"Jes said Meg was very angry when she finally returned, that being after it was full dark, as I said, sir," Gawne went on. "When Meg learned what had happened to her loaves, she took her fists and a switch to Jes, beating her to drawing blood."
Alf's brows rose at that. Faucon released a breath of sour amusement. It didn't surprise him that the bakestress had lied about the reason she'd beaten her ward. No thief wanted to admit that another thief had stolen from her.
"Well done. That helps me greatly," he told the boy. "Now with that same inner eye trained on the unusual, think of this place. Was there anything here that stands out to you when you came upon Jes that morning?"
The boy frowned in thought. After a moment, he gave a helpless shake of his head. "I saw nothing but Jes, dead." Moisture again filled his eyes.
It was what Faucon expected to hear. Sitting back on his heels, he again scanned the area where Jessimond had breathed her last, gauging how far her fingertips might have reached and all the possible positions in which her arms might have come to rest. With that in mind, he began to gently and carefully scour the grasses.
"What do you seek?" Alf asked.
"Threads, scraps of clothing, hair," Faucon replied without moving his gaze from the ground he explored. "Something the child might have torn from the one who killed her as she struggled to preserve her life."
Nodding, Alf leaned to the opposite side and did the same. Gawne watched. In that moment the only sounds were the continuing raucous call of departing swans and geese, Johnnie's quiet huffs as he rocked his sister and the sibilant sound of Edmund whispering his prayers.
Just as Faucon was ready to admit defeat, he found what he sought. A tiny knot of white threads clung to the frond of a fern. But when he leaned forward to retrieve them, he stretched farther than he expected. With the threads pinched between his fingers, he sat back on his heels, staring at them in disappointment.
Alf sat back as well and watched him. "They don't help?" the soldier asked.
"They do, but not the way I'd hoped," Faucon replied, still shuffling the last of his loose pieces only to discover there was no space for them. That brought his attention back on Gawne. "Lad, your father says he offered to take Jessimond into your home."
"Too late," Gawne cried softly. "Jes was already dead when Da said those words."
"Had you spoken to him about Jessimond before that time?"
"Aye, only always," the boy retorted in frustration. "I'd asked and asked, telling him how cruel Meg was to her and to Johnnie. And I'm not the only one who asked. Last month, some of our neighbors came to Da. They demanded that he take me to the forge, to keep them from having to tend me. They told Da it wasn't fair that he was shirking his duty to me. Then they warned him that if Odger fined them because of me and Jes, they'd see to it that Da paid the whole amount. Then my older brother said that he should marry Jes and settle the issue."
He paused to draw a breath and scrub at his face again with his sleeve as his lips curved into a ghost of a smile. "I think Dob liked Jes and I know she thought him handsome. Even though Da said that their union would surely resolve the issue, he never spoke to our bailiff." The boy shook his head and gave a sad hiccough. "He still misses Ma and I don't think he can bear the thought of another woman in our house."
Nodding to acknowledge the lad's words, Faucon pried open his purse. As he stored the bits of thread into the leather pouch, his thoughts wove and knotted until they were as tangled as the threads.
Pulling the drawstrings to close his purse, he again looked at Gawne. "Did you tell Amelyn any of what Dob and your father planned?" he asked gently.
The boy offered a tiny shrug. "She was grieving so. I thought it would make her heart easier to know that Dob would have taken Jessimond even if she had no dowry and was a bastard."
"You are a kind and honest lad, Gawne," Faucon said with a slow smile. "I pray you carry those traits into your manhood. Now, I must ask you to remain here with Jessimond and Amelyn for a while longer."
The boy's gaze shifted uneasily to Johnnie and the leper's corpse. What little color had returned to his face began to fade. "By myself?" he whispered.
"Nay, not at all," Faucon laughed. "This is my man-at-arms, Alf," he continued, presenting the soldier to the boy. "He'll stay with you. When the time comes for the inquest, I'll fetch you or send Hew to you in my stead. Only then will you return to Wike, with Alf to carry Jessimond's body for you this time," he offered with a smile.
