Valley of Dry Bones

Chapter Sixteen

“You’re drunk.” Ralf reached for the jug of ale.

“Had you any sense, you’d be too,” Fulke replied, pulling the pitcher out of his brother’s grasp. After staring inside with long and careful study, he tipped the last of the amber liquid into his mouth. “Is that all you have to offer me?” He slammed the thing down on the table, belching like a hog grunts over slops.

“’S Blood, Fulke! My daughter is asleep. If you frighten her, I’ll skin your balls.”

“Not before the Devil fries yours, little brother.” His scowl wavered. “There was a time when you drank men under the table and swyved their wenches afterward. You’re no saint.”

“I’ve since become a husband and father.”

“As have I, or at least I was a father until the babes died. My wife has long been barren. Of late, she has refused her bed to me. Seems the priest believes coupling without issue is no more than sinful lust. Now I seek relief…”

“God keep me from your tales of feeble gropings and pitiful couplings. I do not care.”

Fulke raised his fist and bellowed outrage.

Ralf grabbed him by the wrist. “If you disturb Sibely,” he hissed, “I swear I’ll make sure you have nothing left between your legs to poke any woman.”

“Cokenay,” the sheriff growled, but his voice had dropped and his wrath quickly wilted. With his free hand, he gestured agreement.

The two men fell silent as they both listened for any sound of distress from the sleeping child.

All was quiet.

“More ale,” Fulke whispered, “if you haven’t any decent wine to serve your noble brother.”

In response, Ralf pushed a platter of cold fowl and bread toward him, then relented and refilled the pitcher with ale. “Out of compassion for soulless beasts, you can stay the night. Were you to walk back to the priory, you’d pass out, be eaten by some wild creature, and poison the poor animal with your foul flesh.” He gestured to a corner of the room. “There is straw enough there for a bed.”

Fulke said nothing as he grasped the cup close to his chest. He was visibly shivering.

“I’ll not geld you in your sleep,” Ralf said, grabbing a handful of fowl from the platter. “You have my word.”

Shaking his head, the sheriff noisily sucked his cup dry and reached for the jug.

With great deliberation, Ralf tore off bits of flesh from the wing and stuffed them into his mouth.

“I’m scared.” Fulke’s words were almost inaudible.

The crowner grinned.

“Not of you.”

Ralf shrugged.

“I did not kill him.”

“You had cause enough.”

“I just affirmed my innocence.”

“God was gracious and I never met the man in my short time at court. From tales I’ve heard of him, perhaps you should have slit his throat.” Ralf tossed the denuded bird bones at the sheriff’s feet. “As for questioning your honesty, you would question mine were our situations reversed. Tell me why I must conclude you are telling the truth.”

“Be careful how you continue. If I hang, remember that Odo would get the land to use as he defines God’s work, sweet brother. You would gain little except, perhaps, the responsibility of caring for my widow.”

“You have been too long amongst devious men, Fulke. If I had longed for either title or inheritance, I could have killed you when we were boys and disguised the deed well enough as an accident. Why wait until now?”

Reaching across the table, Fulke clutched his brother’s arm. “If you don’t believe me, I will swear on any holy relic of your choosing! I did not kill Baron Otes, although you know well enough I might wish to.”

Ralf looked down with disgust at the sheriff’s hand. “Swear not. I think you’d lie to God Himself.”

“Why do you hate me?” Fulke sat back. Even with his expression disguised by shadows, he looked defeated.

“You never gave me reason to love.”

The older brother shook his head as if amazed.

“If you cannot recall the tauntings or the cruel jests when we were boys, then I have no wish, as a man, to remind you. As long as we stay far apart, Fulke, we shall remain peaceful enough brothers.”

“We are kin.”

“Saying that only means you want something from me.”

“Find the man who killed Baron Otes, do so quickly, and keep all suspicion from ever falling on me.”

“You are the sheriff of this land. I am only your lowly crowner and the brother for whom you show little respect.”

“Did I not take you into my home when you fled this place? Did I not find you a woman with land?”

“It was your spouse who welcomed me with kindness in my grief. You greeted me once, then spoke only when it suited your purpose. As for the wife you gave me, she gifted me with a daughter who has brought the taste of honey back to my life. I cherish the child far more than the land.”

“You owe me.”

“As I have said already, I have repaid that debt.”

Fulke leaned forward, his teeth clenched in fury.

Shoving his drunken brother backwards, Ralf filled his own mazer and drank deeply. “If you agree to a few simple conditions, I’ll do as you ask.”

The sheriff lowered his head.

Ralf walked over to the wall where his sword hung on a peg and returned with the weapon in hand. “As this represents the cross on which our Lord was crucified, I ask that you put your hand on the hilt and swear you will agree to my demands and never turn traitor to your word.”

Fulke rested one palm on the hilt and grunted.

“Good.” Laying the weapon down on the table, he turned back to his brother. “My conditions are simple. First, stay out of my way until the killer is found. Later, you can preen like a capon all you like and lie to your friends at court about how clever you were in trapping the murderer. I swear to support your tale if required. The last conditions are that you cease to plan any further marriage propositions for me and that you return to kneel at the king’s feet, leaving me forever in peace.”

Fulke did nod, but his head had grown too heavy to hold up. His eyes closed, and he slid off the bench onto the floor.

Ralf walked around the table and looked down at the man, dressed in robes of finely woven cloth, sprawled on an earthen floor. Did he believe Fulke’s assertion of innocence in this murder? Whether or not he did, he knew he must confirm the truth either way and then decide what to do if his brother had lied.

The sheriff began to snore.

“God has cursed me with such brothers,” the crowner muttered. Then he grabbed Fulke by the armpits and dragged him to a pile of straw where the head of the family could sleep off his drunken stupor.