The old man's blue eyes sparked with wicked amusement as his brows lifted. "I vow to you that the fear of having Raymond as his heir is what sparked Old Dickie's inspiration. He told Raymond that he could have everything he wanted after a year and a day, but only if Raymond met Old Dickie's conditions. He demanded that Raymond spend every day of the next year working at the wheel save Sundays, holy days, our ale days, and those days when he was required to work in the fields. Old Dickie warned that if Raymond missed so much as an hour of labor, he'd be evicted from their home, and Juliana would be disinherited. "As you might well guess, sir, Raymond wasn't having that. Thwarted, he ran from Mancetter. For the fortnight or so that he was gone, Averet was crazy with fear and grief. When Raymond returned, he was wearing another man's cloak, and carrying a haunch of some forest meat."
Shaking his forefinger, Heyward leaned closer to Faucon. "Others will tell you that this is how Raymond chose to support his son, by bringing meat to his wife's household. I know better. Becoming a thief and a poacher was how Raymond meant to punish his father for forcing him to handfast with Juliana. Averet, who was ailing by then, fretted terribly that the boy he loved best would lose his life for his crimes, which was rightly what happened."
Having offered his opinion, the oldster continued with his tale. "Then, just as the end of that year approached, Raymond left Mancetter not to return for almost a full year. That gave Old Dickie the right to terminate his daughter's betrothal to Raymond. He came to all of us who had witnessed the handfast and we agreed with him, that Raymond had abandoned his wife and child. It was at that same time that Old Dickie invited Waddard into his home as his apprentice."
Heyward looked toward the altar, at the corner where Juliana slept. "I'm not certain which Waddard wanted more, the security and income that Old Dickie's wheel represented for him, or the possibility that he might one day call Juliana his wife. I think he'd had his eye on her from an early age. Not that Juliana wanted him. Our Lord knows well enough that after what Raymond had done to her, Juliana didn't want any man. Well, any man save that boy of hers.
"Despite how he—" again, a jerk of Heyward's head indicated Dickie's corpse "—was made, she loved her son more than anything in this world.
"When Raymond once again deigned to visit us almost a year later, he was livid to discover Waddard residing in what he thought of as his home. He demanded that Old Dickie wed Juliana to him. No matter that Raymond didn't want his wife or son, he didn't want any other man near them either. That was Raymond, the sort who'd break a tool rather than let anyone else use it," he said on a harsh breath.
"But Old Dickie didn't flinch, not even when Raymond threatened violence. He told Raymond that all of us in Mancetter had agreed that he'd forfeited his rights to Juliana and Young Dickie. Old Dickie then told Raymond that if he wished to complain, he'd have to do it to the sheriff or the monks at the manor house. Those were two things that Raymond dared not do by then, not given the trade he'd chosen to ply. Thwarted, that vicious ass vowed there and then to kill Juliana and his son if she dared to wed with another man."
Again the old man fell silent. This time, as he lost himself in the past, his gaze drifted toward the darkened arch of the doorway across the church. He sighed. "And didn't Raymond reappear the day after Juliana finally traded vows with Waddard? He did his best to tear down the walls of their cottage, trying to reach and destroy what he still thought of as his."
"Alive or dead?" Faucon asked swiftly.
The old man shot him a startled look. "Why, dead of course. One of the merchants who comes through here regularly, one who has known and dealt with both Old Dickie and Waddard, brought the news six months before Waddard and Juliana were wed. He said he'd seen Raymond hanged for his crimes with his own eyes. I think he said it happened at Killingworth, the sheriff's castle."
Heyward shook his head. "As I told you, the dead Raymond was no different from the living man."
"Did anyone witness the corpse tearing at their walls?" Faucon wanted to know.
"There were those among us who heard the commotion, but most of us had only just then found our beds. By the time anyone realized something serious was afoot, the sun had arisen and the corpse was gone. Still, we could all see the damage Raymond had done to their home," Waddard said.
"Thus," the old man continued, "Raymond having found his way home after death, has returned once again to do what the man had done in life, seek to frighten and belittle us. He makes his way through Mancetter again and again because it pleases him to persecute those he thinks of as beneath him.
