Cruel As the Grave (30 page)

Godwin looked baffled, but he was accustomed to obeying orders. "What of it?"

"Cati told me that she'd never had a red dress before. Is that true?"

Godwin was beginning to eye Justin as if he was not quite in his right wits. "Aye… she was wearing it that Friday, the day she died."

It was the answer Justin was expecting. But he'd needed to hear it from Godwin. Rising, he reached for his money pouch. "I have something for you. We promised you'd get it back once the sheriff was sure it would not be needed at trial. He handed it to Jonas this afternoon." The candle flame illuminated the tarnished, worn sheen of Melangell's pilgrim pledge. Godwin snatched it up, his gnarled fingers clenching into a fist around the cross. Justin dropped his hand to the older man's shoulder, and left him sitting there in the darkened stairwell, clutching his murdered child's talisman.

~~

Justin slept poorly that night and was up and dressed by the time the sky had begun to lighten. A hazy dawn was breaking over London, the streets slowly filling as the city stirred. There was no sign of life at Humphrey Aston's shop, the shutters still down, the door barred. Justin was turning toward the side gate that led to the mercer's great hall when he saw one of the Aston journeymen on the other side of the street. Crossing over, he hailed the man. "Are you about to open the shop?"

The man shook his head, grinning broadly. "We got the day off! I can still scarce believe it, but the old man said he had work to do on his own and did not want the lot of us underfoot."

"Where is he now?"

"In the shop. If you want my guess, he tried to drink himself into a stupor last night and is dog-sick this morn. I never thought to hear myself saying this, but I can almost feel sorry for him ... almost. There was room for but one person in that shriveled walnut of a heart of his, and that was Geoffrey."

After the journeyman went off to enjoy his day of liberty, Justin returned to the mercer's shop and began to pound loudly for admittance. The response was a curse-laden warning to go away. Justin continued to hammer on the door until it was wrenched open.

"I am closed, you witless, misbegotten lout!" Humphrey bellowed, but Justin shoved the door back, forcing his way into the shop. It was like falling into a damp, dark hole, for the room was lit only by a sputtering candle and the air reeked of tallow grease, sweat, and wine. Getting his first good look at this intruder, Humphrey growled low in his throat. "You!" Snatching up an empty clay flagon, he swung it clumsily at Justin's head.

His aim was off, though, and Justin had no trouble evading the blow. Before Humphrey could try again, Justin clamped his hand on the other man's wrist, forcing him to drop the flagon. It shattered and the impact seemed to bring Humphrey back to his senses. Rubbing his wrist, he glared defiantly at Justin. "Who could blame me if I'd split your head open? Because of your meddling, I lost my son!"

He did not seem drunk, although not for want of trying; the floor was littered with discarded flagons and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his tunic so wrinkled and disheveled that he must have slept in it. Justin looked upon this evidence of a man's disintegration and felt not a flicker of pity. "Where is your wife? Is she above-stairs?"

"No, at her sister's. What is it to you?"

"Nothing to me, but this is a conversation you'll not be wanting her to overhear."

"This conversation is over. Get out!"

"Why not try to throw me out? I think I'd enjoy that."

Humphrey tensed to launch himself at the younger man, then thought better of it. "What are you doing here? Have you not done enough harm to my family?"

"Let's talk about that, Humphrey, about family. Growing up, I never knew my father and I felt that loss keenly. Looking at you now, I see that I was the lucky one. Your sons would have fared better as orphans."

It had been many years since anyone had dared to talk to Humphrey like this and his face flooded with color. "I want you out of my shop - now!"

"You still do not see it, do you? I know the truth. I know how Melangell died and the part you played in it."

Humphrey scarcely seemed to be breathing, so still was he of a sudden. Only his eyes moved, shifting from Justin's face to the sword at his hip. "What sort of nonsense is this?" he said, sounding more wary now than indignant. "I had naught to do with that Welsh whore's death."

"That is what I once thought, too. Even this did not put me on the right track/' Justin said, taking out his money pouch and slowly extracting that broken piece of tombstone.

