The Killing Way Page 8

  I shook off his hold. “You must tell me, brother. Did your love for the girl go beyond simple lust?”

  “Did I bed her? And what if I did,” he said. “What would it be to you?”

  “It might have given you reason to kill her.” I did not feel a liaison between Cuneglas and Eleonore strongly, but I knew he was unfaithful to Ygerne, though why I could not fathom. We had argued about it over the years, but he was not alone in his wanderings. Other men were worse.

  “I did not kill her, and I did not bed her.”

  “You have bedded others; why should she be any different?”

  “She preferred a nobler sort, the likes of your friend Kay and King Mark’s son, Tristan. Aye, and she was no stranger to David and the others.” Somewhere in his words I heard other words unspoken.

  “The answer will come, in time. May God watch you this day.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “Why say you that? You’re not a religious man.”

  “Perhaps Arthur is converting me,” I joked, but I wondered too at why I said that. It just came out.

  Cuneglas laughed. “Aye, and I’ll believe that when the snow birds come in the summer.” And then he was gone.

  Our conversation had ended on a light tone, but one tinged with strain. It was as if Cuneglas knew more than he was telling, yet no words of mine would force them from him. We had been like that in recent years. When I left to join Arthur in his campaigns against the Saxons, Cuneglas and I quarreled. I accused him of cowardice; he accused me of simply seeking revenge. I learned on the field at Tribuit that at the very least he was right.

  Before I had time to turn back to my cabbage and beef, Ygerne appeared in the doorway, without Mariam. “Are you well?” I asked.

  “Well enough,” she answered. “Your brother is short of temper of late.”

  “The death of someone so close is like to shorten a man’s temper. And Cuneglas was always a lad whose feelings lay upon his shoulder as lightly as a bird perches on a branch.”

  She nodded. “She will be buried this noon in the burying place that holds Gwyneth and their parents.” We still held with the tradition of burying our dead close to their homes and family. But Coroticus at Ynys-witrin was championing the idea of creating graveyards on church property, “sanctified ground,” he called it, blessed and prepared for our empty shells.

  “See that the priest lays her soul to rest well.”

  “You will not come?”

  “I have much to do,” I said, dropping my head. “What say the people in the lanes about this?”

  This time Ygerne had a ready answer. “That the old fool killed her in his madness or in one of his evil rituals. And that rather than charge a drunken madman with seeking the truth, Vortimer’s Druids should be allowed to sacrifice Merlin to appease the gods and keep them from visiting their wrath on us all. I’m sorry, Malgwyn, but such are the whispers in the lane.”

  “I know what I am, Ygerne. And it may be that Merlin did this awful thing, and if so, I will be the first to demand his punishment. But Arthur is right; let us be sure of the truth. A life once taken cannot be returned.

  “As to the Druids, in truth, I want no part of gods that demand death for their appeasement.”

  “You are an uncommon man, Malgwyn. Would that your brother were more like you.” The sadness I had seen earlier returned.

  “You would rather he be a drunk?”

  “He lacks your constancy, your passion.”

  “My passion? For what? Serving girls?” I stopped even as I shoveled some cabbage toward my mouth. I immediately regretted the words. I started to apologize, but felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I looked up into her eyes, and they were bright and gentle. They regarded me with an interest intense in its depth. “I know, Malgwyn. But I meant your passion for the truth, and I remember your passion for Gwyneth. Mariam comes from good stock, though she knows it not. At first, she was too young to understand. Then when Cuneglas told her, there was nothing I could do or say to convince her of the truth or ease her pain.” She rubbed my back and laid a gentle kiss on my brow. “You know why he did it, don’t you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Jealousy. Anger. He didn’t like the way that she spoke of her ‘uncle,’ the love that was in her voice. So, drunken, he snapped it out at her. Oh, he got what he wished; she clung to him then and turned away from you. But Malgwyn, he broke that little girl’s heart and caused her far more damage than you ever did by leaving her here.”

