“If I may say something, father? The Lady Isabelle may have had enough anger and cause to kill her stepson, but she would not have had success unless Henry had turned his back to her. Henry might have been a small man but he was quick with his sword, according to Robert, and fast on his feet. Nor, may I add, did she mention he had visited her.”
“Now if she had been the one to kill him, she would not have done so, would she, daughter?” Adam rose, wincing as he flexed his bad leg.
“Two questions, if I may, my lord?” Thomas asked.
Adam nodded.
“There was only one knife found at the site?”
“Yes. I have it locked away. There were no identifying marks, if that is your second question.”
“What was the size of the knife?”
Adam frowned in thought. “Now that you mention it, the knife was a small one. The size one might take to table, not to war.”
“Then it could have been a woman’s dagger as well as a man’s.” Eleanor frowned.
“Again you point to Sir Geoffrey’s wife. However agreeable the thought and as much as I may hate her, I would still conclude that two men attacked Henry,” he said. “We will handle this matter with the utmost fairness, no matter what the consequences. I have, of course, arranged for the questioning of the soldiers, servants and tradesmen who were here between the closing of the castle gates for the night and the opening for the morning trade. Perhaps the murderer hides in those ranks and we shall quickly find the truth of what happened there.”
Thomas coughed and glanced nervously at his prioress.
She nodded permission for him to speak his mind.
“My lord, might this murder have any connection with the death of your retainer?”
“I have thought of that. Henry was a thoughtless whelp, and, although I do believe that Hywel’s death was an accident, it would not have occurred if Henry had been taking due care with his own horse. Perhaps there are some here who would wish to take revenge, although I pray that such is not the case. I have worked hard to gain the trust of those in my service. Nonetheless, the possibility will be investigated and should be resolved when everyone in the castle has been questioned.”
Thomas opened his mouth to continue, but the baron raised his hand to signify he would hear no more. It was clear to all that they had been dismissed.
“In the meantime,” Anne said in a low voice to Eleanor and Thomas, as they left the hall, “we must pray for the snow to fall unabated, thus keeping the sheriff with his chains from Wynethorpe Castle until we can present him with those who did this to Lord Henry.”
“Indeed,” Eleanor whispered back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sunlight had never quite won the battle over the stubborn murkiness of the day. The gray light, increasingly obscured by tumbling snowflakes, was now retreating into a twilight sometimes called the blue hour before black night once again took precedence over the land.
Thomas leaned against the hard cold stone near the window in the stairway between dining hall and living quarters and, lost in thought as vague as the dying light, looked down on the castle ward from his vantage point. The Baron Adam had been as good as his word and with impressive efficiency had gathered together those tradesmen and servants who had been in Wynethorpe Castle overnight. A few dark shapes were still leaving the hall, some singly and a few in pairs.
The townspeople had been brought to the dining hall where the crackling hearth had provided warmth for those waiting to be questioned. In addition, the baron had shown no meanness in providing all with warm, spiced ale, sufficient to increase comfort, foster good will and encourage a greater willingness to talk, yet not enough to promote an unprofitable jollity or querulousness. Perhaps the tradesmen saw this as more their due, being largely an English group of some affluence, but the mostly local Welsh servants sipped their unexpected bounty with silent appreciation of the equitable consideration this Norman lord had shown to his underlings.
Adam had asked Sir Geoffrey and Thomas to assist him in developing what would be asked and in what order so there would be consistency and equity in the investigation. As the baron said, each of them brought his own objectivity as well as self-interest to the asking that neither of the others did. Thomas had realized he had been chosen for balance between the two other men and, as a stranger to the castle, he took his choosing as a compliment. With some amusement, he noted how alike father and daughter were in the ways they used the abilities of those under their command. He wondered if they saw the similarity as well.
One English sergeant had been assigned to the questioning of the English tradesmen. Respect was shown for the needs of their businesses, a tactic that warmed a few hearts along with the ale. For those who did not know the King’s tongue, a Welshman, loyal to the family and one who served as the house steward, had been assigned the inquiry of local townspeople. Soldiers were held in the barracks and interrogated by the other trusted sergeant. The process had taken all day but was finally coming to an end.
A rank draft wafted under Thomas’ nose. He did not need to turn around to know who had just joined him in the stairwell.
“You missed a fine supper, monk,” Anselm observed with great cheer. “Baron Adam was most generous to those of us who remained for questioning.” He looked carefully at Thomas’ face. “Perhaps you have been fasting?”
“Thinking rather. I forgot the time, and, with this icy storm, night and day seem to have blended more than usual.” Indeed, Thomas had been mulling over the events of the previous evening, trying to find something odd, something out of place, but nothing had come to him. Now that Anselm had mentioned the meal, however, his stomach began to growl.
“This world is an evil place, brother. There is much to think on.”
“At times evil stalks the earth with more vengeance than at others. Last night was such an occasion. Murder is an especial evil, I think.”
“So you say, but I do believe that evil is always with us, waiting to catch us unawares. Being frail mortals, we are often blind to its presence until it wears a brighter cloak to catch our eye, as it did when the Lord Henry’s blood was so sinfully shed.”
“Perhaps.”
“For a tonsured man, you express many doubts.”
Thomas smiled. “As my name would suggest.”
Anselm blinked and then grinned, showing several gaps in his brownish teeth. “Ah, of course, Doubting Thomas who asked for proof that it was our resurrected Lord who stood before him! You were being witty, brother, and I fear I am not accustomed to such a thing.”
“Does no one in Wynethorpe Castle jest?”
“All have become rather more somber in recent times. With Lord Hugh off on crusade with our King’s son, the summer raids of the Welsh and the de Montfort rebellion, there are many scars which are still tender and have left us with unabated worry.”
“The residents of Wynethorpe have you to give them spiritual comfort, however, and that must fill their hearts with much peace in these troubled times. You have served the family and soldiers for many years, I believe?”
“I have.”
Thomas noted with gentle amusement that Anselm had replied with a straightened back that suggested just a modicum of earthly pride. “You know the Lavenham family as well?”
“From better days than these.”
“Perhaps happier times as well?”