The False Virgin (10 page)

‘We could not believe our luck when Mayor Rupe gave us a penny,’ added Frossard. ‘After we had eaten, we hurried to his wood and prayed as hard as we could.’

‘And then?’ asked Cole.

‘We went to the Coracle tavern, and spent the coin on ale and new sandals,’ said Frossard sheepishly. ‘Whoever stole the relic must have waited until we were drunk . .
.’

‘If you had it at the castle last night, why did you refuse to show it to us?’ asked Gwenllian, not sure what to believe.

‘Because it
is
holy,’ said Frossard earnestly. ‘You may not think much of us, but we do treat it with respect. We have never displayed it for all to gawp at. And it is
fragile, anyway. Too much pawing makes bits flake off.’

‘And we can prove it was stolen
after
you saw us in the castle, sir,’ said Reinfrid. ‘You inspected the box very closely – you would have noticed if the lock had
been broken.’

‘I would,’ said Cole to Gwenllian. ‘There was nothing wrong with it then.’

‘But we did not kill the deputy,’ added Frossard tearfully. ‘I saw him in the woods just after we left Rupe. He was watching us, and I had the sense that he was waiting for us
to go so he could work unimpeded. Then you came along, sir, and I watched the pair of you argue.’

‘You did?’ asked Gwenllian uneasily. ‘You did not mention this in the clearing.’

Frossard shrugged. ‘Because your husband cannot be the killer, lady. We followed him back to town after the quarrel, and he was in our sight the whole time. Besides, he was kind to us
– he offered us food, even after what that nasty prior said about us and Beornwyn.’

‘Did Rupe and his henchmen see Miles too?’ asked Gwenllian.

‘It depends on how observant they are,’ replied Frossard. ‘He was well hidden, and Reinfrid did not spot him – just me.’

‘Did you see anyone else in the vicinity?’ asked Cole.

Reinfrid nodded earnestly in his attempt to be helpful. ‘The same people as you, sir: Rupe and his two men, the sheriff and his friend; your chaplain; and the fat merchant with his
wife.’

‘Odo and Hilde,’ said Gwenllian coolly. ‘So who do you think killed Miles?’

Frossard and Reinfrid exchanged a glance. ‘The mayor is the obvious candidate,’ replied Reinfrid. ‘Neither he nor his henchmen are very nice. However, any of the others might
have done it, although I imagine the chaplain is too puny for strangling.’

There was no more to be learned, so Gwenllian and Cole took their leave.

‘They are telling the truth,’ she said, once they were in the cleaner air of the bailey. ‘They did not kill Miles.’

‘Do you want me to release them?’

‘No, they will only run away and ply their nasty trade on others. We shall hand them to the bishop, as you suggested, and let him decide their fate.’

She glanced up to see Sergeant Iefan hurrying towards them.

‘You had better come quickly,’ he said to Cole. ‘There is trouble brewing at the spring.’

There was trouble indeed. The crowd had grown since they had left, because Odo had fallen in the spring, and when he had been tugged upright, he claimed the pains in his back
were cured. There was now a veritable army of people working on the chapel, and Rupe, Gunbald and Ernebald were selling holy water as quickly as they could put it in flasks. The heat was making
people irritable, and there were scuffles and hissed arguments in the queue.

‘Lord!’ muttered Cole, as Odo and Hilde came to greet them. ‘Their shrine has two walls built already. I have never seen anything raised so fast in my life.’

‘Everyone is eager to do Beornwyn’s bidding,’ Odo explained, his plump face beatific. ‘I feel young again now she has cured me.’

‘But Prior Kediour persists in his efforts to denigrate her,’ said Hilde unhappily. ‘We have explained that what happened here is a good thing, but he will not listen. Perhaps
you can talk some sense into him. But do it soon. People are beginning to resent his hostility.’

Gwenllian glanced towards the spring, where Kediour and his canons were imploring people to go home or, better yet, attend evening service in the church. But Rupe urged them to stay, and it was
to the mayor that they listened. Moreover, there were resentful murmurings against the Austins for presuming to give orders, and it would not be long before it turned physical. Gunbald and Ernebald
were armed with cudgels and knives, and it was clear they were ready to join in any trouble.

‘Tell Kediour to take his canons home,’ Gwenllian whispered to Cole. ‘The spring will run dry soon, and when it does, people will lose interest in Beornwyn. He will not have to
endure this nonsense for long.’

