Hill of Bones (11 page)

‘What about Reginald?’ asked Cole. ‘Did you murder him, too?

‘Reginald was not poisoned, no matter what the gossips claim,’ said Pica wretchedly. ‘He died of a fever.’

‘Then what about Hugh and Adam?’ asked Gwenllian. ‘They were killed by a dog that tore out their throats. And you gave Savaric a large grey animal – one that looked like a wolf.’

Pica stared at her. ‘If that dog did attack Hugh and Adam, you cannot hold
me
responsible. Perhaps it was a little more savage than I led Savaric to believe, but Osmun and Fevil should have been able to control it. Besides, they told me yesterday that they had turned it into a pie weeks ago.’

‘They said the same to us,’ acknowledged Gwenllian. ‘But we cannot be sure they were telling the truth.’

‘If the creature is alive, then I know nothing about it,’ stated Pica. ‘I admit to stabbing Lechlade, but it was a mistake, and any court of law will see it.’

‘A mistake because you were aiming to kill the King’s officer?’ asked Gwenllian icily.

‘A mistake because Savaric fosters an atmosphere of fear and mistrust,’ countered Pica, finally regaining his composure. ‘Bath has an unsettled and dangerous feel, and I struck out in self-defence. That is what I shall say, and no one will be able to disprove it.’

‘Pica is right, you know,’ said Gwenllian, as she and Cole watched him escorted to the abbey cells. ‘It was dark, and Lechlade was armed. No one can prove he did not act in self-defence.’

‘Lechlade’s weapons were still in his belt. Of course it was not self-defence!’

‘I know that, but do not expect justice to be served for this particular crime. Royal pardons can be purchased, and Glastonbury is a wealthy foundation.’

‘So is Wells. Trotman will want Lechlade avenged.’

‘But Glastonbury has the revenues from King Arthur’s bones. It is richer and stronger.’

‘We could speak out – make sure the truth is known.’

‘Then John will arrest you for questioning the judiciousness of his pardons, and will give Carmarthen to one of his cronies. It is better to stay silent.’

‘Very well, but I will not look the other way while
Adam’s
killer walks free.’

Gwenllian sighed. ‘I know. But we had better give an account of our findings to Savaric now. He will want details of Pica’s crime, and we cannot afford to offend him.’

They walked to the Bishop’s Palace, where Savaric was eating breakfast with Walter; Osmun and Fevil were by the window, honing daggers. As Cole explained how they had cornered Pica, Gwenllian noticed that the famous crosier – which Savaric claimed was always kept in the hall – was missing. Another piece of the mystery snapped clear in her mind.

‘Where is your staff ?’ she asked.

Savaric’s eyebrows went up at the question, but he went to the place where it was kept. His jaw dropped in dismay when he saw it had gone, but Walter hurried forward.

‘Here it is,’ he said soothingly, reaching behind a curtain. ‘I noticed it had been moved yesterday. One of the servants must have done it.’

Relieved, Savaric held out his hand.

‘Allow me to see it restored to its proper position,’ said Walter ingratiatingly, declining to pass it to him.

‘May I see it first?’ asked Gwenllian.

‘Certainly not,’ said Walter, holding it to his chest. ‘It is too holy to be pawed by women.’

‘I touched it the other day,’ she challenged. ‘And I want to see it again now.’

When Osmun and Fevil whipped out their swords, Gwenllian knew her suspicions were correct. She also saw that making them known had been a terrible mistake. Bewildered, Cole drew his own weapon.

‘Osmun, see to Cole!’ Walter bellowed, lashing out with the staff so suddenly that Gwenllian only just managed to avoid being brained with it. ‘I will deal with his wife.’

‘What are you doing?’ cried Savaric, aghast. ‘Put that down at once!’

‘Trust me!’ snapped Walter, gripping the crook more firmly. ‘I am acting in your best interests, just as I always have.’

He advanced on Gwenllian again, but she darted behind the startled prelate. On the other side of the room, Cole was engaged in a fierce battle with Osmun and Fevil. The clang of steel was deafening, and she wondered fleetingly how disadvantaged he would be with an unfamiliar sword. But she could not dwell on his predicament, because she had her own troubles. Walter grabbed her cloak and yanked her towards him. She drew a small knife and brandished it, causing him to leap back in alarm.

‘Afraid to fight me?’ she jeered. ‘Or do you only strike your victims when it is dark, and no one can see?’

‘What is she talking about?’ demanded Savaric. ‘Osmun, Fevil! Desist immediately!’

The two knights had Cole backed into a corner and were taking it in turns to attack. They ignored Savaric’s order.

