The Poisoned Serpent

4

The cold weather lifted the morning that Hugh left Somerford with John Melan. Instad of jarring their legs on iron-hard roads, the horses had to wade through a sea of mud for the several days it took for them to accomplish the journey to Lincoln.

Ever since the days when the Roman legions had ruled Britain, a city had been set on the limestone ridge where the River Witham bent sharply east toward the sea. The old Roman fortifications still formed the walls of twelfth-century Lincoln, although the Roman streets, sewers, and buildings had mostly disappeared.

As Hugh rode along the Fosse Way, his mind turned back to the time he had first come to Lincoln. He had been eight years old and running away from the men who had kidnapped him from his home. Until a few months ago, his first memory of his life had been of Ralf dragging him out of his hiding place on a bitter January night and taking him home to Adela.

On this last day of January when Hugh and John Melan rode their mud-splattered horses toward Lincoln, the weather was humid and warm, not frigid as it had been on that night thirteen years before when Ralf had rescued Hugh. And Hugh was twenty-one now, not eight. But as he stared at the towering heights of Lincoln Castle, perched so intimidatingly on its limestone ridge, he felt once again all the desolation of an abandoned child.

He still missed them. He would always miss them: Ralf and Adela, the parents of his heart.

He shut his eyes, and thought of Cristen, and felt better.

He heard John say, “We had best go to see Sir Gervase first. I didn’t tell him where I was going when I asked for leave. I just said I thought I knew someone who could help Bernard.”

For the first time, Hugh realized that he didn’t want to see Gervase Canville. He had nothing against the man, but he didn’t want to see anyone else in Ralf’s place. He had not set foot in Lincoln since Ralf was killed.

He drew a deep breath and said, “Aye. It would be best to see Sir Gervase first.”

Lincoln was a large city, with a population of more than five thousand people. Most of the houses the two men passed as they rode up the main street belonged to the city burgesses. At one time the majority of the houses in Lincoln had been made of wood, but a fire in 1122 had destroyed a great part of the city, and much of the rebuilding had been done in stone.

A group of boys playing in the street with a leather ball stuffed with straw caught Hugh’s eye. They brought back a memory of the time when he had been part of precisely such a noisy, shouting pack of youngsters. Ralf would collect him on his way home from the castle to supper…

It was late afternoon and already beginning to grow dark. Hugh was sweaty and itchy and dirty and hungry, and his stallion, Rufus, was the same.

He felt a stab of longing so sharp that it was almost physically painful. If only he could go home! Ralf would see that Rufus was cared for, and Adela would fill the big tub for him, and…

He compressed his lips in a hard, straight line.

He had not thought it would be so hard to see Lincoln again.

Lincoln Castle had been built at the order of William the Conqueror himself. The castle was guarded most closely by a shell keep, or inner wall, constructed on top of the steep hill, or motte, upon which the castle keep was perched. Steep stairs led from the keep down to the inner bailey, a large courtyard of about six acres encircled by a second stone wall. In Lincoln this inner bailey was called the Inner bail.

The Inner bail was the heart of Lincoln’s garrison. The knights who served on the castle guard lived there, housed in wooden huts. Also inside its walls were a stockade and stables for the knights’ horses. All of their food, drink, and weapons were stored in this area as well.

Surrounding this military compound was the outer bailey, an immense space partly enclosed by a section of the old Roman city walls. In Lincoln this outer bailey was called simply the Bail and within its enclosure lay the Minster and the bishop’s house.

Dusk was gathering when Hugh and John rode through the old Roman gate into the Bail. Hugh started with surprise at the line of merchant’s stalls set up along the east wall.

“This is something new,” he remarked to John. There was a faint line between his brows. “Since when have merchants been allowed in here?”

“Since about six months ago,” John replied. “The sheriff had the idea to rent some parts of the Bail to local merchants. The rent they pay has been a useful addition to our defense funds.”

“I see,” Hugh said. But the frown did not lift from his face.

The two rode on, and reached the gate to the Inner bail, where Hugh was recognized by one of the guards on duty.

“Hugh!” the guard boomed in a voice that had to be audible clear to the castle. “By God, it’s Hugh Corbaille himself! Welcome back to Lincoln! It’s about time you paid us a visit.”

“Thank you, Odo,” Hugh replied pleasantly.

