by S. D. Sykes
‘I think this cup was used to kill Godfrey,’ I said, passing the mazer to Sandro, and pointing to the inscription. ‘The killer hasn’t been able to clean the blood from these tiny crevices.’
Sandro held the mazer to the light to look at it properly. ‘It’s a beautiful thing, Master Oswald. And very heavy.’ He then ran his finger around its hard edge. ‘This would hurt a person’s head, I think. But enough to kill a man?’
‘Yes, I think so. If it was used with force,’ I said, before adding, ‘The wound on Godfrey’s head was wide and shallow, so he was attacked with something blunt and heavy.’ I pointed to the mazer. ‘It must have been this.’
Sandro placed the feasting cup back upon the table and then pushed his hair from his eyes. ‘A strange way to kill another person, I think, Master Oswald. I would choose a dagger or an axe.’
‘Yes, I agree. But it tells us something, doesn’t it?’
The boy nodded in response. ‘The murderer didn’t come here to kill.’ Sandro ran his finger about the rim on the mazer for a moment, before he pulled it away, as if his skin had been burnt. ‘Was it an argument that turned into a fight?’ he asked.
‘Possibly,’ I said. ‘Though I don’t think that Godfrey had time to fight back. He was killed by a single blow to his temple.’
Sandro nodded again. ‘You think that the murderer took Lord Eden by surprise?’ he said.
‘Yes, I do.’
We might have discussed this further, but the dog was now straining at its leash again, its claws scratching urgently at the floor as it tried to reach the door of the library. Sandro pulled it back, until I told my valet to relax his grip a little, as the creature was clearly following the scent again. We followed the dog out through the door, and then down the steps where it stopped to lick at an invisible spot, before it careered off again at speed. Within moments we were at the bottom of the stairwell and bursting out into the inner ward, nearly knocking Old Simon and Alice Cross from their feet as we did so, since they must have been standing just the other side of this door.
‘By the heavens,’ exclaimed the monk. ‘Where are you going in such a rush, Lord Somershill?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said, as the dog dragged us across the cobblestones, towards the door that led down into the cellars. The creature was moving faster than ever now, panting with enthusiasm as it pressed its long nose to the flagstones, leading us directly to the cellar where Pieter de Groot’s wooden chest still rested against the wall. It was here that the dog began to bark with excitement, scratching and licking at the chest, as if it still contained the body of a dead man.
Sandro rewarded the dog with its final treat, and then we looked at one another without speaking. This dog’s illustrious nose had identified the location of Godfrey’s murder and the weapon that had been used to kill him. If we had been in any doubt about the link between the blood in Godfrey’s library and the body in this cellar, then the dog had put our minds to rest, by leading us straight from one room to the other. I now felt that I could make a very good guess about what had happened to Godfrey on that night.
He had been attacked by surprise in his library, before his corpse had been lifted down to this cellar and then laid out in its strange arrangement in de Groot’s chest. But why had the killer gone to these lengths? Why had they not just left Godfrey’s body in his library? It wasn’t as if a corpse could be concealed forever in this wooden chest. The crime was bound to be detected sooner or later.
It was another question on top of all the others, and though I was pleased with the dog’s work, it had done nothing to sniff out an answer to the real question at the heart of this mystery. Why had somebody chosen to kill Godfrey? What had they hoped to gain?
Chapter Nine
We made our way back to the inner ward and released Lyndham’s dog, only to hear Filomena knocking at the window of our apartment – gesturing down to me that she required Sandro to return. I sent the boy to her and then wandered over to the well – peering over the edge of the deep shaft to see nothing but soft blackness, as the sky was too overcast to make its usual silver reflection in the circle of water far below. When I looked up, I realised that the child, Lady Emma, was standing on the other side of the well, watching me intently with apprehensive, almost fearful eyes. Her lips were pinched together and her light blue eyes were glistening, as if she had just been crying. In one of her hands she held a small, wooden wheel – its edges cut with teeth, so that it resembled one of the cogs from Godfrey’s astronomical clock.
