The Gallows Curse (68 page)

    'What
are you doing here?' Raffe demanded. Why didn't you send a message to meet you
after dark?'

    'No
time to wait,' Talbot muttered. 'So he's left for Norwich?'

    'Osborn?
Yes, he means to find his brother's killer.' Raffe's eyes narrowed. 'Do you
know something about it?'

    'More
than something. It was Holly, your girl . . . Elena. She did it... she killed
Hugh,' he added, seeing Raffe's look of incomprehension.

    'Elena?
No! Why are you saying this?' Raffe yelled. 'It was madness even to think she
might have killed Raoul, but Hugh, never!'

    'Keep
your voice down.' Talbot cast an anxious look towards the manor gate, but the
servants were too busy celebrating Osborn's departure to be hanging round it.

    You
know fine rightly she did kill Raoul. She'll tell you herself she remembers
throttling him. And if she could murder him, why not Hugh 'n' all? Hugh
recognized her. That's why she did it. Ma's got her hidden in her own chambers.
The other women think she's run off. Thing is,' Talbot continued, 'Hugh came to
Ma's Michaelmas feast. Everyone saw him there and saw him go to one of the
chambers with Holly. Our girls'll say nothing, they know better than that, but
there were dozens of men and lads from the town there that night. It'll not be
long before one of 'em comes forward and tells Osborn where his brother was a
few hours afore he died.'

    Raffe
was so stunned he could hardly breathe. There was no question that Hugh
deserved to die. He would have willingly killed Hugh himself if he could, but
to think of Elena committing cold-blooded murder, not once but twice, maybe
even three times ... In his mind he could still see her standing there on the
manor steps looking up at him, her eyes wide with innocence. He felt himself
torn between the horror of what she had become and the desperate need to
protect her even now.

    He
grasped Talbot's sleeve, panic rising in his voice. 'We need to get her away,
now, before Osborn starts searching.'

    'Like
I say, Ma's got her well hidden and all the girls will be able to put their
hands on the Holy Cross and swear that she's gone for good, for that's what
they believe. Safest thing is for you to leave her where she is. You try moving
her while Osborn's turning the town arse over tit and you'll both be caught.
Anyway, it's not the girl I've come about. No sense fretting over a fox among
the lambs, when there's a wolf on the prowl. And this wolf is a savage one.'

    Talbot
fiddled inside his clothes and pulled out a leather pouch. He clumsily tried to
get his great hand inside and after much scrabbling and grunting, he finally
pulled out an object on a broken leather thong and held it up. It gleamed in
the watery sunshine. He thrust it towards Raffe. 'Recognize this?'

    Raffe,
distracted by thoughts of Elena, barely glanced at it.

    'Look
at it, Bullock!'

    Raffe
stared down. There was no mistaking it. There were not two like it in the
world. It was the gold ring set with the pearl. The same ring he'd given the
sailor who had delivered the French spy.

    Talbot
was watching his face. 'I'm right, aren't I, that it's yours?'

    Raffe
nodded. He'd have known every twist of that gold knot even in the dark.

    'How
did you come by it?'

    'The
alewife you spent the night with in Yarmouth. She recognized it.'

    'The
sailor came back?' Raffe asked.

    That
was not surprising. Probably he tried to trade the ring in her alehouse. It was
the kind of place where such clandestine deals were done, but the alewife
didn't seem wealthy enough to buy it, and even if she had, why would she return
it to Raffe?

    Talbot
dropped the ring into Raffe's palm. 'The night after the storm they found a
corpse.'

    'I
was there,' Raffe told him. 'The poor woman was sure it was her dead husband,
but it was too far decayed for anyone to be certain who it was.'

    He
shuddered. That voice pleading and begging outside the door to be let in still
rang in his head. Was it really the ghost of her husband or his revenant
corpse?