‘What you do not know cannot harm you,’ said Walter to the bishop, lunging for Gwenllian again. ‘Look the other way, and pretend this is not happening.’

‘Overlook the slaughter of the King’s officer and his wife in my own hall?’ cried Savaric, aghast. ‘Do not be a fool, man! And give me my crosier before you damage it. It is a holy thing, touched by a miracle—’

‘Oh, come,’ scoffed Walter. ‘Do not tell me you believe that? You left the damned thing in the cloisters, and it was I who put it on the altar.’

Savaric’s jaw dropped a second time. ‘No! But Reginald . . . He
cured
people!’

‘After the so-called Miracle of the Crosier, I paid a beggar to say he was healed, and subsequently, people thought they were better because they
wanted
to be. But the ruse has earned our abbey a fortune, so I have no regrets.’

Savaric’s face was ashen. ‘I do not believe you would stoop to such a vile deception!’

‘No? Then why did you make me prior, if not as a reward for devising the plan that has generated so much money?’

‘Because my only other choice was Robert, and his piety makes me look irreligious,’ explained Savaric weakly. ‘Now give me my crosier before—’

‘No!’ snarled Walter, trying again to grab Gwenllian. ‘Let me resolve this matter as I deem fit, and we shall say no more about it. I know what I am doing.’

‘Walter will not let you see your staff because there is blood on it,’ said Gwenllian to Savaric, retreating further behind him. ‘Which is why it was hidden behind the curtain. He has not had time to clean it.’

‘Whose blood?’ whispered Savaric.

‘My husband’s. Walter and your two henchmen came to the Angel to kill him. But he is quick-witted in that sort of situation. He kicked over the lamp, and darkness prevented them from committing murder.’

‘What?’ cried Savaric, more appalled than ever. ‘But he is the King’s officer! You cannot kill him, Walter – especially with my crosier! It is a religious artefact, not a cudgel.’

Cole was tiring from the vicious two-pronged attack, and Gwenllian saw that unless she did something soon, the knights would kill him.

‘Symon has bruises that match your staff precisely,’ she said desperately. ‘Even down to the puncture marks caused by its three glass jewels. Tell your men to lay down their weapons, and he will show you.’

‘Osmun, stop!’ shouted Savaric. ‘End this madness at once.’

‘Keep fighting!’ Walter turned to Savaric. ‘It is them or you. If they live, they will accuse you of murder.’

Savaric gazed at him. ‘Murder?
Me
? What are you talking about?’

‘They think you killed Adam and Hugh,’ explained Gwenllian, ‘using Pica’s dog.’

‘What?’ exploded Savaric. ‘That vile creature? I assure you, I—’

‘You do not need to pretend with us,’ interrupted Walter briskly. ‘We know it was the dog Pica gave you that dispatched Adam and Hugh. We saw its hairs on their bodies.’

Savaric was horrified. ‘If that beast
was
responsible, then it had nothing to do with me! I thought Osmun had destroyed the thing. I swear on holy Reginald’s tomb that I had nothing to do with what happened to Adam and Hugh!’

The oath made Osmun falter, and it was enough for Cole to strike him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword. Osmun staggered backwards, then collapsed in a heap. Fevil issued a peculiar growl, and Gwenllian stared at him.

‘The animal we heard in the Angel!’ she exclaimed. ‘It was you!’

‘Fevil cannot help the sounds he makes,’ said Savaric. He spoke distractedly, still trying to process what Walter had told him. ‘You would fare no better if you had no tongue.’

‘For God’s sake, Fevil!’ howled Walter, as the big man faltered. ‘We will lose everything if Savaric surrenders. Finish Cole!’

‘Wait!’ It was Osmun, climbing slowly to his feet. Fevil obeyed instantly, and Cole backed away, using the opportunity to catch his breath. Osmun addressed the bishop. ‘Are you saying you are innocent of killing Adam and Hugh?’

‘Of course I am innocent!’ cried Savaric. ‘What do you think I am?’

Osmun gazed at him in confusion. ‘But you used bribery
and
coercion to make Cole abandon his investigation. Why would you do that if you had nothing to hide?’

‘Because the King does not want me to co-operate,’ explained Savaric, clearly affronted. ‘But I had nothing to hide personally.’

Gwenllian grimaced. The news of John’s duplicity came as no surprise.

Walter was also staring at Savaric, his expression one of confusion. ‘But the dog was yours, and if you did not set it on Adam and Hugh, then who did?’

‘You should choose your followers more carefully,’ said Gwenllian to Savaric in the silence that followed Walter’s question. ‘They believe you capable of terrible things.’