Odo’s greeting acted as a catalyst for the rest of the knights in the courtyard to spin around and come running. Within a minute, Hugh found himself surrounded by a crowd of men who were all talking to him at once. He laughed and held up a hand as if to defend himself.

John Melan barked, “Be quiet and give Lord Hugh a chance to hear himself think.”

Thus abruptly reminded of the change in Hugh’s estate, from the boy they had all seen grow up to heir to an earldom, the men did indeed fall silent. A few of them mumbled apologies.

“I am very glad to see you all again,” Hugh said, and smiled.

At that, the sudden tension in the crowd disappeared. The men grinned back at him.

“Have you come to see Bernard, my lord?” a voice from the back of the group called. “You must know he is falsely accused!”

Hugh’s face became grave. “I have come to see Bernard,” he agreed.

Before the men could ask more questions, another voice commanded attention.

“I think it would be a good idea for you all to stand back to let Lord Hugh get off his horse.”

The speaker began to stride through the crowd, and the men fell away before him, like the Red Sea parting for the Israelites.

Hugh sat on Rufus and watched the tall young man in the blue wool tunic, cross-gartered tan leggings, and soft leather boots approach. He stopped at Hugh’s side and looked up. “It is good to see you again, Hugh.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Or I must say my lord?”

Hugh looked down into eyes that were so blue, they shamed the heavens. “Hugh will do,” he replied matter-of-factly. “How are you, Richard?”

“I am very well,” Richard Canville replied. “Have you come about Bernard?”

“Aye.”

Richard looked around at the men surrounding them. “Well, give Rufus into the care of these louts, and I will take you to my father.”

None of the castle guards appeared to take offense at being called “louts” by Richard. In fact, a few of them actually grinned at him.

Hugh dismounted and handed Rufus’s reins to one of the men, telling him, “He’ll need a bath to get the mud off.”

“White horses is the worst,” the man said mournfully, looking at the filth that matted the hair of the stallion’s legs and belly.

“See to it that he is white again the next time Lord Hugh wants him,” Richard said. His voice was pleasant but unmistakably authoritative.

“Aye, Sir Richard,” the knight replied.

“The rest of you may return to your duties.”

“Aye, Sir Richard.”

The knights began to trickle back to their stations. John Melan accompanied them, leaving the two young men standing alone in the middle of the courtyard.

Richard was the taller man, and looked down on Hugh from his superior height. “My father is in his office,” he said. “I’ll take you there.”

“That won’t be necessary. I know the way,” Hugh returned.

Contrition shone in Richard’s blue eyes. “I didn’t mean that you needed a guide. I just meant that I would keep you company.”

There was the briefest of pauses. Then Hugh said, “Thank you.”

The two young men crossed the Inner bail side by side, neither of them aware of the girl who watched them from one of the tower windows.

Richard was half a head taller than Hugh, and even in the gathering dusk, his hair looked more gold than brown. The imposing width of his shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and legs that were long and strong. His teeth flashed white in his strong, clean-cut face as he smiled down at the smaller, slimmer man who walked beside him.

From the height of her tower perch, all the girl could see of Hugh was his tired, dirty face, framed by his mail coif. Her eyes widened and she glanced once more at the splendid young man who was walking beside her prospective husband.

Then, before anyone could notice her in the window, she withdrew.

Lincoln Castle was a military stronghold. An apartment had been set aside in the upper tower for the use of the sheriff and his family, but most of the castle was, quite simply, a fortress. Hugh and Richard passed through the large empty armory hall, which was used for military exercises when the weather was too poor for outdoor practice, went up a flight of stairs, and arrived at the small room that once had been Ralf’s office.

Hugh braced himself.

Gervase Canville was talking to one of his knights when the young men entered.

“Look who I’ve brought you, Father,” Richard said cheerfully.

The sheriff’s eyes, a paler blue than his son’s, rested on Hugh’s face. They widened.

“Hugh!” he exclaimed. “Is it really you?”

“Aye.” A tense white line formed around Hugh’s mouth, and he swallowed. “How are you, sir?” He remained just inside the door as if reluctant to come farther into the room.

The sheriff lifted his arms and stepped forward as if to embrace his visitor, but noting Hugh’s hesitation, halted and let his arms drop back to his sides.

After a moment, he said, “I could be better. I suppose you have heard that Gilbert de Beauté was murdered?”

“That is why I am here,” Hugh returned.

“That will be all, Martin,” the sheriff said to the man with whom he had been talking. Then, as the knight went out, Gervase gestured Hugh and Richard to one of the benches along the wall.

