Alys Clare - Ashes of the Elements

And that was about all.

Thinking hard, Josse paced around the place of death. Ewen came from here, he thought, walking back a few yards and then returning, and someone jumped him. From where, though? From behind? Or in front?

If it had been Seth, and Josse was wrong about the knife, then, since Josse had witnessed him leave the clearing after Ewen, he must have leapt on him from behind. There could be no way that Seth could have overtaken Ewen and come at him from the front. Trying to be objective, Josse studied the ground again. There were no tracks approaching the place where Ewen had been killed from either side; the underbrush was quite undisturbed. And the tracks that led away from it had been widened, even if not made, by those who had found and borne away the body.

So in which direction did the murderer go?

Ewen had been cut down as he fled along a minor path, little more than an animal run. Referring to his mental map, Josse realised that the man must have been heading for home, cutting off into the thicket because he wanted to take the shortest route. It was not the easiest way, though, and so not the route that anyone lying in wait for him would have expected him to take.

Seth would have known, though. Because Seth was coming after him.

Josse sat down on a fallen log, puzzling. And the more he puzzled, the more it seemed likely, much as he hated to admit it, that the sheriff’s swift and ill-thought-out conclusion must be the right one.

Seth and Ewen had gone back last night, by the light of the full moon, to fetch the last of whatever valuables they’d discovered in the clearing. With Hamm Robinson conveniently dead, the treasure could now be shared between the two of them. Ewen had taken fright and rushed off, and Seth, the braver of the two, had stayed behind. Found something else — something large and bulky, Josse recalled, picturing Seth cramming it into the sack.

Yes! he decided abruptly. That’s it! Seth found the last object, perhaps the most precious thing in the whole hoard, and he didn’t want to share it with Ewen. Why should he, indeed, when Ewen had already fled in fright? It was Seth’s and Seth’s alone! the man would have reasoned. So off he went in pursuit, and, catching Ewen up as he ran for home, Seth knifed him to death.

Leaving Seth as sole possessor of whatever it was they had dug up.

Slowly Josse got to his feet, brushing leaves from his tunic. He untied Horace’s reins from the branch where he’d slung them, and, mounting, tried to suppress his pique.

A man is dead, he told himself severely. And his killer must be brought to justice. If it is indeed Seth, then the sheriff is acting correctly, and I, much as it will pain me, must tell him I think so.

As he rode off in the direction of Hawkenlye and the distant Abbey, Josse reflected that he would also have to break the news of his findings to the Abbess.

Now that, he thought ruefully, was really going to hurt.

* * *

She watched him with a hint of compassion in her grey eyes.

‘It is manful of you to admit that you were wrong,’ she said when he had finished.

‘Well, I suppose even someone as dense as Sheriff Pelham has to get it right sometimes,’ he replied, trying to smile.

‘You’re certain that he has done, in this instance?’ the Abbess said.

‘Certain?’ Josse stared out across the sunlit Abbey courtyard. ‘No. I’m not certain. But it’s logical that Seth is the killer. He must, I can only conclude, have used a weapon he did not normally carry. Which, I assume, he threw away afterwards.’ Briefly he met the Abbess’s eyes. ‘I’m quite sure Sheriff Pelham would have informed us, had he discovered a bloodied dagger in Seth’s possession. Aren’t you?’

‘Indeed.’ She held his eyes. ‘He would probably have raced up here to tell you in person.’

There was a brief pause. Then: ‘I hear that his men did find, if not a dagger, then an assortment of other objects in Seth’s cottage,’ the Abbess said. ‘From what little I’ve been told, it seems to be a collection of coins and metal objects; plates, I believe. Seth is protesting his innocence, saying he found them under his hen run.’

‘Roman coins?’ he asked.

‘I have no idea.’ She glanced at him. ‘I imagine that the few people who have seen the things so far wouldn’t know a Roman coin if they were to be hit in the eye by it.’

‘Hmm.’ He would very much like to have a look at the hoard, although it was hardly relevant to the investigation.

He was still nursing the wound to his pride of having to acknowledge the sheriff had been right, when the Abbess said tentatively, ‘Sir Josse?’

‘Hm? Yes?’

‘It may be agreed that Seth killed Ewen. But can he, do you think, also have killed Hamm?’

Josse got up, paced as far as the end of the cloister, then returned to where they had been sitting. No, of course not, he thought. And why didn’t I think of that?

‘No, Abbess,’ he said. ‘Even if I have to admit I was wrong, and that Seth did own a dagger, then I’m quite sure he possessed neither a spear nor the skill to throw it so accurately. A flint head,’ he mused. ‘I’d have liked to see that.’

The Abbess got to her feet, and, without a word, walked swiftly along to her room. Presently she returned.

Carrying in her hands a long-shafted, flint-headed spear.

‘I’ve cleaned it thoroughly,’ she murmured as he took it from her.

After some time he asked, ‘Why did you keep it?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh — I don’t really know. I suppose I thought it might come in useful as evidence, although that makes little sense.’ She met his eyes, and her expression seemed bashful. Ashamed, almost. ‘No. That’s not the truth.’ She took a breath, then said, ‘I kept it because the workmanship is so fine. For all that this thing was the means of a cruel death’ — she stroked a careful finger down the central spine of the flint spear-head — ‘it is so very beautifully made.’

Josse studied it. ‘Aye,’ he said softly. ‘It is.’ He gave a snort of laughter, instantly recognising it as inappropriate.

She looked up at him questioningly. ‘Sir Josse?’

‘I was just thinking that I can’t see Seth Miller making such an object.’

The ghost of a smile twised her lips. ‘Neither can I.’

* * *

Some time later, Josse reluctantly got to his feet and announced he should be on his way; although he and the Abbess had been arguing the merits of various possible next steps regarding Seth Miller, they had reached no conclusion.

Josse was aware that he was holding something back. But he didn’t know that she was, too.

He said to the Abbess, who was walking beside him as he went to collect his horse, ‘I’m wondering if there’s any value in putting a watch on Seth’s cottage, if indeed it could be arranged discreetly.’

‘I suppose it could,’ she said after a moment’s pause. ‘But why? What would be the point?’

‘I have an idea-’ He hesitated. ‘Because,’ he said instead, ‘it might be revealing to see if anyone went to the place to look for the treasure trove. It would tell us whether Hamm, Ewen and Seth had let anybody else in on the secret.’

‘But-’

‘Abbess, I’ve been thinking,’ he went on urgently. ‘What possible good would Roman coins and plate be to a band of petty thieves? They’re simple countrymen, the three of them, born and bred not a mile from here. How could they realistically have hoped to gain by their treasure trove, unless they knew someone who would buy it off them?’ Someone rather more sophisticated, he added silently. Someone who knew his way around the rich and the wealthy of this world. Who might, say, know exactly which clandestine patron of the historic arts would be prepared to pay a small fortune for genuine Roman silver and gold. Who, more importantly, had not sufficient respect for the law to worry that two men had been murdered in the process of acquiring the precious goods.’