With hackles raised, Tugger snarled and growled low as Hamon slowly straightened to back away from the dog.
Fixated on the pillow, rage consumed Lecie as she approached the bed. “You bastard, you murdered my father and are trying to kill my husband!”
Hamon’s look of surprise switched to one of malice as he again lowered the pillow over Albin’s face. “This time, I shall not fail.”
“Tugger, attack,” she called as she hiked up her skirts to leap on the bed.
Snarling, Tugger surged forward to clamp down on Hamon’s calf. Jerking his head back and forth, the dog’s teeth broke skin. Blood oozed from the puncture wounds as Tugger’s paws scrambled for purchase on the polished wood as he attempted to pull Hamon away from his master’s side.
With a bellow of rage, Hamon hefted the stoneware cup on the nightstand to smash it against Tugger’s snout. Yelping in pain, the dog refused to loosen his grip until after repeated blows against his head and snout broke the cup.
With a last loud whine of pain, Tugger took several faltering steps to fall unmoving beneath the window.
“No,” Lecie screamed throwing herself off the bed on top of Hamon. Pummeling him with her fists, she cried out for someone to help her.
“Enough of this,” Hamon hissed. Swinging his arm back, he struck Lecie hard in the stomach with his elbow.
Buckling from the winded blow, her foot caught in the flowing hem of her skirts. Tensing for impact as she lost her balance, she slammed backwards into the dresser, striking her head as she tumbled to the floor.
“I shall deal with you shortly,” Hamon ground out. Scooping up the pillow, he returned to Albin’s side.
Dazed and winded, Lecie struggled to rise. Planting her hand on the top of the dresser, she painfully pulled herself up.
Searching for a way to stop Hamon, she reached for Albin’s sword. Lifting the heavy weapon, she struggled to slide the steel blade from its sheath.
“You always did enjoy playing the man.” Amused by her attempts to stop him, Hamon chuckled. “I shall soon show you how a real man treats his woman.”
Albin began to weakly flail on the bed as Hamon pressed his full weight upon the feather pillow, cutting off his air supply.
In desperation, Lecie dropped the sword in search for another weapon and spotted Albin’s silver dinner knife on top of the dresser.
Snatching it up by the intricately carved handle, she flung herself forward against Hamon’s unprotected back. “Get away from him, you lowborn knave.”
Hamon’s grunt of pain filled the silence as he reached behind his head in an attempt to remove the knife embedded to the hilt between his shoulder blades.
His arms fell to his sides as he turned to face her with a look of disbelief. Staggering towards her, his eyes bore into her as they began to lose focus. “I always knew you were a bitch.”
Hamon’s knees slammed into the floorboards before he pitched face forward dead at her feet.
“You slayed him!” The high-pitched screech from the doorway had Lecie spinning around. “You murdered my Hamon.” Her chest heaving, Gunilda stood staring in shock at Hamon’s life-blood staining the wood beneath his prone body.
Ignoring her, Lecie shoved the pillow away from Albin’s face as she slid beside him on the bed. “Albin, speak to me.”
Tears slipped from her eyes as she cradled his head. Only when he moaned weakly did she begin to sob in relief.
Lecie was unaware of Harsent rushing into the room followed by a host of other people. Only when Winifred gently pried her fingers away from Albin’s shoulder did she have a realization of the chaotic scene that had been happening around her.
“Lecie, Sheriff Richard and his sons are below.” Winifred gently wiped the tears from Lecie’s cheeks with the edge of the bed covering. “He has already taken Gunilda and Harsent’s statements and he needs to speak with you now.”
“Tugger,” Lecie spoke so softly, Winifred could barely make out the name. “Where is he?”
“He is alive and with Master Clayton,” Winifred assured her. “Mary took the children for a walk by the river until this matter is sorted out.”
Turning wide frightened eyes to Hamon’s blanket-covered body, Lecie nodded her thanks as Winifred guided her from the chamber.