    Talbot
grunted. 'That corpse wasn't her husband. When they laid him out they found
he'd a silver amulet on a chain still hanging about the bones of his neck.
There was a sliver of bone in it. Someone recognized the signs on the amulet.
St Jude or St Julian, or some such. But the thing is, it was far too costly for
the likes of her husband. There was another corpse washed up that same night
though. Only this one wasn't decayed, it was fresh as an oyster. When the
alewife heard of it she insisted on seeing it, in case she recognized it,
though everyone said he wasn't a Yarmouth man. It was on that corpse they found
your ring.'

    Raffe
looked down at the band of gold in his hand. 'It must have been the sailor. He
must have tried to row back to his ship in that storm and drowned.'

    Talbot
shook his head. 'This man was no sailor and he wasn't drowned neither. He'd
been knifed. The alewife spotted that ring clutched in his hand as if he'd
grabbed it in a struggle and the thong had snapped.'

    'Maybe
the sailor went off to another inn after he delivered the Frenchman to me and
got into a brawl.'

    'Could
be.' Talbot chewed on the words. 'But there was something else they found on
the man, a token, the emblem of St Katherine.'

    Raffe
suddenly felt a cold chill run through him.

    Talbot
squinted up at Raffe. 'This man they delivered to you, what did he look like?'

    'Small,
scrawny ... I might have taken him for a monk if he'd had a tonsure. Strong
though. He'd been taught to fight,' Raffe added ruefully, remembering the
well-aimed punch. 'And he had a withered hand. Not useless, a good grip, but
I'd say the bones had been broken years ago and not healed straight.'

    Talbot
gravely shook his head. 'I found a lad who'd served on the
Dragon's Breath.
Cut loose at Yarmouth. Didn't want to go back, leastways not on that ship. He
said there was only one passenger on board. But he'd no withered hand; the boy
would have mentioned that. And this man was plump, gut-stuffed. Sailors made
jokes about his whale-belly, said if the ship sank they'd all climb aboard and
float ashore. The man they found stabbed in Yarmouth was exactly as the boy
described.'

    Raffe's
face had blanched. 'Then the man I delivered to Norwich?'

    'Is
one of John's men, I reckon. Either someone else was expecting the Frenchman or
maybe your sailor realized what was happening and saw a way to make money from
both sides and the middle at the same time. Reported his suspicions when the
ship laid anchor. We knew John would be keeping watch on Yarmouth now it's a
free port. Whoever he told more than likely paid your sailor to kill the
Frenchman on the evening of the storm, once he was safely off the ship, and
then John's man took his place.'

    'God's
teeth!' Raffe pressed his fists against his head. 'I'm a fucking, bloody fool.
That's why the sailor came back alone without his companions. Why wasn't I more
careful? I should have checked more, asked more questions. If Martin is John's
man all he has to do now is to follow the trail until he discovers every person
involved, then try to catch us all in the net.'

    'Unless
he's silenced,' Talbot said. You know him. You'll have to find him. And you'd
best do it quick, afore he gets word to the king. If he discovers you come from
the manor, he'll more than likely warn Osborn, first chance he gets. You'd best
see to it that he doesn't get that chance.'

    Hilda
stood squarely in the door of the Lady Anne's chamber, blocking the way.

    'She's
resting, poor soul. Scarcely closed her eyes all night, with that man shouting
and raving about his brother's murder till the early hours. She was that
exhausted after returning from her cousin. I've never seen her look so wan. I
know her cousin is in poor health, but she shouldn't keep expecting Lady Anne
to make that journey to sit with her. She must have tiring maids enough of her
own could keep her company. It'll kill my poor mistress, you see if it
doesn't.'

    Lady
Anne had returned from visiting her sick cousin only an hour or so before the
messenger from Norwich had arrived and had straight away retired to her
chamber, but when Osborn had returned with the body, he had been in such a rage
that he was unable to rest or sleep and had made quite certain that no one else
in the manor could either. He had not kept silent vigil over his brother's
body, as might have been expected, but instead had raged and bellowed his
curses against God, the Devil and Hugh's murderer long into the night, as he
furiously gulped down goblet after goblet of wine, until finally the effects of
the drink overcame even his fury and he staggered to bed.