  A sudden pressure, painful and real, struck the back of my eyes, and I realized that tears were pushing for release. It was a feeling I had not experienced for many years. “It was not a lie. You and Cuneglas are her parents. And so it should remain.”

  “Malgwyn!” A voice came from the door. I wiped my eyes, and turned on the stool to see Kay standing there with a soldier I recognized as Paderic, a cousin of Arthur’s from Dumnonia. He was not the brightest of Arthur’s kin, but a goodly lad.

  “Come, Paderic. How be it with you?”

  He was a big, cheerful fellow with sandy hair and a quick grin that he displayed nervously at me. “Well, my lord. Well.”

  I waved him off with my one hand. “I am not your lord, Paderic, though I appreciate the thought. Tell me of last evening. What did you see and hear as you made your rounds?”

  “Nothing unusual. Just people moving to and fro in the lanes. Until Accolon shouted for me when he found the maiden.”

  “What people?”

  “A few drunks. More drunks than usual. Another group of Druids had arrived. A surly bunch, to be sure. At least Vortimer’s Druids would speak to you. These only grunt. With the consilium and the procession, it was more like a festival.”

  “Did you see Eleonore, the maiden, before then?”

  “I saw her earlier, near the great hall, but that was hours before. Not long after the evening meal.”

  “Accolon says he saw her talking with a hooded man on the Via Caedes as he went to report for watch. Why would Accolon be on the Via Caedes when you report in on the southwestern gate?”

  Paderic grinned and shrugged. “Maybe Accolon visited a woman. He saw one ofttimes in the old village.”

  I looked uncomfortably toward Ygerne; such discussions were not for women’s ears. “Perhaps you should see to the children.”

  She propped her fists on her hips and glared at me with blue eyes. “Perhaps you should hold your conferences elsewhere. I know of such women, Malgwyn. I’m not a fool.”

  Kay and Paderic hid smiles behind their gloved hands. I reddened, and after a too long moment of hesitation, turned back to the men. “What of Nyfain?

  “I saw her go to her home with . . .”

  “With whom?”

  “Just another soldier.” Paderic was hesitant; I could understand why. No one wanted to admit that he knew the wife of a fellow soldier was not faithful. But I did not press for an answer. I knew who she had left with.

  These questions were not bearing fruit. “How did you hear of the girl’s death?”

  “I was patrolling on the lane behind this house. I heard a shout and then the sound of the alarm at the barracks.” Arthur had erected a kind of large bell, though it made more of a clanking sound. When aught happened, when one of the watch cried for the alarm, it was sounded and roused a company of soldiers to rush to their posts. The same could be done if the lookout in the watchtower behind Arthur’s hall saw a signal from Ynys-witrin.

  “And?”

  “And then I followed the sounds of the shouting until I reached Accolon.”

  “Then what saw you?”

  “Accolon standing over the maiden. Lord David, Tristan, Mordred, and others, and some of their men arrived as did I. Others were there, but beyond the light of the torch.”

  That Arthur’s family had spawned such a simple lout amazed me. But he meant no harm by his lack of inquisitiveness. I was sure that he never thought to look. “How long did it take you to get to the spot whe
n you heard the alarum?”

  Paderic shrugged. “A minute, no more certainly. I ran.”

  “From what direction came the men?”

  He thought for a moment. “From the watchtower, behind Arthur’s hall. I saw them there earlier. That’s where Accolon and I meet as we make our circuit.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “Drunk. In arms singing a song.”

  Typical.

  “You may go, Paderic. I thank you for your help.”

  The oafish boy turned, hesitated, then turned back. “Malgwyn, the old man, Merlin?”

  “Yes?”

  “He did not do this thing. I have seen him often with the girl, and he treated her as he would a daughter. Even with a devilin him, I cannot see him killing her.”

  “A devil in him?”

  “Aye, that is the talk. I heard it in the barracks this morning.”

  “Where is Accolon? I need to speak to him again. There are questions yet to be asked.”

  “He left just after sunrise and I have not seen him since.”