Cole began to weave his way through the throng, but people were packed tightly together, and he could not help but jostle a few. Inevitably, someone took exception.

‘You shoved me!’ screeched Rupe. He turned to the crowd. ‘Did you see that? He deliberately barged into me, and almost knocked me from my feet.’

‘My apologies,’ said Cole. ‘I was only trying to reach Kediour, so I can escort him and his canons back to their priory.’

‘Then do it,’ snapped Rupe. ‘They are a nuisance here, and we do not want them.’

‘I am not going anywhere,’ declared Kediour indignantly, and Gwenllian saw with a sinking heart that he, too, was on the verge of losing his temper. ‘How can I, when I see
souls in peril? They will be bound for Hell if—’

‘It is you who is bound for Hell,’ shrieked Rupe, his voice high with indignation. He stabbed his finger at Cole. ‘And you. Beornwyn will not stand by while I am battered by a
lout who has falsely accused me of corruption. How can I be dishonest? If I were, Beornwyn would not have put her spring on my land.’

‘Come,’ said Cole, taking Kediour’s arm. ‘There is no reasoning here—’

‘And now he accuses me of lying,’ squealed Rupe. ‘He has already murdered Miles for ogling his wife, and now he insults me. He—’

He did not finish, because Gunbald swung his cudgel at Cole, who ducked away, but in so doing he stumbled into Ernebald. With a roar of outrage, Ernebald attacked. It was all that was needed to
start a fight. Most of the canons backed away from the mêlée, but a handful of novices remained, trying to extricate their prior from the flailing fists.

With horror, Gwenllian saw Gunbald prepare to swipe at Symon again. She shouted a warning, but too many others were yelling, and Rupe’s piercing screeches were especially loud. Her voice
went unheard. She saw the bludgeon begin to descend towards her husband’s head, but Avenel was there to block it, after which his sword made short work of its wielder.

Then Cole was on his feet, his strong voice breaking through those of the others. She had never heard him so angry, and the effect on the rioters was immediate. Knives were sheathed, sticks and
coshes furtively concealed, and fists lowered. But Gunbald did not move.

Rupe rounded on Cole. ‘This is
your
fault. You should not have interfered. Gunbald is dead, and I will have vengeance.’

‘Vengeance?’ asked Kediour quietly. ‘I cannot see your saint approving of that.’

‘Of course she will,’ snarled Rupe. ‘She was murdered by villains herself, and will not sit idly while good men are slaughtered by those who are supposed to protect us. She
will rise up to exact payment for what has happened. You wait and see!’

Cole’s face was dark with fury and, unwilling to risk annoying a man who could put them in prison, the hotheads who had joined the brawl prudently melted away. Soon all
that remained were the more sober folk, who wanted only to work quietly on the shrine. Kediour ordered his novices home in a voice that was uncharacteristically subdued, while Rupe kneeled next to
Gunbald and wailed his grief. Gwenllian was sure it was insincere, that he was taking the opportunity to gain public sympathy in the hope that his past misdeeds would be forgotten, and he would be
elected for another term as mayor.

‘I am sorry,’ said Kediour to Cole, stricken. ‘I was following my conscience. I would never have pressed my point if I thought it would end in a death.’

‘Go home, and keep your brethren inside,’ ordered Cole shortly. ‘Folk have taken this saint to their hearts, so please do not disparage her again.’

‘But it is a heathen business,’ objected Kediour, ashen-faced. ‘I
cannot
keep silent, especially when this place is so close to my priory.’

‘You must. Or Gunbald will not be the only casualty.’

Kediour shot an anguished glance at the unfinished shrine, which was already bright with votive candles. Then he gave a brief nod of acquiescence and walked after his brethren, his shoulders
slumped in defeat. When Ernebald started to follow with a murderous gleam in his eye, Cole indicated that Iefan was to intercept him before more blood was spilled.

‘Well?’ asked Avenel, sheathing his sword. His expression was superior. ‘Will you not thank me for saving your life?’

Cole grasped his hand, catching him off guard with his open sincerity. ‘I will, and gladly. My wife is not ready to be a widow just yet.’

Gwenllian agreed, and was about to say so when her attention was caught by the fact that Philip had abandoned his duties at the chapel, and was whispering to Odo and Hilde. The chaplain flushed
red when she approached.

‘I will return to my vigil now,’ he stammered, chagrined at being caught disobeying orders. ‘I only left for a moment, but then the trouble started . . .’

