The King's Riddle

by Maureen Ash

  “My mills will also be closed to all who live in the village,” Siward added, his thick neck thrust forward and his shoulders hunched with rage, “as well as my grain store, until this villain is found.”

  This declaration took everyone aback. While most households had small quern stones to grind their own grain, the bakers in the village needed such large quantities that it would be too time-consuming to grind their requirements themselves and they depended on both of Siward’s mills to do it for them. In addition, at this time of the year, just before the harvest could be reaped, none of the bakers, or the village households, had enough grain in their own stores to last them for long, and so were in sore need of the supply provided by Siward.

  “You cannot do this,” one of the bakers protested angrily. “You will leave the whole village without the means to make bread.”

  “That is not my concern,” Siward answered shortly.

  As other angry villagers vented their disapproval of the miller’s decision, Reeve Osric spoke up. “You cannot be sure, Siward, that one of us is responsible for Alfreda’s death.”

  “Who else could it be?” the miller shouted with fury. “The only persons who could have put the poison in her cup were those who were present at the feast and, with the exception of fitzRanulf and the other two Norman knights—and there is no reason for any of them to have wished her dead—everyone was from the village. Unless,” he added with a sneer, “you think it may have been the king himself who did the deed?”

  Osric gave his head a shake of disgust at the ridiculous suggestion.

  “I didn’t think so,” Siward replied mockingly.

  The reeve made no further comment and he and the rest turned to leave the hall, sensing there would be no way of convincing the furious miller to change his mind.

  As they left, Alfreda’s aunt, Valerie—who had been standing in the frozen rictus of grief that had assailed her since her niece had died—broke her silence and turned to her brother. “That was ill done, Siward,” she told him. “By closing your mills and grain store to the village, you are punishing the innocent as well as the guilty.”

  “As I intended to,” Siward flung at her. “Somewhere amongst them is someone who knows more than they are telling about who they saw near Alfreda’s cup at the wedding feast. Perhaps a little deprivation will loosen their tongue.”

  As the miller stepped down from the dais and left the hall, Harold and Edith, along with Penda’s wife, Helga, followed him, but Valerie grasped Penda’s hand and held him back. “I think your father is correct in his suspicion that someone is withholding information that could be vital, but he is foolish to try and find out who it is by threat. I believe there may be a much better method of gaining the information we seek, and I want you to help me set it in motion.”

  *************

  At the fortified manor at Ashford, Robert fitzHaimo was pacing the length of the hall as he awaited the return of fitzRanulf and Abetot from the funeral and pondering the riddle of the girl’s death. He was apprehensive about the task of overseeing the enquiry, but understood why the king had given it to him, for he, too, had once been in love with an English girl and would have married her had she not refused him on the grounds that for a lord of his rank to wed a woman of such lowly status would make them both miserable.

  He knew she had been right, but her decision had hurt him, and even more so when she had married an Irishman and left England to go to her husband’s homeland. Since then, by the king’s favour, he had wed Sybil, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury. He liked his wife, but did not love her as he had Bridget. Because of this, he understood how devastated fitzRanulf had been at the death of his bride; had the same happened to him he was well aware that he would also have been deeply grieved, and very angry.

  But there were other concerns involved in this death that were troubling. FitzRanulf’s understandable thirst for revenge was directed towards the Maidstone villagers, believing one of them to be responsible, although he could not hazard a guess as to which. But privately Rufus thought it might just be possible that a Norman had arranged it, and fitzHaimo did as well.

  The knight they had under suspicion was William of Evrecy. FitzRanulf had spent most of his younger years in the castle held by Evrecy’s father in Normandy and the pair had travelled to England together a few years ago. Evrecy was a second son and so did not have any prospects of his own, but he had a sister who, he claimed, fitzRanulf had promised to marry. Now that fitzRanulf was the recipient of Montfort’s legacy and had land of his own, such a family tie could easily bring profit to Evrecy himself through the favour in which his friend was held by the king, perhaps even the awarding of a demesne of his own.

