‘It will not come to that.’
Baldwin spoke with untypical firmness and Wymarc’s hopes crumbled. The doctor would not conceal the truth. Helene’s suicide would become common knowledge and her brother would be left behind to bear the brunt of the infamy. Her pregnancy would subject him to further humiliation and he could already hear the crude speculation that would arise.
Wymarc had failed his sister abysmally and his failure would now be published.
Grateful to be allowed to leave, the doctor paused at the door to offer some parting advice to the grieving brother.
‘There is someone we have forgotten, my lord,’ he said.
‘Who is that?’
‘The man who fathered the child. If, as it seems, Helene took her young life to escape the shame of bearing a child out of wedlock, then the man must take some responsibility.’
‘He will,’ vowed Wymarc. ‘He will.’
‘Seek him out. That is my counsel.’
‘It will be done, Baldwin.’
‘Do you have any idea who he might be?’
Wymarc did not hear him. His mind was seven miles away in Oxford Castle, watching a handsome man on a black stallion, preening himself as he waited to talk to Helene.
Milo Crispin was less than pleased to see his uninvited guests riding into Wallingford Castle but neither his expression nor his manner hinted at annoyance. Ralph Delchard and his men were given a courteous welcome and offered refreshment after their journey from Oxford. While his six knights were taken off to be fed in the kitchen, Ralph himself was conducted to the hall where he accepted a cup of wine and picked at a bowl of fruit set out on the table in front of them.
They soon dispensed with conversational niceties.
‘You have come to talk about Woodstock,’ guessed Milo.
‘Yes,’ admitted Ralph. ‘I want to hear from all four of you who were involved in that race.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it will enable me to build up a complete picture of what actually occurred.’
‘I see that, but why should you bother to do so?’
‘Why not?’
‘It is the sheriff’s duty to solve the crime.’
‘I am giving him a helping hand.’
‘Even though he has not requested it?’
‘With respect to your father-in-law, he needs all the help that he can get,’ said Ralph, selecting an apple. ‘If I had not seen fit to aid him in this investigation, a blameless man would have been sent to his death for the crime. Is that what you would have preferred?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then why do you object to my involvement here?’
‘It is not so much an objection as a polite enquiry,’ said Milo smoothly.
‘When you set out from Winchester, I imagine that you had more than enough work to occupy you in Oxford.’
‘We did. Satchels full of it.’
‘Yet you somehow find the time to ride around the county and talk about a horse race. It does seem strange to me.’
Ralph grinned. ‘I have always been eccentric’
‘I hope these eccentricities will not get in the way when you sit in judgement on me at the shire court.’
Ralph’s grin broadened. Milo Crispin was a more appealing man than either Wymarc or Bertrand Gamberell. The one had fawned and flattered while the other postured irritatingly. Milo had poise and self-control. Nobody could intimidate him. He would never try to curry favour with a royal commissioner. Milo Crispin and Ralph Delchard occupied the same baronial rank. In every sense, they met on equal terms.
‘Did you know Walter Payne?’ asked Ralph.
‘Yes.’
‘Very well?’
‘As well as I wished to do,’ said Milo. ‘He was a fine horseman but he was not the sort of knight I would ever keep in my retinue.’
‘Why not?’
‘He was too boorish. And too wayward.’
‘Bertrand Gamberell called him a good man.’
‘Do not trust his definition of goodness.’
‘He said that Walter was exceptionally loyal.’
‘But loyal to what?’ said Milo evenly. ‘Loyal to the Gamberell code of boasting and bullying. Those knights of his are drunken oafs. My own men have clashed with them often enough to get their measure.
Walter Payne was among the worst of them. Always trespassing on my land and harassing my tenants for sport.’
‘Bertrand painted a rather different portrait.’
‘He would.’
‘You hated this Walter Payne, then?’
‘Let us say that I did not shed a tear at his funeral.’
‘Did you have a motive to kill him?’
‘Several.’
‘Were you the assassin’s paymaster?’
‘No.’
‘How can I be sure of that?’
‘Because I would never have assigned the removal of Walter Payne to anyone else. I prefer to settle my own scores.’
Ralph chewed on a piece of apple and regarded him with fresh interest. Milo’s composure was extraordinary.
‘Thank you,’ said Ralph.
‘For what?’
‘Giving me straight answers.’
‘It saves time.’
‘I would be grateful if you could pass on that advice to your father-in-law. He has been less forthcoming.’ He rose from the table and wandered idly to the window, gazing down into the courtyard. ‘I rode through Wallingford once before,’ he continued. ‘Some twenty years ago when we were still trying to acquaint the Saxons with the concept of defeat. They took time to accept it, especially in this area. King Edward kept a garrison of his housecarls here. I seem to remember that they gave us stiff resistance for a while.’
‘They were doughty warriors.’
‘Just like those who fought against us at Hastings.’ He swung round.
‘But I did not come to reminisce. I am here to find the man who killed Walter Payne and you have already helped me in that search.’
‘Have I?’
‘By eliminating yourself as a suspect.’
Milo was firm. ‘My horse took part in that race in order to win. No other business drew me to Woodstock that day. My sole aim was to beat Hyperion in a fair contest.’
‘Hyperion has been a thorn in your flesh.’
‘My hope was to pluck it out.’
‘Who stole the horse from Bertrand?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Then it was not you, I take it?’
‘No,’ said Milo patiently. ‘I am a busy man, my lord. You have ridden across my land and seen how much responsibility all those acres place upon me. I simply do not have the time to hire an assassin or to steal a horse. Nor would I demean myself by sinking to such depths.’
Ralph walked back to the table and stood close to him.
‘Who did kill Walter Payne?’
‘Someone who despised the man enough.’
‘Was the assassin really striking at Bertrand Gamberell?’
‘No.’
‘That was my feeling.’
‘Why go to such trouble to kill a servant when the same guile would enable you to kill his master? Bertrand was not the target. Walter Payne was the intended victim. His murder was carefully planned.’
‘Who contrived it?’
‘That is for you to find out.’
‘I Would be grateful for some more help.’
‘All that I can offer is a wild guess.’
‘There will be nothing wild about anything you say, my lord. I am certain of that. You are one of the most deliberate men I have ever met. Now, sir. What is this guess?’
Milo kept him waiting. Getting to his feet, he crossed to the door and opened it to indicate that the discussion was being terminated.
His tone was neutral.
‘Ride north again,’ he advised.
‘Why?’
‘The man you are looking for had a grudge against Walter Payne because he was riding Hyperion. Why kill him during a race if not to disable him from winning yet again? Who knows, my lord? With another rider in the saddle, Hyperion might not be quite so invincible.’
‘Give me a name.’
‘I could easily be wrong.’
‘You know the parties involved far better than I.’
‘Then talk to the man who lost most heavily in the previous races,’
said Milo calmly. ‘Talk to the one who took his defeat most to heart.