I smiled at her. ‘What’s that you have there, Emma?’ I asked, pointing at the wheel. ‘Did Master de Groot make it for you?’
She continued to stare, and I wondered if she had understood me, until she nodded cautiously in response.
‘Are you interested in clocks?’ I said.
She nodded again.
‘Your cog looks very realistic,’ I said. ‘Can I see it?’ I held out my hand to her, but this was my mistake, for it only caused the girl to back away, as if I’d threatened to rob her. When I repeated the gesture, in an attempt to show her that I meant no harm, she reacted with even more dismay, turning on her heels and scampering off. Unfortunately the suddenness of this dash caused Lyndham’s dog to give chase, as if she were an escaping rabbit. Soon she was pinned against the wall, cringing from the large hound as it tried to lick her face. In my experience, there is nothing more guaranteed to provoke a dog’s unwanted interest than cowering from their attentions, so I called for her to relax whilst I pulled the creature away.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I told her, fearing that this episode might provoke a tantrum, not least because she had started to make a low moaning sound in her throat. But once I had removed the dog, Lady Emma fled from the inner ward, bolting at speed towards the nearest door.
I watched her disappearing feet, and suddenly I was reminded of another member of her family, tearing through this courtyard at speed. It had been her father, Lord Hesket, on the night of Godfrey’s murder, when he had nearly knocked me over in his retreat from my friend’s library. This memory prompted me to consider how little I knew about Godfrey’s last hours. What had he been doing before his death, and who else had visited him?
With this in mind, I went to look for Alice Cross again, finding her halfway up the stairwell of the great chamber block – the part of the castle in which the other guests were accommodated. Our steward was sweeping the stone steps with a hazel brush, disturbing more dust than she was clearing away. She turned to me with an unfriendly stare, especially when she saw that I was being trailed by Lyndham’s deerhound.
‘That damned dog,’ she said, as we both approached. ‘It walks mud all over this castle. If you ask me, we should have thrown the stupid thing out with the horses.’
‘That would have upset Sir Robert, don’t you think?’ I said. ‘I’m told this dog is worth a lot of money.’
She scowled at my answer and stepped aside. ‘Did you want to get past, my Lord?’ she asked me, forcing a smile.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s you that I wanted to speak to, Mistress Cross.’
‘Me?’ she said, climbing up one tread on the staircase. ‘How can I help you, then?’
‘I was wondering,’ I said, trying not to sneeze, thanks to all the dust that was still floating about in the air. ‘Who else did Lord Eden ask you to summon to his library on the night he was murdered?’
‘Just yourself, my Lord, and then Edwin of Eden.’
‘What about Lord Hesket?’ I said. ‘I saw him leaving as I arrived.’
She shrugged at this. ‘Lord Hesket must have gone to see my master of his own accord,’ she told me. ‘I wasn’t asked to fetch him.’
‘So there were no other visitors to Godfrey’s library that night?’
‘No, my Lord,’ she said. ‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Well, thank you, Mistress Cross,’ I said, smiling sweetly in response. ‘That’s very helpful.’ I made a show of turning to leave, even tho
ugh I had no intention of doing so. ‘I wonder,’ I said, suddenly lifting a finger in the air, as if this thought had just occurred to me. ‘Where were you that night?’
She bristled. ‘What do you mean?’
I smiled again, noting that my friendliness seemed to disturb her. ‘The night that Lord Eden was murdered. I was wondering what you did after attending to his orders?’
She gave a huff. ‘Well. First I went to the kitchen, to make sure that the fires were out,’ she said. ‘Then I went to the Great Hall and locked the other servants in.’
‘You locked them in?’ I said, with some surprise. ‘Why was that?’
Her expression changed from indignation to embarrassment. ‘It was Lord Eden’s idea.’ She cleared her throat. ‘We were having some problems, you see. With Edwin of Eden and the younger girls. My master thought it was better to keep temptation out of his way at night.’
‘So your three maids and the cook were locked inside the Great Hall until sunrise.’
‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘That’s right.’
‘But not you.’ I smiled again – my courtesy continuing to unnerve her. ‘So where do you sleep, Mistress Cross?’
‘I have a room to myself in this chamber block,’ she said proudly. ‘As befits the steward of this castle.’
‘Indeed,’ I said, about to ask more, when Edwin clattered around the corner, descending the circular stairwell at speed. He stopped dead when he saw my face. ‘Ah, good,’ he said. ‘I was looking for you, de Lacy.’
‘Oh yes?’ I said. ‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ he answered, before casting an awkward glance at Alice Cross. ‘I need to speak to you in private,’ he said, taking my arm. ‘Come with me.’
We had ascended one revolution of the winding staircase with the dog in tow, before Edwin summoned the nerve to shout down to our steward. ‘Please bring up more Malmsey wine to my room immediately, Mistress Cross. My jug is nearly empty.’ He then set off at speed, climbing two steps at a time so that he didn’t have to wait to hear her answer.
Edwin’s bedchamber smelt no better than it had the last time I’d come in here – but even so, Edwin wouldn’t allow Lyndham’s dog into the room, claiming that it was a repulsive-smelling creature. I didn’t like to tell him that his bedchamber already smelt worse than a kennel after the dogs have been hunting in the rain, but I followed his instructions and closed the door on the whimpering hound – before quickly taking up a position beside the window, where I could catch the threads of fresh air that crept through the gap in the ill-fitting frame. Had I been able to open this window somehow, then I would have done so immediately, in order to get some fresh air into this room – but the panes were set into their leads, like the windows of a church.
While Edwin busied himself in pouring two cups of wine for us, I took a moment to look down into the inner ward, seeing that it was filling up with guests again. Old Simon was playing with his tame crow – waving his arms like a fool and tottering about in a small circle while the bird flapped its enormous wings in time with its master’s movements. I noticed that Lady Emma had returned, this time accompanied by her stepmother and her father. Old Simon was trying to entertain the girl with his dancing bird, but Lady Emma was no more enamoured with his crow than she had been with Lyndham’s dog, as she was once again pinned against the wall in terror. Nearby I could see Lady Isobel, watching this whole spectacle with an expression of wearied boredom etched across her face, whereas Lord Hesket was walking his fine palfrey about the cobblestones. Unlike the rest of us, Hesket had been allowed to keep his horse in the castle and not abandon the creature to the nearby forests.
I turned away from the window as Edwin passed me a cup of wine. ‘Why did you want to speak to me?’ I asked.
‘I wondered if you’ve discovered anything yet?’ he answered. ‘I’m very anxious to find Godfrey’s killer, you know.’
I considered telling him about the library and the mazer, but decided against it. ‘Nothing as yet,’ I said instead. ‘Have you thought of anything that might help?’
He smiled somewhat triumphantly at this. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Actually that’s why I wanted to speak to you. I remembered something that could be very important.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that’s right.’ He then cleared his throat. ‘I overheard Godfrey having an argument with Pieter de Groot. It was about four days ago. In de Groot’s workroom.’ He paused. ‘They didn’t know I could hear them.’
‘So where were you, then?’ I asked.
He hesitated, biting his lip. ‘I was having a sleep in the cellars.’ I went to say something about this, but he didn’t give me the chance. ‘Don’t look at me like that, de Lacy. I was hiding from my brother. I’ve told you what it was like for me in this castle. Godfrey was always after me to do one of his boring chores. This time it was something to do with counting out sacks of grain. Can you believe that?’ He finished his wine in one guzzle. ‘I didn’t always do what Godfrey told me to,’ he said, ‘so I had a sleep instead.’
‘What was their argument about?’ I asked.
‘It was about that clock that de Groot has been building,’ he said. ‘Have you seen it? All moons, stars, and tiny wheels.’ He poked a finger into his ear and then pulled it out to examine the tip. ‘Can’t see the point of it myself. You wake up when it’s light and go to bed when it’s dark. Who needs a clock to tell you that?’
