Simon Beaufort - Murder in the Holy City

Geoffrey thought hard. The third potential culprit was the Patriarch himself. But then Daimbert would hardly have released Geoffrey to continue his investigation when he had been presented with an ideal opportunity to rid himself of him-especially since Geoffrey now knew about his black-market dealings. Reluctantly, Geoffrey crossed the Patriarch off his mental list of murder suspects, although he remained unconvinced that his involvement was entirely innocent.

And then there was Roger. Geoffrey knew the big knight well enough to know that he would not have had the patience or deviousness to plan all these deaths. If he had committed the murders, then it would have been under the orders of another. But whom? Celeste? Melisende? Geoffrey already had ample evidence that Roger could have killed Marius, and perhaps Eveline. Yet, the big Englishman had saved Geoffrey’s life by helping him escape from the stable. Roger would know that the chances of Geoffrey uncovering the identity of the killer increased with every day he was alive to investigate, So, if Roger were guilty, why had he saved Geoffrey? Why not let him die?

Unless he were innocent, of course. Geoffrey rubbed his eyes again and moved on to Courrances, who had urged him to investigate for the Advocate and then locked him in the burning barn. Courrances was devious, and he would certainly be capable of laying false trails and leaving misleading information to make Geoffrey stumble around. He would also love to see Geoffrey fall from grace. The warrior-monk would kill monks or knights without compunction and would probably have had the opportunity to murder Guido, John, Jocelyn and Pius.

There were also, of course, Warner de Gray and Henri d’Aumale. But if Roger were responsible for killing Marius inside the citadel, then Geoffrey could think of no reason why the Lorrainers should be involved and, like Roger, neither had the cunning or intelligence to plot with such deviousness. Based on Roger’s claim that d’Aumale was unconscious after the riot at Abdul’s Pleasure Palace, Geoffrey was not yet even sure if d’Aumale was still alive. Reluctantly, Geoffrey dismissed the unsavoury pair as suspects.

And finally, there was Dunstan and Marius, scribes in the pay of the Patriarch, like Jocelyn. Perhaps Dunstan was the murderer and had then committed suicide in remorse? But Dunstan was a blackmailer, and blackmailers were not remorseful people. So why had he killed himself?

Geoffrey had to admit to himself that, even with all he knew, he was still as far from learning the identity of the killer as he had been when he started. He had a fine assembly of possible culprits, but no evidence. He could hardly go to the Patriarch or the Advocate with a list of suspects-one of whom was a trusted scribe of the Patriarch and one of whom was the Patriarch’s niece, while another was the Advocate’s most valued adviser-and tell them to take their pick. And if he did, he knew they would chose Roger simply because it would be the solution that would cause the least damage. Geoffrey took a sip of wine, leaned his elbows on the table, and began to despair of ever finding an answer.

There was a thump at the door, and the dog gave a deep-throated growl.

“Are you in there? Let us in, lad!” Roger’s peeved tones must have been heard all over the citadel. Reluctantly, Geoffrey stood to move the chest, but such an object was of no substance to Roger, who heaved at the door until he could squeeze through. He saw the chest and nodded approvingly. “Good idea, lad. You cannot trust anyone these days.”

Hugh appeared in the doorway and eased himself lithely past the chest.

“What have you been doing?” Hugh asked Roger, as he settled himself comfortably on the bed, “while the phoenix and his vile dog have been sleeping the day away?”

Geoffrey shuddered involuntarily at this reminder of his near escape from the fire, and sat down abruptly. Roger also sat on the bed, grinning smugly at Geoffrey. “Well, ask me how I got on?” Geoffrey looked blank, and Roger was disappointed. “With what you sent me to do yesterday.”

“Oh, yes.” Geoffrey had quite forgotten his ruse of the night before to rid himself of Roger while he followed Melisende. “What happened?”

“You can ask Maria yourself,” said Roger proudly. “I brought her here.”

“You brought a whore to the citadel? Are you mad? She will never get out alive!”

“Not to the citadel, to the prison.” Roger preened himself. “I have solved the mystery for you,” he said with infuriating smugness. “I know who killed those priests and knights!”

Roger made his announcement regarding the identity of the murderer with pride.

“But it cannot be him, Roger,” said Geoffrey patiently. “The plot is too complex, and he simply does not have the wits.”

“Now you look here, lad,” said Roger, becoming self-righteous. “Just because men cannot write and read does not mean they are stupid. You are too arrogant by half about that learning of yours. I tell you again, your murderer is Warner de Gray. And it was him who killed Marius too!”

Was this Roger’s idea of proving his own innocence, wondered Geoffrey, to blame a man he did not like to make the whole business go away?

“Tell me why you think Warner is the culprit,” he said with resignation.

“Why?” echoed Roger loudly. “What kind of question is that? Because he is a murderer, of course! Why else?”

Geoffrey wondered how he could contrive to send Roger on some spurious mission so that he could confide his fears and knowledge to Hugh. If ever he needed the quiet support, advice, and thoughtful logic of the Norman knight, it was now.

“I do hope you are right Roger,” drawled Hugh, laconically. “That would be a most fitting end to all this ugliness, and we can all get back to the real business of good, honest slaughter.”

“Hear, hear,” said Roger fervently.

“But what more can you tell to enlighten us about this miserable affair?” asked Hugh of Roger.

“It was Warner,” responded Roger with finality.

“So we understand,” said Hugh patiently. “But what are the reasons behind your accusations?”

“Reasons!” spat Roger in disgust. “You sound like old book-brain here. I plan to challenge Warner to a duel before God. God will strike him down because he is guilty!”

Geoffrey stared at him. Roger took the business of duelling with utmost seriousness, and although certainly not a pious man, was far too superstitious to risk calling the wrath of God down on his own head if he did not have absolute trust in his convictions. Geoffrey’s thoughts tumbled together in an impossible jumble, and he longed for Roger to be gone so he could talk to Hugh. But Geoffrey did not want Roger to leave if his intention was to accost Warner and challenge him. That would get them nowhere at all.

“Tell me about Maria,” he said, to change the subject.

“Maria?” asked Hugh. “Now who is she?”

“Maria d’Accra,” said Roger. “The whore I arrested last night.”

“You did what?” said Hugh, startled. “Whatever for?”

“I have not told you that part of my story yet,” said Roger. Hugh leaned forward on his stool and listened with fascination.

“After Geoffrey had gone after that dreadful Greek woman, Maria also left the house, so I followed her, like he told me to. She went straight to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. And she was up to no good at all, for I have never seen such a furtive mover in all my days. The Church, of course, was all locked up, but this did not stop Maria. Over the roof she went, like a monkey. I followed as best I could, although I was slower and less silent. Anyway, she ended up in this little garden, and someone was talking to her there. It was that nice Benedictine, Father Almaric. They talked for a while, and he handed her a scroll. Then she was off over the roof again and back to her father’s butcher’s shop, where I arrested her.”