Just then he caught sight of Afonso appearing through the crowds, moving with his usual rolling gait, a little like a sailor. Sir Charles somehow felt that the Portuguese man had suffered more than he, but Afonso had volunteered nothing more about his past, and he was not the sort of man to blab confidences willy-nilly. He was rather like Sir Charles — self-sufficient, calm and satisfied with his own company. While Sir Charles and Paul were with him, he was content to be their companion, but if they were to leave today, he would not care.
That was his usual demeanour, but today something had upset him, Sir Charles could see. His face was set, and he shouldered a man from his path in an unwarranted display of anger. The man opened his mouth to remonstrate, but then closed it again when he took in the broad back and worn sword of the knight.
‘My friend, what is the matter?’ Sir Charles asked mildly.
‘It is nothing. I saw a man I had not expected, that is all,’ Afonso said.
‘I see,’ Sir Charles said. ‘When we first met, you mentioned someone whom you wished to find. Is this him?’
‘Yes!’ Afonso swore and spat out, ‘Matthew!’
‘Would you like me to come with you and see him again?’
The offer of his assistance in attacking this man, who must surely be an enemy of Afonso’s, did not produce the result which Sir Charles had expected. Instead of giving thanks, Afonso rounded on him, eyes glittering.
‘No. You leave him to me! He is the cause of me being here, and I’ll kill him myself!’
Dona Stefania sat back, her heart pounding as she studied the now-pale knight. ‘You didn’t think I would be able to muster the courage to accuse, did you? Well, I have. I accuse you, Sir Knight, and I hope you will be forced to pay for your vicious crime!’
‘I have done nothing, woman!’ Don Ruy snarled, but Simon was sure that this was not the reaction of the discovered felon, rather the furious denial of a man repudiating his accuser.
‘You killed her!’ she shouted, and there was a kind of delight in saying so, she discovered. It was as though she had found some form of comfort in being able to declare her maid’s murderer’s guilt.
Don Ruy did not retreat or cower, though the other two men closed in subtly. It was the knight called Baldwin who spoke.
‘You have been accused, and you deny the charge, but you give us no explanation of why you are wrongly accused. Will you not explain how someone could think that they saw you, when you say you did not leave the city?’
That’s it! Dona Stefania thought gleefully. Let him wriggle out of that!
‘I did leave the city for a short while,’ Don Ruy said stiffly. ‘I hired a mount from a stable and rode out for exercise. I hadn’t thought it would matter — but then I didn’t expect to be accused of murder for talking to the good Dona Stefania either,’ he added with a bow to her.
He was impressive, she admitted. Suave and calm, even when accused of such a dreadful crime.
‘Where exactly did you ride?’
‘I rode out along the river northwards.’
‘Did you come to a clearing?’
Don Ruy considered. ‘The ground was flat, and I don’t recall one in particular. There was a stretch which looked a little like a ford. I passed by a place where women were washing their clothes.’
‘A ford,’ Baldwin repeated in English for Simon. ‘He says he passed a place that was a ford, where women were washing their clothing.’
‘So?’
‘I hadn’t noticed that it was a crossing place.’ Returning to Don Ruy, he said, ‘The ford — did you see anyone near there?’
‘I saw two horses tied to a tree.’
‘Was there a man there, or a woman?’
‘Over on the opposite side of the river, walking together, away from me. I didn’t see their faces. I don’t know who they were.’
‘Come, Don Ruy! You must remember the girl at least. She wore a blue tunic, with embroidery at the neck and hem.’
‘Very well. Yes. It was the beautiful dark-haired servant of Dona Stefania here,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘Yes, it was because of her that I rode up that way. I noticed her at the city gate, and from interest, I trailed after her up the roadway. She went on ahead at speed, but I slowed because my mount had a stone in its hoof. At first I thought that it was a miserable creature that had been foisted on me, but when I had it out, the beast rode all right. Still, when I got to the ford she had gone already.’
‘Gone where?’
‘Over the river, like I said. One of the horses was hers — I recognised it. It was hot, and what should be more natural than that she should cross the river in bare feet to cool them, before walking with her man?’
‘Which man?’
‘She was with Frey Ramon when I saw her.’
Dona Stefania felt the world tottering about her. ‘No! This is ludicrous! How can that be? Don, how do you know the good Brother Ramon? Do you know him?’
‘I know him well enough, and his horse,’ snapped Don Ruy irritably, and turned to face Baldwin. ‘Our bands of pilgrims were together at Tours until four days ago. His horse is black, with a white flash on the left shoulder that extends up the neck almost to the head. He has a grey ankle on the right rear leg, too. It was his horse, all right. And he was there, too, walking with Joana over on the other bank of the river. I knew her from the journey here to the city. She was with Dona Stefania. It was her I overheard telling of the Dona’s … indiscretion.’
‘What were they doing there?’ Dona Stefania said, ignoring his last words. ‘They were supposed to meet back here.’
‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin interrupted her, ‘we should wait until we have an opportunity to ask the good Frey Ramon.’
‘Joana promised she was going straight to meet this Ruy,’ the Prioress persisted. ‘What was she doing with Ramon? If Ruy saw Ramon, he might have thought that she had brought a guard or a witness, and left her there. He might not have negotiated. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I did not ask to see her, I didn’t ask for money, and I didn’t go there to haggle!’ Don Ruy said firmly, reddening. ‘Look, they were obviously lovers, with their own little rendezvous on the other side of the river, away from the road, where they could take their ease in privacy. Where is the mystery in that?’
‘What then? Did you ride on?’ Baldwin asked.
‘No. I turned back immediately and made for the city. Then, because I was not tired, I cantered about the walls for some exercise. A little later, when I returned to the gate, I saw one man leaving.’ Don Ruy frowned. ‘I don’t know if you had heard, but my group were attacked on the way here by a set of felons who drew weapons and hurled themselves at us. Luckily there were three men-at-arms who happened upon us as the attack was underway. They charged the malfechores and put them to flight, killing several of them. The man I saw leaving the city was one of our attackers, I think. A hunched man with his head held at an odd angle. He didn’t see me, and rode off along the road, the same way that I had taken.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I came here to a tavern, sat and drank off some wine. I was hot by then. The weather was most warm.’
‘Did you not bludgeon her to death?’ Dona Stefania burst out. ‘You wanted her, you waited until Frey Ramon was gone, and then you killed her, poor child, so you could rob her!’
‘I have told you, Dona, that I returned to Compostela, put the horse in the stable, paid the groom, and came here for a drink. I was only gone for a short time.’
‘You say that the two of them were there together, but why should that be?’ the Prioress repeated — but then realised what she had said. Suddenly the thoughts crowded in upon her thick and fast. ‘Joana could have made up the whole blackmail story in order to feather her own nest,’ she said wildly. ‘She might have spun the whole story to me just to make me give her my money, which she would then share with her man. But now she’s dead — and where’s the money? My God! Her man! Ramon, where is he? Perhaps he killed her and took all the money!’