Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

She studied him for a moment and then said, ‘I am glad of that, Sir Josse. I have never thought of my son as a murderer although, in all truth, I think that under certain circumstances he could and indeed would kill.’

‘Which of us would not say the same?’ Josse countered.

She inclined her head. ‘Indeed,’ she murmured. Then, as if deliberately turning her thoughts from that unwelcome concept, she said briskly, ‘Arthur Fitzurse, then, knows of my son. He knows who his mother is, presumably also the identity of his father.’ She broke off suddenly, eyes wide as if at some extraordinary thought. But, whatever it was, she appeared to dismiss it for, when she resumed, it was in the same tone: ‘Fitzurse is interested in something that he believes to be in my son’s possession. Not something valuable such as Leofgar’s modest amount of silver, for Walter Bell found that and ignored it. No. Something of quite a different nature. He wants to look for it within my son’s home and he employs a local ruffian to break into the Old Manor and hunt around.’

‘Why not go himself?’ Josse put in.

‘Because if he were to be discovered there, apprehended and arrested, then whatever purpose is driving him would come to an abrupt end,’ she said. ‘The Bell brothers, on the other hand, are not only expendable, as far as Arthur Fitzurse is concerned, but also, according to Gervase de Gifford, experienced thieves. Perhaps Fitzurse thought it better to employ a professional. By using another to do his dirty work, Fitzurse could distance himself from whatever might happen.’

‘Then why come forward now that the attempted theft went wrong and Walter Bell ended up dead?’

She thought for some time. Then she said triumphantly, ‘ Because Walter Bell ended up dead! Oh, don’t you see, Bell failed in his task and didn’t find what Fitzurse sent him to find! And it is as you just said — Arthur Fitzurse is desperate to get his hands on this thing , whatever it is, and so he goes along to Gervase de Gifford, spins a tale about Walter Bell having set off to the Old Manor to resolve a fictitious quarrel with Leofgar and not coming back. He knows it’s quite safe to make up this tale of a quarrel because both Bells are dead now and neither can deny it; the only one who can is Leofgar, but presumably Fitzurse reckons that it will be a case of Leofgar’s word against his. He uses Walter Bell’s disappearance as an excuse to demand that de Gifford make a search of the house and grounds. But Josse, Fitzurse didn’t care about Walter Bell! You were right; what he wanted was an opportunity to hunt through the Old Manor himself!’

Josse saw again Fitzurse’s face as he strode about the Old Manor’s hall; saw the eager, darting hands, the intent expression in the cold eyes. Aye, he thought, I was right.

‘Employing the Bell brothers did not turn out to be such a bright idea after all,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Walter did not find what he was sent to find and got himself killed for his troubles. Teb took up the role of avenger and came storming up here to Hawkenlye to demand the truth from Leofgar. Now as I said I do not think for a moment that Leofgar killed Teb — apart from anything else, he had no idea of the man’s existence and certainly did not know that Teb was on his way to find him.’ He watched her face, wondering if she were thinking the same thing. ‘No. My candidate for the role of Teb Bell’s killer is someone who knew both Teb and what he intended to do when he reached Hawkenlye and found Leofgar.’

‘Arthur Fitzurse.’

‘Aye.’

‘But why would he kill Teb Bell?’

‘Because he did not want him to confront Leofgar. Just imagine, my lady, a furious Teb bursting into the Abbey demanding to speak to your son and accusing him of having killed Walter! Questions would be asked, and if Teb’s fury got the better of him and, God forbid, he had attacked or even killed Leofgar, then it would have been very difficult to cover up such an occurrence and there would have been a full investigation. And Fitzurse is not ready for that. He does not welcome anyone looking too closely into his affairs, certainly not before he has found whatever he is looking for.’

‘Yes.’ She was nodding her agreement. ‘And I would judge also that he prefers others to dance to his rhythm,’ she said. ‘He needs to be in control.’

‘Aye, and the danger that Teb Bell might make very loud and public trouble by accosting Leofgar here at Hawkenlye was a risk he could not take.’

‘So he followed him, jumped him and murdered him,’ she finished. ‘Sir Josse, it is possible, is it not?’

‘More than possible,’ he said. ‘I would say it is highly likely.’

She had been watching him but now her eyes seemed to slide away from his and become unfocused, almost as if she were entering a reverie. ‘What is it, my lady?’ he asked, and heard the concern in his voice.

‘Hm?’ She returned her gaze to him but still she looked distant.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he said gently. ‘Can I help?’

Now she smiled. ‘Dear Josse, I expect so. You usually can.’

He grunted an acknowledgement and then waited while she assembled her thoughts. Then she said, ‘Just now we surmised that Arthur Fitzurse knew of Leofgar’s parentage. He knew who I was and therefore he probably knows about Ivo. I’m just-’ Again she frowned, then gave a half laugh, as if she were amazed at her own thoughts. Then she said, ‘Josse, it’s probably nothing more than a coincidence and I’m being foolish even to consider it.’

‘I have never known you to be foolish,’ he said gallantly.

Her smile widened. ‘Thank you. That is only because you know me only as a sedate nun and not as the girl and the woman I once was.’

‘But even then, foolish was surely not the right description.’

‘I am not so sure …’ But whatever image she had been seeing she must have closed off, for the soft, indulgent expression abruptly left her face. Then she said, ‘It is his name.’

‘Whose name?’

‘Arthur Fitzurse’s. Urse surely derives from ursus , the bear.’

‘Aye, and his forename is that of a legendary hero who fought under the banner of the bear.’

Her eyes studying him were full of emotion. ‘As do the Warins,’ she said quietly. ‘Did you not notice the shield on the wall of the Old Manor’s hall?’

He cast his mind back and saw it again. Images and vocabulary rose up from his own fighting past and he thought, aye, I noticed it. Bear salient on an azure ground. A stirring image, for despite the shield’s age the rearing creature maintained its ferocity. ‘I did,’ he said. ‘I can picture it clearly.’

‘Fitzurse,’ she repeated. ‘Son of the bear.’

‘A not uncommon name,’ Josse observed. ‘Borne, amongst others, by one of the four knights who murdered St Thomas a Becket.’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said dismissively, ‘but I’m not talking about all these others.’

Then he saw what she meant. ‘You believe Arthur Fitzurse has a connection with the Warins?’ he demanded. ‘An illegitimate connection?’ Suddenly very embarrassed by the direction in which they seemed rapidly to be going, he protested, ‘But that would mean-’ and found he could not go on.

She must have picked up his awkwardness. ‘Sir Josse, I have to think about this,’ she said kindly. Standing up, she came round her table and approached him. She put a light hand on his sleeve and murmured, ‘You must be very tired, as indeed I am. Let us try to have a good night’s sleep and then, given time to dwell upon all that we have discussed, speak again in the morning. Yes?’

‘But-’ He wanted to protest that at that moment sleep suddenly seemed an unreachable dream; tired though he was, both physically and mentally, the matter at which she had just hinted had set his mind spinning. Could she really be hinting at what he thought she was? God’s boots!