The prior gestured. “Stand, Brother Lucius, and tell the sheriff what you saw that night.”
The monk did so, describing the robed assassin with the cowl who had attacked the abbot.
“And this boy”—the prior pointed at Xan—“followed a robed man with a cowl over his head into the monks’ dormitory that same evening. And where did he go? Into Leo’s room.”
“But,” the sheriff said, “a child’s testimony is absolutely inadmissible in our royal courts.”
How insulting. Did the sheriff think all children were liars? Lucy, for instance, had more honesty in one of her slender fingers than Lord Godfrey had in his whole colossal body.
“I know the rules of evidence, Sheriff,” the prior said. “In fact, Leo has not denied being outside that night with his cowl over his head. I heard that admission from his own lips, so the boy’s testimony would be unnecessary on that point.”
“Very well,” the sheriff said. “But can you tell me why this monk would attack his abbot?”
The prior nodded. “Leo manages Penwood Manor. We believe he sought to personally profit by transferring the manor to Lord Godfrey’s ownership. As you know, there is a dispute about Penwood’s legal status, and our dear abbot has been insistent that the manor should never fall into secular hands. Leo has been equally insistent that Lord Godfrey get hold of Penwood.”
Lord Godfrey slammed his fist on the desk. “This proves nothing! That some overly ambitious priest should attack his abbot is tragic. Yet young men often do impulsive deeds. But even if this man sought my protection for Penwood Manor, what crime is there in that, Coz?”
Xan’s stomach turned. Why was he doubting the prior’s words? Lord Godfrey had spoken with passion, as though he believed in his innocence; but the prior had spoken with confidence.
If Brother Leo had conspired with Lord Godfrey, then the nobleman must have known the monk enough to trust him. They’d probably met together and spoken at length about their plans. But Lord Godfrey had just called Brother Leo young and had even referred to him as a priest.
“There is more,” the prior said, pulling the parchment from a pouch. “We have evidence connecting this manor with the bandits who attacked Penwood and then set fire to our abbey.”
Lord Godfrey’s eyes lit up in shock. He stood as if to interrupt, but the prior kept talking.
“Father Paul—too ill to be here today—ripped this from the hands of one of those bandits the night of their attack.” He pointed at the parchment. “Look! ’Tis sealed with the wax of this manor and dated the night before those bandits struck. Examine it, Sheriff, and you will see.”
He handed it to the sheriff, who studied it before passing it to Lord Godfrey and Sire Roger.
“This parchment,” the prior said, “links Chadwick Manor to the bandits who attacked Penwood and our abbey. Indeed, if you would hear the testimony of this boy, he would tell you that one of the same bandits who attacked the abbey had also set fire to his poor manor at Hardonbury. The Scriptures tell us that through the mouths of babes the truth shall be revealed.”
The prior pointed proudly toward Xan, who bowed his head in embarrassment and whispered a prayer under his breath: Please help me see what I’m missing, God.
The prior was right: the seal on the parchment definitely connected Rummy to Chadwick Manor. And Rummy was the same bandit who’d burnt Hardonbury. That much was certain. Sire Roger’s report of the meeting between Brother Leo and Lord Godfrey had connected the monk to this manor, too, but Brother Leo had insisted that he’d never even been to Chadwick.
Xan himself had seen the evidence linking Brother Leo to the abbot’s attack. The robed assassin that Brother Lucius described coming from the abbot’s house was dressed just as the man Xan had seen walk into Brother Leo’s room. He’d seen the Shadow just before he’d gone back to the boys’ dorm, gotten into bed, and fallen fast asleep, only to be awakened by voices later.
Wait! That was the problem, wasn’t it? That’s what had been bothering him.
The prior had continued with his speech, explaining that Lord Godfrey had orchestrated all these attacks to expand the size of his estate. “This nobleman hoped that attacking with bandits would lead us to seek his protection and force us to settle the matter over Penwood. When that did not work, he conspired with Leo to harm our abbot and intimidate us into submission.”
At each new accusation, Godfrey turned redder and his eyes burned with a raging fire.
