‘Oh, come,’ scoffed Walter. ‘Do not tell me you believe that? You left the damned thing in the cloisters, and it was I who put it on the altar.’
Savaric’s jaw dropped a second time. ‘No! But Reginald . . . He cured people!’
‘After the so-called Miracle of the Crosier, I paid a beggar to say he was healed, and subsequently, people thought they were better because they wanted to be. But the ruse has earned our abbey a fortune, so I have no regrets.’
Savaric’s face was ashen. ‘I do not believe you would stoop to such a vile deception!’
‘No? Then why did you make me prior, if not as a reward for devising the plan that has generated so much money?’
‘Because my only other choice was Robert, and his piety makes me look irreligious,’ explained Savaric weakly. ‘Now give me my crosier before—’
‘No!’ snarled Walter, trying again to grab Gwenllian. ‘Let me resolve this matter as I deem fit, and we shall say no more about it. I know what I am doing.’
‘Walter will not let you see your staff because there is blood on it,’ said Gwenllian to Savaric, retreating further behind him. ‘Which is why it was hidden behind the curtain. He has not had time to clean it.’
‘Whose blood?’ whispered Savaric.
‘My husband’s. Walter and your two henchmen came to the Angel to kill him. But he is quick-witted in that sort of situation. He kicked over the lamp, and darkness prevented them from committing murder.’
‘What?’ cried Savaric, more appalled than ever. ‘But he is the King’s officer! You cannot kill him, Walter – especially with my crosier! It is a religious artefact, not a cudgel.’
Cole was tiring from the vicious two-pronged attack, and Gwenllian saw that unless she did something soon, the knights would kill him.
‘Symon has bruises that match your staff precisely,’ she said desperately. ‘Even down to the puncture marks caused by its three glass jewels. Tell your men to lay down their weapons, and he will show you.’
‘Osmun, stop!’ shouted Savaric. ‘End this madness at once.’
‘Keep fighting!’ Walter turned to Savaric. ‘It is them or you. If they live, they will accuse you of murder.’
Savaric gazed at him. ‘Murder? Me? What are you talking about?’
‘They think you killed Adam and Hugh,’ explained Gwenllian, ‘using Pica’s dog.’
‘What?’ exploded Savaric. ‘That vile creature? I assure you, I—’
‘You do not need to pretend with us,’ interrupted Walter briskly. ‘We know it was the dog Pica gave you that dispatched Adam and Hugh. We saw its hairs on their bodies.’
Savaric was horrified. ‘If that beast was responsible, then it had nothing to do with me! I thought Osmun had destroyed the thing. I swear on holy Reginald’s tomb that I had nothing to do with what happened to Adam and Hugh!’
The oath made Osmun falter, and it was enough for Cole to strike him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword. Osmun staggered backwards, then collapsed in a heap. Fevil issued a peculiar growl, and Gwenllian stared at him.
‘The animal we heard in the Angel!’ she exclaimed. ‘It was you!’
‘Fevil cannot help the sounds he makes,’ said Savaric. He spoke distractedly, still trying to process what Walter had told him. ‘You would fare no better if you had no tongue.’
‘For God’s sake, Fevil!’ howled Walter, as the big man faltered. ‘We will lose everything if Savaric surrenders. Finish Cole!’
‘Wait!’ It was Osmun, climbing slowly to his feet. Fevil obeyed instantly, and Cole backed away, using the opportunity to catch his breath. Osmun addressed the bishop. ‘Are you saying you are innocent of killing Adam and Hugh?’
‘Of course I am innocent!’ cried Savaric. ‘What do you think I am?’
Osmun gazed at him in confusion. ‘But you used bribery and coercion to make Cole abandon his investigation. Why would you do that if you had nothing to hide?’
‘Because the King does not want me to co-operate,’ explained Savaric, clearly affronted. ‘But I had nothing to hide personally.’
Gwenllian grimaced. The news of John’s duplicity came as no surprise.
Walter was also staring at Savaric, his expression one of confusion. ‘But the dog was yours, and if you did not set it on Adam and Hugh, then who did?’
