by J. R. Tomlin
He hummed faintly under his breath. Perhaps he should follow the murderer’s path out the back window.
Sergeant Meldrum stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned in a circle, examining the fireless hearth, the tapestry-draped wall, the fallen chair, the bloody floor, and lastly, the body. “There is something wrong with a man finding so many bodies. Something suspicious, it seems to me.”
Law rubbed a hand over his short beard. “I cannae say I enjoy it.”
“Do not play games with me. Did you kill him?”
The tall, barrel-chested man was a menacing figure as he dropped his hand onto his sword and glared at Law.
“He was already dying when he stepped out the door.”
Meldrum looked thoughtfully toward that same door. “Yet he is inside.”
“I could have left the body in the doorway whilst I found you, but do you think anything would have been left by the time we returned?”
The sergeant grunted what might have been assent. “Then what, by all the saints, were you doing here?”
“A man named Carre—” He thrust his chin toward the body. “—who I think is probably this lad’s father, had his guards escort me here. I was less than a voluntary guest. He said he had hired de Carnea to buy some goods for him, but de Carnea or whoever killed him stole them. Because I was at the inquest, he seemed to think I would know something about what had happened to his property.”
“Carre. That is an English name. So it’s the one you told me about.”
“Aye. Carre is a Sassenach right enough. I didn’t meet the son, if son he was, but I saw him leaving the house later.” Law shrugged at Meldrum’s raised eyebrows. “He obviously kent more about de Carnea than I, so I kept watch. Today the house seemed empty. I decided to check again about dusk. Besides, I’ve been looking for the lot of them to see if I could trick them into telling me more and thought they might be here. But there was candlelight but no one moving about. Then the door opened. He tried to speak but…” Law shrugged again. “He was already dying.”
Meldrum crossed his arms and stared pensively at the body. “Stabbed, then.”
“Twice. And look.” He lifted one of the hands and showed the palms.
Looking puzzled, Meldrum said, “That shows nothing.”
“No, it shows something. It shows that he made no attempt to fend off the attack.” He dropped the hand and pointed to the bloodstain next to the chair. “But he must have been standing over there when it happened. He probably knocked the chair over when he fell. You see.” He pointed to the puddle of darkening, congealing blood. “That’s where most of the blood is. He must have lain here for a short time.”
“But he was still alive when you found him. Why not finish him off if he wasnae defending himself ? By that time, he must nae have been in no shape to.”
Law shook his head. “Mayhap the attacker saw no point in it since he was dying. Or mayhap he heard something and decided to flee.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I must have been just outside. I didnae knock, but he could have heard my footsteps.”
Meldrum prodded Law in the chest with a forefinger and said through gritted teeth, “I shall nae take the blame for the burgh being fallen into lawlessness no more than the Lord Sheriff will.”
Law looked at the cold body lying on the floor. “Will Sir William hold the inquest on the morrow?”
“I’ll suggest he wait a day. By then, you’d best name the murderer…” He left the rest unsaid, but Law understood exactly what he meant.
Law suppressed a groan at the comment. Another inquest would push the sheriff to action, and Law had lost himself a few days of grace to prove who the killer was.
Half an hour later, Law sank down onto a bench against a wall in Cullen’s tavern. He looked over the smoky room filled with revelers and those quietly bent over their cups while others slurped down a bowl of Mall’s pottage. Cormac was singing, and some of the men were slapping their hands on the table in time with it. It all had a warm and comforting feel after an evening spent standing over the body of a dead youth. He watched Cormac tuck the harp between his knees and pluck at the strings so that they sounded bell-like, pure and sweet. Such beauty always seemed strange in such a low place.
One of the people he was involved with was a cold-blooded killer. He’d done more than a few to death but always in the heat of battle, yet he could not fathom slaughtering someone who had no chance to defend himself. The lad had not even had a dagger in his belt. Who had done it? And why? No one would have thought that the youth had the cross that everyone was seeking. Law could turn them all over to the sheriff and say they were all in it, but he couldn’t send them to the gallows without at least trying to find out the truth.