Humphrey's body sagged and he sank down on a workbench piled with bolts of cloth. Justin held the rock toward the candle's light. "You can see her blood better now. She bled a lot. Was she conscious when you hit her? Had she started to revive, mayhap moaning? Or were you just making sure, finishing what Geoffrey had begun?"

Humphrey said nothing. He'd yet to take his eyes from the rock, transfixed by those brownish stains. Justin leaned back against the door, one hand sliding down to loosen his sword in its scabbard. "You do not want to talk about it? I suppose it is up to me, then. Where shall I start? How about with Melangell's red dress? You were the first one to make mention of it, ranting about her 'whore's scarlet.' I remembered because your outburst was so poisonous, but it took a while to understand its true significance. You see, Humphrey, Melangell had but one red dress, worn for the first time on the day she died. So you lied when you said you'd not seen her that Friday."

Humphrey's face was suffused with heat, with hatred so intense it was almost palpable. "She was a slut," he said harshly, "chasing shamelessly after Geoffrey day and night. I'd warned him away from her, but he kept sneaking around, futtering her on the sly... young fool!"

"So you followed him to the churchyard that night, meaning to catch them in the act. Instead you overheard her telling him she was with child. You knew that could wreck Geoffrey's chances of wedding Adela and you were not about to let that happen. My guess is that you hid to hear more. We both know what happened next. Geoffrey pushed her, she fell, and he panicked, thinking he'd killed her. As soon as he fled, you emerged from the shadows. Geoffrey may have lost his head, but not you. No, you saw your chance and took it. Was she already dying when you reached for that rock? I suppose you're the only one who'll ever know that, and you're not likely to say, are you?"

"You've got that right!" Humphrey's lip curled scornfully. "You spin a good tale, de Quincy, but all you've got is a bloody rock and lots of suspicions. You cannot prove a word of this!"

"You are right," Justin admitted. "I cannot prove it. If I could, I'd have gone to the sheriff. I spent the night trying to figure out how to bring you to justice and realized I cannot. Geoffrey has confessed and the sheriff was never all that interested in the killing of a peddler's daughter, so he's not about to reopen this case without proof. And as you pointed out, I lack proof, at least the sort of proof that would convince a court. What I do have, though, is a remarkably compelling story of greed and guilt and mortal sin. I'm willing to wager that your family, your neighbors, and fellow mercers will be hanging on to my every word."

Humphrey shot to his feet, fists balled. "You cannot do that!"

"I can," Justin said coldly, "and I will. I thought I'd go first to Master Serlo. I think he'll believe me. I think anyone who knows you will believe me"

"You treacherous bastard!" Humphrey took a threatening step forward, only to halt when Justin let his hand drop to the hilt of his sword. "I'll sue you for slander," he said, and Justin laughed.

"Have you forgotten? I'm the queen's man. Which one of us do you think a court would heed?"

The mercer responded with a curse so profane that Justin was impressed in spite of himself. But he was right about Humphrey Aston; this was not a man to lose his head. There was a long silence and then Humphrey said in a flat, dispassionate voice, "I am not admitting any of this, mind you. I'll deny it with my last breath. I'd rather not have to do that, though, for lies are like mud. They tend to stick. So what will it take to keep you quiet about these ludicrous suspicions of yours?"

"Money."

Humphrey's mouth twisted in an expression of rage, relief, and contempt. "I should have known," he said. "Money is always the answer, even for self-righteous whoresons like you." Crossing to a coffer chest, he removed a key from his belt, and after a moment of fumbling, flung the lid open. "Do not think that you can dip into my well anytime you get thirsty. This one time, you can drink, but no more. Now... how much?"

"Enough," Justin said, "to buy a mule."

When the money had been counted out, Humphrey carefully relocked the coffer, then watched as Justin transferred the coins to his pouch. "I'll not expect to see you here again," he warned. "And you can leave the rock."