  “If you see him, tell him that I wish to speak to him.”

  Paderic left, and I sat and stared at the now cold, boiled beef and cabbage.

  “Malgwyn?”

  I ignored Kay for a moment, before finally I turned to him.

  “Let us go back to Merlin’s house so I may see it in the daylight. Perhaps I will see something that darkness hid.”

  “You ate nothing,” Ygerne said.

  “As it has done to my brother, this affair has stolen my hunger. Thank you, Ygerne. Cuneglas is lucky to have you.”

  “Thank you. But I oft wonder if he shares your faith. Do not be long in coming the next time, Malgwyn. Our home is yours as well.”

  The way she said it, the urgency in her voice, left a strange feeling in me, of jealousy. Jealousy that Cuneglas could call her his own. An uncomfortable sadness that I couldn’t. I tried to brush aside the thought but it would not go away, not completely.

  With Kay at my heels, I left the house and trudged across the village. A noble in my wake made the townspeople more guarded in their comments, but the looks cast my way left nothing to guess about. Before, I had simply been an odd man. Now I was an odd man trying to save a madman and a murderer. That this was not quite true made no difference. I was sure that Arthur’s enemies had been promoting the half-truth all evening and morn.

  We crossed from the cobbled lane to the earthen square in front of the great hall and turned up the lane separating Merlin’s home from Arthur’s. Next to Merlin’s was the kitchen for the great hall. At feasting time, a seeming river of servants crossed back and forth between the kitchen and Arthur’s table. The meat was cooked in the hall, over the open hearth in the middle of the great room, but the porridges and breads and cheeses were ferried back and forth by cleanly tuniced and gowned servants from the kitchen.

  As we entered I saw three servants, two girls and a boy, mashing new vegetables in bowls of a blueblack wash. I had seen such bowls before. They had raised bumps inside, the better to mash vegetables.

  The girls were young and Gallic in looks. The boy, a Pict, was older, near unto being a man. He was ruddy-faced and unpleasant, tall, but not as tall as Kay. They stopped their work and stood in a line before us.

  “You were serving with Eleonore last eve?” I asked.

  The girls nodded, but the boy turned away with a snarl.

  Kay stepped forward and slapped the boy with a gloved hand. The pop of hand against jaw was muffled but distinct, and the boy fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Kay!” I held my hand out to stop him.

  “This one is insolent! I told Arthur to sell him to the merchants from Brittany that passed through last month.”

  “And he did not?”

  With a disgusted frown Kay shook his head. “Arthur does not believe in selling or buying slaves. He won these in battle.”

  “Then why does he not free them?”

  “Because he is evil!” the boy shouted.

  This time I slapped him. “Curb your tongue,” I said as the boy rose from the ground. “Arthur is slow to move, to decide, but he is not evil.” Typical Pict, stubborn and defiant.

  The women seemed strangely unaffected by all this. I studied the lad’s face and saw the reddish tinge of old blows healing.

  “Lie to me,” I warned them, “and you will be sorry. Now, what do you know of Eleonore’s plans for after the feasting last night?”

  One of the girls frowned. “She was to meet some man.” Her tone and expression showed her displeasure.

  “You did not approve?”

  “She is a slave,” Kay countered. “Who cares for her approval or disapproval?”

  “Never underestimate a slave, old friend.” I turned back to the girl. “Answer.”

  “A woman should not throw herself on men.”

  “And that was how you saw her?”

  “Pay her no mind!” the boy shouted. “She was just jealous of Eleonore.”

  “Jealous? Why?”

  He sneered at the girl, and I knew he enjoyed taunting her. “She hated the girl for being free. And she hated her because the nobles wanted her.”

  I looked carefully at the girl. She was plain, not handsome, but not unpleasant either. Probably, she was taken from a raided village when she was very young. I felt sympathy for her situation, but it was not an uncommon one.

  “Does he speak the truth?” I asked.

  Her head whipped around and her eyes seemed to drip with venom. “She did not know her place.”

