The Poisoned Serpent (23 page)

A heavy silence was Bernard’s only reply.

Alan’s teeth bit into his lower lip until they drew blood.

Hugh went on relentlessly. “The sheriff is collecting more money from the market stalls than he declares on the tax rolls. I talked to the shopkeepers and found out that they are in fact paying considerably more than what Gervase told me.”

More silence from Bernard.

Alan felt sick to his stomach.

At last Bernard said heavily, “If that is so, he will not be the first sheriff to do such a thing. But I am surprised. And disappointed. I thought better of Gervase.”

“Think of this,” Hugh said. “Perhaps it is not Gervase who is behind the scheme. Perhaps it is Richard.”

Alan didn’t know if he wanted to run into Bernard’s room and scream denials at Hugh, or just run away.

“Why do you say that?” Bernard asked.

“The man who collects the stall rent is Theobold Elton, and he seems to be a good friend of Richard’s. Richard also appears to have a good deal more money than I would expect him to have. He keeps a squire. He has a very expensive horse. And Alan told me he found Richard in the sheriff’s office late one night, going over the tax books.”

Alan remembered that meeting. He remembered how upset Richard had seemed at the unexpected appearance of his squire. He shut his eyes and shook his head in vigorous denial.

“What are you suggesting, then?” Bernard said grimly. “That the earl discovered the cheat and threatened to expose it and so Richard killed him?”

“Aye.” Hugh’s voice seemed to come from Bernard’s bedside once again.

“And just how would the earl discover the cheat?” Bernard demanded. “I am quite sure he didn’t go around asking the merchants how much rent they paid for their stalls!”

“I don’t know how he discovered it,” Hugh replied steadily. “But it is entirely possible that he did. The word was that he and Gervase were not on good terms. Perhaps this was one of the reasons for their falling-out.”

There was silence in Bernard’s room. Alan looked longingly at the door leading from Cristen’s room into the passageway. He should leave while there was still a chance he would not be discovered eavesdropping.

But he couldn’t seem to tear himself away.

Bernard broke the silence. “What of Edgar Harding, Hugh? He certainly hated de Beauté. And he had that piece of information about the single stab wound to the heart that killed the earl. Perhaps Harding himself was the murderer and then he told you this information about the market stall cheat just to throw suspicion on someone else.”

Alan remembered that he had unexpectedly met Edgar Harding the morning after the murder, and his heart jumped.

“I suppose it is possible,” Hugh said, “but Edgar Harding has people who will swear that he was at Deerhurst on the night the earl was killed.”

“Are these people to be believed?”

“I don’t know,” Hugh replied frankly. “But Harding
also appears to have a defense for the day that John Rye was killed. His son told me that his father was at home, ill, in bed, and being attended to by his wife and daughters.”

“Hmm.”

There came the sound of a stool being pulled across the wood floor. Hugh must be sitting down, Alan thought.

“On the other hand,” Hugh said, “Cedric Harding was here in Lincoln on Wednesday. In fact, he was the man who discovered that Rye had been murdered.”

There was a little silence as Bernard digested this piece of information. Then he replied, “Why would Harding’s
son
want to kill the earl?”

Hugh sighed. “Edgar appears to have passed all of his extreme prejudices down to his offspring. Cedric hates all Normans, and in particular, he hates the Norman who robbed the Hardings of their land. Perhaps he was the man whom Rye saw talking to the groom that night.”

“That’s pretty far-fetched,” Bernard said.

“Aye,” Hugh agreed readily. “It is.”

“The fact of the matter is, all of this is speculation. You have no proof of anything,” Bernard said.

“I know that, Bernard,” Hugh replied irritably.

“Then our best hope is to cast doubt upon the sheriff’s case against me. I think your testimony about what John Rye told you will do that quite satisfactorily.”

Hugh didn’t reply.

Alan, realizing that he had heard all that was going to be said, decided that it was time to leave. He had actually taken a step when Hugh came into the room through the connecting door. He looked Alan up and
down and said pleasantly, “What an interesting time you must have had, Alan. Do you have any comments you would care to add to the conversation?”