  Although fitzRanulf denied he had ever given his pledge to make the marriage, Evrecy had spoken of the match with his sister as though it were certain to take place, and had been enraged when fitzRanulf had taken him to Maidstone and introduced him to Alfreda and said he intended to marry her. Evrecy had stormed off after fitzRanulf’s disclosure, declaring that he no longer considered him a friend, and swearing to others out of fitzRanulf’s hearing that he would make him regret the insult done to his sister and through her, to his own self.

  Evrecy was now on duty at Dover, which was where Rufus had gone and, while there, the king said he would try and discover if the knight might have acted on his threat to extract revenge for his sister’s humiliation by bribing one of the Maidstone villagers to place the poison in Alfreda’s cup. If so, a search needed to be made for the culpable villager, not an easy task for a Norman, and that was one of the reasons Rufus had decided to involve Estrid. She, being English, would find it much easier to extract information about the murder from the inhabitants of the village.

  FitzHaimo recalled a private conversation he had with Ralf of Abetot shortly after they had returned to Ashford from the scene of the girl’s death. He had not mentioned his and Rufus’ suspicions about Evrecy, for Abetot was also a friend of his but, because he had been often in Maidstone village during the days of fitzRanulf’s courting of Alfreda, asked who among the villagers he thought might be guilty. His response had been surprising.

  “I believe it was a conspiracy amongst them all,” he had replied, “but it was not the girl they wanted to murder—it was Turstin and I have told him so. They hated him and wanted him dead.”

  “Surely not,” fitzHaimo had objected. “The poison was in her cup, not his.”

  The laconic knight had shrugged his shoulders. “Villagers in England, like those in Normandy, can be crafty but are also often dull-witted. They made a plan and bungled the making of it by putting the poison in the wrong cup.”

  A simple answer that could be a valid one, but fitzHaimo thought it unlikely. To kill a Norman in the midst of their village would most certainly have brought the murdrum fine down on all of the inhabitants of Maidstone and, as fitzRanulf was a knight, the levy would have been an extremely heavy one.

  “Do you have any suspicions as to which of the villagers did the actual deed?” he went on to ask.

  Abetot had given a mirthless laugh. “Each and every one of them,” he said.

  Now, FitzHaimo reflected that only the way to ease the difficulty of the situation would be to discover the name of the poisoner. He sincerely hoped Estrid’s efforts to achieve that aim would be successful for otherwise Rufus would have no option other than to impose the fine. But if he did so—and no matter how well-deserved it might be—he would inevitably reap English outrage, and thus put in danger the delicate ties of loyalty he had recently forged with his subjects after his recent overthrow of his Uncle Odo, the Earl of Kent, a man the English folk had hated. The conundrum of the young bride’s death desperately needed to be solved in order to forestall any possibility of future unrest.

  CHAPTER 11

  On their return from the funeral, Estrid, Tilde and Judith sat down with Leofwine and told him all they had observed, to which he listened with great attention so he could make as c
omplete a report as possible to Robert fitzHaimo when he went to Ashford the next day.

  “Do you have any opinion as to who might be guilty?” he asked Estrid.

  “Without further questioning of those that are suspect, it is impossible to form any conclusions,” she replied. “And I cannot interrogate them without revealing that I am here on behalf of the king.”

  “You said earlier, frea, before we came to Maidstone, that you were surprised the yew poison had acted so quickly,” Judith said hesitantly. “Might it not be possible that Alfreda drank it before she arrived at the hall?”

  “A good point, Judith, and one that has been overlooked,” Estrid commended. “And which it might be expedient to explore further, perhaps through the village cunning woman who pronounced, at the time the death took place, that it was yew poisoning that had killed the girl.”

  As they were speaking, Godser entered the room. “You have a visitor, Frea Estrid,” he said. “It is Valerie, Alfreda’s aunt, and she told me she wishes to ask your help in discovering her niece’s murderer.”

