Mel Starr - The Unquiet Bones

“There; we must not have our surgeon going about disheveled. That would reflect badly on us.”

The hounds were confused. A hunt would employ the entire pack, not just the two. Still, they were eager to be off, straining at the leash. Forgive me for feeling superior as we set off; I was mounted on Bruce, the others walked.

The old horse was becoming accustomed to the route. He followed the proper turns, took Church View north past St Beornwald’s Church, and even turned from the road to the tree where he had been tied the day before.

Uctred and Arthur had participated in the previous day’s hunt, so required no explanation of our purpose. I told the fewterer of our previous discoveries, placed the cotehardie before the dogs, and then set off behind them as the keeper put them to their work. Arthur and Uctred followed, shovels over their shoulders.

A weak sun, barely penetrating a hazy, foggy sky, warmed and softened the snow. The dogs ranged far; the keeper was required to call them in often. An hour passed with no signal from the hounds that they had found a scent. I propped myself in the sun against an elm which fringed the coppiced woods, and was near to dozing while standing when from near a hundred paces away, through the forest, I heard first one, then the other, of the hounds bawl out. Over the excited din I heard the keeper shout. Arthur and Uctred followed me as I plunged into the coppicing.

The fewterer had leashed and quieted the hounds when we arrived. The dogs were stiff and alert, their attention focused on a small clearing which they had penetrated in their search. A dense fence of coppiced saplings surrounded this opening, so that to enter we had to pull ourselves through the enclosing scrub. The hem of my cloak caught on a shoot and tore, but not at the place Lady Joan had mended. I resolved to fix the tear myself before Lady Joan might see it and wonder at my careless ways.

I motioned for Arthur and Uctred to begin their work. They scraped snow and leaves from the center of the clearing, then set to work at digging. I traced four lines across the opening with my heel, and directed them to dig along those furrows. The fallen leaves and snow had blanketed the soil, so it was not yet frozen. I could not imagine murderers taking time to bury their victims deeply, so told the men to excavate trenches no more than knee deep.

It seemed Uctred’s fate to uncover bones. He was halfway down his second trench when one of the dogs growled and the hackles stood erect on its neck. A few scoops later, Uctred’s shovel caught on something at the base of his trench. This did not alarm us, for both he and Arthur had found digging through the forest roots an arduous business. But this time, when he yanked the spade from the tangle, it came up with a shred of linen caught in a split at the point. I directed Arthur to cease work on his trench and join Uctred. In half an hour two moldering corpses lay open to the gray sky in a shallow grave. The dogs would not be silenced, so I ordered the keeper to remove them and wait for us at the road.

I turned to Uctred, he being at my elbow as we peered into the grave. “You saw Sir Robert about the castle when he visited; is this the man?”

“I cannot say. They’re too far gone, like…”

I could see he found it irksome to gaze on the decaying bodies. “Was Sir Robert fair?” I asked him.

“Aye, he was,” Uctred nodded in agreement.

Removing the bodies would require more labor, and a conveyance. I asked if Arthur or Uctred would stay to guard the grave while I and the other took the news to Lord Gilbert. The men looked sheepishly at each other and I read in their faces dismay at the thought of spending time alone in an empty forest with unquiet cadavers whose spirits might seek revenge on any who disturbed their rest.

So I sent them to give the account of our discovery to Lord Gilbert and request assistance. My wait at the grave gave me opportunity to inspect the bodies. Flesh was nearly gone, but the clothing was yet whole, though filthy and disarranged. The grave, while shallow, was deep enough that no marauding animal had detected and upset it.

The larger of the two bodies was fair-haired, the smaller was dark. The kirtles of both were of fine linen, once white, now stained with earth and, I thought, blood. Gashes disfigured the kirtles, and it seemed to me darker stains surrounded these cuts. The squire would also have worn a cotehardie, though not so fine as Sir Robert’s. There was no sign of it in the grave. Where, I wondered, was it?

My last word to Arthur and Uctred was to urge them to haste. This they must have taken to heart. One might suppose that sitting on cold, wet ground in a silent forest accompanied only by the dead would cause time to creep. I did not find it so. The sound of voices from the road soon told me that the grooms had completed their mission in good time.

Arthur pushed into the clearing first, Lord Gilbert at his heels. “You have found Sir Robert?” he asked.

“I fear so.”

Lord Gilbert’s eyes fell to the excavation before him. He knelt and peered in. The cold of winter had slowed decomposition, so no stink assailed his nostrils as he bent to look at the bodies. He remained motionless for so long that I began to fear that the sight might cause him to become unhinged.

But Lord Gilbert had seen men slain in battle; some were friends, a few were relatives. This apparition could not disturb him much. He rose slowly to his feet. “’Tis Sir Robert. I have no doubt. And his squire. The lad was slight and dark.”

Lord Gilbert ordered the exhumation of the bodies, and directed that they be taken to Galen House for my inspection when that work was done. I would have objected to this, had I thought of a reasonable complaint. I thought of many reasonable protests while riding Bruce back to Bampton, but by then it was too late to interfere with Lord Gilbert’s command. And he explained himself logically enough as we rode to the town together:

“You are our expert on bones and bodies. This time you will not need to identify the dead. You must tell me and the coroner’s jury what you can of how they died, as you did for the girl found in my cesspit.”

I thought that clear already, and considered telling Lord Gilbert so, but doubted he would be content with a conclusion based on so cursory an examination.

“That may tell us,” he continued, “why they died, though I doubt it. But if you can discover why they died, we may then also know who has done this.”

I agreed with that possibility. But I had deep misgivings that I could learn anything past the how of the business. We parted at Galen House. The reeve, riding behind us, took Bruce’s reins and led him on while I employed my time making another draught of ale and hemp for Henry atte Bridge.

I found Henry where I left him the night before, not that I expected any different. Pale afternoon sunlight filtered through the single window which illuminated the fuming interior of the hut. A smoldering fire continued to burn, putting some heat, and much smoke into the atmosphere. The bed my patient lay on, I saw, was yet flat on its four legs.

“Could you not find someone to raise the bed?” I asked the girl, rather more sharply than I should have, I fear. She began to cry.

“Nay. Asked me brothers. They would not. Too busy in t’fields.”

This seemed unnatural to me. Lifting the head of their father’s bed would be but the work of minutes and in no way harm their work for the day. There is, I thought, some family discord lodged in these huts.

“Very well. I will raise him. First, help me prop him up to take this draught.”

Henry atte Bridge grunted heavily as we lifted him, but took the ale readily.

“Did the potion give you sleep last night?” I asked him. “Aye…the pain returned by morning. I’ve looked for your return, and another draught.”