‘My immortal soul may be stained with many sins, but murder is not one of them,’ said Savaric firmly.

Osmun exchanged a glance with Fevil, who nodded. ‘We believe you.’

‘Good,’ said the bishop drily. He glared at Walter. ‘And now
you
have some explaining to do. You can begin by telling me why you tried to kill Sir Symon with my crosier. Because his wife is right: there is blood on it.’

‘I planned to rinse it off,’ said Walter bitterly. ‘But I was shaken after our narrow escape in the Angel, and then I forgot.’

‘That does not explain why you took it in the first place,’ said Savaric angrily.

‘Because I needed something to defend myself with,’ snapped Walter. ‘Cole is a skilled warrior. And it was the only thing to hand.’

‘Beating him with it was not defending yourself,’ said Gwenllian icily.

‘I was frightened,’ said Walter sullenly. ‘We were supposed to shoot him while he was asleep. Instead, he was awake and fighting with terrifying ferocity.’

‘A misunderstanding, then.’ Savaric raised his hand when Gwenllian started to object.

Walter nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, and we did it for you. They had learned that a dog killed Hugh and Adam, and it was only a matter of time before they also learned that Pica had given you an especially savage one. We decided that if they died during a raid by robbers . . .’

‘The King would be unlikely to launch a second enquiry to Hugh’s death, and I would be spared,’ finished Savaric.

‘He was going to try to murder Symon again,’ said Gwenllian, angry that the matter was going to be ‘forgotten’. She regarded Walter contemptuously. ‘How much did you pay the smith to keep my husband’s sword, to ensure he was unarmed today?’

‘Too much,’ muttered Osmun. ‘Given that Cole just went out and borrowed another.’

But the knights and Walter were more interested in regaining Savaric’s approval than in answering Gwenllian’s accusations. When they went to clamour at him, she stood next to Cole, her mind working fast.

‘We now know that Walter, Osmun and Fevil are innocent,’ she said. ‘They would not have felt the need to protect Savaric if they were the culprits. And Savaric is innocent, too – his denials were convincing, and so was the oath he swore. So who is left?’

‘Dacus,’ replied Cole shortly.

‘And Robert, the man who sent Hugh to Solsbury Hill. And Pica.’

‘If you thought Pica was guilty, you should have raised the matter when we cornered him about Lechlade.’

‘It did not occur to me. However, he has no alibi for either death, and he was the one who brought this fierce grey dog to Bath.’

‘The dog,’ said Cole thoughtfully. ‘If Osmun and Fevil are innocent, then so are their hounds.
Ergo
, perhaps Pica’s grey hound
is
the animal that—’

‘Join me for a cup of wine,’ called Savaric, breaking into their discussion. He nodded that Walter, Osmun and Fevil were to leave; they did so reluctantly. ‘We must assess this situation, and discuss how it can be resolved to our mutual advantage.’

‘No,’ said Cole immediately. ‘I will not do anything against my conscience.’

Savaric gazed at him wonderingly, and shook his head. ‘No wonder the King wants rid of you! Conscience indeed!’

Gwenllian’s eyes narrowed. ‘What makes you think John wants rid of him? Did he say so when he wrote the letter asking you not to co-operate with his investigation?’

Savaric shot her a patronising glance. ‘He would never commit such a request to parchment! I deduced it from the fact that he sent Sir Symon here in the first place – too much time has passed since Hugh’s death, and there is no evidence to convict a culprit. The case is unsolvable, and John knows it. So of course he does not want me to co-operate.’

‘Then why did he order me to try?’ asked Cole, confused.

‘I imagine you have done something to annoy him – he wants an excuse to oust you.’

‘The solution lies in the grey dog,’ said Gwenllian to Savaric, as Cole winced. ‘Pica gave it to you, but now neither you nor your knights can tell us its whereabouts. I believe Pica took it back, and used it to kill.’

‘Pica!’ exclaimed Savaric, eyes gleaming. ‘I might have known! And his motive is obvious, of course: Adam and Hugh both thought Glastonbury and Bath should be united. They haled from Glastonbury themselves, and wanted to foster closer relations.’

‘Adam was from Glastonbury,’ acknowledged Cole. ‘But . . .’ He trailed off, and reluctantly began considering the possibility that Dacus might not be the culprit after all.

‘So now comes the difficult part.’ Savaric addressed Gwenllian, recognising her as the one with whom business could be done. ‘If you tell John that you have solved the case, he will be livid. In essence, you will have outwitted him. However, Pica is a thorn in my side, and I would like him gone. Another charge of murder against him would suit me very well.’