"Ah, I see. But by asking him straight out, did you not risk putting him on the alert?"
"I hope so," he said, and she frowned.
"What are you doing, setting a trap with you as the bait?"
"I'd not go that far. I have no proof that Thomas is involved in any of this, just random suspicions. I might well be wronging him," Justin admitted. "Only time will tell."
"And so you think to get your proof by letting him know you are putting all the pieces together. That is well and good if he is innocent. But if he is indeed guilty, you could end up with your throat cut!"
"Have you so little confidence in my skill with a sword?" he joked, but Molly found no humor in his predicament.
"Sometimes I think men do not have the sense God gave to sheep," she said, with an aggrieved toss of her head. "We'll let that be for now, though. I'd much rather talk about what he called you… de Quincy."
Justin had known it was foolish to hope she'd missed that; Molly missed very little. "What? I think you misheard."
"The Devil I did. I have to admit that I was taken aback, too. I thought that was a secret buried too deep to be dug up."
Justin stared at her in astonishment. "You knew?"
"Well, not for certes," she said, sounding rather pleased with herself. "I had my suspicions though."
Justin was incredulous. "Why?"
"Because he was good to you, Justin. Did you never wonder why?"
"I knew why. I was an orphan with none to look after me, and he took me in as an act of Christian charity."
"He was a priest, not a saint," she scoffed. "Not to let you starve to death — that is both commendable and believable. But he went beyond that, Justin. He brought you with him from Shrewsbury when he was made Chester's archdeacon. He did more than make sure you were fed and clothed. He saw to it that you were educated, that you had the schooling few foundlings ever get. For a time, I thought that you might be the bastard get of a kinsman of his. The only other explanation I could think of was that he was one of those with a liking for boys, and — "
"Jesus God, Molly!"
Justin sounded so repulsed that she suppressed a smile. "I did not believe it! Word gets around when a man has a vice like that, and I never heard even a whisper that the bishop was depraved in that manner. Moreover, I could tell that you were not being mistreated, for you'd not have been able to hide that from us. But I knew there was more to this than your 'Christian charity.' And then, when the bishop placed you in Lord Fitz Alan's household like that, I realized there was only one possible answer. You were his son."
"But you never said, you never even hinted — "
"Why would I? It was plain that you had no suspicions of your own, so what would it have served to share mine? I did not think it even mattered that much, for I was sure it would never come out. That is why I am so astounded by this. I would have wagered any sum that he'd never tell you, much less acknowledge you!"
"He did not," Justin said bleakly. "I found out on my own and when I confronted him, he finally admitted it. And he has never acknowledged me, Molly, nor will he."
"But you use his name," she protested. "Are you saying you just… took it?" When he nodded, she whistled softly. "My heavens! That was very brave of you, Justin, or very foolhardy, mayhap both."
He could hardly explain that England's queen had given him the courage to claim the de Quincy name. "Does Bennet know…?" Relieved when she shook her head, he said, "I'd rather you said nothing of this to him, Molly. I know it is unfair to ask you to keep secrets from him, but — "
She interrupted with laughter. "We keep secrets from each other all the time, Justin. How else do we get along so well? You need not worry. I'll keep quiet for your sake… and for the bishop's."
That was the last thing Justin had expected her to say. "For his sake?"
He sounded so confounded that she gave him a surprised look. "Yes, for his sake, too. He tried to do right by you, lover, as much he was able. There are far worse fathers in this world than one who cannot acknowledge you as his," she said quietly, and Justin could not argue with that.
Molly's revelation had brought them both to a halt. Now she tugged at his arm, saying, "Come, let's go home." They walked without speaking for several moments. From time to time, Molly glanced over at him, her eyes narrowed in thought. "So once Barbele gets you the information you need, you'll go back to Wales, to the court of this Welsh prince?" When he nodded, she said, "And you'll go with this Thomas de Caldecott, even knowing that he might have an excellent reason to wish you dead." It was not a question for she already knew the answer, and they continued on toward her cottage in silence.
Chapter 12
August 1193
Chester, England
As Justin and Molly entered the tavern, Bennet looked up in surprise. "Rather early in the day for the two of you, is it not? Now these poor sots…" With a genial wave of his hand toward the handful of regular customers. "If I did not chase them out at night, they'd never see the light of day, happily living out their lives here. But I've never seen you come by at this hour, Moll. Justin leading you astray?"
Justin hoped he was joking. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Bennet. "Barbele sent me word this morn that we should meet her here at midday. With luck, this may mean she has news for us about Rutger."
Bennet made no further comment, but once they were seated, he joined them with a flagon and several cups. "The sheriff paid me a call this morn," he said. "He was trying manfully to bear up under his disappointment, but I fear my resurrection is a hard morsel for him to swallow. I suspect he did not believe me even after I'd sworn upon our sainted father's soul that I knew nothing about the fire."
Molly's mouth thinned and she muttered "hellspawn" under her breath, but Justin was not sure if it was meant for her "sainted father" or the Chester sheriff or perhaps both. Before she could clarify, she saw someone passing by the open door of the tavern and jumped to her feet. "Beatrix, wait! I need a word with you." Flinging an "I'll be back" over her shoulder, she hastened out into the street.
This was the first time that the men had been alone since Bennet had learned why Justin had not been in the warehouse that night, and the silence that followed was not a comfortable one. Justin raised his cup, set the wine down untasted, and finally said, although he knew how hollow the words would sound, "Bennet, I'd cut off my arm ere I'd ever hurt Molly…"
Bennet gave a noncommittal grunt. "Well, that was not the body part I had in mind for you to forfeit." But then he smiled. "Ah, Hell and damnation, Justin, I cannot pretend it did not take me aback. Once I thought about it, though, I decided that Moll could have done much worse… and has," he added, and Justin knew the same man was in both their minds: the notorious vintner, Piers Fitz Turold. "Just remember that if any hearts get broken, it damned well better be yours!"
They clinked their cups together mutually relieved to have this moment over and done with, and after that, they kept their conversation on familiar ground, trading amiable insults until Molly returned. She'd no sooner reclaimed her seat than the door opened again this time admitting Barbele, trailed by an obviously nervous Rutger. He looked as if he might bolt at any time, but Barbele was having none of that. Ignoring his skittishness, she linked her arm in his and steered him across the room toward their table.
"I have fetched for you this sweet man," she announced, "so he may tell you what he knows." Settling onto the bench, she drew Rutger down beside her and promptly took control of the conversation. "Rutger is sore afraid for his cousin Karl. But he does not want to get Karl into trouble with the law."
"Tell him," Justin said, "that I have no interest in punishing Karl or the others. I want only to find the stolen money and the man who convinced them to take part in the robbery. From what I know, I do not think Karl realized what he was getting himself into."