Alan’s cheeks and ears were scarlet as he made his way down the tower steps, Hugh’s last contemptuous words ringing in his ears.
Now, run away like a good little spy and report everything you heard back to Richard
.

Of course, it had been Alan’s intention to do just that, but something in the way Hugh had regarded him made him feel uncomfortable.

He called me a spy and he was right
, Alan thought shamefacedly.
I am someone who listens to other people’s private conversations and reports them back to someone else
.

It was the first time it had occurred to Alan that what he was doing might not be considered honorable. He had never looked at it that way before. Why?

Because Richard asked me to do it
.

The answer was immediate. If Richard, his idol, his perfect model of a knight, had told him to do it, then it must be all right.

But Hugh had made Alan feel besmirched. Dirty. Like a spy. What would Hugh think of him if he knew that Alan had listened to his conversation with Cristen? Alan shuddered at the thought.

He tried to work up some anger against Hugh for treating him so contemptuously, but it was difficult. It was too easy for Alan to see the situation from Hugh’s point of view. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame Hugh for being angry.

Richard shouldn’t have asked me to spy for him
, Alan thought soberly.
It wasn’t right
.

It was the first time in his life that he had ever had a critical thought about his lord.

As the sound of Alan’s footsteps died away, Bernard looked from where he was lying propped against his pillows toward the young man standing by the single small window in the tower bedroom. “For how long did you know that he was there?” he asked.

“I heard him come in,” Hugh replied. He turned toward Bernard, one of his hands resting, fingers spread out, on the stone windowsill.

“How did you know that it was Alan?”

“I knew it was Alan when he stopped to listen. Richard has been using him to spy on me.”

Bernard frowned in bewilderment. “Then why didn’t you accost him immediately?”

“Because I have a feeling that Alan knows things that could be very helpful to us,” Hugh replied. “I wanted to see if I could shake his faith in Richard a little.”

Bernard shook his head in a decisive negative. “You can’t. Alan worships Richard.”

“I know he does. But Alan is a bright youngster. Even more important, he has a sense of honor. Once his eyes have been opened, I think he will begin to see things as they really are, not as Richard has made them seem.”

Bernard pushed himself until he was sitting upright in the bed. “For God’s sake, Hugh,
why
do you dislike Richard so intensely? It is not like you to bear such bitter enmity over a childhood rivalry.”

Hugh turned his back on Bernard and looked out the tower window. He said nothing.

Behind him, Bernard persisted. “There has to be some reason. I know he used to bully you when you were young, but as you grew, you more than got your own back on him. So
why
?”

Hugh stared down at the small group of men-at-arms who were walking from the keep walls to the castle. Still facing the window, he said, “I never told this story to anyone but Ralf.” He turned to face the man in the bed. “I am only telling you now because it bears on your own situation.”

Bernard said, “You know I can keep a quiet tongue in my head, lad.”

Speaking in an ordinary, matter-of-fact voice, Hugh said, “I saw Richard murder his brother.”

Bernard’s mouth dropped open in shock. He stared at Hugh, his bushy eyebrows twin marks of astonishment, and didn’t say a word.

“I was there,” Hugh repeated. “I saw it happen.”

Bernard closed his mouth and found his voice. “
What
happened? And why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Hugh’s face was bleak as he replied, “Because no one would have believed me.”

Bernard leaned back against his pillows, suddenly looking very tired. “Tell me.”

Hugh stared down at his linked hands as if they held the answer to Bernard’s question. He began to speak in a carefully expressionless voice.

“As you know, Simon was Gervase’s eldest son and, as is customary, he remained at home while Richard was sent to the Minster school in Lincoln.” Hugh opened his hands and then linked them together again. “About once a month, Simon used to come into Lincoln to visit Richard. He was a nice boy, Simon. A kind boy. He loved his brother.”

Hugh fell abruptly silent.

“I remember Simon,” Bernard said encouragingly. “He
was
a nice boy. He was only fourteen when he
died, I believe. He drowned in the Witham, I remember.”

Hugh looked up. “Aye. There had been a lot of rain that spring, and the river was running very high. Simon and Richard took a boat out, the boat capsized, and Simon drowned.”