Gunilda was speaking to Harsent in hushed tones in the corner of the common room when Lecie and Winifred appeared. Empty except for the staff, the sheriff sat at a table beside the hearth with his sons Leofrick, Edmund and Frederick standing silently behind him.
“Have a seat, Lecie.” Extending a hand to the chair across from him, the sheriff waited for her to comply. Taking in her pallor and trembling hands, he leaned back in his chair. “Can you explain to us what happened?”
Clasping her shaking hands together, Lecie swallowed hard. “Hamon was about to murder my husband the same way he murdered my Da.”
“Did you say Hamon murdered your father?” The sheriff shared a perplexed look with his sons. “Edric was not murdered, Lecie. He died of the withering disease.”
“It is true my father was dying, yet it was Hamon who hastened his passing along, Sheriff.”
“How is it you believe Hamon killed your father?”
“He smothered him with a pillow and was about to do the same to Albin.”
“She lies,” Gunilda called stepping forward. “She is bound to say anything to protect her neck from the noose.”
“Silence,” the sheriff hissed to Gunilda. Satisfied when she plopped down into a chair, he returned his attention to Lecie. “If you did indeed believe such a thing, why did you not mention it before now, Lecie?”
“I did not realize he murdered my father until I saw him holding the pillow over Albin’s face above,” Lecie murmured. “When I confronted him with the truth, Hamon admitted it to me.”
“Perhaps we should continue this talk in private, Father,” Leofrick spoke after taking in the rapt staff surrounding them.
“Aye,” the sheriff acknowledged skimming the group with his eyes. “The rest of you wait in the garden until summoned. I still have questions for all of you.”
“I did not warrant such consideration,” Gunilda griped as she shoved back her chair to stand. “I was questioned as if it were me who plunged the knife into poor Hamon’s back.”
“Owing to your chosen profession, you are not a lady befitting such consideration,” the sheriff replied without pause. Eyeing Harsent with a calculating gaze as she fidgeted nervously beside Gunilda, he added, “Do not leave the premises until after I have questioned you both again.”
Harsent’s frightened eyes flew to Gunilda as if looking for guidance.
Pulling her along to follow the rest of the departing staff, Gunilda called, “Unlike Lecie, we have nothing to hide.”
Winifred held back as the room cleared to address the sheriff. “My lady is still beside herself after what has transpired. May I please have permission to serve her something to ease her discomfort?”
“See to your lady.” Sheriff Richard dipped his head. “If you will be so kind, you may serve us all.”
Winifred gently squeezed Lecie’s shoulder after serving her a cup of cider and the men ale. “I shall wait outside with the others, should you have need of me.”
“Very well.” Taking a long swallow of ale, the sheriff set his cup down. “Now then…” He broke off as the front door opened to admit Justice de Glanville in his somber black garb.
Followed by his clerk, hunched over by the weight of the leather pack he carried, the justice’s dark eyes assessed the scene. “Your son Caine informed me that I would find you here, Sheriff.”
“Justice de Glanville,” the sheriff replied with a glance to his sons as he stood. “What an unexpected pleasure this is. We did not expect you back so soon.”
“I was fortunate to conclude the king’s business in a timely manner.” Waving him back into his seat, Justice de Glanville strode forward. “I assumed your daughter Mylla would be with y
ou, as she is not at your home.”
“She departed with her mother not an hour ago to visit with kin in the next village,” the sheriff responded. “Can one of my sons bring you refreshment?”
“Ale is fine.” Taking the empty seat beside Lecie, Justice de Glanville eyed her shrewdly. “So we meet again.”
“You are acquainted with Lady Lecie, my lord justice?”
“Lady Lecie? You did not tell me such when we were introduced at the festival,” he spoke to Lecie in an accusatory manner.
“I have only been recently wed, my lord justice.”
“I see.” Justice de Glanville dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “When will your daughter return, Sheriff?”
“She and my wife are expected to return within a sennight.” Sheriff Richard shifted uneasily as he dipped his head to Leofrick to serve the justice. “My wife’s widowed uncle has fallen ill and they are attending him.”
