Forsaken Soul

Chapter Twenty-One

Hob slammed his hand on the table. “Martin told my brother that he had bedded Signy and would have her again! Will spoke the truth. As you should know, he’s not clever enough to tilt with words. His knuckles may be sharp but not his wit. In that he hasn’t changed since we were all lads. If you think otherwise, Crowner, you’re deaf and blind, or else a fool.”

“Sharp knuckles and dull wit, eh? Then I conclude he may kill me like he did Martin.” Ralf gestured for more ale.

Hob tensed, then shook his thoughts away and accepted the proffered drink. “My brother’s always had a hot temper, but he would no more kill a friend than I would.” He took a long swallow of the ale. “Martin, I mean, not you.”

“Nevertheless, I must arrest him for menacing me. I may care little myself for his foolish words, but I am the king’s man and must demand reparations when my lord’s honor is insulted.” The crowner spat before drinking. “I wonder what your brother might say about the cooper’s death if he knows he will never again see daylight if he does not deal honestly with me?”

“Why arrest a man you know to be no wiser than a child? You’ve spent too long with your elder brothers if you want to condemn a simple man just for behaving with no more sense than a king’s fool.” He watched Ralf, waiting for a reaction. When the crowner shrugged, he continued, “Will means what he says in heat but forgets it all the morning after, especially with Martin. The cooper was as close to us as if he, too, had been born of our mother.”

“I will think about that. As for what I have remembered from my youth here, I know that Martin always did own a cruel tongue.” Ralf leaned closer. “What did he say that made you and your brother quarrel after you left him? And do not deny that you did. You were seen. I suspect the cooper said something that finally gave one of you reason to seek revenge.”

“May not brothers disagree? Must that be cause for suspicion of murder?”

“Abel and Cain bickered as well. Their example gives me good cause to wonder.”

Hob rose from his seat, his face reddening. “Are you suggesting I plan to kill my own brother?”

A tentative growl was heard from under the table.

“Sit down and quiet that cur of yours. Will safely walks this earth with you as far as I know,” the crowner snorted. “I’m only interested in Martin’s death. It may well be true that the three of you have been like brothers since youth, but something happened that night-or perhaps before and the flame only burst out then. Knowing his unkind ways, I think Martin struck flint to rock and brought forth a hot spark from someone. If so, either you or your brother might have killed the cooper, perhaps with good reason. I would be willing to consider that in exchange for a confession.”

“Will is right. You have always believed you were cleverer than the rest of us. As a boy you may have tried to cover yourself with village mud to look like us, but your Norman nose betrayed you. It still points up at heaven.”

Ralf barked a laugh. “I do not mistake you for Will. Do not confuse me with my church-bound brother who exhales corruption with every prayer. I always thought you a better man than…”

“You did not say that when we were boys and the witch’s son died. Then you blamed us in equal measure.”

“And would do so again. But no one listened to my unbroken voice, and you were all held blameless.” The crowner reached toward the other man with a conciliatory gesture. “That day, I think you took on a man’s gravity, Hob, and changed for the better.”

Hob drained his cup.

Ralf poured more for them both.

“What do you expect me to say, Crowner? I’ll not speak ill of my elder brother. I owe him fealty as my kin. To you, I owe nothing.”

“You may owe me your life if you act wisely. Speak the truth.”

“My brother is innocent of murdering Martin. On my faith in God’s mercy, I swear it.”

“Then what was the quarrel?”

“A private matter.”

Ralf cupped his hands around the mazer and took his time glancing at the crowd. This gesture may have been intended to give Hob time to conclude there was prudence in providing more detail, but he found himself troubled. Wasn’t someone missing from the inn this night?

He closed his eyes. It was Signy he didn’t see, he realized. She was not serving. A sharp pain stabbed at his heart. Quickly shaking the thought off, he went back to studying the men around him while he waited.

Hob bit his thumb.

The crowner was losing patience. He turned to face the younger blacksmith, his expression as chilling as winter ice.

“A matter between men,” Hob offered, a slight tremor in his voice.

Ralf nodded but his manner suggested no compassion.

“He would beat me if he heard I spoke of it.”

“You may cast dispersions on my Norman nose, but you cannot claim I have ever failed to honor my word. If the cause does not bear on murder, your words die in my ears.”

Hob fell silent and scowled.

“In a brawl, I’d say you might be a match for your brother but the hangman always wins. Think on that.”

“Enough talk of hanging, Crowner. Martin mocked Will for impotence. I told my brother to forget it, but he wanted to fight the man. Fight, I said, not murder.”

“Give me more detail.”

“When Martin offered to share his whore the last few times, my brother was too drunk. His manhood lay limp in spite of Ivetta’s talents. The other night, Martin ridiculed him for that. Will hit him, but I dragged him away before he could do more, telling him he would catch Martin soon enough with his own pole down. Then he could scoff at him in return. There was little to fight about and more downstairs to drink.”

“But not before you tried to rape the innkeeper’s niece.”

Hob paled at the anger in Ralf’s words. “Not I, Crowner. Martin and Ivetta were both jeering at Will when Signy walked into the room. Martin wagered Will could not swyve her. The cooper and the harlot held the wench, and, like a fool, my brother fondled her. I yelled at him and pulled my brother from the room. For that, we quarreled.”

“Did you leave the inn with him?”

“You claim to have witnesses. Ask them. I’ve nothing to fear.”

“I want your version.”

Hob frowned at his mazer, as if blaming it for being empty, then poured more ale and continued. “We came to blows outside the inn. I don’t recall who might have seen us except old Tibia. That I remember because she hurled insults at us, as she is wont to do, and passed on by. Ask her, if you don’t believe me. She might talk to you, if her humors are balanced.”

“What happened next?”

“Will’s temper cooled. We went home.”

“He could have returned to the inn.”

“He didn’t. When we got back, my brother grew quiet and sat out in the smithy for a long time before going to bed. In the past, when we had argued, he‘d find his pallet and pass out, yelling and muttering at me until he did. My brother has never been inclined to musing so his odd behavior troubled me. I watched until he finally sought rest. He couldn’t have gone back to murder Martin.”

“He might have slipped out later.”

“I heard the commotion from the inn not long after. Unless my brother’s been granted invisible wings to fly him there, he did not do the deed.”

Ralf fell silent. Perhaps this tale did prove Will was guiltless. Or not. Hob might have made it up to protect his brother. Or he might have told it to place himself innocently at home at well.

The crowner gazed at the groups of men nearby. Although he had never liked either brother when they were all boys, he had grown to tolerate Hob and even find some decency in him. Were he forced to swear an oath, Ralf knew he would have to say that Hob’s tale rang true enough.

Rubbing his hand against the stubble on his cheeks, Ralf groaned silently. If neither Will nor Hob was the killer, then suspicion fell back on Ivetta or else, to his greater unease, Signy.