Cormac finished his song and came over to sit across the table, smiling. “Welcome home,” he said. “Wulle is in a lather that I haven’t played enough the last few days, so I can only stop for a trice.”
Law twitched the corner of his mouth into a grin and nodded his understanding.
“Did you find them?”
“No.” Law took a quick glance around, but no one appeared to be listening. “I found something else. Another body stabbed with a dagger the same as the others.”
Cormac slumped, plunging his hands into his red hair. “Another one? Cannae you just…just forget this whole thing before I find you dead as well?”
“You ken that isn’t possible. The lord sheriff would not let me. And Duncan saved my life even if I cannae say that I liked him.”
“Why not just flee?”
“I’m no felon, and I’ll not act the part of one. Forbye, where would I go? I’d hardly be welcome in England. Or want to be.” Law poured a goblet of the ale and asked, “Did anything happen whilst I was gone? No messages?”
“No.” Cormac straightened. “But that ratcatcher—Dave Taylor—he was here. He didnae come in, but for a long time, whenever anyone went in or out, I saw him standing in the alley.”
“How long? When did he leave?”
“Just before dark, I looked out, and he wasnae there anymore.”
Law pondered the time it would have taken the man to reach the house where Law had found the dead man. Dave might have done it, but Law still didn’t see how he could have managed to kill Duncan. “And you never said anything to him?”
“Ach, no. There’s something about him—forbye being a ratcatcher. That’s honest enough work if not pleasant, but he looks at everyone as though he is always watching for them to do something he can catch them on.”
“I ken what you mean. There is something more about him than at first sight…” Law tapped his fingers on the table as he ran over the numerous times he’d seen the man. “I saw him one night at the same inn where John Cameron was staying, almost as though…” He shook his head. “Would the king’s own secretary use such a tool?”
Cormac shrugged. “You ken that sort better than I do. Mayhap? Wulle is glaring at me. And I’ll feel better if I play something lively. And before Wulle gives me hell for not letting you keep his customers sweet.”
“Wait. When you are done, find a lad to deliver a message for me. You ken of someone who can carry it?” When Cormac nodded, Law continued, “I’ll write it and have it ready for you.”
Chapter 9
The air was icy, and Law’s breath fogged as Law walked up to the little house where he’d found Marguerite and Wrycht. Carre would have received his message by this time. It was past time to wind up this charade.
He lifted his hand to knock when the door swung open. Just inside the door, Carre sat in an armchair Law had not seen before, cold-eyed and his face so still he might have been a statue, but Law saw a flush beneath his skin like a bath of fire.
Dave Taylor stepped out of the next room, a wry smile twisting his lips. The scar-faced guard stood by the hearth and lifted his crossbow. It clicked as he cocked it. Marguerite rose from her chair, both hands palm down on the table, her face pale as whey. Wrycht came through
another doorway with two more guards behind him, an uncocked crossbow hanging from one guard’s hand, the other one a wiry man Law had never seen before.
Carre looked from one to another, only his eyes moving. “Someone has stolen what is mine,” he said. He fixed his gaze upon Law. “Close the door.” As soon as Law had reached behind and softly closed it, Carre motioned to Scarface. “Take his sword.”
Law gripped his hilt and glowered at the guard as he took a step. “Mayhap I cannae kill both of them, but you’ll be short at least one guard if he tries. And you’ll never find that cross when they have to kill me.”
Scarface paused, and on his face was written the realization that he had a crossbow in his hands, not a weapon to go up in close quarters against a swordsman. He looked at his patron.
Carre’s face was blank as he said, “Never mind. But if he touches his sword again, put a quarrel through his knee.” He looked at Law for a moment with a gaze that seemed almost approving. “As I said, no one steals what is mine. Yet I am now missing the cross that I paid someone to retrieve and lacking a son.”
Marguerite stared at Carre, “But, I—” Then she snapped her mouth shut and looked, eyes narrowed, from Carre to Law and back again. “I do not understand.”