"I think not," Justin said, glancing down at the dried blood stains and wishing they were the mercer's, not Melangell's. "And we're not done yet. There is one more thing you must do. You're to go to Master Serlo, persuade him to take Daniel on as one of his apprentices."

"What? What sort of daft demand is that?"

"One you're going to meet, if you expect me to keep silent."

"How am I supposed to convince him? Why would he want Daniel in his shop? God knows I do not!"

"Appeal to his better nature. He seems a decent sort, doubtless feels guilty that he was so quick to suspect the worst of Daniel. Offer a very generous bond of surety and a favorable contract. How you do it is up to you. But get it done or we have no deal."

When Humphrey continued to protest, Justin cut him off curtly. "There is nothing more to be said. I'll be back at week's end, so you'd best seek out Master Serlo as soon as you sober up."

Humphrey spat out another oath. "This is extortion, plain and simple!"

Justin halted in the doorway. "No ... it is retribution." It was a relief to escape the stifling, murky atmosphere of the mercer's shop, and he paused out on the street to savor the sunlight, the clean air. Mayhap Jonas was right and he was taking too many of John's habits to heart. It was easy to abuse power, all too easy. For certes, he'd taken shameless advantage of his position as the queen's man. But after more than five months in the royal service, he felt sure that his queen would have approved of what he'd done. As he walked briskly up Friday Street, he seemed to hear Eleanor's voice echoing on the light summer wind, reminding him again that
There are any number of reasons, Justin, why people are tempted to dance with the Devil
.

The mule was young and sturdy, a pale grey, his mane braided with one of Cati's red hair ribbons. Godwin could not resist running his hands along the animal's sleek hide each time he passed by, but eventually the cart was loaded and the good-byes were said. Godwin clambered up onto the seat and Justin gave Cati a hand up, too. Clara and her husband smiled and waved, and Nell produced a small sack of wafers for their noontime meal on the road. With cries of "Godspeed" and "Safe journey," Godwin and his daughter bade London farewell and began the long journey back to Wales. They'd gone only a short distance, though, before Godwin reined in the mule.

"Justin!" Cati cried, leaning precariously out of the cart. When he saw what she wanted to show him, he nodded and grinned, and the cart lumbered on, accompanied by Shadow until Justin whistled to him.

Nell joined Justin in the street. "What did the little lass want you to see?"

"That she was wearing Melangell's St Davydd's cross."

"Well, St Davydd seems to be smiling upon them these days. How else explain Godwin's new mule?" Nell queried blandly, blue eyes agleam. Justin merely smiled and shrugged, as he always did when the subject of Godwin's mule was raised. Nell called out a final farewell as the cart turned onto the Cheapside, and then glanced over at Justin.

"I hope you have nothing in mind for the afternoon. The Templars' mill offers the best flour and the best price, but I've need of a strong arm to fetch it home."

"I cannot think of anything I'd rather do than lug flour sacks back from Southwark," Justin said, and Nell grinned, linking her arm in his.

The rest of the day was a pleasant one. After picking up Nell's flour at the Templars' mill, they bought pork pies from a street vendor and ate by the river, watching as ships lowered their masts to navigate under the bridge. On their way home, they stopped in the Eastcheap market so Nell could buy some honey. While she haggled with the peddler over the price, Justin wandered over to look at the caged larks and magpies.

"Promise me you're not thinking of buying one," Nell entreated when she rejoined him. "Not a pie - they never stop shrieking."

"If I tell you, you'll laugh," Justin said, but he told her, anyway. "Cati said that Melangell hated to see birds caged up, and for a mad moment or two, I was actually thinking of buying one and setting it free... for Melangell." He smiled sheepishly. "I realized then that I'd merely be buying dinner for that ginger torn," he said, pointing toward a large cat who was prowling under the cages, hungry green eyes aglow.

"I think," Nell said, "that you've already done what you could for Melangell," and he let her draw him away from those wicker cages with their brightly colored captives, glad that she hadn't caught him browsing at the booth selling baby rattles and cradles.