"This is why I know that Raymond killed Dickie," Heyward told him, his tale circling around to its end, "doing so for no other reason than to hurt Juliana. As Aldo told you, Raymond had been bewitching Dickie, seeking to lure his son close enough to steal Dickie's life. That he has at last succeeded should surprise no one, especially because his attack happened at this time of the year."
Faucon frowned at the old man. "What has this time of year to do with Dickie's death?"
Heyward sent his Crowner a disbelieving look. "From whence do you hail?"
"Essex, in the east," Faucon replied, "although I'll someday inherit land here in Arden through my lady mother."
"Well then, since you'll one day be a neighbor, let me be the first to warn you. This is the time of year when Herla and his army marches on Watling Street. When those immortals ride in their Wild Hunt, all the dead become uneasy in their graves, while those like Raymond, who have the ability to move, become even more powerful," he informed his Norman better.
A thrill of fear shot through Faucon only to be followed by a rush of curiosity. "I think I would like to see that army on the Street," he murmured.
Shock dashed across Heyward's face. "You would not! Although I was just a boy the one and only time I saw that ghostly army, I'll never forget so much as a horrible instant of it. One of the marchers looked at me as he rode past. His eyes were as black and empty as the night. I tell you, my blood ran cold!"
That did nothing to quench Faucon's growing desire to bear witness to the riding dead. He brought the old man back to his task. "Did you ever hear Dickie talk about his father calling for him?"
Heyward blinked as he thought. "Well, I'd be lying if I said that boy and I had the occasion to speak much. But my son said that Nan, that's my son's wife, had heard from Bett's cousin that Tibby had told Bett that when Dickie heard his father's voice he became like one who walks while lost in sleep, with no will of his own. Tibby said that while Dickie was in that state, he had no choice but to do whatever Raymond bade him. According to Nan, Tibby also swore to her mother that Dickie was under Raymond's evil influence when he tore great holes in Aldo's home just a few days ago.
"That made sense to me," the old man added, his eyes alight again with the pleasure of one who loves to tell a tale. "Such a deed would have pleased and amused Raymond, satisfying his need for cruelty. He drove his own son to ruin what his older brother loved, while also causing Waddard to have to empty his purse to repair the damage."
Again, Heyward glanced in the direction of the sleeping Juliana. "Aldo told me that Juliana was beyond rage when she learned what Dickie had done to our smith's house. Aldo said if he hadn't seen her for himself, he wouldn't have believed she could get that angry. He says Juliana asked him to send for the sheriff. She wanted to let Sir Alain take Dickie to his gaol so he could rot and die there, just as his father had."
The old man gave a lift of his shoulders. "Or so Aldo told me. But knowing Juliana, like as not she'd have thought the better of her threat before long, so great was her love for that boy. Instead, Waddard intervened. He begged his wife to relent. He said it wasn't fair to punish Dickie when it was Raymond's fault, having bewitched him. And we who are his neighbors had to agree with him."
Faucon turned this piece of Heyward's tale over in his mind. For certain, this explained Juliana's reaction to Waddard this evening. The husband she had never really wanted had stepped bet
ween her and a boy she thought of as hers alone.
Just then the distant rumble of male voices echoed into the nave. Faucon shifted to look at the church door. Torchlight flickered and bobbed in what he could see of the churchyard framed in that opening, the light coming steadily in the direction of the doorway.
"It seems your reeve and neighbors arrive for our vigil," Faucon told Heyward.
"Do they now?" Heyward replied, an eager note in his voice. "Help me up then, sir, if you don't mind."
Faucon came to his feet, then offered the oldster his hand. By the time Heyward stood upright, the first man had entered the church. It was Watt, the heavy-set villager who had joined Heyward and Mancetter's reeve in confronting their Crowner prior to sunset. Dark of hair, his graying beard reaching the center of his chest, he wore a green tunic and red chausses. Like Heyward, he brought straw caught in a thick blanket over his shoulder, with a large, stoppered jug caught in the crook of his other arm. The clay vessel was the same color and style as the pitcher Godin had used to serve his cider. Watt's wide grin and easy nod of greeting to Heyward and an unknown knight belied any fears he might be harboring over what might happen in the coming hours.