“And,” the prior said, “I have not yet come to the most damning proof, Sheriff. This final piece of evidence will prove the connection ’twixt your cousin and my monk from the mouth of one of his most trusted advisors.”
Lord Godfrey rose angrily. He had lost all appearance of nobility and now twitched as fury pounded through his veins. “I have heard enough!” he shouted. “This is an outrage!”
The powerful landlord stormed from behind his desk toward the prior.
Sire Roger also sprang up, running toward the door, perhaps to get a guard.
The prior stood his ground, bracing for a blow from the nobleman.
Xan leapt to his feet. “Wait!” he cried. “I know what really happened.”
22
Revelation
Something in the tone of Xan’s voice caused Lord Godfrey to halt his approach.
“What is it, child?” the prior said, his confident eyes shaken.
A long silence hung between them before Xan spoke again. His heart beat faster than even when he’d followed the Shadow across the granges. Unlike then, lives truly were at stake now.
“Prior, we are mistaken,” he said. “Lord Godfrey is innocent.”
The prior gasped. “What are you saying, boy? Is this some prank that you—?”
“Silence!” the sheriff ordered. “Let the boy speak.”
The prior flopped into his chair in humiliation.
Xan’s voice cracked when the words left his lips again. “Lord Godfrey is innocent. He doesn’t even know Brother Leo.”
The nobleman bobbed his grand forehead up and down. “’Tis true. Very true.”
“How could you possibly know that, child?” asked the sheriff.
“A few minutes ago,” Xan said. “Lord Godfrey referred to Brother Leo as a ‘young priest.’ But Brother Leo is really old. And he turned down the chance to become a priest three times.”
The prior stood. “Godfrey could be deceiving us, Xan—pretending not to know him.”
The sheriff glared at the priest, who sank back into his seat.
“So, you believe this monk acted alone in his attack?” the sheriff asked.
“Nay.” Xan hesitated. The poor prior would truly be shocked by his next words. “The truth is that Brother Leo also is innocent of these charges.”
The prior gawked in disbelief. “Both of them innocent? But you saw Brother Leo the night the abbot was attacked.”
“I saw Brother Leo,” Xan said, “but I did not see the man who attacked the abbot. The timing is all wrong. I went to bed after I saw Brother Leo go into his cell. The attack on the abbot came hours later—I woke when I heard voices. You had come to check on the boys, remember?”
“Of course,” the prior said. “Xan is correct. As soon as Brother Lucius saw the assassin, some of us rushed to the dormitory and convent to make sure the children were safe.”
“But maybe this Brother Leo went back out after you followed him to his cell,” the sheriff said. “What makes you so certain he stayed in his cell all night?”
“When I saw Brother Leo crossing the granges, he was moving slowly and limping, as though he were in pain. If he’d attacked the abbot, it would have needed to be earlier in the night, otherwise he never could have run away as quickly as Brother Lucius described.”
Brother Lucius raised his hand. “’Tis true! That assassin was fast on his feet.”
“So, ’twas not Brother Leo, praise God!” Brother Andrew said.
The prior pressed both hands against
his face in distress. “Lord have mercy! I have thrown an innocent monk into jail. Tell us, boy, who did it then? Who attacked our abbot?”
Xan shrugged. “Probably one of those bandits disguised as a monk. I heard their leader—the one named Carlo—say they’d come to target the abbot during that first attack, when they couldn’t find him. He must have come back to finish the job and get the reward that he mentioned.”
The prior stood again. “Reward from whom? There might not have been a conspiracy with Brother Leo, but surely Lord Godfrey paid those bandits to kill our abbot.”
Before the nobleman could take offense, Xan shook his head. “Nay, not him, prior.”
“But why not? Then who is guilty?”
Xan smiled. The evidence had come together in his mind just as Lord Godfrey had risen from his seat and rushed toward the prior. It had all made sense once he’d thought it through.
Lord Godfrey clearly didn’t know Brother Leo, so he’d never had a meeting with Brother Leo in Chadwick, as Sire Roger had claimed. There was no conspiracy between those two.