Carre ignored her. “You were there.”
“Aye. Though I didnae kill him.” Law flicked a glance at Marguerite and Wrycht. “He was dying, stabbed through the back when I found him.”
A flicker of disgust played across Carre’s face. “Roger was not my eldest nor my heir, and I thanked God for it. He was given to unnatural acts. No beatings cured him of his vice. But he was my son.” He glared. “And the Templar’s cross is still not in my hands. This entire affair has given me no profit.”
Marguerite clenched her fists, paling even more than before.
Law wouldn’t have wanted to be the son of such a father, although what Carre said was no more than what most people would. He strolled to lean an elbow on the hearth and kicked at the stone a couple of times. “Whoever killed him also killed de Carnea. And killed Duncan as well.”
“Roger was a shame to me, but he had nothing to do with the cross. I merely brought him to keep him under my eye.” Carre’s hand curled into a fist. “My son, such as he was, is lost, but the cross I shall have.”
Law went to the sideboard and checked the flagon. It was half-full of wine, so he poured himself a cup. He swirled the wine as he thought, took a deep drink, and set it back down. “You dinnae care who killed him?”
“That is none of your business.” He leaned his elbows on the arm of his chair and wove his fingers together under his chin. “Your note told me you could find where de Carnea hid the cross. Have you?”
“That would be difficult since de Carnea never hid it.”
Wrycht made a choking sound. “He must have.”
“Then he tricked the lot of them.” A smile flickered across Carre’s lips.
“He did, but I found it anyroad.” The corner of Law’s mouth twitched as he caught Carre’s expression. “Of course, I wanted to speak to you. You would pay me well for it—of course, I did. I went to your house, expecting to find you there and complete our agreement.” Only partly a lie but a satisfying one. “How could I guess that you were out searching… What? For my friends here? They cannae tell you where the cross is. On that, I give you my word of honor.” Honor was a strange word to use with the people in this room, perhaps including himself, but he kept his slight smile.
Wrycht sat in a chair next to the table near Marguerite, who seemed to have recovered from her surprise. Dave Taylor stood in the doorway. The smile had faded from his face, but there was still a mocking look on his thin, grimy face. Scarface had uncocked his crossbow and let it dangle by his leg. He looked Law up and down with a speculative gaze.
“I am here now,” Carre said curtly.
“Aye. So how soon can you pay me for the job and take the goddamned cross before someone else ends up murdered?”
Marguerite blinked a few times and then stared wide-eyed at Law. He winked at her. Wrycht leaned forward, his lips parted, and his eyes darting from Carre to Law and back again.
For the first time, Carre smiled, but it did not reach his obsidian eyes. He reached into the breast of his houppelande and withdrew a velvet bag. He tossed the bag in his hands two or three times. The coins made a rich clinking sound.
Carre’s eyes were on him, so dark and cool they gave Law a chill. The man gave the bag one more toss in his large, smooth hand and pitched it toward Law. It landed a yard short with a muffled clank. Carre gave a curt nod, having clearly put the bag exactly where he meant to.
Law bent a knee to pick the bag up and rose. If that was supposed to humiliate him, Carre would have to do better. Law opened the bag with one hand and took out one of the gold coins; he examined one side with the English king on a ship beneath a banner and the other with a cross surrounded by crowns and fleur. Law poured them into his other hand and counted them. He suppressed a wry smile at the avid looks the gold received from the others. Wrycht bared his teeth in a snarl that made Law nod to himself.
“You said a hundred gold nobles. This is only twenty.”
Carre’s lip curled. “Money in hand is worth more than promises.”
Law poured the coins back in the bag and jerked the string closed. He took a single step toward Carre and tossed it into his lap. “Keep that until I deliver the goods and then pay me what I was promised.”
“Then hand it over.”
Giving a short shake of his head, Law said, “You dinnae think I carry it about on me. I have to go retrieve it.” That he had hinted in his note that he’d bring it, well, that was a pity.
Wrycht slammed his hand down on the table. “Where did de Carnea hide it?”