  Estrid was, to say the least of it, taken off guard, but managed to hide her astonishment as Valerie entered with Penda, whom Estrid remembered as the youngest of Alfreda’s brothers. They both came in hesitantly and Valerie immediately apologised for disturbing the company, but Tilde made them welcome and, after introducing them to Judith and Leofwine, bid them be seated, placing two more cups on the table and filling them with ale.

  “I am come, Estrid Thunorsdohter,” Valerie said, “because I fear that the devil who poisoned my niece will never be found unless someone more diligent than our reeve investigates her murder. I was lately in Rochester to visit a friend and she told me how you tracked down a man who committed secret murder so as to prove your son was innocent of the crime. I have come to ask that you make an attempt to find out who killed Alfreda.”

  Valerie paused for a moment before continuing. “I know it is an imposition to make such a request of you,” she went on, her face flushing slightly, “and that you have responsibilities with a prior demand on your time. But if you will agree to help us, I give you my pledge...”

  Estrid knew the woman was about to make an offer of recompense and held up a hand to forestall her. “There is not a necessity for any incentive. I deem it an honour that you have enough confidence in my abilities to believe I might be of assistance.”

  Relief flooded Valerie’s face and it was obvious she had been worried that an offer of payment to a woman who had once held such a high position as Estrid might be considered offensive.

  “Before we have any further discussion on the matter, however,” Estrid continued, “I must first ask if your proposal has been sanctioned by your brother, Siward.”

  Valerie glanced up at Penda, whose face was a combined picture of misery and hope, before answering. “I have only told Penda of my intention to ask you so far,’ she admitted, “but I am certain Siward will give his consent. He is not only greatly grieved, but furious with the villagers for not helping him to find Alfreda’s murderer, and has denied them all access to his mills and grain stores because of it. I am sure he will agree to any measures that might aid in finding the culprit.”

  Estrid nodded, once again struck by the familiarity of Valerie’s face, trying again to place where she had seen her before, and wondering how she could frame her answer to both the dead woman’s aunt and brother without revealing that she had already been asked to undertake an enquiry by the king.

  “Then only one obstacle remains,” she finally said gravely, “and that is to gain the king’s permission to my involvement.”

  Judith dropped her glance at Estrid’s distortion of the truth, but Leofwine, Godser and Tilde all gave no outward sign of their private knowledge.

  “Surely he cannot object if you are successful.” Valerie responded.

  “No, but it would be prudent to ask him. Otherwise he may fear that I, an outsider to Maidstone, am meddling in matters that do not concern me.”

  Valerie nodded in assent. “Then I agree, and I am sure Siward will do the same.”

  “Very well,” Estrid said and turned to Leofwine. “You are to return to your duties soon, I believe,” she said. “Will you arrange for a message to be given to the king requesting his permission to my undertaking an enquiry?”

  “I will,” Leofwine answered in a wry tone, “and most willingly.”

  Speaking again to Valerie, she said, “Once I have Rufus’ permission, if he gives it, I will need to question all of your family, and also those who had any connection to your niece through friendship or otherwise.”

  “I will ensure it is arranged,” Valerie promised.

  As she spoke, Valerie moved her hand to push back the ends of her head rail from her shoulders and, in doing so, revealed the clasp holding her light summer cloak in place. It was a fine one, crafted in silver and shaped in the image of a stag’s head. Estrid immediately recognised it and, in doing so, recalled where she had seen Valerie before.

  “I thought I remembered you,” she exclaimed. “You are the girl who was given that clasp you are wearing by the winner of a wrestling contest at a folkmote in Penenden many years ago.”

  Valerie smiled, her still lovely face softening at the remark. “You have an excellent memory. Yes, I was that girl, and I recall you sitting by your father’s side when he presented the clasp to the man who won it.”

  “How could I forget?” Estrid said. “The victor was the handsomest man there, and when he walked over and gave you his prize, all of the girls there envied you. What became of him?”