‘Was Godfrey unhappy with his clock, then?’ I asked, steering the conversation back to the overheard argument.
Edwin paused. ‘Well, I think that’s what it was about. Though I couldn’t hear every word.’
‘But Godfrey and de Groot were definitely arguing?’
‘Oh yes,’ he said with conviction. ‘They were trying not to raise their voices, but it was not a friendly conversation, I can tell you that for nothing. In fact, Godfrey was so angry that I heard him use the Lord’s name in vain.’ He said these last words in the mocking tone of a young scholar trying to impress his friends. Nevertheless, there was something revelatory in this disclosure. Godfrey was very strict about blaspheming. He had even chastised my mother once for saying ‘Dear God’ under her breath as she stubbed her toe. If de Groot had caused Godfrey to use a profanity, then he must have made my friend very angry indeed.
I passed Edwin the cup of wine. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and speak to de Groot now.’
‘Shall I come?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said quickly, trying to conjure up an excuse. ‘It might be better if I questioned him alone. De Groot will speak more freely if there is just one of us.’
Edwin nodded reluctantly at this, but then darted forward as I reached the door, placing his hand onto the latch and preventing me from leaving. ‘You see, the thing is, de Lacy,’ he whispered. ‘I think de Groot might be our killer.’
‘Why’s that?’ I said.
‘Think about it. First there’s this argument that I overheard. Then Godfrey’s body is found in de Groot’s chest. It’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?’
‘Let’s see what de Groot has to say first, shall we?’ I said, reaching again for the latch.
‘But you must admit that it’s very suspicious?’ said Edwin, finally releasing his hand from the door. ‘You must agree with that.’
I pushed past. ‘Just let me speak to him, Edwin. Before we start making accusations.’
I found Pieter de Groot in the Great Hall, sitting beside the fire with his apprentice Hans, as the boy messed about with a stick in the flames. The only other person in this large chamber was Alice Cross, who was now flaying the floor of the dais with her hazel broom. Hans gave me a sideways look as I joined them at the fire, before continuing to prod about in the ashes with the stick – smashing the burning embers into tiny sparks of fire. When I asked Hans to leave so that I could speak to his uncle alone, the boy stood up with some irritation and then kicked at the reeds on the floor, causi
ng some of them to fly into the fire pit and momentarily set alight. De Groot stamped out the flames, then censured the youth in their own guttural language, after which Hans slinked away, looking back at me with a brooding, resentful look upon his face.
De Groot shook his head at this episode, as if Hans were an impossible child. ‘My nephew is very bored here,’ he said. ‘He misses his friends in Delft. This castle is a prison.’
‘We should be thankful for this prison,’ I observed, taking the stool that Hans had vacated. ‘It will save our lives.’
De Groot shrugged at this, and then returned his bottom to the other stool. ‘Or end it, Lord Somershill.’ He hesitated. ‘There’s a murderer here,’ he whispered. ‘Somebody in this castle killed Lord Eden.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Me?’ He drew in his chin, causing his thick neck to bulge. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’
I sat up straight. De Groot was a hefty, muscular man, but I had the advantage of height. ‘Why did you recently have an argument with Lord Eden?’ I said.
‘What argument?’
‘It was four days ago in your workroom. You were overheard, de Groot, so please don’t deny it.’
My warning annoyed him, but he had the sense to hesitate before answering, forcing his face into a smile. ‘Oh, that,’ he said, with a flippant wave of his hand. ‘That wasn’t an argument.’ He then attempted a short chuckle, as if recalling an amusing memory. ‘I would call it more of a discussion.’
‘A discussion about what?’ I asked.
De Groot spread out his legs. ‘If you must know, Lord Eden was concerned about his clock.’
‘Why was that?’ I asked.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘The issue was quickly resolved.’
‘I’d still like to know,’ I said.
He rubbed his hands over his thick thighs. ‘Please don’t suggest that there was hostility between us. It is not true.’ He then rose to his feet. ‘Now I must go and find Hans.’