Perhaps Brother Leo had conspired with someone else—maybe Sire Roger. But nay, Roger had talked about Leo as a man of “polite speech.” No one had ever described the monk that way because it was entirely untrue. That could only mean that Roger didn’t know Brother Leo either.
So then why had Roger lied about the monk visiting Chadwick Manor?
Xan pointed toward the chairs where Lord Godfrey had been sitting.
“’Twas Sire Roger—your bailiff.”
“Roger?” said the sheriff, turning to the empty seat where the bailiff had been sitting. “Where has he gone?”
Xan scanned the room. The last time he’d seen Sire Roger, he’d been running for the door.
“He’s escaped!” Xan said.
Lord Godfrey seemed less certain. “Nay, he has probably gone to get the guards. How dare you accuse him of this crime. I demand evidence.”
Brother Andrew jumped to his feet. “I understand now! You will hear evidence from your bailiff’s own lips, Lord Godfrey. His words shall return to condemn him.”
Xan smiled at the monk. Brother Andrew had put the same pieces together and reached the same conclusion. “Aye. Sire Roger tricked me and Brother Andrew when we came to Chadwick on Sunday to see you.”
“Sunday?” said Lord Godfrey. “Roger never mentioned you were here on Sunday. I was in my study all afternoon; I would have met with you.”
“That’s when he tricked us. He made us think Brother Leo had come to Chadwick and met with you. That’s what made us think Brother Leo had been lying to us.”
“Roger said that?” Lord Godfrey said. “I never even heard Leo’s name ere this very day.”
“But your bailiff was too clever for his own good,” Brother Andrew said. “Roger did not foresee the abbey seeking to charge Leo in the royal courts. He simply assumed we would punish Leo at the abbey and that no one would ever uncover his lie to us.”
“Once we asked for the sheriff,” Xan said, “Sire Roger must have worried the truth would eventually come out. I think that’s why he’s run off just now, lord.”
The prior bowed low to Lord Godfrey. “My lord, I owe you the deepest apology. I have accused you falsely and brought shame upon my abbey. Can you ever forgive me?”
But the nobleman ignored the priest’s words. “Walter, ring the bell!”
The sheriff grabbed a golden bell on the desk and rang it. Guards entered from two doors.
“Where’s my bailiff?” Lord Godfrey shouted in a booming voice.
“He has left out the back gate, my lord,” a guard said. “Carrying a rather large chest, too.”
“After him!” the sheriff bellowed.
Guards scrambled for the exits. The back gate led to a horse stable. Roger had brought Xan and Brother Andrew that way last week on the way to the Hardonbury sanctuary area.
Xan sprinted to the back gate behind several guards in thick uniforms with heavy weapons. He easily passed them by in his leather shoes, wearing only a tunic and a pouch.
“Come back, Xan!” Brother Andrew shouted.
Nay, he would not stop the chase. There was no way he’d ever let that murderer escape, especially not with a chest filled with treasure. Sire Roger was the one responsible for the death of Mother and Father. He was the one behind the attack on the abbey and Penwood and the abbot.
As he ran, other memories flowed into his mind: running with his friends in the East Meadow of Hardonbury; running with the sheepdog along the paths; running with Mother in the cottage having a tickle fight; running with Father to see the sunrise on the hill.
He ran faster, pacing along the cobblestones.
To his delight, there was Sire Roger, just up ahead. Every peasant the bailiff had met had stopped to greet him with a bow. That and the heavy chest had slowed him down significantly.
That villain would never make it to his horse now.
“Stop, you murderer!” Xan shouted.
Sire Roger turned and saw him and dropped the chest to the floor. It tipped over, spilling coins and jewels on the path. The man stooped and picked up a leather pouch—probably stuffed with more treasure—and ran down the path that led to the Hardonbury villagers and the woodland.
Xan reached the sanctuary area seconds after Roger had entered it, climbing a low fence.
“Stop that man!” Xan hollered. “He’s a thief!”
A few of the Hardonbury villagers recognized Xan’s voice. They pounced on Sire Roger, knocking him to the ground. He kicked and screamed and cried, “Get off me, you stinky filth!”
