The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

‘Pica gave Savaric a dog?’

‘A big fierce one.’ Dacus laughed suddenly. ‘Do you think Savaric set it on you? He might have done. It is common knowledge that he does not want you here. But he should have waited until tomorrow.’

‘Why?’

‘Because dogs become wolves when the moon is full,’ chanted Dacus. He poked Cole in the chest, a liberty few dared take with Norman warriors, which told Gwenllian for certain that he was fey-witted. ‘Will you go to Solsbury tomorrow? Or are you as sinful as Adam, so fear to take the challenge?’

‘He will not,’ said Gwenllian, before Cole could reply for himself. ‘He does not believe these ridiculous tales of wolves, seraphim and full moons.’

Dacus regarded Cole with utter disdain. ‘Coward!’

‘We have the proof we need now,’ said Cole, the moment he and Gwenllian were outside. ‘Dacus denies owning a dog, but there were hairs all over his habit. Did you see them?’

‘I saw a cat in his lap. I imagine those came from her.’

‘No,’ stated Cole emphatically. ‘Cat hairs and dog hairs are not the same.’

Gwenllian doubted he could tell the difference. ‘Do you really think a cat would stay if a savage dog was at large?’ she asked, trying to keep the impatience from her voice.

‘Clearly, he keeps it tethered. I shall break into the hospital after dark tonight, and look for it.’

‘No! If you are caught committing burglary, the King will use it as an excuse to seize Carmarthen. Besides, we should inspect the dogs owned by Savaric, Osmun and Fevil, first.’

‘To eliminate them, thus reinforcing our case against Dacus,’ nodded Cole. ‘Good idea.’

Although Gwenllian was used to her husband’s occasionally stubborn moods, she wished he had not chosen to indulge in one when so much was at stake. It meant she was effectively investigating alone, and she was silent as they walked, hoping he would sense her irritation and adopt a more reasonable attitude. Unfortunately, he did not seem to notice.

Pica was in Savaric’s hall when they arrived. He was apoplectic with rage, and Osmun and Fevil had unsheathed their swords.

‘How dare you?’ he was howling. ‘You cannot excommunicate me! I am Abbot Elect.’

‘Your election was unlawful – the King says so,’ said Savaric. ‘And I would not have to excommunicate you had you shown a shred of restraint. But you strut about the city making disparaging remarks about me.’

Without further ado, he began reading the words that would banish Pica from the Church. Pica surged forward, his face dangerously red, but all he did was wag a shaking finger in Savaric’s face before storming out.

‘There,’ said Savaric, closing the book in satisfaction. ‘Let us see how he likes that . But what can I do for you, Sir Symon? Or are you here to tell me that you are going home?’

‘I want to see your dogs,’ said Cole bluntly.

Savaric blinked. ‘I do not have any. All dogs in the Bishop’s Palace belong to Osmun or Fevil. You may view those, if you wish.’

He led the way to a yard, where two outbuildings had been given over to the care of hounds. Fevil opened the door to the first, and Cole immediately forgot that he was meant to be looking for one that killed people, and waded among them in delight, calling compliments to their owners. His praise was effusive enough to make even the sour Fevil smile. Savaric watched in disdain.

‘I cannot abide dogs,’ he said to Gwenllian. ‘All they do is eat, bark, bite and shove their noses in embarrassing places.’

Gwenllian suspected that might be true of Osmun and Fevil’s collection; they seemed an unappealing pack to her.

‘These are all we have,’ said Osmun quickly, when Cole started to move towards the second shed. ‘Look at these pups. Their dam is that brindled bitch in the corner.’

While Cole was distracted, Gwenllian turned back to Savaric. ‘Which one is Pica’s gift?’

‘That thing is dead, thank God! Osmun, tell the good lady what you did with that vicious beast Pica had the temerity to press on me. That grey creation with the nasty yellow teeth.’

‘Fevil slit its throat, and we served it to Pica in a pie.’ Osmun’s reptilian gaze was bland, so Gwenllian had no idea whether he was telling the truth.

There was no more to be learned, so she indicated it was time to leave.

‘That was a waste of time,’ she said in disgust, once they were outside. ‘I have no idea whether the animal Pica gave Savaric is dead or alive, while you were more interested in admiring the quality of their breeding bitches than in assessing whether any were killers.’

‘I did assess them – none is savage. However, Osmun offered me a pup if we left Bath today. The fact that he tried to bribe me says he has something to hide.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Gwenllian. ‘But what?’

They decided to visit Pica next. They found him near the Chapter House, braying his fury to Walter and Robert about his treatment at Savaric’s hands.

‘It is your fault!’ he raged, stabbing a finger at Cole. ‘Savaric says he has no time for my complaints, because he is busy with you. It is your fault he excommunicated me.’

‘He excommunicated you because you rail at him,’ countered Cole shortly. ‘Besides we have spent very little time in his company since we arrived. He is fobbing you off with excuses.’

‘I am sure he will lift the interdict if you ask nicely,’ said Robert soothingly.

‘Offer him a little something to gain his favour,’ suggested Walter. ‘But make sure you say it is for the abbey. If you imply it is for him personally, the price will go up.’

Cole laughed, although Walter had apparently not intended to be amusing, because he looked too startled.

‘We are here to ask about another bribe, as it happens,’ Cole said. ‘A dog.’

‘I presented one to him three months ago.’ Pica scowled. ‘It cost me a fortune, but the gesture did nothing to make him more kindly disposed towards me. I should have kept it myself, because it was a lovely creature.’

‘We were told it was savage,’ said Cole. ‘Did you give it to him in the hope that he would be bitten?’

‘No,’ said Pica, in a way that told even Cole, who tended to take such remarks at face value, that he was lying.

‘Then did you eat a pie with him not long afterwards?’

‘I do not recall,’ replied Pica, frowning his puzzlement. ‘What a peculiar thing to ask!’

‘Have you seen the dog recently?’

Pica glared. ‘No, and I resent all these questions. What are you going to do about this excommunication? You must abandon your enquiries and intervene. In the King’s name!’

‘Meddle, and you will be sorry,’ warned Walter. ‘It is none of your concern.’

‘I disagree,’ said Robert softly. ‘No bishop should excommunicate someone over a private quarrel. Sir Symon should postpone his investigation, and attend to this matter.’

He and Walter began to argue, Pica interrupting angrily every few words. Gwenllian and Cole took the opportunity to slip away.

‘Savaric, Pica and Robert urge us to abandon our enquiries, Osmun offers you a new dog, and Walter threatens us,’ she mused. ‘I wonder what inferences we can draw from that.’

Cole had no answer. As they still had monks to interview, Gwenllian suggested returning to the abbey. Cole yawned hugely, weary after two nights of interrupted sleep, so she suggested he go back to the Angel, to rest.

‘And I mean rest. That does not entail confronting Dacus.’

‘I will attend Mass,’ he said, using the airy tone that told her he was lying. ‘But the abbey is too noisy, so I will go to St Michael’s instead.’