Valley of Dry Bones

Chapter Twenty-seven

“I am your nearest kin, you lout!”

Ralf grabbed the seething Fulke by his robe and hauled him up from the bench. “I asked a simple question, dearest brother. Where were you the night Otes was killed? Answer it, or I shall assume you are either a greater knave than you sometimes act or else a fool.”

The sheriff’s face was a bright puce, although rage was not the only cause. From the number of empty pitchers on the table, it was evident he had drunk deeply. And then there was the serving wench who might have added color to his cheeks as well. When Ralf arrived, she had been wiggling with some enthusiasm on his brother’s lap.

Releasing Fulke, the crowner reached for the nearest jug. Tipping it, he saw there was only a small amount of ale left and it was far from fresh. He dumped the few mouthfuls into his brother’s cup, shoved it at Fulke, and raised a hand to demand a new pitcher.

With some surprise, he realized that the serving wench who had just been pleasuring Fulke had not fled when the brothers began to argue. She was standing, with sour expression and arms akimbo, near the sheriff’s side.

Ralf waved her off to bring more drink. Although she was young and buxom enough, her sharp-angled face was deeply pitted. Either Fulke cared little about such things, as long as the woman would lie on her back, or he was too drunk to notice. Shrugging, the crowner decided his brother’s choice of women was not his problem.

“What do you think I was doing that night?” Fulke swallowed the flat ale in one gulp, then stared at the cup as if it had insulted him.

Ralf shook his head.

“I was swyving that one.” He gestured at the woman approaching with a jug of frothy ale.

“I hope Signy doesn’t know of it,” Ralf muttered.

The woman put the pitcher down with a thump and marched away.

Grimacing, the sheriff poured for himself. “Is Signy the inn’s bawd?”

“How little you know your own shire. She owns this place and does not tolerate whoring.”

“I left this land to your care because you begged to have it so, insolent cur. As long as you behave, I concern myself little about petty village matters.” Fulke jerked his head in the direction of the vanished wench. “And this innkeeper of yours? If she does not allow a whore or two, she’ll never make a profit of this inn. A bordel brings comfort to the weary traveler. Tell her to marry, breed, and let her husband take over the business.”

Ralf folded his arms and said nothing.

Fulke gave him a lopsided leer. “Perhaps this Signy doesn’t know what goes on here or else she winks at it with a hand behind her back to accept the slipped coin. In any case, the serving wench did meet me later in the stable, and she served me well and freely.” He belched. “Freely, I repeat and you should note. I paid nothing to her or to this righteous innkeeper.”

“Will the woman swear to that as well as how long she bounced you in the hay?”

“Surely you ask just to annoy me. As your eldest brother and head of our family, my word and my innocence are beyond question.”

“So are the demands of justice, otherwise known as the king’s law, in case you have forgotten the responsibilities inherent in your duties as sheriff.” Ralf made a face. “Despite our differences, I long neither for your hanging nor that suspicion fall upon you. I do pray you are blameless. It would be a waste of good coin, bribing some hangman to grant you a faster death.” He turned away for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Tell me the truth. If you did kill the man, I will do all I can to save you. As you said, we are kin, whether we wish it or not.”

“I am innocent. How many times must I declare it? Would my oath mean more if I swore on my desire for heaven or on Odo’s hope that he not go to Hell?”

Ralf laughed. “The latter.” He again raised a hand and gestured for service. “You have drunk enough. It is time to put food in your belly.”

Apparently, the woman under discussion had remained nearby with an eye on the men, for it was the same wench who returned. Promising to bring the best the inn had to offer, she ignored the crowner and flirted enough with Fulke that Ralf suspected they may well have spent the night together as his brother claimed. What surprised him more was the growing notion that the swyving might have, in fact, given the woman some joy. Inexplicably annoyed, he growled a specific request for stew.

The two men said little until the portions were brought, then slurped and chewed without speaking. They scraped the bowls clean of any remnants with fistfuls of coarse bread.

“Is that Signy?” Fulke bent his thumb at a woman easing her way through the crowd, stopping at the occasional table, and simply dressed in black.

Ralf nodded.

“My manhood might complain about how she runs the inn. My belly does not. The ale is good. So is the fare. And if it weren’t for her mourning weeds, she’d be comely enough. Does she long for the priory or is there another reason for this wayward piety?”

“Leave her be,” Ralf snarled. “She is a good woman.”

Fulke raised an eyebrow, then snorted with glee. “Methinks she’s the one who warms your bed, since the other lass isn’t your leman.”

The crowner brought his fist down on the table so hard, all vessels on the table bounced. “Another slur on an honorable woman and I will make sure you can do naught but suck your meals henceforth! Now tell me what you know of Otes. What is his relationship with the other members of the queen’s party? You have surely heard enough rumors at court before this journey. And tell me if he had offered land to any of late, when, and the price. That question includes any deals you had or hoped to have with him.”

Fulke groaned. “My bladder is too full to chatter on like some woman to amuse you. You demand much information.”

“Go find a wall outside before you piss yourself.”

As soon as Fulke had left the bench, Ralf called over the pock-marked wench. “Did my brother treat you gently enough the other night?” His smile suggested benign concern.

She stiffened. “What law have I broken that you should ask that of me?”

“None! I…”

“Then you’ll get no answer. I’ll not have you prating to the mistress, Crowner. She’d chase me from the inn if there were any accusation of whoring. And don’t I have a babe to feed with no husband to hunt for faggots when autumn comes?”

“What a man and woman choose to do in some pile of hay on a summer eve is not my business. Since Sir Fulke is my brother, I am duty bound to make sure my kin treat all with just kindness. That is my sole concern.”