Entering on Watt's heels was Tom, the slightest and youngest of the men who had earlier stood with Aldo. Wearing a tunic and chausses in mismatched shades of blue beneath his brown cloak, Tom's round face was framed by his thinning fair hair and a patchy beard. Like Watt, his expression was alive with anticipation rather than dread. He bore a basket in one arm and a woven hempen sack in his other hand. Whatever that sack contained was large and round, and heavy, for it strained at the weave.
Faucon didn't recognize the two men who followed. Both were tall and thin, with dark hair and beards. Their long faces and narrow features were similar enough to proclaim kinship. One carried a jug in one hand and more blanketed straw over the other shoulder. The other held a torch in each hand. Both torches smoldered and shed dirt, saying the man had sought to smother them just before entering.
"Bertie! Is that your plum wine in that jug?" Heyward called out with a laugh.
That had the man carrying the jug grinning. "You know it is, Heyward. When Gervis here—" the movement of Bertie's head indicated his torch-bearing kinsman— "said Watt would be bringing his swill, I decided I'd come with something decent to drink or the night would drag."
Edmund stood up on the other side of the altar. Exasperation filled his face. "I think I'll go to the priest's house. Perhaps he has a prie-dieu I can use," he told his employer
"Of course," Faucon said. "Return when you will, or I'll send for you if you're needed."
As Edmund departed through the sacristy door, Mancetter's reeve entered the church behind Bertie and Gervis. The big man had thrown a cloak over his shoulders to ward off the cold during their vigil. Rather than baskets or jugs, he carried a goodly length of rope and folded hempen sacking.
As Aldo saw the old man standing next to Faucon, he stopped short. "Heyward, what are you doing here?" There was a hard edge to his voice.
"Waiting for all of you to arrive," the old man called back, as if startled by the question.
That had the smith striding swiftly up the nave. He made his way around the four men who had entered ahead of him— they'd stopped to gawk at Dickie's corpse leaning against the back wall— without a glance in the direction of his dead nephew. Nor did he look at the sleeping Juliana even as he stepped carefully around her.
"I thought we agreed you'd stay away from the church tonight," Aldo said to Heyward, as he halted in front of Faucon and the old man.
Eyes narrowed, the oldster crossed his arms. "Well Aldo, I recall that you mentioned something of that nature. But I doubt I agreed. Had I, then I expect I wouldn't be here, would I?" he told his reeve sarcastically.
That had Faucon's brows rising. Despite the faith Heyward claimed he and his neighbors put in their reeve, Aldo clearly ruled the unruly.
Heyward's comment stirred the other men back into motion. After depositing their burdens in the back corner they came to stand with their reeve. "Why would you want to keep Heyward away, Aldo?" Tom asked for the rest.
Aldo's gaze flickered to Faucon. Faucon's brows rose in understanding. The reeve had proclaimed himself the one man in this village who knew exactly what its folk would and would not do. He'd commanded Heyward away because he knew all too well that the garrulous old man would come to the church ready to spill all he knew. But Faucon had heard nothing unexpected in the old man's story. That had him wondering what Aldo feared Heyward might say.
"Because we'll be here until dawn, Watt," Aldo said to the heavy-set man, "and Heyward will likely want to depart come midnight. Which of you wants to walk him home, knowing that you must then walk back here alone in the dark of night?"
"Why would I leave before dawn?" Heyward protested indignantly. "Am I not a man like the rest of you, and just as capable of taking part in this vigil? As for needing an escort to my house, I'm not a doddering idiot. I daresay that from here I could find my way to my door on a moonless night during a gale, neither of which plagues us tonight."
"And who will protect you if Raymond attacks?" Aldo shot back.
Although the old man's chin lifted and his arms remained tightly crossed in front of him, his brow folded in confusion. "Why should any of us fear Raymond now? You said it yourself, Aldo. Your brother finally has what he's always wanted, his son's soul and Juliana's broken heart." Heyward aimed the jerk of his head in the direction of Dickie's mother. "What reason has Raymond to return to Mancetter now, much less bother me?"
