“Where would he be now?” Maddie asked.
“Most likely in the stables at Castle Trelleth,” Will said. “The horsemaster would have taken him in to care for him after Liam’s death.” He leaned back, stretching his back muscles, cramped from so much stooping and kneeling.
“Time we paid a call on Baron Scully,” he said.
In the event, he visited the castle alone, leaving Maddie at the small Ranger cabin set in the woods below the castle.
“Don’t know this Scully person,” he said. “But there’s always the chance that he’s been at Castle Araluen and he might recognise you. If that’s so, then he’ll want to entertain you at the castle. And then the whole countryside will know about your presence here in the next twenty-four hours.”
Maddie nodded, understanding. “And that would make it difficult for us to investigate,” she said.
“Very difficult. It’s better if we can keep a low profile. Plus I don’t want too many people knowing who you really are. It’s a matter of your safety.”
“That’s fine by me,” Maddie said. She was becoming weary of the way people stared at her when they realised she was a girl—and an apprentice Ranger. If the fact that she was a princess was added in, the curiosity would get out of hand. “I’ll stay in the cabin.”
“Take a look through Liam’s papers while you’re here,” Will told her. “There might be some clue as to what he was on to.”
Ranger cabins were all built to two basic designs. Liam’s was almost identical to the one Maddie shared with Will and she felt comfortable there. As Will had instructed, she went through the papers on Liam’s small desk to see if there was any clue as to the reason for his death. But she found nothing. It was almost dusk when she heard Bumper whinny from the stable behind the cabin. Then Tug answered and a few minutes later Will rode up through the trees.
“Well, we’ve got our answer,” he said. “Acorn was limping when they recovered him. He had a cut on his right foreleg. The horsemaster said he assumed Acorn had stumbled and injured himself, throwing Liam off. But it could have been caused by his hitting a rope.”
“So Liam’s death was definitely no accident,” she said.
“It would appear not. Now all we have to do is find out why someone would want to kill him. He must have chanced upon something. Must have seen something going on.”
“Should we tell Gilan?” she asked and he nodded.
“I’ll send a message pigeon from the castle tomorrow. But I know what he’ll say. He’ll want us to nose around and find out what’s going on. No sense in having crowds of people coming in here to investigate. That’ll just tip our hand to whoever killed Liam. Better for us to do it quietly.”
He paused, then a thought struck him as his gaze fell on the desk and the papers crowded there.
“Anything in his papers?” he asked.
Maddie shook her head. “Nothing I could see.”
“Hardly surprising. If he was on the trail of something, he wouldn’t leave his paperwork in full view. He’d have it well hidden.”
Maddie glanced round the little living room. There seemed to be nowhere that would serve as a hiding place.
“Where would he do that?” she asked.
In answer, Will rose and paced along the centre of the living room floor, his eyes down, studying the boards on either side. He stopped, staring at one point off to the left. Then he stepped towards it, went down on one knee and drew his saxe knife.
He rapped on the boards with the hilt, working in a semi-circle. On the fourth rap, the boards sounded hollow and he gave a small grunt of satisfaction. Then he inserted the tip of the saxe into a narrow join between two boards and levered.
There was a groan of wood rubbing on wood, and a small trapdoor was levered open, exposing a hidden, wood-lined cavity below the floor. He looked up at Maddie.
“All our cabins have a strongbox,” he said by way of explanation. “It’s just a matter of spotting where it is.”
He reached into the cavity and produced a thin sheaf of papers, enclosed in a folder and wrapped with a green ribbon.
“Now what do we have here?” he said.
Thirty-one
They moved to the table and sat side by side as Will laid out the contents of the hidden strongbox.
The first item was a rough map of the area surrounding Castle Trelleth. It had been quickly sketched, presumably by Liam, and showed little in the way of geographical features. But there were three villages marked on the map, all some distance from the castle. Beside each, a person’s name was neatly written.
Maddie leaned forward, elbows on the table, and looked at the name nearest her.
“Boyletown, Peter Williscroft,” she said, reading from the map. “Who’s Peter Williscroft and what does he have to do with Boyletown?”
Will shook his head. “And who’s Carrie Clover, and what is she doing in Danvers Crossing? And what does Maurice Spoker have to do with Esseldon?”
They looked at the map for several seconds, as if expecting the answer to become clearer.
“Maybe they’re the headmen of those villages?” Maddie suggested.
Will tapped the name on the second village they had mentioned. “Carrie Clover would be a woman,” he said.
Maddie grunted. She’d never heard of a village electing a head woman, although it was possible.
“Maybe she was his wife?” she suggested.
“Maybe.” Will didn’t sound convinced. Again they sat silently, considering the puzzle. Finally, Maddie spoke.
“What else was in the strongbox?”
There were two other sheets. Will unfolded the first and smoothed it out. It was a list of the three villages marked on the maps, with details of the relative sizes of each.
“All about the same size,” he said. “Large villages. Not large enough to call a town. Or to have any elected law officers.”
As villages grew into towns, they became more organised. Sheriffs were appointed to keep the peace. And a town watch was usually recruited to carry out the sheriff’s orders. Smaller villages tended to do without such hierarchy.
“That might be significant,” Maddie said. “What’s that final sheet?”
Will unfolded the third piece of paper and his eyebrows rose as he read its contents. He moved the list of villages aside to study the map once more, then sat back, thinking hard.
Maddie leaned over to study the final sheet of paper.
“These are the names of the people from the three villages,” she said.
“And they’re not headmen or councillors,” Will replied. “Look: Peter Williscroft, twelve, and a date that’s three weeks ago. Then Carrie Clover, fourteen, and another date. Five days after the one for Peter Williscroft.”
“And Maurice Spoker, four days after Carrie. He’s eleven,” Maddie said.
“What do the dates mean?” Will said.
“Maybe they’re birthdays,” Maddie suggested.
Will screwed up his lips, looking doubtful. “Maybe. If so, they were all born around the same time. But in different years.”
“Maybe something happened to these children,” Maddie suggested.
Will looked at her. “Like what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they died. Or went missing. Something like that.”
“Possibly. It’s a dangerous world, after all. There are wolves in this part of the country. And you still see the occasional bear.”
“Let’s assume I’m right for a moment,” Maddie said, “and they’re dead or missing. Why hasn’t anyone seen a link between three children from three villages in the same fief who have gone missing in the space of two weeks?”
“They’re probably unaware of it. Look how widely separated they are. The people in, say, Danvers Crossing are probably upset about Carrie Clover. But they’d have no idea that two other children of similar ages have disappeared from two other villages. There’s not a lot of communication between villages like this.”