‘You should choose your followers more carefully,’ said Gwenllian to Savaric in the silence that followed Walter’s question. ‘They believe you capable of terrible things.’
‘My immortal soul may be stained with many sins, but murder is not one of them,’ said Savaric firmly.
Osmun exchanged a glance with Fevil, who nodded. ‘We believe you.’
‘Good,’ said the bishop drily. He glared at Walter. ‘And now you have some explaining to do. You can begin by telling me why you tried to kill Sir Symon with my crosier. Because his wife is right: there is blood on it.’
‘I planned to rinse it off,’ said Walter bitterly. ‘But I was shaken after our narrow escape in the Angel, and then I forgot.’
‘That does not explain why you took it in the first place,’ said Savaric angrily.
‘Because I needed something to defend myself with,’ snapped Walter. ‘Cole is a skilled warrior. And it was the only thing to hand.’
‘Beating him with it was not defending yourself,’ said Gwenllian icily.
‘I was frightened,’ said Walter sullenly. ‘We were supposed to shoot him while he was asleep. Instead, he was awake and fighting with terrifying ferocity.’
‘A misunderstanding, then.’ Savaric raised his hand when Gwenllian started to object.
Walter nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, and we did it for you. They had learned that a dog killed Hugh and Adam, and it was only a matter of time before they also learned that Pica had given you an especially savage one. We decided that if they died during a raid by robbers . . .’
‘The King would be unlikely to launch a second enquiry to Hugh’s death, and I would be spared,’ finished Savaric.
‘He was going to try to murder Symon again,’ said Gwenllian, angry that the matter was going to be ‘forgotten’. She regarded Walter contemptuously. ‘How much did you pay the smith to keep my husband’s sword, to ensure he was unarmed today?’
‘Too much,’ muttered Osmun. ‘Given that Cole just went out and borrowed another.’
But the knights and Walter were more interested in regaining Savaric’s approval than in answering Gwenllian’s accusations. When they went to clamour at him, she stood next to Cole, her mind working fast.
‘We now know that Walter, Osmun and Fevil are innocent,’ she said. ‘They would not have felt the need to protect Savaric if they were the culprits. And Savaric is innocent, too – his denials were convincing, and so was the oath he swore. So who is left?’
‘Dacus,’ replied Cole shortly.
‘And Robert, the man who sent Hugh to Solsbury Hill. And Pica.’
‘If you thought Pica was guilty, you should have raised the matter when we cornered him about Lechlade.’
‘It did not occur to me. However, he has no alibi for either death, and he was the one who brought this fierce grey dog to Bath.’
‘The dog,’ said Cole thoughtfully. ‘If Osmun and Fevil are innocent, then so are their hounds. Ergo, perhaps Pica’s grey hound is the animal that—’
‘Join me for a cup of wine,’ called Savaric, breaking into their discussion. He nodded that Walter, Osmun and Fevil were to leave; they did so reluctantly. ‘We must assess this situation, and discuss how it can be resolved to our mutual advantage.’
‘No,’ said Cole immediately. ‘I will not do anything against my conscience.’
Savaric gazed at him wonderingly, and shook his head. ‘No wonder the King wants rid of you! Conscience indeed!’
Gwenllian’s eyes narrowed. ‘What makes you think John wants rid of him? Did he say so when he wrote the letter asking you not to co-operate with his investigation?’
Savari
c shot her a patronising glance. ‘He would never commit such a request to parchment! I deduced it from the fact that he sent Sir Symon here in the first place – too much time has passed since Hugh’s death, and there is no evidence to convict a culprit. The case is unsolvable, and John knows it. So of course he does not want me to co-operate.’
‘Then why did he order me to try?’ asked Cole, confused.
‘I imagine you have done something to annoy him – he wants an excuse to oust you.’
‘The solution lies in the grey dog,’ said Gwenllian to Savaric, as Cole winced. ‘Pica gave it to you, but now neither you nor your knights can tell us its whereabouts. I believe Pica took it back, and used it to kill.’
‘Pica!’ exclaimed Savaric, eyes gleaming. ‘I might have known! And his motive is obvious, of course: Adam and Hugh both thought Glastonbury and Bath should be united. They haled from Glastonbury themselves, and wanted to foster closer relations.’