“I declare myself disappointed. I informed your daughter of my return visit and had hoped she would be waiting to attend me.” Accepting the cup of ale from Leofrick without acknowledgement, Justice de Glanville kept his steely gaze fixed on Lecie. “I take it this is not a friendly visit. What business brings you here, Sheriff?”
“We are investigating the death of the former tapster of this establishment,” Sheriff Richard seemed hesitant to respond. “There appear to be conflicting stories as to what occurred.”
“How very interesting.” Justice de Glanville brightened. “Tell me, what does this young woman with the witch eyes have to do with the event in question?”
Sheriff Richard cast Lecie a sympathetic gaze. “Lady Lecie runs the inn in trust for her younger brother, Clayton. She wielded the weapon of the man’s demise.”
“I see.” Taking a sip of ale, Justice de Glanville set the cup down. “And what have you surmised thus far?”
“Two tavern wenches swear they saw Lady Lecie stab the tapster in the back without provocation.”
Lecie’s startled gaze flew to the sheriff, yet she managed to remain silent.
“Surprised there were witnesses to your foul deed, my lady?” Justice de Glanville smoothly interjected. “Bewitching as they may be, your eyes quite clearly give your thoughts away.”
“There were no witnesses present until after the fact.” Lecie met the justice’s penetrating gaze to respond. “If there were anyone near, I would have begged assist in keeping Hamon from slaying my husband.”
“Your husband?” Justice de Glanville questioned sternly. “If he has not been slain, why then is he not here to clear this matter up?”
“He is gravely ill and unable to speak for himself, after being felled by a stray crossbow quarrel, Justice de Glanville,” Sheriff Richard spoke on Lecie’s behalf. “Lady Lecie is wife to Sir Albin, Knight to Baron Erlegh.”
“Sir Albin, you say?” Justice de Glanville instantly brightened. “And you say he is near death?”
“He will not die,” Lecie replied with clenched fists.
“Sir Albin is overseeing construction of the tower here in Rochester,” the sheriff interjected. “We are still investigating the incident which injured him.”
“I am aware of why he is here, Sheriff.” Justice de Glanville’s smile turned malicious. “I am also aware that Sir Albin has a great deal of enemies that would not grieve his passing. In fact, my good friend Baron Reynold will be most pleased to hear of this latest turn of events. From what he has told me, he himself had an unpleasant encounter with this lady’s husband.”
“Your pardon if you please, Justice de Glanville,” Sheriff Richard spoke with a worried glance at Lecie. “Are you saying that Sir Albin deserved what happened to him?”
“Certainly not.” Justice de Glanville’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Where would the justice be in that?”
“My thoughts precisely,” the sheriff replied.
“Still it is very fortuitous that I have arrived at such a time as this.” Justice de Glanville reached for his cup. “While we await the return of your wife and daughter, I shall hold a court of justice to decide the lady’s fate.”
SIXTEEN
“May I see to my husband now?” Lecie spoke as if she had not heard the man. “He has been left alone for far too long.”
“You may,” Justice de Glanville conceded. “Enjoy what remains of this day with him. We shall convene court in the village square at dawn on the morrow.”
The sheriff placed his hand on Lecie’s arm as she moved to rise. “Justice de Glanville, if you would allow me to explain the case to you, I am quite positive a full court will not be necessary. Both Lady Lecie and Sir Albin confided in me that the deceased threatened harm to the lady’s younger siblings should she deny his marital intentions.”
“If that is true, how did the lady end up marrying a knight of the realm?” Pinning Lecie with his gaze, he slowly appraised her. “She is naught but a commoner. The tapster would have been better suited to take her to wife.”
“Be that as it may,” the sheriff continued. “Since the lady married Sir Albin, I am of the belief that the deceased returned here bent on revenge. I was simply recording the accounts of all involved as required of me before passing final judgment.”
“You say that Sir Albin confided this threat to you?”
“He did.”