Gwenllian pulled him to one side so they could talk without being overheard. ‘Avenel claims you wrote no letter for him last night. Why did you lie?’

Philip’s expression was furtive. ‘I did not lie – not exactly. He
did
ask me to scribe for him, but Fitzmartin offered to do it instead. As I was there, I thought I
may as well enjoy an ale before returning home. It was too hot to sleep anyway.’

‘Did you see Miles?’

The chaplain shook his head. ‘I would have told you earlier if I had.’

He hurried away before she could ask him anything else, leaving her staring after him thoughtfully.

‘He is a fine young man,’ said Odo, coming to stand next to her and smiling fondly. ‘Cole is fortunate to have him as a chaplain.’

‘Yes,’ said Gwenllian noncommittally.

Later that evening, as the sun began to dip and the shadows lengthen, Iefan arrived at the castle to say that the cattle rustlers had been spotted a mile south. Cole prepared
to ride out at once, and Gwenllian was alarmed when Avenel and Fitzmartin offered to go with him.

‘Symon, no! They are suspects for garrotting Miles, and may dispatch you once they have you away from witnesses.’

Cole waved her concerns away. ‘I
want
them to come, to see for themselves how difficult it is to trap these thieves. Besides, it is a good opportunity to question them about
Miles. Who knows? Perhaps they will confess to his murder as we sit around a campfire.’

Gwenllian gulped her horror, before he grinned to show he was jesting. It was not funny, and she was angry with him for making light of such matters. Others also thought he was reckless to
include the sheriff and his henchman in the party.

‘Please,’ said Odo quietly, while Hilde nodded at his side. ‘I know Avenel saved your life today, but it was an instinctive reaction, and I am sure he is cursing himself now.
He has changed since you came home. While you were away, he was loud and brash; now he is quiet, watchful and brooding.’

‘As if he is planning something,’ elaborated Hilde. ‘And Fitzmartin is a beast. He punched his squire this morning for no reason. Odo and I are sure something evil is
afoot.’

‘I agree,’ said Kediour uneasily. ‘Do not forget what they are accused of – desecrating churches and holding parishioners to ransom. These are not gentle
crimes.’

But Cole remained resolute, and Gwenllian could do nothing but watch as he rode away, Avenel and Fitzmartin far too close behind him for her liking. Cousin Philip stood next to her, and she
happened to glance at him as he was exchanging a meaningful nod with someone. When she saw it was Odo she was bemused, but then news came that there was bloody flux in the nearby village of
Abergwili, and her attention was taken in sending aid.

For the next three days, she had little time for worrying, as she struggled to run the castle, quell trouble at the shrine and be a mother to her children. Whenever she could, she continued her
enquiries into Miles’s murder, but despite questioning as many people as would talk to her, she came no closer to learning the identity of the killer. Rupe persisted in his claim that Cole
was responsible, although few believed him, most preferring to blame the two ‘monks’.

Stunned by the violence that his well-intentioned entreaties had caused, Kediour kept to his priory. Gwenllian visited him on the evening of the fourth day after the trouble, to beg more
medicine for Abergwili. While she was in the priory, he voiced his continuing fear that Carmarthen was being led down a spiritually dangerous path.

‘Rupe has turned Beornwyn into a very profitable business,’ he said unhappily. ‘He has sold countless flasks of “holy” water, and now he claims she appears to him
regularly in dreams, along with “poor murdered” Gunbald.’

‘I know,’ said Gwenllian. ‘But he is too greedy, and people resent the money he is making from them. Most have abandoned him already, and he has only a few devoted followers
left. The cult will soon fizzle out completely.’

‘I hope you are right,’ said Kediour worriedly. ‘I hate to see people misled where matters of faith are concerned. It pains me to hear him slandering Symon, too.’

It pained Gwenllian as well, but there was nothing she could do about it, especially while Cole was away. She longed for him to return, and hoped he would not be gone three weeks, like the last
time. To take her mind off her worries, she reviewed what she had learned about Miles’s murder.

The deputy had gone to Rupe’s wood to investigate the underground stream he believed he had discovered, hoping the late hour would see the place deserted. Cole thought Miles had been dead
for several hours before he was found, which meant he had been killed not long after the two of them had argued. Frossard had witnessed their quarrel, and she supposed she should be grateful that
Rupe and his henchmen had not.