Law gave the man a cool look. “What makes you think that he hid it?” He looked back at Carre. “And the lord sheriff means to have someone to hang for the murders, three of them now. So I need someone to give him as part of the deal.”
Carre shrugged. “That is no concern of mine. Give them anyone you please.”
The chair crashed over when Wrycht jumped to his feet. “You promised us pay, Carre. And I’ll be damned if I end up hanging for Sir Law here. That willnae happen.”
Scarface lifted his crossbow and gave Wrycht an icy glare. Marguerite grabbed Wrycht’s arm and tugged. Fiercely, she said, “Don’t be a fool.” Law carefully kept his face neutral at their satisfying argument.
Wrycht shook her hand off, but he crossed his arms and glowered at Carre.
She beamed at Carre. “I am sure you do not mean to cheat us out of our promised pay. It is hardly our fault that de Carnea betrayed all of us.”
“Did he?” Law tilted his head and examined her.
“Certes!” Wrycht exclaimed.
Law scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure that matters anymore. But if any of us are to be paid, I must retrieve the cross, and we must decide who is to be given to the lord sheriff. I promise you willnae leave Perth without giving him someone.” He threw a significant look toward Dave Taylor. “I don’t much like that sleekit weasel. He might be a good choice.”
The ratcatcher hunched his shoulders. “That’s nae fair. I wouldn’t kill anyone.” His wide eyes glistened as he stared at Law. He turned his head to look at Carre. “You’ll nae let him do that to me.”
“You’ve done a job for me keeping watch on Sir Law, better than that pair. Mayhap I’ll keep you on in my pay instead.” Carre stood. “Sir Law, I do not trust you to retrieve the cross and return. It was hardly chance that I waited for you unbeknownst to you. I’m not nearly the fool that you think me.”
“I never took you for a fool, Maister Carre.”
“Where is it hidden?”
Law laughed softly. “You think I’m going to tell you? Someone must retrieve it.” Law cocked his head and looked at them one at a time. “You seem to trust the ratcatcher, though I wouldnae turn my back on him. Mayhap
if he has one of your guards with him, the two might keep each other honest—of a sort.” He carefully watched Carre for a reaction as he said, “They can take a message to Cormac, the minstrel. I told him I had hidden something, but he didnae see what it was. The ratcatcher and your guard here can carry it here.” Law raised an eyebrow at the choice.
“No!” Wrycht ground out in a growl. “We’ve risked too much. We all must go.”
Carre slowly shook his head. “So many of us would attract attention, attention I cannot afford.” He gave the scar-faced guard a considering look.
Marguerite’s gaze darted to Law and back to Carre and then Wrycht, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. She was a fine actress. Law gave her that much.
“You’ll trust him?” Wrycht motioned toward the guard with a sneer. “He’d steal it in a trice.”
Scarface barked a laugh. “I’d be arrested for a thief if I tried to sell this cross or whatever it is. No one would believe I came by it honestly. That is if Maister Carre didn’t find me and kill me first.”
“Sending only two has a great risk. I cannot say that I like it either,” Carre said.
Law shrugged. “Then we all should go as Wrycht suggested.”
“No, I won’t take that risk.” Carre frowned and then copied Law’s shrug. “Very well. We shall use your plan.”
“Tell him I need the package we took from beneath the Lady statue.”
Marguerite gave him a startled look as though she had just realized where de Carnea had left the cross.
“No, they’d better bring the minstrel with them. No telling who he might carry the tale to.”
Law pressed his lips into a tight line. Protesting might make the situation worse, but he had to try. “That would be one more man who will have seen you in Perth, which King James and his sheriff here would take most ill. And what would he tell? That I delivered a package? No one would care. Best to keep this privy between as few as we may.”
“No one is leaving my sight until I have the cross in my hands. Make no mistake, if I’m betrayed, I mean to clean up behind me and reach England safely.” After a moment, Carre nodded to the guard. “Take Taylor with you and let him do the talking to the minstrel. And don’t even consider betraying me.”