Alf heard his cue. "We'll do well enough here, lad," the soldier said. "I wager you've got a trap or two, haven't you? I know I did as a child. Do you think there'd be anything in them? I have flint and tinder," he coaxed, touching the purse that hung from his belt as he smiled at Gawne. "I'm not from this area. Are there many stones around here? Perhaps we can begin building a cairn over the leper while we wait for your Crowner's call to return. Do you think we can get her brother to help us?"
It was more than a distraction the Englishman offered the boy, but a kindness as well. There was no point in taking Amelyn elsewhere for burial. No church in the world would have her, not when she was a leper who'd taken her own life.
"Maybe you can find enough stones for two cairns," Faucon said, sending a grateful smile Alf's way. "I think mother and daughter should stay here together."
Gawne shot a startled look at his Crowner, then released his breath in a slow, pleased stream. Although his smile was tenuous, it was filled with gratitude. "Aye, that would please them both, I think."
Then the boy looked at Alf. "I do have traps, and I'd very much like to eat," he said shyly.
To Faucon's complete astonishment, when he told his clerk he was leaving the glade to seek out Hew, Edmund announced that he would stay to help the boy and soldier gather stones for Amelyn's cairn. Faucon couldn't have been more pleased. He needed quiet time with his thoughts, to sift through what he knew and pluck out what was yet missing. And time to ease his soul over what Amelyn had done.
There was no better way to achieve what he needed than a solitary walk in the woods, especially on a beautiful autumn morning. As he strode along, following Gawne's thorough instructions on how to reach the monks' hogscotes, his passage scared up partridges. Overhead, what had been but the occasional flock of geese or swans earlier this morning had become an exodus. The birds filled the air, arrow-shaped flock after flock. Their harsh and constant chatter drowned out the gentler sounds of field and forest.
Of a sudden, the yearling roebuck Faucon had been eying raised his head. The little creature's ears shifted as he looked behind him, away from the oncoming man. Then the buck sprang into motion, leaping out of the grassy area by hasty bounds. Only then did Faucon hear the grunting and shuffling of the hogs over the noise from above him. That had him grinning. Gawne did, indeed, know these woods well.
"Brothers! Watch your hogs. I'm coming to you," Faucon called out, even though he hadn't yet caught a glimpse of the monks or the vicious creatures they herded. The last thing he wanted was to startle the unpredictable beasts when he had no spear or bow to defend against them.
"Hold a moment," a man called in return, then three sets of sharp whistles pierced the air. Hogs squealed and grunted as they were driven back from the path. As the porcine complaints died into something less displeased, the same man shouted, "Come now. It's safe."
Faucon pressed forward on the path, his hand still on his sword, just in case. There was no need. Three monks stood far off the path, their crooks lowered crosswise at their knees. That created a makeshift barrier meant to deter any of the long, lean and deadly creatures they tended from charging a stranger. Their barrier appeared unnecessary at the moment. The hogs, only the sows the monks had kept to provide next year's meat, had their backs to Faucon and the path, their snouts deep in the earth. That soil flew suggested they'd given up nuts for grubs or mushrooms.
"Sir Faucon!" It was the shortest of the monks who greeted him, the novice who had carried his message to the anch
orite this morning. "What are you doing here in this wild place?"
"Looking for Hew of Wike," Faucon replied.
That made all three monks eye him in surprise. One of the two taller brothers replied. "So it's you he waits for, not the leper. Walk on another quarter mile or so and you'll find our cotes and Hew."
Faucon nodded his thanks and started forward only to pause. "Tell me, have you seen anything or anyone here in the woods that struck you as odd over this past week?"
"Nay, nothing, not since the headman of Wike came out to rail at us for letting Hew sleep in our shelter near the cotes," the tall monk called back, shaking his head in disgust over Odger.
"What about that woman the other morning, the one who'd lost her way in the woods? She was bruised and dirty," the novice asked, looking at his brother as the third monk turned his back to the knight to keep his eye on the hogs.
"That vile woman? She lost her way long before last week," the tall brother scoffed. "I don't think our new Coronarius is asking about Alcester's procuress returning home from here, looking the worse for wear. He's not interested in whores and their sins," he replied.
