J. Tomlin - The Templar's Cross

Sir William leaned back in his chair for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Meldrum, you say his belongings had not been stolen?”

“I would say not.” He glanced at Law. “Did he have aught that was missing the last time you saw him alive, Law?”

Law shrugged. “There is no way for me to be certain, but his sword was in his scabbard and coins in his purse. What thief would leave those behind?”

The member of the assize was scowling at Law. “If no one else knew him save you, who else would have killed him?”

Law had known this was coming. How could it not? He carefully pulled the sheet back over the ashen face before he answered. “We had both been back in Scotland a month and in Perth nearly so long, long enow for Duncan to have quarreled or made gambling debts.” He fastened a steady gaze on Sir William’s face and twitched one shoulder in a slight shrug. “In truth, he was given to both, though no more than some others more accustomed to battle than peace. Or mayhap he or his kin had enemies from before he was in France. But he saved my life in France, and I had no reason to kill him.”

The Lord Sheriff stared at him for another moment and gave a short nod. Several of the men of the assize met his eyes and even the others looked thoughtful, so Law clasped his hands behind his back, being sure to look respectful. He needed them on his side.

The sergeant called the prior, who firmly stated that none of the brothers or priests at Blackfriars had seen Duncan or heard any struggle. After his brief testimony and a courteous dismissal from Sir William, the prior made his way through the crowd to wait near the door at the rear of the crowd.

Sir William nodded to Law with a grim look. “Now pull back the sheet on the other corpse. That must be considered as well.”

At a table a few feet below the foot of the one holding Duncan’s body, Law pulled the sheet down to the man’s waist. He sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth. The slash across the man’s plump neck was vicious, and his white-blond curls were clotted with black blood. Law schooled his face to stillness as he considered that following a dead man would be easy work for which he’d already been partially paid.

“Does anyone here ken who this man is?” Sir William asked.

Law took a step back and thrust his thumbs into his belt. A murmur rippled through the room, and he silently shook his head that he didn’t know the man. A chill went through him, and his mind raced. Could it have been Blinsele? That seemed to make no sense. Blinsele’s supposed wife or her lover, though Law had serious doubts about the truth of that story, could have killed Duncan to hide their presence. Or was it a third person Law had no idea of?

The sergeant cleared his throat for attention. “The watch found the body after daybreak at the foot of the Tay Bridge. He was already cold and stiffening. His purse was empty, but whether he had coin before he was attacked, who can say?” He motion to a pile of clothes topped with a blue woolen cloak, all held down by a dagger. “His clothes were braw. He was no beggar.”

Sir William’s scowl deepened. “Yon clothes and the dagger would have been worth coin, and in the dark at least his cloak would have been easily taken.” He looked at the sergeant. “There is surely no possibility he would have been dead before nightfall.”

The sergeant, who Law was beginning to think might have at least a few more brains than most sergeants he had met, shook his head. “Someone would have seen him. The body had completely stiffened when we found it, which had not yet passed. I believe he might have been killed about nightfall.” He looked at the body thoughtfully. “Probably not much later than that. Before the other, yon Duncan, I would say.”

The bridge over the Tay was no more than a twenty-minute walk from Blackfriars Abbey and the alley where Duncan had died. Both done with small blades, but that did not necessarily mean the same hand had wielded them, one a slashed neck, the other stabs to the breast.

The assizer at the front of the group demanded, looking at Law, “You dinnae ken this one? You’re sure of it?”

“I’m sure I ne’er saw the man alive. He does nae look like a Scot to me. I ne’er saw a Scot with that color hair.” Law chewed his lower lip as he reconsidered how much he should tell as Sir William grunted in agreement. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades. Someone was free with a knife who might decide he knew too much. Changing his story now would look too suspicious, Law decided. He shrugged. “Mayhap it would be worth asking at the inns and monastery guesthouses if they’ve had a guest by his description. There canna be many such hereabout.”

Sir William said, “Yet you have been out of Scotland, so you could have met someone with such coloring.”

“He could be English,” one of the assizers with the heavy shoulders of a maister of the smith’s guild said.

Law made his face blank with boredom. “No. I ne’er saw this one there whilst I was out of the kingdom, and I’d ne’er take him for a knight or soldier.” Law turned over the stiffened hand to show the soft, well-tended palm. He then held up his own with its callused palm. “He is no fighter, and I’d not take him for a cleric in yon clothes.” Law thrust his chin at the stack of bright silk and velvet at the foot of the table. “It seems to me the first thing is to find out if anyone has seen him about Perth. Someone must have. I shall check at Whitefriars for you, if you like.” That would cover that he’d already been there.

“Guesses achieve nothing,” Sir William rapped out. “Does anyone have any knowledge to put forward?” When there was a nervous silence in response to his question, he turned his head to the assize. “Do any of you have any questions to put?”

“When did you agree to tryst for a drink with that one?” The hammersmith pointed toward Duncan. “Did anyone see the two of you to say you were not quarreling?”

“He came up to my room above Cullen’s tavern well after Sext rang. I suppose Wulle Cullen might be able to tell you…?”

The innkeeper crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully. “Aye, the man had been in my inn a handful of times. I cannae say I kent his name. I recall that he went up to Sir Law’s room yesterday and it might have been about the time Law said. I was busy with my own business and didnae note it. When the man came down he had a bowl of my goodwoman’s broth and left. If anything, he seemed more cheerful than before.”

“There is still fighting in France. Would it not have been easier to find a new lord there?” the same man asked.

Law examined the man’s face and wondered what answer would satisfy him. After a moment, he settled on the truth. “I followed the Earl of Douglas there; that was before the French made him a duke. After he was killed, I had no desire to follow a Frenchman. And… It was time to come home.”

The man nodded, and when Sir William asked, there were no more questions. Sir William took a seat in the large chair on the dais that could serve as a throne if the king were in attendance. The sergeant along with one of his men escorted the assizers out of their enclosure and through a rear door to a chamber. Their decision behind closed doors would decide if anyone was accused of the murder, and a twinge of nerves at the possibility that they might yet accuse him made Law tense.

Wulle Cullen wove his way through the crowd to Law with Cormac sauntering in the innkeeper’s wake.

Wulle shook his head. “Not oft we see two murders in one day. There’s a good crowd here, curious about the outcome.”

Law grunted. “I suppose.”

Cormac muttered, “Even less often the murderer doesn’t dump the body in the Tay.”