was he going to hunt for a killer if he had to keep looking over his shoulder?
Getting reluctantly to his feet, he was dropping a coin onto the table to pay for his drink when a commotion erupted across the chamber. A tipsy customer had paused in the doorway to bid a friend farewell, blocking someone seeking to enter. There was an angry exchange between the two, and then the dawdler was shoved aside and Luke de Marston stalked into the tavern. Striding toward Justin, he snapped, "You are under arrest!"
Justin stiffened. "What for?"
"I daresay I can think of any number of charges. But we'll start with your attack upon my serjeant!"
"Your serjeant!" Only then did Justin notice the man from the alley, glaring at him from behind Luke's shoulder. "Why was he following me?"
"To find out what you're up to — why do you think? Your conduct could not have been more suspicious!"
"Me?" Justin was incredulous. "What did I do that was suspicious?"
"What did you do that was not suspicious? You return to Winchester after witnessing a murder and you seek out the slain man's family. But not the sheriff — no, you vanish ere I can question you. Then you're back all of a sudden, prowling around, asking about the killing, even lurking out at the lazar house! It surprises you that I know about you and the lepers? This is my town, and you are indeed a fool if you thought your meddling would not get back to me!"