Josse, she realised, was waiting. ‘There isn’t a but. You are right, Sir Josse. Poor Mag Hobson could well be Joanna’s friend.’
‘The Sheriff’s man, Hugh, told me Mag used to work for an elderly couple in some modest manor house,’ Josse said eagerly, ‘so it seems to me that-’
‘That they — the old people — were kin to Joanna, and that she met Mag, who was their servant, while staying with them. Yes, yes, it does appear to fit. Yet why did de Courtenay not mention the old couple?’
‘Hm.’ Josse’s heavy brows descended into a scowl. ‘Her mother’s kin, do you think? Distantly related, so that de Courtenay has never come to hear of their existence?’
‘No, no,’ Helewise protested, ‘he knows — or so we presume — of her connection with Mag Hobson. Surely he must also be aware of how she came to know her.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Sir Josse, what do you think of this?’ She paused, putting her thoughts in order.
Yes.
‘It is significant,’ she said carefully, ‘that, during my interview with Denys de Courtenay, he did his best not to reveal anything he could avoid telling me. For instance, he made only the briefest mention of Joanna’s woman friend, revealing neither her name and her whereabouts, nor her occupation. Looking back, it seems to me that he only mentioned a friend in the area at all as a reason for his looking for Joanna around here.’
‘Ye-es,’ Josse said slowly.
Helewise leaned forward eagerly. ‘Don’t you see? He didn’t mention the elderly couple because he didn’t need to! Having told me about the woman friend, that was enough! So the fact that he didn’t mention the old people doesn’t for one moment mean he didn’t know about them, even though his knowledge did not extend to the details of where they lived!’ She sat back, elated.
‘You reason well, Abbess Helewise,’ Josse said.
‘Ah, but I do have the advantage of having spoken to Denys de Courtenay face to face,’ Helewise said modestly. ‘Not that it is an experience I would commend to you.’
‘No, indeed.’ The deep frown had descended again. ‘Especially now that we know what he’s capable of.’
Helewise felt a chill creeping over her flesh. ‘You really believe it was he who attacked and murdered that poor old woman?’
‘I do.’
‘But, Sir Josse, should we be accusing him, even in the privacy of this room, before he has had a chance to speak up for himself? For us to accuse, judge and condemn is surely going too far!’
‘Abbess, think it through!’ Josse protested. ‘De Courtenay learns that his niece has fled her marital home, has come over the Channel to England, where, instead of seeking out her sole male relative and putting herself under his protection, she heads off into the wilderness of the great forest to try to find some old wise woman she once knew, when she used to stay with her mother’s family. In a house whose whereabouts de Courtnay doesn’t know. Now doesn’t that alone make you suspect that de Courtenay had something planned for Joanna that she knew she wouldn’t like?’
‘Not necessarily!’ Helewise protested.
‘Well, at least would you agree that it suggests Joanna had very good reason to dislike her uncle?’
‘He’s not her uncle, he’s her second cousin. Well, actually, she is his cousin’s child.’
‘He’s what?’
‘Her second cousin. De Courtenay explained that he and her father were cousins, so she and Denys are cousins distanced by a degree.’
‘Don’t you see the relevance of that?’ Josse demanded. ‘Abbess, I do wish you’d told me this before!’
‘I thought I had,’ she said feebly. ‘And, yes, of course I see the relevance. It means-’
‘It surely means that, having acquired his dispensation, he can marry her!’ Josse exploded. ‘Great God above, Abbess, isn’t that motive enough for a man to torture an old woman for information, and kill her when she won’t oblige?’
‘You mean, if Joanna were an heiress, or something?’
Josse muttered something under his breath; he seemed to be appealing for divine patience. ‘Yes, Abbess dear, I do mean if she were an heiress or something.’ He shook his head, grinning at her. ‘I suppose I must make allowances,’ he said kindly, ‘you have, after all, recently been sick.’
‘I am perfectly well now, thank you very much!’ she said, stung. ‘And there is nothing whatsoever wrong with my reasoning powers. It is only your own imagination that makes Joanna a rich heiress. There is nothing to prove it!’
Josse looked downcast. ‘Aye, I hate to admit it but you’re right.’ He sighed. ‘The woman I met certainly shows no evidence of wealth. The house was pretty comfortless and Joanna herself was dressed more like a peasant than a noblewoman. But that could be to disguise herself!’
Helewise laughed. ‘You never give up, do you?’
‘No,’ he said, getting to his feet.
‘Where are you going?’
He stared down at her. ‘Abbess, we’re forgetting about the first murder. Somebody put poison in the pie meant for Denys de Courtenay and that somebody must have been inconspicuous enough to slip into Goody Anne’s tap room, hear de Courtenay give his order, then somehow get to the pie before the serving girl did and lace it with poison.’
‘Inconspicuous,’ Helewise repeated. ‘Which appears to rule out Joanna, since, even disguised as a peasant, her cousin would recognise her. Yes?’
‘Aye,’ Josse confirmed. Helewise noticed a slight softening of his expression as he added, ‘She’s a striking woman.’
‘Ah.’ Putting that aside to consider later, Helewise said, ‘So you’re thinking it must have been Mag Hobson who was the poisoner?’
‘She was a wise woman,’ Josse said, making for the door. ‘We know that she was skilled, that people spoke highly of her.’ He gave Helewise a courteous bow. ‘There’s an hour or two of daylight left — I’m going back to have a look in her herb garden. I know it’s February and nothing much is growing above ground, and I’ll probably fail miserably, but I’m going to see if I can find any sign of wolf’s bane.’
Instinctively she called out, ‘Be careful!’
But he had already gone.
* * *
He found the way back to the pond and Mag Hobson’s little hut quite easily; the track had been well marked by the boots of the Sheriff’s men, and here and there he saw snapped-off twigs and leafless branches where the hurdle-bearers had caught their burden against the trees.
The clearing was deserted now. Tying Horace’s rein to a tree trunk, Josse looked around him. The hole in the ice which he had made to extract the corpse had already frozen over again, but now the ice stood up in sharp little peaks, like a miniature mountain range. The many muddy footprints at the pond’s edge had also frozen hard.
With the body gone, the clearing felt different. Josse stood still, letting his senses absorb information. After a while, he thought: yes. That’s it. It feels — good now. Earlier, the horror of that brutal death had overlaid the normal atmosphere of this place, but now she’s been taken away, the positive mood is returning.
It felt, he thought, a nice place. The very air seemed to have a quality that promised to make a man feel well …
But he was not, he reminded himself firmly, there to take the air.
He strode over to the shack. The door was neatly tied shut by means of a length of twine passed through two iron eyes, one on the door, one on the door post. The Sheriff, Josse concluded, couldn’t have bothered to look inside Mag’s home; Sheriff Pelham wouldn’t have wasted his time tying the twine into that intricate and attractive knot.
Untying it, saying a silent apology to the dead woman for his violation of her handiwork, Josse unthreaded the twine and opened the door.