With that, another of the few loose pieces Faucon yet held within him found its home. It hadn't been Gawne who told Hew that Jessimond had fled to meet a stranger. He grinned and lifted a hand. "On the contrary, that's exactly what I meant. Thank you, brothers. Enjoy this glorious day!"
It was just a bit longer before he entered a wide clearing. Most of it was caught inside a fence made of branches woven around upright posts. The earth within that enclosure was naught but a sea of reddish mud, nary a blade of grass to be seen. Such was the destruction hogs wreaked, and the reason Odger feared for Wike's fields.
Basking in the sun was the boar who serviced the monks' sows. The brute had already eaten what he liked from the pile of kitchen leavings, no doubt brought by the monks from their abbey kitchen. The boar lazed in front of the larger of the three cotes within the enclosure. The structures that housed the hogs were triangular in shape and made of lashed wooden walls with thatched roofs that extended all the way to the torn earth. A single large hatch, leather straps serving for hinges and clasp, in the front of each structure offered the hogs access into their shelters.
As Faucon rounded the corner of the enclosure he found Hew. The old man sat with his back to the fence, a wooden mallet in one hand and a freshly crushed nut before him. In the basket at his left was a diminishing pile of whole walnuts while the basket to his right held a growing pile of shelled nut meat.
The old man looked up and offered an almost toothless grin. "Sir! Good morrow to you."
"And to you," Faucon replied, halting beside the rustic and offering a hand to aid Hew in rising. "Although I fear this morning is not a good one. We found Amelyn with Jessimond in the woods."
"So I know," Hew replied quickly as he regained his feet and then his balance. "After you departed, she insisted on taking Jessimond back to their hidden spot. She had me find her something to use as Jessimond's winding sheet, then schooled Johnnie carefully so he would bring you to her when you arrived in Wike this morning."
"Then you didn't realize what she intended," Faucon said gently.
"What did she—" the old man started, then his wild brows rose high upon his creased forehead. His mouth opened but no word issued. His expression sagged.
"Nay," the rustic pleaded at a whisper.
"I fear so," Faucon replied, once more mourning for Amelyn.
As swiftly as guilt bent the rustic's shoulders, anger followed. "May God take Odger! He is the cause of this," Hew shouted. "Call him to the inquest, sir! Let me tell the folk of Wike that they keep a rapist as their headman, even if he doesn't prove to be the man who sired Jessimond. Then I'll accuse him of Amelyn's death, for if Odger had not taken vengeance against her on that long ago day, she would yet live, whole and healthy!" he raged, beating at his breast with his palm since his stiff, misshapen fingers wouldn't close to make a fist.
Fearing the old man might break frail bones if he continued, Faucon caught his wrist. "So it shall be done," he promised Hew, "but in doing so I must break my promise to you. I can no longer guarantee you the murdrum fine."
"What care I for that?" Hew cried out, straining at his Crowner's hold. Tears filled his eyes. "Just know that if you leave and Odger has not paid for what he's done, I will find a way to end his life, this I vow. When he's cold, bring the hangman for me if you dare!"
That had Faucon grinning. He released the old man's arm. "There'll be no need for your sacrifice, Hew. You have my word on it," he told the man and meant it. That part of this sordid tale was clear enough.
"As for Amelyn and her daughter, my clerk and my new man-at-arms are in the glade with Gawne and Johnnie. The four gather stones to build a cairn for Amelyn. It's my thought that after the inquest is complete, Jessimond should be returned to her mother's side to take her final rest."
Hew released a breath at that, yet struggling to tame his emotions. At last, he nodded. "Aye, Amelyn would like that very much, sir. Indeed, I think it's what must be done if we're to keep her from joining those haunts who already walk within these woods. So great was her love that I doubt even death is enough to stop her from seeking out her precious babe if we try to part them."
"Just so," Faucon agreed with a nod. "Now, if you're calm, I need you to think back over the week just past. You said yesterday that Jessimond had fled the kitchen to meet with a stranger. Now, the monks tell me they saw a whore, the mistress of a stew in Alcester, enter the woods a few days ago."