“How convenient he is unable to verify your account.” The justice eyed the sheriff shrewdly. “I am well aware of how people in small villages protect their own. I take it you are well acquainted with this woman?”
“I was present the day she entered this world.”
“Is there anyone else who can vouch for what Sir Albin told you?”
“Sir Talan is also aware of the threats,” the sheriff replied, refusing to back down.
“And where is Sir Talan?”
“He has journeyed to Castell Maen to summon assistance for Sir Albin. From what I have heard, Lady Reina is skilled with medicine.”
“What of the village physician? Can he not attend Sir Albin?”
The sheriff hesitated with a look of remorse. “Lady Lecie does not approve of the leech’s bloodletting treatment.”
“I see.” The justice brightened instantly. “The lady is not only accused of outright murder, while her husband lay dying she takes it upon herself to command a knight to journey afar while an able physician is beyond her very doorstep.”
“My lord justice, if you are bent on denying my account of the threats from the deceased, why do you not ask Lecie for yourself?”
“She is a woman and the accused. I have no doubt she will swear to anything if it were to save her pretty little neck from the noose.”
“It is also obvious the tavern wenches are in collusion,” Leofrick spoke up. “Were the one named Harsent pressed, I have no doubt she will tell the truth.”
Sheriff Richard bent a disapproving look on Leofrick as Justice de Glanville responded, “I did not know your son advanced to your position, Sheriff.”
“I apologize for my son, he spoke out of turn. However, I stand behind what he said. If we were to separately question the women, I am sure their stories would change.”
“If that is true, we shall sort it all out on the morrow.” Flicking his eyes to Lecie, the justice added, “I am weary and have need of your best chamber.”
In response, Lecie stood to address Leofrick. “Will you please inform Winifred of the request? I must tend to my husband.”
“I shall do that and anything else you require of me.” Dipping his head, Leofrick turned on his heel.
“Thank you.” Holding her head high, she bravely faced the justice. “If that is all you require of me at this time, I shall go.”
His eyes narrowed, Justice de Glanville steepled his fingers. “I can see you are an independent woman.”
“A trait required of anyone who runs an establishment such as this.” Her thoughts on returning to Albin, Lecie shifted uneasily.
“It is not an admirable trait in a woma
n.” Waving her off with the flick of his hand, Justice de Glanville picked up his cup to drain it.
Lecie briefly met the sheriff’s worried gaze with one of her own as she lifted her skirts to ascend the steps. Come what may, her fate was out of her hands now.
Relieved to find that someone removed Hamon’s body from the master chamber, she eyed the blood-soaked flooring. She began to breathe rapidly as she relived the moment.
Her hands trembling, she realized her body was not reacting to any feelings of guilt or remorse for slaying Hamon. It was relief that she had arrived in time to save Albin’s life.
Tears flooded her vision as she turned her eyes heavenward to give thanks.
Albin’s low moan brought her back to the present. Once again burning with fever, his lips were white and cracked.
Perched on the bed beside him, she trickled water into his open mouth.
She glanced up as Winifred came rushing in. “Leofrick told us they are holding a court of justice in the square on the morrow, my lady.”
“Lecie,” she gently corrected. “It appears the king’s man does not think very highly of me.”
“The truth will come out,” Winifred searched Lecie’s eyes for confirmation. “Surely, he would not take the law into his own hands?”
“I know not.” Lecie smiled sadly. “He seems bent on revenge for a past slight to his friend, so anything is possible.”
“What could the justice possibly have against you?” Throwing the shutters wide to allow the cooling breeze into the room, Winifred returned to the bed.
“Nothing at all that I am aware of.” Lecie shrugged. “He has only just met me recently at the festival. It is for other reasons he will use me.”
“What other reasons? Is he perhaps acquainted with Hamon?”
“I would not involve you, Winifred.”
“And I will not see you wrongly convicted.” Spotting the blood on the floor, she disappeared through the door for a moment. Coming back in, she perched her hands on her hips.
“You can refuse to tell me, yet I ask what other reasons would the justice seek to find you guilty of outright murder?”
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