When Xan came to the spot where Sire Roger lay pinned to the grass, the old woman they’d met last week marched over. She gave Xan a wave: “Good to see you again, Stephen.”
Then she bent down and gave Sire Roger a big sloppy kiss on his cheek. “That one’s for you, me grace,” she said, as he sputtered with revulsion.
Xan laughed, staring down at him, as Sire Roger glared back, helpless and pathetic.
“Smile while you can, boy,” the bailiff said, covering his nose from the smell. “You will cry again soon when your abbey is nothing but a fiery wasteland.”
Then the man gave a nasty cackle and threw up in the grass.
23
Battle
Bring that treacherous worm, Roger, to the sitting room with us,” Lord Godfrey commanded.
Xan had followed Sire Roger back to the manor house—two guards grasping the bailiff’s arms and dragging him along as he whined and complained while the peasants gawked at him.
“Xan, you are safe!” Brother Andrew rushed to embrace him.
“The abbey may be in danger, Brother!” Xan said, recounting Sire Roger’s threat.
He might not have all his memories yet—only a few had streamed to his mind, in fragments with no context—but one thing was certain: Harwood Abbey must not be harmed again.
Lord Godfrey towered over his bailiff, who dared not even raise his eyes to meet his lord.
“Tell us what you have done, Roger,” the nobleman said. “We have known each other since we were children. I trusted you with my very life. Why have you done this?”
Sire Roger said nothing, his slit eyes focused on the floor, his mustache frayed and filthy.
“I’ll bet he’s been stealing from you this whole time,” Xan said, drawing nearer. That feeling in Xan’s heart must have been hatred, pure and undivided. He should punch that murderous bailiff in the face for his crimes. He clenched his fists but held them back. “Lord,” he said. “Didn’t you say your manors were running low on resources?”
Godfrey nodded. “I thought it quite unusual.” He pulled out a dagger and placed it near Sire Roger’s lips. “Tell the truth now, Roger—every bit of it—and I might spare your tongue.”
The bailiff burst into tears, confessing between heaving moans that he’d been spending more than his share of the profits for years; that he’d nearly bankrupted the estate and needed
new manors to refill its coffers; that he’d hired bandits to force local manors into joining the estate.
“Curses and evil days,” the prior said. “This man will stop at nothing to satisfy his greed.”
“What about the abbey?” Xan said. Lord Godfrey’s dagger was close enough to reach. He could grab it from the lord’s hand and stab this filthy killer in the heart as he deserved.
“What time is it?” Roger muttered, his face so drawn with fatigue that he looked sickly.
“Why? What have you done, you villain?” the sheriff said, standing next to his cousin.
The bailiff broke down again, spitting out phrases between sobs: “Stubborn old abbot—refused to compromise—the abbey—bandits—burn it all—to the ground—Penwood and Oakwood would be ours—today—at sunset.”
Lord Godfrey rang the golden bell again and several guards appeared. “Gather the guards and saddle the horses! We ride this very hour!” he ordered. The men scrambled toward the stables to ready the journey.
Godfrey told the prior not to fear—that he soon would ride with three dozen guards, armed with bows and swords, to the defense of Harwood Abbey. “As soon as the preparations are complete, we will take to the road,” he said.
Sire Roger shook his head with genuine sorrow. “You will not make it in time, my lord.”
“Jude’s folly!” Brother Andrew slapped his robe and turned to Godfrey. “My lord, I need a fast steed immediately. Someone must get to the abbey and warn them ere ’tis too late!”
Lord Godfrey turned to a servant. “Bring Meadow out front to the monk this instant. Brother, he is our swiftest mount.”
The monk took Xan’s arm. “Come with me, my son. Prior, we will see you at the abbey.”
“Godspeed, Andrew,” the prior said, waving a hand of blessing over them. Then he turned to Xan and nodded. “A remarkable boy, just as the abbot said.”
Brother Lucius made the Sign of the Cross and bid them good fortune.
Xan and Brother Andrew followed a servant around the side of the manor house, where guards in shirts of chain mail were already saddling their burly horses, brown and white.
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