‘Stephan was murdered,’ Patrice said. There was a low rumble of comment, although Ninian was almost sure the men had already known. ‘He was clutching a bag of money. We don’t know how he came by it. If any of you has anything to say that might help us find out what happened, you must tell us immediately.’ One or two of the men exchanged glances. ‘If you prefer to speak privately, come to the manor house.’
He waited. Ninian looked around the group. Nobody made any move to speak. ‘Very well,’ Patrice said. ‘We will return to the manor.’ He paused. ‘Remember, all of you, that a young man who was one of the Acquin community has been brutally slain. He leaves a widowed mother, who depended on him. He leaves a pretty young girl who was expecting to marry him. Both women will be heartbroken.’ He turned his horse, nudged it and moved off, Ninian behind him.
‘Do you think anyone will respond?’ Ninian asked once they were out of earshot.
Patrice smiled grimly. ‘I fully expect it,’ he replied. ‘The man who was addressing the crowd — his name is Pierre — makes it his business to know everything that goes on among the Acquin peasantry. He might have spoken just now, but he likes to make himself important by adopting the role of spokesman for the village.’ They were back at the house, and Patrice reined in to let Ninian ride ahead into the yard. ‘Besides,’ he added, ‘Pierre knows there’s always a mug of ale and a sweet cake to be had when he comes here with useful information.’
They had not been back long when Yves arrived home. He assembled the household and briefly told them all what had happened. There was a cry from one of the kitchen women, quickly stifled, and several of the younger servants looked pale and shocked.
The family sat down to eat and had almost finished when a servant came into the hall and spoke quietly to Yves. He nodded, stood up and then glanced at Patrice and Ninian and jerked his head in the direction of the passage that led along to the kitchens. Both got up and followed him out.
‘Pierre?’ Patrice asked.
‘Aye.’
Pierre was waiting for them in the small covered area between the main house and the kitchens. He was a wiry, thin-faced man with restless eyes set close together. He doffed his cap when they approached, twisting it in his hands.
‘You have something to tell us, Pierre,’ Yves said.
‘I have, sir.’ He glanced at Ninian.
‘You may speak in front of him,’ Yves reassured him.
‘Er — thank you, sir. It’s not that, not exactly.’
Yves frowned. ‘What, then?’ he demanded.
Pierre gave a faint shrug, as if of resignation. Then he said, ‘There’s been strangers in the village. One man in particular, asking questions. He knew the name d’Acquin, and he was looking for a young man who had come to stay with the family here.’ He waved a hand, indicating the spreading manor house.
Ninian felt as if a cold fist were closing around his heart. He made as if to speak, but Yves put a hand on his arm, restraining him. ‘This man was offering to pay for information, I imagine?’ he said coldly.
‘That he was, sir, and I hope I need not say that, almost to a man, we were having none of it.’ Pierre managed to form an expression with his sharp features that was a perfect mix of indignation and hurt loyalty.
‘No, Pierre, you do not,’ Yves said. ‘You are decent people, I know that.’
Pierre acknowledged the comment. ‘Well, Stephan, he was the exception,’ he went on, ‘but then, as we all know, Stephan is in love and that can turn a man’s head, and when he was offered more money than he sees in half a year, just for passing on what was no deep secret anyway, he thought to himself: where’s the harm?’
‘He has been reporting to this stranger concerning the movements of my nephew?’ Yves demanded.
‘That he has, sir,’ Pierre answered.
‘You did not think to come and tell me?’ Yves sounded angry. ‘Had you done so, Stephan’s death might have been averted.’
A crafty look came over Pierre’s face. ‘Well, now, it might and it might not,’ he said. ‘Trouble was, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so, that, according to what I heard, this stranger told young Stephan that your — er, your nephew here was a wanted man back in England. Killed a man, they say.’ His eyes shifted to Ninian, then back to Yves. ‘Now, I don’t necessarily believe it, but it wasn’t my place to come here repeating such accusations to you, now, was it, sir?’
‘I-’ Yves bit back whatever he had been about to say. Instead, he fixed Pierre with a steely stare. ‘What my nephew may or may not be accused of is no business of anybody here,’ he stated firmly. ‘The full story is known to me already, and there is to be no speculation. Do you understand?’ Pierre nodded. ‘Now, tell me everything you can about the man who paid Stephan for information.’
Pierre shrugged. ‘There’s not much I can say, sir, for I never met him. Nobody did — only Stephan.’
‘Was the man who paid him for information alone?’
‘I can’t say, sir. Stephan seemed to think there was a group of them in the area, fanning out on their manhunt, but he only dealt with the one.’
Yves was silent for some moments, evidently thinking hard. Then he said, ‘Thank you for coming to speak to us.’ He handed a coin to Pierre, who grasped it and tucked it away with a conjurer’s speed. ‘Tell Stephan’s mother that we will do what we can for her. As for the rest of the village, it would do no harm to point out that, whatever happiness Stephan hoped to buy for himself by his betrayal, it has come to naught.’ He stared at Pierre. ‘Men who are willing to pay other men so well to spy for them are not in the habit of leaving them alive to tell the tale.’
Pierre bowed. ‘No, sir.’
‘You may go,’ Yves said. Pierre looked up hopefully. ‘Via the kitchens,’ Yves added.
With a muttered, ‘Thank you, sir,’ Pierre turned and scurried away.
Ninian went straight to the sleeping space that he had been allocated and, kneeling on the floor, began to pack his belongings. Yves watched him for a while and then said, ‘You know who this man was, don’t you?’
‘Not exactly,’ Ninian replied. ‘It’s obvious who has sent him, though.’ He sat back on his heels, looking up at Yves. ‘I did not think the king would act so swiftly. I even wondered if he would think that it was not worth hunting for me this side of the Channel.’ He sighed. ‘Perhaps Hugh de Brionne was very close to him. I don’t know.’
‘The man you are accused of killing?’
Ninian nodded.
‘Hm. They say King John is quick to anger and slow to forgive.’
‘They say right,’ Ninian replied grimly. ‘Now it seems he’s sent a search party to comb northern France till they find me and take me back.’
Slowly, Yves shook his head. ‘It is the act of a vengeful man.’
‘Yes, and unfortunately one with many men at his disposal.’ Ninian rolled up his spare garments and tied the bundle with a sharp jerk of the string.
Yves frowned. ‘There must be somewhere we can hide you. There’s an old disused mill on the road out of the valley to the east, and we could-’
Ninian stood up and faced him. ‘I appreciate the offer, more than I can say, but I cannot accept it.’ He met Yves’s eyes. ‘I bring danger, Yves. One man is already dead because of me, and, as Patrice said, two women are heartbroken. That is hard enough to live with. I cannot take the risk that my continuing presence here would bring about similar tragedy in your household.’
‘But if you were to hide in the old mill-’
Ninian did not let him continue. ‘No, Yves.’ He grasped the older man by the shoulders. ‘I have a place to go.’
‘Where is it?’
Ninian shook his head. ‘I cannot tell you. It is better for all of us that you do not know.’
‘Let me at least provision you!’ Yves’s voice was anguished. Glancing down at Ninian’s belongings, he said, ‘Winter approaches, and you have not packed near enough warm clothes!’