‘Adam was from Glastonbury,’ acknowledged Cole. ‘But . . .’ He trailed off, and reluctantly began considering the possibility that Dacus might not be the culprit after all.
‘So now comes the difficult part.’ Savaric addressed Gwenllian, recognising her as the one with whom business could be done. ‘If you tell John that you have solved the case, he will be livid. In essence, you will have outwitted him. However, Pica is a thorn in my side, and I would like him gone. Another charge of murder against him would suit me very well.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ asked Gwenllian.
‘I own some skill in politics,’ said Savaric with a modest shrug. ‘So I shall draft the letter you will send the King. I shall phrase your findings in a way that will condemn Pica, but that will not antagonise John. Then we shall both have achieved our objective.’
‘No,’ said Cole uneasily. ‘It smacks of dishonesty and sly dealing.’
Gwenllian laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Consider our choices, Symon. We can submit our own report, and let John expel you from Carmarthen. Or we can accept Savaric’s help. I do not want to leave our home, and it is not just us who will suffer if you are ejected. The town deserves better than to be ruled by one of John’s creatures.’
Cole nodded reluctant agreement. Then he sat in the window, staring moodily into the street, while Gwenllian and the bishop worked.
Gwenllian felt vaguely tainted by the time they left the Bishop’s Palace. Cole did, too, and was angry about it.
‘What we have done is wrong. Your letter lists all the evidence that proves Pica stabbed Lechlade, but only hints that he murdered Adam and Hugh. Ergo, he will be charged only with Lechlade’s death – for which he will claim self-defence. And he will go free.’
Gwenllian sighed. ‘Very possibly, but he will never be Abbot of Glastonbury, and that will be his real punishment. I hate to admit it, but Savaric’s letter is a masterpiece of duplicity: it lets John know we solved the case, so he cannot accuse us of disobedience, but it does so in such a way that even he cannot take offence. We may keep Carmarthen yet.’
Cole pulled a face to register his distaste. ‘I wish Richard had not died. He was not much of a King, but he was better than the scheming devil we have now.’
‘Not so loud, cariad!’
‘I do not care,’ said Cole sullenly. ‘I hate devious politics.’
‘So do I, but we will go home tomorrow, and then we can forget about Bath. However, there is one question we have not yet answered: where did Pica keep this dog? He sleeps in the abbey guesthouse, and someone would have noticed if it was there.’
‘There is only one place it can be – the Prior’s Garden. Do you remember Walter telling us how Reginald built kennels there?’
‘Yes, but he also said they are used for storing the urine that will be used for tanning hides over the winter.’
‘Precisely! A dog will stink if kept in close confinement, and what better than urine to conceal it? Besides, such an unpleasant place will deter visitors. Shall we go there now?’
He led the way to an attractive arbour that was separated from the rest of the precinct by a wall. Once inside, it did not take them long to locate the row of sheds. They reeked, and Gwenllian gagged. Cole opened a door, and was greeted by a medley of snarls and grunts.
‘It has been starved,’ he said, disgusted, ‘and kept close-chained. It is muzzled, too, so it cannot bark. Pica is a monster to have done such a thing.’
Gwenllian poked her head around the door and saw an enormous grey animal. Before she could advise against it, Cole had removed the muzzle and was feeding it scraps of the dried meat he always carried with him – no soldier liked to be without supplies.
‘Please do not let it off the leash,’ she begged. ‘It looks half mad to me.’
‘It will have to be destroyed,’ said Cole sadly. ‘What a pity! It was once a fine animal.’
Walter’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment when he learned what had been happening in his domain, although his surprise quickly turned to indignation.
‘How dare Pica use my outbuildings for his private menagerie – especially for a beast that has claimed the lives of two men. What if it had escaped? It might have attacked me.’
‘Yes,’ said Cole, and Gwenllian was under the impression that he wished it had. ‘But it would have been Pica’s fault, not the dog’s.’
‘I suppose it would.’ Walter softened. ‘I shall tell Eldred to feed it well tonight, and dispatch it tomorrow. Do not worry, he will not let it suffer.’