The sheriff’s office was as Hugh remembered it, a place of work, not of comfort. The furnishings consisted of a few wooden benches, a table upon which papers were spread, and five wooden chests containing the charters and tax documents of the shire.

Hugh sat down on the hard oak bench, and Richard sat beside him.

Without making a single movement, Hugh seemed to draw away from the man next to him.

Gervase rested his hip against the table, looked at Hugh, and shook his head in sorrow. “It is hard to believe that Bernard would do such a thing, but to all appearances, he did.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Hugh said.

Gervase sighed wearily. “These appearances were damning, I’m afraid.”

Hugh didn’t answer.

“Do you know the details of what happened that night?” Gervase asked him.

“I know what John Melan told me,” Hugh replied. “Is there aught that John doesn’t know?”

Gervase’s strongly marked brows lifted in sudden enlightenment. “You are the man whom John went to fetch!”

“Aye. He came to Wiltshire to seek me out.” Hugh shrugged. “I could not refuse to come. Ralf always thought very highly of Bernard.”

“As do I,” Gervase said crisply. “He is an excellent officer. I do not want to lose him.”

“Is it possible for me to see him?” Hugh asked.

“Of course.” The sheriff’s eyes moved from Hugh’s mud-stained boots and leggings to his tired, mud-smeared face. “Where are you staying? At Ralf’s town house?”

“No.”

Hugh took a deep breath. The word had come out too loudly. “The town house has been closed up since Ralf’s death,” he went on more quietly. “I thought I might be able to stay at the castle.”

“I would be happy to offer you the sheriff’s apartment, but I’m afraid it is already occupied,” Gervase said regretfully. “Lady Elizabeth de Beauté has insisted upon remaining in Lincoln until we have convicted her father’s killer, and I had to take her off the bishop’s hands.”

An unidentifiable emotion flickered in Hugh’s light eyes. “Lady Elizabeth is still here?”

“Aye,” said Richard. A hint of admiration colored his voice. “She is here and she is determined to see that justice is done.”

“I understand that you are betrothed to the girl,” Gervase said.

His voice clipped, Hugh replied, “Your understanding is incorrect. My uncle made the arrangement before he consulted me.”

Richard’s head turned suddenly, and he looked at Hugh.

Gervase’s eyes narrowed. “Gilbert de Beauté told me that the match was settled.”

The white line was back around Hugh’s mouth. “It was not agreed to by me.”

There was a brief silence as father and son continued to look at Hugh.

Then Gervase said, “Well, we in Lincoln were certainly under the impression that the match was a settled thing. I know Bernard thought so, and that, of course, is what gives him a motive for wanting to do away with Lord Gilbert. All do know how close Bernard was to Ralf, and all do know that he would prosper if you became the Earl of Lincoln. It was to his advantage that Lord Gilbert should die.”

“If that was indeed his thinking, then surely Bernard would have been wiser to wait until after the wedding,” Hugh returned.

“Perhaps,” Gervase agreed. “But it would also have been more obvious if de Beauté died after the wedding. As it stands, no one would have suspected Bernard at all had he not been caught leaning over the body, murder weapon in hand.”

Hugh turned to Richard. “I understand Bernard was discovered by your squire.”

“That is correct,” Richard replied.

“I would like to speak to him.”

“Of course.”

Stone-faced, the two young men eyed each other. Then Hugh returned his gaze to Gervase. “And now, sir, if you don’t mind, I should like to speak to Bernard.”

“You look exhausted, lad,” the sheriff said gently. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to wait until tomorrow?”

Hugh shook his head.

“Very well.” The sheriff pushed his hip away from the table and stood upright. “I will have a guard take you to him. He is here in the castle, in one of the cells.”

Hugh stood up also, his face somber.

Gervase said kindly, “When you are finished talking to him, return here. Richard and I have a town house on the Strait. You can stay with us while you are in Lincoln.”

“You don’t have to house me, sir,” Hugh said. “I can lodge at an inn.”

Gervase said emphatically. “I refuse to send Ralf’s son to an inn. You will stay with us.”

A second before his silence became so drawn out that it would seem rude, Hugh said, “Thank you.”

Gervase escorted Hugh into the hall and signaled to a guard. Within a minute, Hugh found himself descending the stone stairs that led down into the dungeon of the castle, where accused criminals were kept.