  “Perhaps,” I allowed. “Do you know who she was to meet?”

  She pointed a finger at Kay. “I thought him. But I cannot say for certain.”

  The Gaul had made me curious. “Why do you think she was killed? Do you think it was Merlin?”

  The girl laughed and for an instant she seemed prettier. “No. Old Merlin worshipped the girl and she doted on him. I reckoned that it was him,” pointing again at Kay, “or one of his fellows.”

  “Why?”

  “I reckoned that she had promised something she wasn’t willing to give. This person, whoever it was, grew angry and paid her for her teasing.”

  “And you!” I said suddenly, spinning around and pointing at the second girl. “What say you of this affair?”

  She was a pleasant-looking girl, of marrying age. A maturity marked her eye that touched not those of her fellow servants. “I know nothing of this. I liked Eleonore. She was that sort.”

  “What sort?”

  “The sort that could make you laugh when you wished for nothing but to cry. They are rare people in a dangerous world, my lord. I wish that she were still among us.”

  “What is your name, child?”

  “I am called Nimue.”

  “Tell me what you know of Eleonore’s movements last eve.”

  “Little. It was a busy night with the consilium among us. As we cleared the table, she mentioned to me that she was meeting a fellow later in the eve. I asked her who, but she just smiled and would not say. I knew it was not Lord Kay she was meeting though.”

  “And how did you know this?”

  Nimue smiled at Kay, who reddened. “Her voice took on a different tone when she spoke of Kay. She called him her ‘darling giant.’ Forgive me, my lord. I think she favored you above all others. But she was young and willful. Had this thing not happened and had you been patient, I think the prize would have fallen to your hands.”

  A hint of moisture touched Kay’s eyes, and he nodded his thanks to her. I watched closely for sign of deception. I saw none.

  “That is all you know, though, of last night?”

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but yes. After we finished cleaning, I went to the hut that we have been assigned and went straight to sleep.”

  “Thank you for your help.” The other two turned away from us and went back to their labors.

  We started for the door, but Nimue rushed up and caught my elbow. �
�My lord, the boy?” she whispered. “He is prone to anger, and he wanted Eleonore for himself.”

  “Thank you.”

  With that, we slipped through the door and onto the lane. A few people passed by, giving us a wide berth. “We are not welcome today, Malgwyn,” Kay said.

  “That much is obvious.”

  “Do you think the boy had something to do with this?”

  “No. Too many twists and turns lie in this road for the answer to be that simple. Although I would wish that it be. Owain and Nyfain say Eleonore wished to see me. I doubt she would have left such a message unless it was important. Unfortunately, she is unable now to deliver the message herself.”

  “Where now?”

  “Guinevere,” I said, without further explanation.

  We found her in Arthur’s chamber at the great hall. She had not been awake long by the looks of her, and it had not been an easy night.

  “Come, Malgwyn.” She held the door open for us. “I knew you would want to see me.”

  “How did you know that?”

  She sat down before a table, took up a comb, and began stroking her long hair. “When Arthur told me he was coming to see you, I knew it would not be long before you knocked at my door.

  “I saw you watching last eve, from the kitchen. You were trying to bed one of the serving girls, but you were watching us as well, all of us. Drunk as you were, I could feel you absorbing everything and everyone.”

  I felt naked, stripped of my clothing. No woman had ever laid me so bare, but that was Guinevere’s gift. She could see into the hearts of men and know their thoughts. I had known Guinevere all of my life. She was a distant cousin on my mother’s side, of a noble family whose nobility had escaped my family. We were a small land, and most of us knew each other and many of us were related in some way. Guinevere had always been special, in action and in beauty. And she sparked jealousy in women the way that freshly cooked food sparked hunger.

  “I will not argue with you. Yes, I was watching from the kitchen, amusing myself by watching all those pompous lords. I saw Eleonore serving Arthur, and I saw your scowl when he touched her on the back.” Speaking straight was the only way to treat with Guinevere. She would have it no other way.