"I was wrong to say that," Aldo retorted. "Now that I've had time to think about it, I see that Raymond instead intends to redouble his efforts to destroy us. That's why he killed Dickie. He'll call his son to his side. With both of them sharing a hatred for us and our home, they may well succeed!"
Heyward gaped at his reeve in astonishment. His neighbors all shifted so they could better see their smith. Surprise and confusion marked every man's face.
Outrage drained from the old man. His arms opened. "Aldo, this isn't like you. What's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong. I'm simply trying to protect all of us from further harm." Although the reeve's voice was firm, there was a strained edge to his words.
"But that's why we're here tonight, isn't it?" the man Bertie asked, rearranging his grip on his jug of wine as he spoke. "It's on us to see that Dickie doesn't escape these walls, not just to protect us from him, but to see that he doesn't flee to where his father might wait for him. Because we're here, they'll never be able to join forces."
"Isn't that the very purpose for bringing your rope and those sacks of yours?" added Gervis, the plainer of the two tall men, the one still holding the smoldering torches. "We're to bind and blind the boy so he can't escape."
"Well said," Heyward replied to the two men with a nod. "And Aldo, know that if by some evil miracle Dickie does elude all our attempts to hold him here, this knight—" he pointed to Faucon "—stands ready to do exactly what we intended earlier. He'll dismember the boy in our church, then on the morrow fetch Merevale's abbot to come to weigh the lad down in his grave with the proper prayers."
"So I have vowed," Faucon offered, stepping into the fray for no other reason than to further provoke the embattled reeve.
His English words won startled looks from Bertie and Gervis. He nodded to them. "I am Sir Faucon de Ramis, our king's new servant and Keeper of the Pleas in this shire. Although I came to Mancetter to determine who killed Dickie and call the jury to confirm the name of his murderer, I vowed to Abbot Henry of Merevale that I would also hunt down Raymond, dismember him, then return him to a grave where he will remain eternally confined."
"So you see," Heyward said as Faucon fell silent, "if Raymond has any sense left in that rotted skull of his, he'll never again set foot within our bounds."
Grateful astonishment filled the faces of all Heyward's neighbors save Aldo. "God bless you, sir, for o
ffering to do this for us," Tom cried.
The reeve loosed a scornful breath. "Tom, what makes you think this knight will have any more luck than we in finding Raymond's lair?" he chided harshly.
"How hard can he be to find?" Faucon asked, glancing at the men around him. "I'm told the corpse moves more slowly than a merchant's wagon. At that speed he should be easy to track, even in the dark."
"But sir, he uses magic to escape anyone who tries to follow him," said Watt. "What was it, Aldo, about two months ago that you, Bertie, and Gervis trailed that cursed creature as he left Mancetter?"
"So we did," Bertie said, leaping in to play his role in a cherished tale. "He remained right in front of us as we walked the track, then turned to enter our western field. Of a sudden he began to move much faster, then just like that—" he lifted his hands the way Godin had earlier done to demonstrate how Raymond had disappeared, "—the earth swallowed him up."
Gervis nodded. "Aye, and didn't we walk in circles for a goodly while looking for him? Yet we found not a trace. It happened so quickly. One instant he was right in front of us. The next, he was gone."
"Did you find any trail or sign of his passage when you returned the next day to where you'd last seen him?" Faucon asked the man.
Both Bertie and Gervis stared blankly at their Crowner for an instant. That made them look all the more alike. "We didn't return to the field the next day," Bertie said after a moment, then looked at his reeve. "Aldo, why didn't we think to go back the next day to search?"
"What could we have found?" Aldo snapped, his brows lowered and his mouth curved downward. "Raymond disappeared in the middle of a field that had been walked by every man and beast in Mancetter."
"Aldo, why are you acting this way?" Watt asked.
"What way?" Aldo snarled like a cornered wolf.
"Like the ass end of an ox," Heyward retorted. "By the bye, not only are you behaving like an ass, but there's something wrong with your eyes. You said that you saw terror on Dickie's face when you found his dead body in your smithy. Well, I looked at him. There's nothing in his expression that speaks of terror."
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