Justin was not surprised; he'd seen flashes of the deputy's jealousy before. "You need not worry about poaching, Luke. I'm not one for hunting in another man's woods."
Luke's smile was almost too fleeting to catch. "I'm reassured to hear that you're so law abiding." Adding, "Stop by the cottage tonight after Compline and I'll let you know what I found out."
~~
The snow had never materialized and stars were beginning to glimmer in the sky as Justin emerged from the abbey guest hall that evening. He'd taken only a few steps when he was accosted by a hooded, mantled figure. He knew this wasn't Durand — not tall enough — and assumed it was one of the monks. But when he raised his lantern, the candle's wavering light illuminated the angry face of Gervase Fitz Randolph's son.
"What sort of crazed quest are you on? Why are you meddling like this in my father's death?"
"You do not want your father's killers to be found?"
"Damn you, do not twist my words!" Thomas was almost incoherent with rage, his mouth contorted, eyes bulging and bloodshot. "My father was slain in a robbery. All this talk of hired killers is utter nonsense. But it is the sort of gossip that people will be eager to spread about, and some fools might even believe it. Let it be, you hear me! Let it be!"
"I can do nothing for you, Thomas. If you have a complaint, I suggest that you take it up with Luke de Marston."
Thomas would have argued further, but Justin was already brushing past him. "I am warning you, de Quincy!" he shouted. "If you jeopardize my chances of being admitted to the Benedictine order, you'll regret it until your dying day!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Justin promised and walked on. He'd not have been surprised if Thomas had followed him. But the goldsmith's son stayed where he was, watching as Justin crossed the garth. When he reached the gatehouse, Thomas suddenly shouted again. By that time, though, Justin was too far away to hear.
~~
A stew simmered upon the hearth, and Aldith was busy stirring and tasting, assuring the men that it would soon be on the table. She'd insisted that Justin stay for supper, delighted by this opportunity to play the role of Luke's wife, not merely his bedmate.
The two men retired to the settle with cups of malmsey and Aldith's gigantic Jezebel. Watching with amusement as Luke was overwhelmed by a display of slobbering mastiff affection, Justin told the deputy about his abbey encounter with Thomas Fitz Randolph.
Luke finally managed to shove the adoring mastiff off the settle. "I'll not need a bath for a week," he said, grimacing. "The more I learn about our little monk, the better he looks as a suspect in the goldsmith's killing."
"What about the brother? If ever I've met an unquiet soul, it is his. No one could be that fretful and uneasy and not be guilty of something!"
Luke grinned. "As it happens, you're right. After we spoke in Cheapside, I went looking for Guy. I found him still at that alehouse, sodden and wallowing in self-pity. It was almost too easy to bluff him into believing I knew all. He cracked like an egg, no sport whatsoever. He was indeed guilty as you suspected, but of embezzlement, not murder."
"So that was it!"
Luke nodded. "He took care of their accounts and kept the records, whilst Gervase sought to attract wealthy customers like the Archbishop of Rouen. A few months ago, Guy began to divert some of their funds to his own use and altered the accounts to hide his pilfering. His defense was that Gervase was a hopeless spendthrift and he was just putting aside money so they'd not fall deeply in debt. But somehow or other, the money got spent and all he's got left is a tattered conscience. The poor sot had convinced himself that he was going to Hell and gaol, not necessarily in that order."
"What did you do, Luke? Did you arrest him?"
"Worse — I turned him over to his sister-in-law! I took him home to Dame Ella and made him confess to her, too. She reacted as I expected, with dismay and disbelief and then righteous indignation, watered with a few tears. But when I asked if she wanted him hauled off to gaol, she ruffled up her feathers like a hen defending her chicks. Indeed not, this was a family matter, no concern of the law, and she'd thank me not to meddle further."
"You knew she'd not want him arrested."
"Of course I did. And not just because of the scandal it would cause. With her husband dead and her son set upon taking holy vows, she needs Guy more than ever. She'll make peace with him, for she has no choice. But Guy's guilt will give her the upper hand, and for a widow, that's not a bad thing to have."
Justin took a swallow of the malmsey, found it too sweet for his taste. "What of the Fleming? You said you had a lead?"
"I might. My men spent the day rousting Gilbert's kin and lowlife friends, warning that none of them will have any peace until we get the Fleming. I think one of his cousins may be willing to give him up, for there is no love lost between them. When I saw Kenrick this morn, he claimed to know nothing about Gilbert's whereabouts. But he said he might be able to find out and would send me word if he did. He will expect to be paid, though. Since the queen's coffers are far deeper than the sheriff's, this will be your debt, de Quincy."
"Fair enough," Justin agreed. "What of Gilbert's partner? He might be easier to track down. From what you've told me about the Fleming, that one is more slippery than those snakes of his."
"I've put the word out that I'll pay for the man's name. And felons and brigands would sell their own mothers for the price of an ale. It may take time, but someone will offer up Gilbert's accomplice."
Justin hoped he was right. Only the outlaws could give him the answers he needed, and Gilbert did not sound like a man who'd be cooperative even if he was caught. They might have better luck with the partner. "Spread some money around," he said. "I'll pay for the bait."
They deferred further discussion of the Fleming until the meal was done; talk of bloody killings was no fit seasoning for Aldith's stew. She had just served wafers drizzled with honey when her mastiff began to growl.
The knock was soft, tentative. When Luke unbarred the door, the lantern light revealed a thin youngster of twelve or thirteen, his shoulders hunched against the cold. Aldith took one look at his patched mantle and ushered him into the cottage, toward the hearth. His teeth were chattering, and when he stretched his hands toward the fire, they were swollen with chilblains. "My papa sent me," he whispered, looking everywhere but at Luke's
face. "He said he'll meet you at the mill tonight after Compline."
Luke grabbed for his mantle. "This is Kenrick's eldest," he told Justin. "Come on, lad, we'll get you home first."
The boy shrank back. "Nay… my papa said I'm not to be seen with you. He said it was not safe." When Aldith offered him a wafer, he crammed it into his mouth, seeming to inhale it rather than eat it, so fast did it disappear. He remembered to thank her, though, before disappearing into the night again.
~~
They traveled on foot, in the shadow of the city's north wall. In the distance, church bells had begun to chime. Justin tilted his head, hearing their echoes on the wind. "Compline is being rung. We'll be late."
"He'll wait for us. But if I'd hitched my stallion outside the mill, he'd have bolted for certes. No one can know about this, not if Kenrick hopes to make old bones. It is not only the Fleming he must worry about. If it becomes known that he's given Gilbert up, the rest of his family will make his life utter misery. Their Eleventh Commandment is 'Thou shalt never talk to the law.'"
"Why did he pick this mill for the meeting?"
"It lies beyond the city walls and no one will be around at this late hour. And in case he is seen, he has an excuse for being there; he works for the Durngate miller. Likely as not, you'll find him as skittish as an unbroken colt. But I do not blame him for being scared, de Quincy."