“She was just a girl-an ignorant whore from Medford House. Do you expect me to believe you were fearful she could reach the king armed with a butcher’s knife? And even if she did, that she’d pose any serious threat to his life?”
“I was in the room with a dozen or so castle guards who had admitted to breaking rules and then somehow lost a girl they had smuggled in. I wasn’t quite as confident as you about their competence in protecting the king. I would think that you of all people would agree with me, that you would be on my side.”
“Your side?” The words were spiteful. “You know what I think, Bishop? I think you and your side would like nothing better than to see an end to monarchal rule. I also think that tower is conveniently isolated despite being part of the royal residence. The stairs are long, it’s cold up there, and it’s supposed to be haunted-perfectly out of the way and yet a nearby place to plot against the king. I think you were there-before the party-not to look at the view but to conspire with someone. There’s a rumor that a light was seen in the tower the night before Wainwright’s death. Perhaps you had a habit of meeting there, and finding the king’s soldiers unexpectedly rushing up the steps gave you reason for concern. What you discovered was alarming. A woman had been hiding in the wardrobe. Was she there when you were? Had she overheard what you and your fellow conspirators said? You needed to find out. That’s why you raised the alarm. You had to find and cut her throat.”
“My dear boy, that is quite an elaborate tale-so inventive. But why waste it on me? Surely this speech has been concocted to make the king, or at least the chancellor, distrust me-and dare I say, to divert attention from yourself? We both know it’s you who is plotting against the king and you who is so intent on finding this girl. Was it you who arranged for Barnes to smuggle her in? Is that why you killed him? To keep Barnes from telling the truth? You see, accusations are easy to throw around but account for absolutely nothing. I know, I tried to get the king to understand. He was less than receptive. He wants facts not assumptions. Now, unless you intend to arrest me, I’m going back to the cathedral. I’m too old for parties.”
Richard knocked and waited. “Who’s there?” Exeter shouted. “What do you want?”
“Richard Hilfred. I’m here to see the bishop.”
“By all means, come in, Hilfred,” Saldur said.
“Don’t you ever actually guard the king?” Exeter asked.
“I was assigned to the queen this evening, Your Lordship, and she has just dismissed me for the evening.”
“Is there anything else, Constable?” Saldur asked.
“I’ll find the girl,” he said to Saldur. “I’ll find Rose, and then I suspect we’ll have another, very different conversation.” He pushed past Richard and stormed down the halls toward the stairs.
“Do come in, Richard. How can I help you this evening?”
Richard closed the door to the hall but was still concerned about being overheard. After all, he’d just overheard the previous conversation in that room.
He said softly, “I found Rose.”
CHAPTER 15
They moved swiftly down the uncomfortably narrow corridor. Richard led the way, holding a lantern high to help the bishop on what had to be his maiden visit to the dungeon. The sounds of the gala barely reached them-a muffled, muted blend of conversation, laughter, and music. When he reached the last cell, Richard used the key his son had given him.
“Reuben?” the girl called as he opened the door.
“No,” Richard said, entering, raising the lantern again, this time to reveal Rose as she sat huddled against the far wall. “I’m Reuben’s father. He sent me and I’ve brought Bishop Saldur, who wants to ask you some questions.”
They entered the straw-filled cell, and the bishop appraised the girl with a dismissive shake of his head. “Were you in the high tower last night?”
Rose nodded, wrapped in a straw-covered blanket.
Richard was pleased that she looked nothing like his Rose. She was much younger, about Reuben’s age, and had a round, doe-eyed face.
“Sergeant Hilfred tells me you overheard a conversation between two men. What did you hear?”
“They talked about killing the king.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Saldur stepped closer. “Are you certain? This is very important.”
“They never said their names.”
He took another step. “You’re positive?”
Huddled in the straw, Rose looked terrified. “I … ah, yes … no names, but one did refer to the other as ‘Your Grace’ once.”
“Anything else?”
She hesitated. Richard could see she was struggling to think of anything to appease the bishop, who towered over her. He saw her eyes brighten. “Yes … yes! They said the name Clare.”
“Clare?” Saldur pressed.
“I heard…” She looked at Richard, then at the floor. Her eyes drifted in thought as she struggled to remember. “Yes! They said what a shame it was that Clare had to die. That she had discovered who murdered the chancellor.” Rose was nodding rapidly, causing some bits of straw to slip free from her hair.
“Did they say who that was?”
Rose struggled again, her face revealing her frustration. “No.”
“Do you think you could identify the voices if you heard them again?”
Again she paused to think. Her eyes studied both of them, and in a pitiably small voice she admitted, “I don’t know.”
Saldur peered at the girl for only a breath longer, then walked out. Richard followed. They moved down the empty cell-lined corridor, then the bishop stopped and spoke, barely above a whisper. “Who else knows she’s here?”
“No one, just my son.”
“Your son?”
“Reuben. Today is his first day as a gate guard.”
“Is he on duty now?”
“Yes.”
Saldur smiled. “Perfect. You need to get Rose out of the castle. Do it now, before Exeter finds her. Take care of her. Find a safe place-somewhere no one will look. Then hurry back-I’ll need your help tonight. The fate of the kingdom is in our hands now.”
Reuben was starting to understand why Bale had been upset at his tardiness. Standing in one place turned out to be harder than splitting wood and a lot harder than brushing horses. Nothing of note had happened for hours, and the night had turned cold.
“So what was the fight about this time?” Grisham asked.
His fellow defender of the front gate was a grizzled veteran who had always frightened Reuben. He had a gravelly voice, unruly eyebrows, and stubble perpetually covering his chin. Reuben found it a mystery that he had never known the man to shave, but neither had he grown a beard. “What fight?” Reuben was surprised Grisham spoke to him. He rarely did, but perhaps boredom affected everyone.
“Between you and your dad, this morning. I heard you hit the door again. Woke me up.”
“Sorry.” Reuben left it at that, thinking Grisham just wanted to complain.
“Well? What was it about?”
Reuben looked at the old soldier, confused. Does he really want to know? Maybe putting the uniform on changed his status with more than just dungeon-trapped girls. “He didn’t like me being with the prince and his friends.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard about that. You’re lucky you got back when you did. They were about to get a patrol together to go out looking. If that had happened, you would have had more than just your father to answer to.”
“What exactly was I supposed to do? When a prince asks you to ride with him, you can’t really say no.”
“I don’t care what you did or why. I just wondered why Richard was bouncing your head against the door.”
“He had been drinking,” Reuben added, not knowing why. His father had beaten him plenty of times sober, and Grisham knew it.