Cole nodded, although Gwenllian could see he was not much comforted. They left the abbey in silence, and it was some time before he spoke.
‘Are you sure Pica is the culprit? Dacus seems a much more likely candidate for abusing animals than he.’
‘He does,’ agreed Gwenllian, taking his arm sympathetically. ‘But yes, I am sure.’
‘Then I suppose you must be right,’ said Cole, a little resentfully. ‘You usually are.’
It was the deepest part of the night when Gwenllian woke to find herself alone. There was a full moon, and its silvery rays had fallen on her face. She rose and dressed, supposing Cole was in the tavern downstairs, drinking to wash away the dirty taste of politics, but the place was empty. Her stomach lurched when she realised where he had gone. She hurried to Iefan, and shook him awake.
‘I think Symon has gone up Solsbury Hill.’
Iefan blinked. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because Dacus challenged him to go. He was unhappy earlier, and I am afraid that if Dacus is there and makes wild remarks about Adam . . . Will you come with me?’
As Cole still had Iefan’s sword, the sergeant borrowed another, and they set off to where the hill was a black mass against the night sky. The moonlight made walking easy, and it was not long before they reached the bottom. Then there was a peculiar howl.
‘Was that a wolf ?’ asked Iefan uneasily.
‘Hurry!’ urged Gwenllian, breaking into a run.
They were breathless by the time they reached the top. Cole was there, sword in his hand, and at first, Gwenllian assumed he was alone, but then she glimpsed a movement in the shadows. It was Dacus, gripping the leash of Pica’s dog. She was glad it was upwind of her, sure it would attack if it could sense her fear. She crouched down, straining to hear what was being said. The wind that kept the dog from catching their scent also blew the words towards her.
‘You came,’ Dacus was saying. ‘I did not think you would have the courage. I thought I would have to find another way to kill you.’
‘Why would you want to kill me?’ Cole asked quietly.
‘Because you are corrupt.’ Dacus’ voice was hard and cold. ‘I know what you did today. You helped Savaric concoct a tale that will conceal the unsavoury happenings at Bath and let Pica take the blame. But you are Adam’s friend, so what else should I expect?’
‘Adam was not corrupt.’
‘He was evil!’ Dacus’ anguished cry set the dog growling. ‘He poisoned Reginald. I k
now – I was there.’
‘He was a healer. He would never—’
‘He was a healer, and that is why he itched to be master of the hospital. But Reginald was master as well as bishop. So Adam killed him.’
‘But Adam did not want that post,’ argued Cole. ‘He wrote and told me. He was old and tired, and wanted to spend his final days in prayer.’
‘You are wrong! He was evil and a killer.’
‘My wife always insists on evidence to support that sort of claim. So what is yours? Did you find toxins in his possession? Did you see him administer a dose of—’
Dacus made a curious hissing sound, and jerked the dog’s leash. ‘I do not need evidence. I know a guilty man when I see one. But you will regret coming here tonight. Like Adam and Hugh, you will be tested and found lacking. I will kill you, just as I killed them.’
In the darkness, Gwenllian gaped in disbelief.
‘But there cannot be a third man found with his throat ripped out,’ Dacus went on. ‘So I have dug you a grave.’
He nodded to a gaping pit Gwenllian had not noticed before. It was black and sinister in the moonlight, like an opening to Hell.
‘I knew you had murdered Adam from the first time we met,’ said Cole. ‘My wife said they were cat hairs on your habit, but I knew they belonged to a dog.’
‘It is not a dog, it is a wolf.’ Dacus ruffled the beast’s fur. It twisted around, as if to bite, and he tightened his grip on its collar. ‘And when I saw Pica training it to kill lambs, I knew what I had to do. I stole it from Savaric’s palace.’
‘Pica must have hoped it would hurt the bishop,’ muttered Gwenllian to Iefan. ‘He may be innocent of killing Hugh and Adam, but he has committed many other crimes.’
‘You hid it in Reginald’s kennels,’ said Cole. ‘Muzzling it, so it could not bark—’
‘I have not fed it since you arrived,’ interrupted Dacus, tightening the lead savagely. ‘It is ravenous. It will tear your throat out, and I will dance in your blood.’
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