  “I married him,” Valerie said simply, “but, like your own husband, he was killed at Senlac just a short time after we wed.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Estrid said with sincerity, and reached across and clasped Valerie’s hand in her own. “You did not bear him any children, then?”

  “No,” Valerie replied with tears in her eyes. “After her mother died, Alfreda took the place of any offspring I might have had and became as dear to me as though she were my own daughter.”

  Now Estrid understood Valerie’s deep grief, and her need for resolution. Her heart went out to the sorely bereft woman and she swore to herself that she would do all she could to aid her.

  CHAPTER 12

  After Valerie and Penda left, it was arranged that Leofwine would go that day to Ashford to ask fitzHaimo to forward a message to the king advising him of Valerie’s request.

  “I have no doubt Rufus will be pleased,” Estrid opined, “and will give his permission for me to conduct an open enquiry. And once his sanction is made known, there will be no obstacle in the way of my questioning those who are suspected of the crime. And, while you are on that journey, Leofwine, I will return to Rochester to apprise Bishop Gundulf of the king’s command, and ask his approval for a delay in completion of the items he has ordered from my workshop. I would also like to speak to Cenred. As a healer, he is skilled with herbs, and will most likely know how quickly a poisoning by yew would take effect. If he is able to give us that information, it will enable us to determine if Alfreda’s ingestion of the poison might have taken place earlier than we have been led to believe. That will eliminate the need to question the village healer about the properties of yew poison, for she may, for all we know, have been involved in the making of it.”

  At Leofwine’s nod of approval for her plan, she asked him how long he thought it would be before he would return to Bearsted with the king’s answer.

  “As he has left fitzHaimo to oversee your investigation, it may be that his consent will be enough,” he answered. “If it is not, it is still not too far for fitzHaimo to send to Dover where, I am told, Rufus is at the moment, for his response. At the latest, I would expect to return the day after tomorrow.”

  “Very good,” Estrid commented. “That will easily give me time to see both Gundulf and Cenred before I come back here to await your return.”

  *************

&nbs
p; As Leofwine started out on the road to Ashford, leaving Ugg to accompany Estrid and Judith on the journey back to Maidstone, he felt uneasy. While Estrid had been investigating the young bride’s murder in secret, he had felt no qualms for her safety but, once it was made known that she was, with the king’s consent, enquiring into the death, might not the murderer try and eliminate her as well? Her recent victory in revealing the perpetrator of the murder for which her son had been erroneously charged had become common knowledge in Rochester and the surrounding area—which was how Valerie had heard of it—and she could easily be considered a threat by the killer. Leofwine began to curse Rufus for asking it of her, and himself for encouraging the woman he loved so much to agree.

  When he arrived at Ashford, he gave his horse into the care of a groom and was shown into the manor house by fitzRanulf’s steward.

  FitzHaimo was in the company of the bereaved bridegroom and also of Ralf of Abetot, both of the latter having just returned from a hunting trip in the forest that surrounded the manor. They were all drinking wine, although fitzHaimo was sitting a little apart from the other two, who had just started a game of backgammon, scanning some documents that lay on the table before him. When Leofwine came in, he looked up and bid him come forward.

  “You have a report for me?” he asked.

  “I do, lord,” Leofwine replied and then related how it had come about that Estrid had been asked by Alfreda’s aunt to investigate her niece’s murder, and that he had come so that a message could be sent to the king to apprise him of the fact, and to ask for his permission to do as Valerie had asked.

  FitzRanulf, at mention of his dead wife, immediately rose from his seat and came over to where fitzHaimo was seated, paying close attention to what Leofwine was saying. After a moment, Abetot walked over and stood beside him.

  “It is useless to set a woman to catch my wife’s murderer,” fitzRanulf declared when Leofwine had finished speaking, “as I said to the king when he first suggested it. Might as well send a mouse to trap a rat; she will be no more successful. The king should instead fine all the villagers. One of them knows who did it, and will soon give him up when the silver in their purse is threatened.”