Mel Starr - The Unquiet Bones

“So if she was killed inside the castle, the deed was done by someone who did not arouse suspicion for being here.”

“I do not like to think of that,” Lord Gilbert admitted. “I fear she was done to death in my castle.”

“I agree.”

We remained silent with our thoughts for a moment, then Lord Gilbert put voice to my reflection.

“She was smuggled in, then?”

“Aye. But could that happen if she was unwilling?”

“If she was given a potion?” Lord Gilbert mused aloud.

“Possible. But would it be easier to enter the grounds with a supine body, or with one awake and alive?”

“I see your point,” Lord Gilbert attacked his chin once again. I began to fear he would draw blood. “Someone connived with this girl to get her past the porter.” He pursed his lips. “There is likely but one reason for that.”

“I think so,” I agreed. “An assignation gone wrong. Will you commission your bailiff to find the killer?”

“I cannot. He died the week after Rogation Sunday. I have not yet appointed his replacement. John expects to receive the position, but I mistrust his ability in that post.

“This death is a stain on my name,” he continued. “For such an evil to befall a lass under my roof! Master Hugh, I would have you search out the assassin.”

I was speechless. “But m’lord…I have no skill in such work. I do not seek out the unseen. I deal with things visible. I am but a surgeon, not even a physician.”

“Who brought the girl to my castle?” he asked. “John Holcutt, perhaps?”

“You think so?” I was surprised at the suggestion.

“No. The reeve is a good man. But do not even good men sometimes shelter malignant thoughts?”

“They do,” I agreed. “Even our Lord Jesus was tempted, as the apostle tells us.”

“May not evil thoughts become deeds if unchecked?” Lord Gilbert asked.

“They may.”

“Then you must seek out a murderer for me. We are agreed, I think, that one who frequents the castle has done this. I might choose that man, unwittingly, to seek out the murderer. I believe all my servants incapable of such a crime, yet I am certainly wrong.”

“I will do as you ask,” I sighed. “I held the girl’s bones in my hands and felt sorrow, and anger, too. Who was this lass? And what did she do to merit such a death? Did she laugh, and love? Was she a wife and mother? I think not, for I believe she was too young, but would she have become such? I would know the answers to these questions, as you would, m’lord. But I will tell you straight, I fear my ignorance of such probing as will be required will undermine my endeavor. And perhaps a clumsy question may give warning to the killer.”

“Perhaps. But I have observed you at your work this past month. It may be you underestimate your abilities. Where, then, will you begin?”

I thought for a moment: “I think the first work must be to discover who the victim is…was.”

“Sensible. How will you do this?”

“I must think on it. She was not from Bampton, you are certain of that?”

“Aye,” he nodded agreement, pulling again at his chin.

“My guess is that she came from a village close by. She did not arrive here alone, I think, and if she came from some great distance, why?”

“You will need a horse,” Lord Gilbert declared. “I will direct John to have the marshalsea keep a horse ready for you. Whenever you are free to visit another town in your search, call here for the beast. When will you begin?”

“Today,” I shrugged. “No one has done anything foolish or dangerous recently, so my skills are not presently required.”

“You could visit Aston, and Cote, today, and return before nightfall.”

“I know Aston,” I remarked. “A reasonable place to begin.”

“A horse will be ready within the hour. I shall notify Thomas de Bowlegh. We will bury the remains tomorrow.”

“I would not,” I answered.

“Oh?”

“If God grants grace to my labor, and I find the girl’s family, they will want her close by. And perhaps further study will yield another clue to this mystery.”

“Hmmm…yes. As you wish. And Hugh,” he said as I turned to go, “do keep me acquainted with the progress of your search.”

“And if there is no progress, must I inform you of that, as well?”

“You are wrong to disparage your competency.”

“I esteem your opinion. I will return for the horse when I have dined and viewed the bones again.”

I returned to Galen House and took a maslin loaf and a cold capon breast to the toft where I had, perhaps unwisely as I think back on it now, left my table and its bony burden. I worked my way about the table while I ate, seeking some new knowledge. None readily appeared. I washed down my meal with ale purchased from the baker’s wife, who brewed tolerably well.

After several loops of the table I was no wiser. I set my cup on the cobbles and decided to make one more thorough inspection of the bones before I set off for Aston and Cote. I began with the skull. Had I started at the feet, I might have been home before dark.

I will explain. The skull told me nothing but what I already knew. This was a young person, surely female, who had yet no wisdom teeth, although on close inspection, the rear of the jaw showed just the beginning of a tooth erupting. The long bones and the scarred rib yielded no further clues. At last I reached the feet, and the few small bones which were recovered. There I found what I sought. This girl had broken her foot. Which foot I could not know. One of the metatarses showed sure evidence of a fracture, now poorly healed. This was not much of a clue, but how many maids have broken a foot?

My outlook improved with the discovery. I returned to the castle with more optimism than when I had left it two hours earlier. I exchanged greetings with Wilfred and set off across the yard to the marshalsea. I did not get there; not straight away.

As I rounded the base of the southwest tower, I came face to face with Lady Joan Talbot. There was no one I would have preferred to meet face to face. This was not, however, a meeting for which I was prepared. I fear my wit did not impress the lady.

“Uh, good day, m’lady.”

“Good day, Master Hugh. Do you seek my brother?”

“No. I’ve come for a horse.”

“Do you ride for pleasure, Master Hugh?”

“No, m’lady. I am on your brother’s business.”

“Oh? What business is that?”

“You know of the bones found yesterday?” She nodded. “Lord Gilbert will have me investigate this matter. I am off to visit villages in the shire hereabouts to see if a young woman has gone missing.”

Lady Joan’s brow furrowed. “You are sure it was a woman found in the…waste pit?”

“Aye. I have no doubt. And I know how she died.”

Lady Joan caught her breath and stepped back. “Oh?"

“A rib bears a deep gouge where the knife which killed her glanced from it on its way to her heart.”

She blanched, then spoke softly. “Then I wish you good fortune in your search.”

I thanked her for her good will, doffed my cap, and bowed in what I thought was a graceful sweep of arm and body. I think I overdid it. I heard her giggle softly as she glided on across the castle yard.

I know I am not a handsome fellow. Women do not compete for my attention. But neither do small children run and hide when I appear. I am as tall as Lord Gilbert, although he has thirty pounds on me. He is a warrior. I would not say that I am scrawny; slender would be more apt. Well, some would say I am scrawny. I prefer to think of my form as wiry.

My nose is a trifle large for the adjacent geography, but I have always thought that lends character to a face. To a masculine face, anyway. It seems to depart my brow properly, but then takes a right turn, as if my nostrils were trying to direct my attention to some event on the dexter side. It is inherited. My father viewed the world across a nose of similar size and bearing. My father was also bald. I know that my thick brown locks will soon vanish. I hope I may find a wife before that happens, although I am not sure I want a wife who thinks more of what is atop my head than what may be in it.