This shift of subject had the old man blinking in surprise. "There's only one brothel in Alcester. Was this bawd big for a woman and broad?"
"That I cannot say. The monks didn't describe her," Faucon replied with a shrug.
"But I do know what she looks like," Hew shot back, his voice rising in excitement, "and I did see such a form moving through the woods on the night Jes died! I never would have thought it was the bawd. I'd been delayed in Wike until well past dark that night. My family was celebrating my older son's saint day. After passing through the hatch to enter the forest, I heard movement. When I glanced toward the sound I gave thanks because the one who moved away from me on that path was very much alive. No haunt carries living flame."
Here, Hew paused to release a harsh breath. "Would that I'd known then that Jes had fled the kitchen. I would have followed instead of hurrying off in the opposite direction, fearing for my own safety."
"How could you have known it was this bawd in the dark?" Faucon asked.
"You are right to ask that question," Hew replied, "but I am certain even though the night was dim, what with the moon but a sliver. This one held the lamp in front of her whilst her back was to me, but hadn't I seen this exact form before and only recently, one not so tall but broad? It's you telling me that the monks saw the bawd that convinces me. So too does this convince me of what Meg must have done. She sold Jes to the bawd," the rustic insisted. "Didn't she tell us all the day after Jessimond left the kitchen that the lass had run to Alcester to whore? Sir, at last it makes sense," the old man almost pleaded.
"If Meg had sold the girl, then Jessimond would be whoring in Alcester, not dead," Faucon replied with a shake of his head. "Instead, tell me why you think the procuress would even know to seek out Amelyn's daughter."
"Because of what she said to Amelyn last month," the old man said swiftly. "I didn't think whores were even allowed in at the abbey, but when the woman walked past Amelyn along with all the other townsfolk who'd come for Prime service, she stared at us. I could see that even with Amelyn hooded and cloaked, the whore knew who she was. And I could tell that the two liked each other naught at all. If the bawd came for the service, she didn't stay until it was done. Instead, just a short while later she was again on the path, returning to the Street. This time, she stopped in front of Amelyn and said that she would finally receive full repayment for what she'd lent her."
Shock tore thr
ough Faucon. The pieces within him rearranged one more time, doing so at their will. When they came to rest, he couldn't bear to look upon the image they created.
Reeling as surprise gave way to all-consuming rage, Faucon turned to stare in the direction of Wike. Question piled atop question, but none of them would lead him to the certainty he craved, not now that Amelyn was gone. Yet, among them was one question that had a certain answer. Amelyn hadn't spent her life because of grief, but to shield another from the ultimate hurt.
To Hew, he said, "Odger has taken all of Wike into the forest to collect wood."
"Aye, so I know, sir," the old man replied, his voice muted and his head bowed. "They're a mile or so from here. My grandson came earlier this morn to bring me these nuts, something to occupy my hands while I awaited you."
"Will you carry a message to them for me?"
"Aye, that I can do, sir," the rustic replied, his voice still subdued and his neck bent in a position of humility, one that ill fit him. "What would you have me say to Odger when I find them, sir?"
Only then did Faucon realize that his rage had driven him for his sword. His fingers were clenched around the pommel as if he meant to draw it. Releasing his weapon, he brought his arm back to his side, battling for calm. Overhead, the sun said it was yet an hour or so before midday.
"You'll tell Odger that I will hold the inquest at the hour of None. Make sure he knows how enraged I am by his defiance. Tell him that I will see him fined for what he's dared, then say that the amount of my fine will increase should he delay the return of your folk to Wike. If he asks about Jessimond, you'll say that I have her body and no more. Nor will you mention that Amelyn is dead."
"As you will, sir," Hew agreed, still not daring to raise his head to look directly at his Crowner.
"Many thanks," Faucon said brusquely, then whirled, returning to the path that led to Alcester, all the joy gone from his day.
"Brother Henricus, I am Sir Faucon de Ramis, newly appointed Coronarius and Keeper of the Pleas for this shire. As is my duty, I am investigating the death of Jessimond, daughter of Amelyn the Leper," Faucon said in introduction to the island abbey's diseased anchorite.
Lost Innocents (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 3) Page 17