Bernard frowned as he cast his mind back to the past. “Richard tried to
save
his brother, Hugh. I remember that someone told me he himself nearly drowned, diving over and over trying to recover Simon’s body.”

“That is what most people think,” Hugh agreed.

Bernard’s pale blue eyes narrowed as he remembered something else. “Didn’t you go to Richard’s assistance? I seem to remember that you helped him recover the body.”

“I was there all right,” Hugh replied somberly. “I was there from the beginning.”

Once more, Bernard said, “Tell me.”

There was a white line around Hugh’s mouth but his voice was perfectly steady as he related his story.

“I was by myself, fishing along the shore, when I saw Simon and Richard’s boat come around a bend in the river. They didn’t see me, however. I was fishing under those big willows that lean into the water about a quarter mile above the mill.”

Bernard nodded to indicate that he recognized the place.

“The water was deep out in the middle where the boat was. I was holding my line, watching the boat casually, when I saw Richard suddenly lean over, raise his hand, and strike Simon over the head. Simon crumpled and Richard shoved him so that he went over the side of the boat and into the water. Then Richard threw
whatever it was that he had hit Simon with into the water after him.”

“My God,” Bernard said. The words were barely a breath of sound.

The white line around Hugh’s mouth became even more pronounced. “I dropped my pole and ran along the shore to an open place where the willows did not hide me, and I shouted to Richard.
That
was when he began to pretend to look for Simon. He yelled to me to help him, and jumped out of the boat and began to dive. I swam out and dove as well. We both stayed in the water until another boat arrived and made us stop. Richard told everyone that Simon had stood up in the boat, tripped, and hit his head on the edge of the boat as he went into the water.”

“You didn’t tell Richard that you had seen what happened?”

Hugh shook his head. “I wanted to talk to Ralf first.”

“And what did Ralf say?”

Hugh’s gray eyes darkened noticably. “I don’t think he believed me. He told me to keep what I had seen to myself, that I had no proof and it would be just my word against Richard’s. He said…he said that I was an unknown quantity, while everyone knew Richard and his family and that it would probably go ill for me if I accused him.”

“Ralf didn’t say that he didn’t believe you!” Bernard interrupted.

Hugh shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Not in so many words, but why else would he tell me to hold my tongue? I knew that if Ralf didn’t believe me, no one would, and so I did hold it. But I have always known what Richard is.”

“How old were you when this happened?” Bernard demanded.

“I was eleven and Richard was twelve.”

“Dear God,” Bernard said again.

Hugh’s gray eyes regarded him somberly. “Do
you
believe me, Bernard?”

“Aye, I believe you,” Bernard replied. “And I’ll tell you something else, Hugh. Ralf believed you as well. If he pretended to doubt you, it was to ensure your silence. He was right. If you had accused Richard of such a thing, you would have been crucified.”

“And if I accuse Richard of this murder, will the same thing happen?”

“You are not a foundling any longer, Hugh, but everyone in Lincoln knows how much you dislike Richard. You certainly never tried to make any secret of it.”

Hugh lifted one straight black brow in a gesture of irony. “Unwise of me, wasn’t it?”

“Well, you must admit, it doesn’t put you in a very good position to accuse him of anything,” Bernard returned. “Especially if you have no proof.”

Hugh said gloomily, “That is what Cristen says.”

Bernard’s chin came up sharply. “I thought the only person you told about this was Ralf.”

Hugh looked at him in genuine bewilderment. “But of course I told Cristen.”

Bernard stared at Hugh’s face, and after a moment his mouth softened. “She is a wonderful girl. You are lucky to have found her.”

Matter-of-factly, Hugh nodded. Then, “I think Richard murdered the earl, Bernard. Who better to deliver a supposed message from Gervase than Gervase’s own son? No one would doubt Richard.”

Bernard coughed a few times. “And you think he did it to protect himself from being found out as an embezzler?”

Hugh began to walk toward the bed. “Aye.”

Bernard sighed and leaned his head back against his pillows. “Perhaps you are right, lad. But you will never convince the chief justiciar unless you have some proof.”