J. Tomlin - The Templar's Cross

The house was well appointed but not large. Besides the storeroom downstairs was a kitchen, barren of food and cooking implements. Up the stairs was a large bedchamber with a red-draped bed and a pallet near the hearth for a servant and a garderobe. Other servants, had there been any, would sleep in the kitchen. He lifted the lid of a kist at the foot of the great bed and it had only a small pile of clothes, some for a larger man and some that would have fit the body downstairs. Of course, Carre was English, so the house was borrowed or rented. Little that was here belonged to him, apparently nothing of importance.

Law wrestled the shirt and doublet back on the body, blew out all the candles, and went to look between the boards of the shutters. Across the street, a pale face and shining eyes caught a stray beam of moonlight. The figure pressed back into the shadows, a cloud covered the moon, and Law saw only darkness. Law sucked on his teeth. That was Dave Taylor’s face or he’d be damned for a fool.

He hummed faintly under his breath. Perhaps he should follow the murderer’s path out the back window.

Sergeant Meldrum stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned in a circle, examining the fireless hearth, the tapestry-draped wall, the fallen chair, the bloody floor and lastly the body. “There is something wrong with a man finding so many bodies. Something suspicious, it seems to me.”

Law rubbed a hand over his short beard. “I cannae say I enjoy it.”

“Do not play games with me. Did you kill him?”

The tall, barrel-chested man was a menacing figure as he dropped his hand onto his sword and glared at Law.

“He was already dying when he stepped out the door.”

Meldrum looked thoughtfully toward that same door. “Yet he is inside.”

“I could have left the body in the doorway whilst I found you, but do you think anything would have been left by the time we returned?”

The sergeant grunted what might have been an assent. “Then what, by all the saints, were you doing here?”

“A man named Carre-” He thrust his chin toward the body. “-who I think is probably this lad’s father, had his guards escort me here. I was less than a voluntary guest. He said he had hired de Carnea to buy some goods for him, but de Carnea or whoever killed him stole them. Because I was at the inquest, he seemed to think I would know something about what had happened to his property.”

“Carre. That is an English name. So it’s the one you told me about.”

“Aye. Carre is a Sassenach right enough. I didn’t meet the son, if son he was, but I saw him leaving the house later.” Law shrugged at Meldrum’s raised eyebrows. “He obviously kent more about de Carnea than I, so I kept watch. Today the house seemed empty. I decided to check again about dusk. Besides, I’ve been looking for the lot of them to see if I could trick them into telling me more and thought they might be here. But there was candlelight but no one moving about. Then the door opened. He tried to speak but…” Law shrugged again. “He was already dying.”

Meldrum crossed his arms and stared pensively at the body. “Stabbed, then.”

“Twice. And look.” He lifted one of the hands and showed the palms.

Looking puzzled, Meldrum said, “That shows nothing.”

“No, it shows something. It shows that he made no attempt to fend off the attack.” He dropped the hand and pointed to the bloodstain next to the chair. “But he must have been standing over there when it happened. He probably knocked the chair over when he fell. You see.” He pointed to the puddle of darkening, congealing blood. “That’s where most of the blood is. He must have lain here for a short time.”

“But he was still alive when you found him. Why not finish him off if he wasnae defending himself ?”“And by that time he was in no shape to.” Law shook his head. “Mayhap the attacker saw no point in it since he was dying. Or mayhap he heard something and decided to flee.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I must have been just outside. I didnae knock but he could have heard my footsteps.”

Meldrum prodded Law in the chest with a forefinger and said through gritted teeth, “I shall nae take the blame for the burgh being fallen into lawlessness no more than the Lord Sheriff will.”

Law looked at the cold body lying on the floor. “Will Sir William hold the inquest on the morrow?”

“I’ll suggest he wait a day. By then, you’d best name the murderer…” He left the rest unsaid, but Law understood exactly what he meant.

Law suppressed a groan at the comment. Another inquest would push the sheriff to action and Law had lost himself a few days of grace to prove who the killer was.

Half an hour later, Law sank down onto a bench against a wall in Cullen’s tavern. He looked over the smoky room filled with revelers and those quietly bent over their cups while others slurped down a bowl of Mall’s gruel. Cormac was singing, and some of the men were slapping their hands on the table in time with it. It all had a warm and comforting feel after an evening spent standing over the body of a dead youth. He watched Cormac tuck the harp between his knees and pluck at the strings, so that they sounded bell-like, pure and sweet. Such beauty always seemed strange in such a low place.

One of the people he was involved with was a cold-blooded killer. He’d done more than a few to death but always in the heat of battle, yet he could not fathom slaughtering someone who had no chance to defend himself. The lad had not even had a dagger in his belt. Who had done it? And why? No one would have thought that the youth had the cross that everyone was seeking. Law could turn them all over to the sheriff and say they were all in it, but he couldn’t send them to the gallows without at least trying to find out the truth.@

Cormac finished his song and came over to sit across the table, smiling. “Welcome home,” he said. “Wulle is in a lather that I haven’t played enough the last few days, so I can only stop for a trice.”

Law twitched the corner of his mouth into a grin and nodded his understanding.

“Did you find them?”

“No.” Law took a quick glance around but no one appeared to be listening. “I found something else. Another body, stabbed with a dagger like the others.”

Cormac slumped, plunging his hands into his red hair. “Another one? Cannae you just…just forget this whole thing before I find you dead as well?”

“You ken that isn’t possible. The lord sheriff would not let me. And Duncan saved my life even if I cannae say that I liked him.”

“Why not just flee?”

“I’m no felon and I’ll not act the part of one. Besides, where would I go? I’d hardly be welcome in England.” Law poured a goblet of the ale and asked, “Did anything happen whilst I was gone? No messages?”

“No.” Cormac straightened. “But that ratcatcher-Dave Taylor-he was here. He didnae come in, but for a long time whene’er anyone went in or out, I saw him standing in the alley.”

“How long? When did he leave?”

“Just before dark, I looked out and he wasnae there anymore.”

Law pondered the time it would have taken the man to reach the house where Law had found the dead man. Dave might have done it, but Law still didn’t see how he could have managed to kill Duncan. “And you ne’er said anything to him?”

“Ach, no. There’s something about him-forbye being a ratcatcher. That’s honest enough work if not pleasant, but he looks at everyone as though he is always watching for them to do something he can catch them on.”

“I ken what you mean. There is something more about him than at first sight…” Law tapped his fingers on the table as he ran over the numerous times he’d seen the man. “I saw him one night at the same inn where John Cameron was staying, almost as though…” He shook his head. “Would the king’s own secretary use such a tool?”