The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

‘Neither of them-’

‘Kill him!’ screamed Dacus, unhooking the leash. He kicked the dog to start it moving.

Cole did not move as the animal bounded towards him. Dacus was hot on its heels, whipping it with the lead. At that moment, the moon went behind a cloud. Gwenllian abandoned her hiding place and stumbled forward, fighting off Iefan’s restraining hands. She could see nothing in the sudden darkness, but there were snarls, an agonised scream, a yelp and silence. The moon emerged again to reveal Cole standing in the same place, and Dacus on the ground with the dog lying across him. She hurried forward, Iefan close behind her. Cole spun around in alarm at the sound of their footsteps.

‘You should not be here!’ he cried in horror. ‘It might have attacked you.’

‘Iefan has a sword to protect us,’ countered Gwenllian. She glared at him. ‘Unlike you.’

Cole showed her the dagger he had concealed in his hand. ‘It posed no threat to me. Besides, Dacus maltreated it, and it was only a matter of time before it turned on him.’

‘But you could not have known that would happen tonight,’ shouted Gwenllian, angry with him. ‘You took a foolish, reckless risk.’

Cole regarded her irritably. ‘I did nothing of the kind. I know dogs, and as long as I posed no threat, I was safe enough. However, I imagine Hugh and Adam ran when they saw it, and it instinctively homed in on a moving target. And tonight, it was Dacus who was running.’

Gwenllian was unconvinced, and was about to say so when Iefan spoke.

‘It will not be biting anyone else,’ he said, struggling to haul the carcass from Dacus’ body. ‘He stabbed it with this peculiar knife.’

Cole took the weapon from him, and inspected it in the moonlight. Its blade was of such fine steel that it was almost blue, and the handle was ivory, carved with what appeared to be a bear climbing a tree. ‘It is soil-stained – he must have unearthed it when he dug the grave.’

But Gwenllian was more interested in Dacus. She knelt next to him, fighting off her revulsion for him and what he had done. ‘Help me, Symon. He still breathes.’

‘You passed Solsbury’s test,’ Dacus whispered weakly, as Cole crouched by his side. ‘I was wrong… about you. Will you… do something for me?’

‘Very well,’ agreed Cole, before Gwenllian could urge caution. ‘What?’

‘Do not bury me… near Adam. Somewhere else.’

He closed his eyes, and the breath left him in a hiss.

For a moment, no one spoke, then Cole stood and lifted Dacus in his arms. Gwenllian thought he was going to carry him back to the town, but he stopped next to the pit.

‘Is this a good idea?’ she asked nervously, as he laid Dacus in the hole and placed the dog at his side. ‘If anyone were to find him…’

‘No one will find him,’ said Cole, setting the peculiar weapon on Dacus’ chest and picking up a spade. ‘And it is time he had some peace.’

Carmarthen

The return journey was quicker and more comfortable than the outward one, and Gwenllian’s spirits soared when she saw Carmarthen’s familiar walls and roofs in the distance. There had been no word from the King, and while Cole believed this to be a sign that Savaric’s letter had worked, she was uneasy. John was vengeful, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he remembered that Carmarthen was held by a man who had declined to flatter him.

‘I should have listened to you,’ she said, as they travelled the last mile. ‘Your instincts about Dacus were right, and my logic was wrong. However, I am still vexed with you for going up Solsbury Hill to confront that wolf.’

‘It was a dog. Still, I suppose some good came out of our investigation. Savaric dismissed Walter, and appointed Robert as prior instead.’

‘Robert is a better man. Although I still think his piety is insincere.’

‘Others think so, too,’ said Cole with a conspiratorial grin. ‘On the grounds that there have been no miracles at Reginald’s tomb since he was appointed.’

Gwenllian hesitated, but then forged on. ‘There is something I should tell you. I did not mention it sooner, because I did not want to return to Bath…’

‘What?’ asked Cole uneasily. ‘Was it something in that letter you received in Brecon – the one you told me contained only a copy of the message we sent to John?’

Gwenllian nodded. ‘It was from Savaric. Pica managed to escape from the abbey cells, and is on his way to tell the Pope that he is innocent of killing Lechlade – and that he should be Abbot of Glastonbury into the bargain.’

Cole reined in. ‘Should we go after him? The man is a killer.’

‘Savaric sent Walter to do it.’

‘And Walter agreed?’

‘Of course – hoping to grease his way back into favour.’ Gwenllian indicated that Cole should begin riding again. ‘And the matter is no longer our concern, anyway. We did what the King asked, and we are likely to bring ourselves trouble if we dabble further.’

They rode in silence for a while. Then Cole pointed suddenly. ‘Look!’

A small party of riders was coming to welcome them home, and Gwenllian was sure she could see one of the soldiers carrying their infant son.

‘I know Walter confessed to fabricating those miracles,’ said Cole, ‘and that nothing divine has ever happened at Reginald’s tomb. But before we left, I asked Reginald a second time to provide us with a daughter, and I think he will oblige.’

Gwenllian regarded him askance. ‘You do? Why?’

‘Because I buried Dacus on Solsbury Hill for his sake – to spare the reputation of a chaplain he loved. And then you explained Dacus’ disappearance by telling everyone that he had gone on a pilgrimage. Reginald will be grateful to us, so I imagine you will have some good news for me soon.’

Gwenllian stared at him, wondering whether the queasiness she had been suffering these past few mornings could be a new life beginning inside her, and not something she had eaten, as she had assumed. She did some rapid calculations. It was certainly possible.

Rome, 1200

It had taken Walter some time to catch up with Pica, but he had done it in the end, intercepting him just as he was about to enter the Holy City. He watched dispassionately as Pica grabbed the poisoned goblet and raised it to his lips. The feisty Abbot Elect drained the contents in a single swallow, and set it back on the table with an impatient clatter.

Walter smiled. Life had been so much better since he had manipulated the unstable Dacus into believing that Adam had killed Reginald. Walter had hoped to be appointed master of the hospital himself, but when he had seen Adam’s murder pass virtually unremarked, he had decided to try for an even greater prize. Again, it had been easy to persuade Dacus that Hugh was close to learning the truth about Adam’s murder, and within days, Walter was prior.

Of course, Savaric could hardly keep him in post after Gwenllian had exposed his role in the tavern attack – although mercifully, no one had guessed that he was the power behind Dacus as well. He had been in the process of urging Dacus to kill Cole, too – the death of her husband would be Gwenllian’s punishment – but Dacus had selfishly disappeared on a pilgrimage, so revenge would have to wait until both returned to Bath.

Walter’s fortunes had taken something of a downward turn since then, but he was not unduly worried. Savaric had shown his continued favour by giving him another mission, and would be delighted to learn that the belligerent Pica would no longer be a problem. Walter licked his lips as he anticipated the riches and high offices that would soon be his.