The Medieval Murderers - The False Virgin

Cole nodded. ‘I should have guessed when Reinfrid described what he had observed about the thieves – that their leader shouted orders in an unusually high voice.’

Gwenllian recalled Rupe’s falsetto screeches during the scuffle in which Gunbald had been killed. ‘A local leader would explain a great deal.’

‘Especially one who attended meetings in which our strategy for tracking the thieves was discussed. Moreover, several prisoners have already told me that the raids were all his idea.’

‘But why?’ asked Gwenllian, shocked by the betrayal. ‘He is… was our mayor.’

‘Dinefwr is also suffering under the drought, and Rupe has family there. He knew he was finished here, so he decided to avenge himself by stealing our livestock – and helping his kin at the same time. Of course, that was before the “miracle” he claimed to have funded. After it, he must have begun to hope that he might be re-elected.’

They both turned as someone approached. It was Fitzmartin, Avenel at his side.

‘We have just been informed that Rupe was behind these raids,’ the henchman growled. ‘When the King hears, he will confiscate every last penny that villain owned. He will crush his treacherous relations, too.’

‘No,’ said Cole sharply. ‘The dry summer has brought death and famine to Dinefwr, and there is nothing to be gained from persecuting them.’

‘Besides, I suspect Rupe has already given them most of what he owned,’ added Gwenllian. ‘You must have noticed the shabby furnishings in his home. And there is the fact that he was obliged to ask for donations to help him build Beornwyn’s chapel.’

‘But he publicly accused you of murdering your deputy,’ said Avenel softly to Cole. ‘Why not let his thieving kin pay the price for his flapping tongue?’

‘Because it is better for the region that we do not,’ replied Cole. ‘It would lead to all manner of feuds. Please do not mention it to the King. Simply say the culprits have been caught.’

Avenel stared at him with an expression that was impossible to fathom. It made Gwenllian acutely uneasy, but there was no time to ponder, because Iefan had arrived. The sergeant’s face was pale with shock as he blurted his news to Cole.

‘Those two monks are dead, sir,’ he gasped. ‘Strangled, like the others.’

‘Well,’ drawled Fitzmartin slyly. ‘I suppose that proves their innocence.’

It did not need a close look to see that Reinfrid and Frossard had died by the same hand as Miles and Rupe. The only difference was that Frossard had a bruise on his temple.

‘He must have been stunned by a blow to the head,’ surmised Cole, ‘allowing the killer to dispatch them one at a time. Frossard is larger, and would have put up more of a fight, so he was disabled first.’

‘When did you last see them alive?’ asked Gwenllian of the gaoler.

‘Noon,’ said the gaoler wretchedly. ‘Two hours ago.’

‘I assume you were at your post all that time,’ said Cole. ‘Who came down here?’

The gaoler was as white as snow. ‘It is so hot today, sir, so I went to the kitchen for a cool ale… But no one ever comes down here! I did not think it would matter if I left them alone for a short while.’

He stopped when he saw Cole’s disgust, and scurried away with relief when he was ordered to remove the bodies so that the cell could be used for the cattle thieves. Their arrival and the interviews that followed kept Cole busy for the rest of the day. Gwenllian spent her time with the children, but they were asleep by the time Cole had finished with his prisoners. He trudged wearily into their bedchamber just as the last of the daylight was fading.

‘If your gaoler is telling the truth about the time,’ Gwenllian began, having thought about the most recent murders all afternoon, ‘we can eliminate Odo and Hilde as suspects, not that they were ever serious contenders in my eyes. They were at the shrine when the monks were killed. I saw them there myself.’

‘Who is left then? Fitzmartin? He seemed unmoved by the news of their demise.’

‘He has an alibi for Rupe, which means he did not kill the monks either – I am sure we only have one garrotter at large. Our sole remaining suspects are Philip and Avenel. I cannot see my little cousin as a killer; he does not have the strength.’

‘It takes no great power to strangle a man from behind,’ said Cole soberly.

‘I was alluding to a different kind of strength. I do not believe he has the fortitude to dispatch four victims.’

Cole was about to argue when there was a commotion at the bottom of the stairs. Within moments Avenel burst in, an indignant Iefan at his heels. The sheriff was agitated, and made no apology for invading their privacy.

‘I cannot find Fitzmartin. He was meant to meet me in the Coracle, but he is not there.’

‘Are you his keeper then?’ asked Cole archly. ‘He cannot look after himself?’

‘Of course he can,’ snapped Avenel. ‘But he told me that he knew the killer’s identity, and would reveal it when I arrived at the tavern. I have a bad feeling that he has put himself in danger in his eagerness to make amends.’

‘Make amends?’ queried Gwenllian. ‘With whom? You?’

‘Yes. Your chaplain has uncovered evidence that proves Fitzmartin has desecrated churches and ransomed their parishioners. Needless to say I am unimpressed, and Fitzmartin has been at pains ever since to win back my approbation.’

‘It is a trap, Symon,’ whispered Gwenllian as Cole stood. ‘Do not go.’

‘I never thought you were the killer, Cole,’ said Avenel, stepping closer as he tried to hear what she was saying. ‘I would not have saved your life if I thought you were. Fitzmartin disagrees, but he is a fool – he thinks you weak for declining to expose Rupe’s perfidy, but I see wisdom in the decision. You and your lady are good rulers, and I shall say so to the King.’

‘Thank you,’ said Gwenllian coldly. ‘However, Symon is still not going with you. We shall lend you some soldiers, and they will help you search for your friend.’

Avenel smiled slyly. ‘I outrank him – he cannot refuse me. However, I would rather he came willingly. It would be so much more pleasant for us all.’

‘Then I shall come, too,’ determined Gwenllian.

‘No!’ exclaimed Cole in alarm.

‘Of course you may,’ said Avenel smoothly. He held out his hand. ‘I shall escort you myself.’

With the sense that matters were moving far too fast for her to understand, Gwenllian allowed the sheriff to lead her down the stairs and into the bailey.

The dark streets were oddly empty as they hurried through them, because people had sought cooler places to be – taverns, the church and even the parched river, where some still bathed in its fetid shallows or slumped on its banks in the vain hope of catching a breeze.

Gwenllian’s heart pounded with anxiety. She knew, with every fibre of her being, that something bad was about to happen, and wished she had had the presence of mind to grab one of Symon’s daggers before she had left.

‘Look,’ said Avenel suddenly, ducking into a doorway and indicating that Gwenllian and Cole should do the same. ‘Odo and your cousin. They have been together a lot of late, but when I ask them why, they tell me they are praying.’

‘Perhaps they are,’ said Gwenllian, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

‘Yes,’ said Avenel, with one of his unfathomable looks. ‘But it is an odd alliance, do you not agree? And where can they be going at such an hour?’

Gwenllian had no answer, but was indignant when Avenel began to follow them. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but the furious look he shot her made her close it again. Cole held her hand as they walked, and together they saw Odo and Philip stop briefly in the church, then aim for the road that led north. The moon was almost full, and was shockingly bright in the clear sky, so trailing them was ridiculously easy.