She snorted. “Aren’t you the right courteous knight? Straight out of some story of King Arthur, I swear, but I’m neither Queen Guinevere nor a fool.” She tossed her head. “For your information, he did offer a pretty enough coin, and I refused. If you tell tales to Mistress Signy, make sure you pass that bit on as well.”

“I swear not to pass anything on. I’m just surprised he wasn’t too drunk to bed you.”

“Although he did drink enough, Crowner, I served him for several hours.” Folding her arms under her ample breasts, her expression softened. “Even if he did need help staggering to the stables, I’ve never known any other man, drunk or sober, who could stay rigid as a pole until the sun returned.”

Ralf sat back with unmistakable surprise. “This time of year, darkness may be short-lived, but…! All night?”

She smirked.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fulke returning. “Pleased to hear it.” He grinned. “Now maybe another jug of ale, quickly served, would be in order.” He touched her hand. The edge of a small coin briefly flashed between his fingers.

It disappeared in a trice, as did she.

“Getting her side of the story?” Fulke slid back onto the bench. “Why would a woman’s word be more trustworthy than your brother’s?”

Ralf chuckled. “I never knew you had such endurance in bed sports! She came to tell me that,” he lied, then slapped the sheriff on the shoulder.

Fulke flushed with evident pleasure. “You wanted to know about Otes and the rest of us.”

As the serving wench put down a jug, she added a platter of bread and cheese.

With a wink, Ralf handed over more coin.

“The baron has never demanded payment from me for his silence. Sometimes I suspected that my obvious fear was pleasure enough for him.” He looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Ralf knew how difficult it had been for Fulke to admit a weakness. Respecting his brother’s pride, he said nothing.

“When you asked about acres, did you mean for sale, in trade for some favor, or as a free gift?”

“All.”

“Baron Otes never spoke to me of such a thing. I have heard rumor that the baron promised to donate profitable land in his will to the man Father Eliduc serves. Since Otes had already given land to found a leper hospital, I assumed any other such gift to the Church was meant to buy more prayers for his mottled soul.” He laughed. “Lest you think any of his get had a quarrel with his new-found piety, there was plenty left to satisfy his sons and his daughters’ husbands.”

“Otes was widowed, was he not?”

“To the grief of every pretty serving woman in his castle! And it is true that he banned the ones he deemed ugly. No bantlings, though. God showed mercy.”

“If the land was profitable enough to bring joy to his lord’s heart, Father Eliduc might grow fearful should the baron change his mind and offer the same land to another.”

Fulke tore a handful of bread in half. “Methinks you have heard more than I about this matter.” Taking a bite, he lifted his cup, then smiled at Ralf. “As we both learned from watching our Odo, a religious calling is no deterrent to avarice or violence.”

“So Father Eliduc might have a motive for making sure Otes never changed his will.” He scowled. “I do not like matters involving a struggle of authority between the Church and the king’s justice. As sheriff, neither should you.”

“Then we must pray he is as innocent as a priest should be, although I confess I neither like nor trust the man. He’s as slippery as a trout, but I have no proof of any guilt.”

“What of Lady Avelina and her son?”

“If they have deep secrets concealed, I have heard nothing of them. What more could be hidden? Their story is known well-enough. There can be little worse than being the widow and son of a dead traitor.”

“Not all followers of de Montfort lost favor with our new king,” Ralf said thoughtfully. “King Edward also knows the dangers involved should he seek retribution against them when so many claim miracles have been wrought at the earl’s gravesite. He himself smiled on the man at one time, and there are many of all ranks that continue to believe the earl served the interests of every man while King Henry served only his own.”

Fulke put his palm against his brother’s mouth. “Do not speak treason!”

Ralf shoved the hand aside. “I report what I hear. As for treason, I am as loyal to this king as I was to the last. All I suggest is that Lady Avelina might have cause to hope her son’s inheritance will be restored. Or did Baron Otes know something that would prevent that from happening?”

“Others may be returned to favor. Not this particular family. The father loudly and foolishly proclaimed that de Montfort should be king, not just an honored counselor. Some call it blasphemy that the earl raised a sword against God’s anointed. Of those who stay silent, many shiver in fear. None dare speak up for declared traitors and few for their get. King Edward might forgive any who changed course, as he himself did. He will never pardon anyone who stubbornly fought against the very kingship he now owns. And Simon is much like his sire, imprudent in his ways and blinded by his passions. I do not think the boy is likely to breed trust in a king’s heart, no matter how sweetly the mother begs.”

Ralf stabbed at a hunk of cheese. “That matches what little I have seen of Simon. The boy troubles me, Fulke. He is now staying with Brother Thomas, a monk who is living as a hermit in the forest hut near the priory mill. Although I might believe the lad opened his eyes one morning, saw the horror of his sins, and fled to a man of God for guidance, I find it strange that he should run away at the very sight of me after Otes’ corpse was found.” He gnawed in silence. “Is there nothing more you can tell me about Simon and his mother?”

“Staying with a hermit nearby, you say?”

The crowner nodded. “Aye. Just above the pond where the baron was killed.”

The sheriff thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I know nothing about the young fool other than the usual boyish swinking and maternal outrage when he can’t keep his pintle in his braes. I heard rumor that he tried to breach the wrong girl recently, then struck her with his fists for refusing him. That news was silenced as well as might be.”

“None of this explains why Simon hid from me when Brother Thomas and I spoke. Maybe Simon has another secret, apart from tearing maidenheads. I had best pay a visit to our good hermit and his recent guest.” He rose.

Fulke glanced through the crowd, eager to catch the eye of his favored wench.

The crowner slammed his hand down on the sheriff’s shoulder. “In the meantime, brother, take my advice and keep your own tarse strapped down tonight. If Signy discovers you riding one of her women in the stable, she might mistake you for a bull that needs some trimming.”

Grinning with wicked delight at his horrified brother, Ralf walked away.