"Christ Jesus!" He spun around to see Berta backing away from the door, her eyes wide, blessing herself with a shaking hand. And then there was another cry, this time from Molly, and he could only stare in disbelief at the man filling the doorway.
Bennet had never looked worse, his skin so sickly white he seemed bloodless, his eyes reddened and puffy, his hair as tangled as uncombed wool. "Molly," he said and held out his arms as she flew across the cottage into his embrace. They hugged each other so tightly that neither seemed to be breathing, as Berta continued to retreat and Justin stood, frozen, not yet able to credit this incredible mercy by their God. Opening his eyes, Bennet saw Justin for the first time and gave a sigh of relief before smiling down tenderly into his sister's tear-streaked face.
"It is really me," he said. "I am not a ghost, Molly — " His head jerked sideways then, as Molly slapped him across the mouth,
"Where were you? Damn you for doing this to me, Bennet, damn you!" She did not wait for him to react, buried her face in his shoulder again, and they stood motionless for a time, clinging together like shipwreck victims who'd at last reached shore. And as his own eyes blurred with tears, it occurred to Justin that Molly and Bennet had a bond that went deeper than blood. They were survivors, having weathered childhood storms together that would have destroyed either one of them alone.
~*~
Berta had gone to spread the word that Bennet had not died in the fire. Molly, Justin, and Bennet shared what was left of the ale and gathered around the trestle table as Bennet explained that he'd never gone back to the warehouse, deciding instead to spend the night with a friend. "I was already flying high, and we drained a few more flagons dry after I got there. The next thing I remember, it was daylight and I felt so vile I did not get out of bed till noon. I was heading for the warehouse when I ran into Alys, the barber's wife, and she well nigh swooned away at the sight of me. After she stopped stuttering and made some sense, I… well, I did not believe her, not until I saw the smoking ruins for myself."
He fell silent, and Justin understood why. It must have been like gazing down into his open grave. "Thank the Lord that you took it into your head to go looking for a lass!"
"Yes," Molly said, but with none of Justin's enthusiasm. "This friend of yours… by any chance could it have been Monday?"
Bennet looked sheepish. "Well, yes…" he admitted, adding for Justin's benefit, "Moll does not like Monday very much — "
"I like her not at all," Molly said and scowled at her brother. "I thought you said it was done between the two of you. God's Truth, Justin, this woman has feathers where her brains ought to be'. She is greedy, sly, flighty — "
"So she must be blazing-hot in bed," Justin blurted out, for he was still so euphoric over Bennet's miraculous resurrection that he had a drunkard's control of his tongue. Molly glared at him, but Bennet burst out laughing and Justin soon joined in, theirs the shaken, giddy laughter of men reprieved on the steps of the gallows. Molly glowered at them both, and then she began to laugh, too, for they'd all seen enough of life to understand how rare it was to cuckold death.
Bennet ran his hands through his tousled hair, for a moment resting his palms against his eyes, like a man with a pounding headache, or one trying to blot a harrowing vision from his brain. "When I saw the warehouse this afternoon — what was left of it — I truly feared that you might have died for me, Justin. I know I have enemies, but who hates me enough to want to see me fried?" He could not repress a shudder. "God, what a way to die…"
He smiled at them then, as if fearing he'd revealed too much. "One suspect comes to mind — that lump of lard from the French cog. He seemed the sort to nurse a grudge."
"Can we dismiss any jealous husbands out of hand?" Molly gibed, and Bennet made her grin by crossing his eyes as if they were still bairns.
"Of course," Bennet said, sounding more cheerful, "it may well be that I got a message meant for Piers. Wait till he hears about this… Jesu! It could have been worse, though. The fire could have happened last week when he had far more to lose."
Justin had no interest in what Piers may have been smuggling, for he had much more on his mind than the law-breaking of a Chester vintner. "There is another possibility," he said slowly. "The fire might have been set for me."
That got their immediate attention. They both turned to stare at him, Molly looking dubious and Bennet downright skeptical. "I doubt that, Justy," he said, with a smile that was somewhat patronizing. "Who's more likely to have enemies with murder on their mind? Piers and me? Or someone who passes his days in the company of lords and ladies and bishops?"
"There are things you do not know, Bennet, that I have not told you. I am not in Chester to do Fitz Alan's bidding. I am hunting for a large sum of money, money that has already cost the lives of three men, mayhap more." Justin glanced from one to the other. "If this is my fault, Bennet, I'll never forgive myself. I truly did not think I was putting you in jeopardy — "
"You do not know that you have," Molly said briskly. "We know you, Justin. Give you some time to brood and you'll be blaming yourself for King Richard's capture and the flooding in Shrewsbury last spring. Ere you start with the mea culpas, tell us why you think someone wanted you dead, and badly enough to risk setting the entire town ablaze."
"You know about the ransom being demanded for the king's safe return," Justin said, and they nodded in unison.
"Who does not, with the Crown bleeding the realm white for the ransom," Bennet did not sound as if he considered the ransom money well spent. "What does that have to do with you, Justin?"
"A goodly portion of the ransom went missing in Wales. I am one of the men trying to find it. I was in North Wales ere I came Chester, at the court of the Welsh prince Dayvdd. He is blaming his nephew in the hopes that the Crown will send knights and men-at-arms to put down a rising against him. But it is a lie. The ransom was stolen by three Flemish sailors and the outlaw who hired them. And I am the only one who knows what truly happened. Now ask me again, Bennet, if you think I have a secret worth killing for."
"You've convinced me," Bennet said dryly. "Money is always worth killing for. But why does Fitz Alan not know this, too? Why are you keeping it from him?"
"Because I am no longer in Fitz Alan's service. Whilst I am trying to recover the missing ransom, I answer to the Earl of Chester."
There was a long silence. "God's Blood," Bennet said softly, "what have you gotten yourself into, Justin?"
Justin shrugged, looking over at Molly. She'd so far been silent, her face not easy to read. As their eyes met, she shrugged, too. "I did say you were a man with secrets, did I not?" she murmured. "So you tracked these Flemish sailors to Chester. Did you find them here?"
Justin shook his head. "They never came back to their ship. There is a man who may have some of the answers I seek, but he has balked at talking with me. He is suspicious and who can blame him? Even worse for me, he speaks only Flemish."
"Is that your problem? I can solve that for you just like this," Molly said, snapping her fingers. "A friend of mine speaks Flemish and she is also very good, indeed, at getting men to do her bidding."
"Barbele?" Bennet asked, and when she nodded, he grinned at Justin. "Moll is right. Barbele could lure the Devil out of Hell and yes, I speak from very pleasant experience."
"How good is her Flemish?" Justin asked, and Molly grinned, too.
"It is her mother tongue," she said triumphantly. "Her grandfather was one of the Flemings that the first King Henry settled in South Wales. Barbele still has kin down in Pembrokeshire, but she grew up here in Chester. So… shall we ask her to bedazzle this stubborn sailor of yours?"