    For
once, Raffe almost felt sorry for Hilda, for her eyes were as red-rimmed as the
rest of the servants' and she looked as if she was about to fall asleep on her
feet. He resisted the urge to thrust her bodily aside, and tried to reason with
her.

    'I
know the Lady Anne is tired. But I must speak with her. I wouldn't disturb her
if it were not so urgent. Trust me, Hilda, this is something she must know now
and she will not thank you for keeping me from her.' Seeing Hilda's mouth draw
tighter than a miser's purse string, he added, 'Lady Anne could be in danger.'

    Hilda's
hand flew to her mouth in alarm. Raffe knew that this was the one argument he
could use that would win the sour old woman over. Whatever her faults, she
would have offered her body to a shipload of bloodthirsty Saracens if she
thought it would save her mistress.

    Hilda
nodded and hastened into the chamber. Raffe heard her murmuring to Lady Anne,
then she returned and beckoned Raffe in. Lady Anne was sitting in a high-backed
chair wrapped in a rabbit-fur robe, her head resting wearily in her hand.

    'Hilda,
can you wait outside the chamber and make sure none loiter where they can
overhear us?' Raffe asked.

    Hilda
looked to Lady Anne for an answer. She nodded and Hilda reluctantly shuffled
outside. Anne was utterly exhausted. The dark carved wooden chair only made her
appear even more pale and fragile. Raffe wanted to scoop her up, put her back
in her bed and bid her sleep, but he knew he couldn't. He glanced at the door.
Hilda would keep away the servants better than any guard dog, but she would be
straining to hear herself. While he knew she'd cut out her own tongue rather
than willingly betray her mistress, nevertheless she was a gossip and as
nervous as a newly trapped songbird. Raffe could not trust her not to let
something slip in a fit of panic.

    'Please,
m'lady, if we could take the casement seat. . . .' It was the furthest from the
doorway. He offered his arm and she took it, leaning on it heavily enough to
suggest that for once she really needed support. The drawn yellow skin, the
dark dry hollows under her eyes, suggested she had spent many a sleepless night
watching over her cousin. Raffe could see why Hilda was so concerned.

    As
soon as Anne was seated, she motioned impatiently that Raffe should sit with
her. She gazed down into the courtyard below, where a few of the servants stood
in twos and threes talking earnestly about the night's events, making little
pretence at working. Rumour of Hugh's murder must have already reached the
villagers, for Raffe could see a few of them sidling in through the gates to
find out if it was true.

    'What
is it, Raffaele?' Anne said wearily, without turning her head. 'Another priest
in trouble?'

    Raffe
cleared his throat. 'Worse, I'm afraid. The priest who asked for your help, the
one I helped to escape to France, sent a message demanding that I assist a
French envoy to reach Norwich. He threatened to betray us both if I didn't.'

    Anne
turned sharply. 'But he wouldn't have done so, I'm sure, not a man of God. He
must only have meant to frighten you to secure your help.'

    'Perhaps,
but I could take no chances. I couldn't risk your safety.' Raffe knew only too
well the priest had meant every word, but he didn't want to hurt her by
explaining exactly what had happened that night in the prisoner hole.

    Anne's
lips trembled and she reached out her hand, briefly clasping it over Raffe's.
'My son chose his friends well.'

    'Not
so well, it seems. I did as I was asked and conveyed what I thought was the
envoy to Norwich, but I've just learned that I was deceived. The real envoy was
murdered and the man I took to Norwich was an impostor, one of John's men. I
believe he means to discover all the envoy's contacts and when he does he will
surely report them to John. If he learns that I am steward at this manor, he
may discover that you have given aid to the priests. Indeed, he may have
already known about both of us, before I even met him. If he does, you can be
sure he will tell Osborn, for he knows he's the king's man.'