The King's Riddle Read online

  “Is it possible it would act immediately?” Estrid asked. “It had only been moments before that the young bride who was killed had drunk from the mead cup believed to contain the poison.”

  “Again, I am uncertain,” Cenred said apologetically, “but can only tell you that in all the cases I have seen, it has taken a little longer than that. The quickest death I am aware of was of a goat that had chewed on some leaves and, according to the goatherd who called me to tend the animal—which was already dead by the time I arrived—it had taken about an hour for it to expire.”

  “So there is definite possibility that Alfreda may have ingested the poison earlier in the day?”

  “I would think it highly probable,” Cenred replied.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next morning Estrid went to the cathedral and requested an interview with Bishop Gundulf. She was quickly shown into his small private chamber, a stone-walled room that contained a desk and was lined with shelves filled with rolls of parchment.

  He greeted her courteously and listened quietly while she told of Alfreda’s poisoning and how the king had instructed her to try and determine, surreptitiously, who was responsible, and that she had subsequently been asked by the dead girl’s family to carry out the same task.

  “I only await the king’s permission to conduct my enquiry openly, to which I am certain he will agree and, when he does, any of the orders you assign to my workshop may be delayed in completion while I return to Maidstone to interview witnesses. That is the reason I am here, to ask if you will grant me a little extra time to finish any forthcoming work.”

  “Most assuredly,” Gundulf said. And then, his steady dark brown eyes regarding her with a look of concern, he added, “I am certain you are already aware that this task may be perilous.”

  “I am,” Estrid said.

  “Then any admonishment I might give you to be careful is unnecessary,” he replied with the smallest of smiles. “But I do, however, have one other concern. I believe you mentioned there may be a Norman among the suspects?”

  “That is so,” she confirmed, “although I do not, as yet, know who he might be. He was mentioned in a rumour that was repeated to me and it is claimed he was a rival of fitzRanulf’s, a Norman knight who also desired the dead girl’s hand in marriage.”

  Gundulf pondered this statement for a moment before speaking again. “In view of that aspect, I would suggest that it might be wise to commit whatever information you glean down in writing so that it can be used by the king to substantiate any charges he may wish to bring against one of his liegemen. I know that Humbert has been teaching you your letters; are you competent enough to do so?”

  Estrid shook her head. “As yet, I can read Latin with a little skill, but am still cumbersome in penning words.”

  “Then, if you will permit, I will send Humbert with you, so that he may perform the scribing in your stead.”

  Estrid smiled. Although Gundulf was a Norman, she had found him fair and honest, with a true desire to unite both his own people and the English, and when her son had been accused of murder, had been most helpful in proving the charge to be false.

  “I would be very grateful for Humbert’s assistance,” she told him with sincerity.

  **************

  The rest of the day Estrid spent with Gytha and Judith in the workshop catching up on the few pieces of work that were on hand. In the afternoon, Cenred called, carrying with him two small flasks.

  “In these is a strong emetic mixed with a little wine,” he told Estrid when she and Judith came downstairs. “I do not think it will completely counteract the poison if either of you, God forfend, should ingest it, but it may help to lessen the effects if taken quickly enough. It is made of a plant called Our Ladies Hair, and will induce vomiting.”

  While Estrid gratefully accepted the potion, Judith’s expression told of her repugnance to drink a mixture that would cause such a violent reaction and Cenred was quick to plead for a promise that she would carry it with her. “Is it not better that you should suffer a little discomfort than lose your life?” he said. “If you feel you must go with Frea Estrid and help her find this villain, then I make no objection, but I do not want you to die at his hands.”

  Judith’s resistance melted under his pleading, and she assured him that she would keep the mixture with her at all times while they were in Maidstone, and use it if there was need.

  *************

  The next morning the little cavalcade set out to return to the village, with Humbert riding a gentle palfrey from the cathedral stables, his scribing tools packed in a small wooden box strapped behind the cantle of his saddle. He was very excited at the prospect of aiding in the investigation.

  “Bishop Gundulf has given me a letter to the priest at Holy Cross church in Bearsted,” he told Estrid, “requesting that he allow me to stay there when I am not assisting you. I understand the church is very near the miller’s house so I will be close at hand when you need me.”

  His elderly face was full of anticipation at being involved in such an important matter and, as they rode along, he listened as Estrid related the details of the murder to him, and the list of people she intended to interview.

  “The family of the dead girl must all be questioned,” she told him, “and I would like to have your presence there while I do so to make a record of the facts they relate. After that has been done, I intend to speak to all of those who have been mentioned as suspects and also any who might prove to be witnesses and you will, of course, need to write down their testimony.”

  “May God send you His aid in this endeavour,” Humbert said fervently. “Murder is an abomination that cannot be countenanced, and I am privileged to be chosen to give you such small assistance as I can.”

  CHAPTER 16

  In Dover castle, Rufus stood on top of the keep his father had built on the towering white cliffs that overlooked the Narrow Sea and turned his eyes in the direction of Normandy. It was from there his sire had come with his fleet to conquer England. He placed his hand on one of the stones of the battlement, feeling close to his father as he did so. Although Duke William had built many stone fortresses in England, of which the fortification at Dover was but one, this particular castle held a special significance for Rufus, for it was a pivotal point in England’s defence, and needed to be guarded as though it were a jewel beyond price. That was why he had come here; to inspect the fortifications and ensure all was secure.

  Now, as he stood in the crisp summer wind that blew sharply across the battlements, he thought of the message he had sent to fitzHaimo earlier, giving his sanction for the English embroiderer to openly investigate the murder of the newlywed bride of one of his liegemen. He was more than content that it should be so; if it was at all possible to uncover the name of the killer, she was intelligent and discerning enough to do so but, more importantly than that, she was English.

  His desire that his own people and his new subjects live together in harmony was paramount to him. It was the only way to maintain their allegiance in the struggle he knew would continue to be waged between himself and his older brother, Robert, Duke of Normandy and their younger sibling, Henry, as each attempted to wrest the crown of England from his head. And this murder of a young English girl who had wed a Norman might easily be a ploy by one of them to foment rebellion amongst his English subjects. It seemed a small matter, but it was not. Just as a slight crack in one of the stones at the base in the wall of a keep might easily bring the whole edifice tumbling down; so it was that this murder could be the planned instrument of his downfall.

  By having the English embroiderer investigate the murder, this problem might be solved. If she proved that one of the villagers was guilty, her judgement would be seen as just by her own folk. And if she found it to be a Norman who was responsible, he would then impose the harshest of penalties on one of his countrymen and be deemed a worthy king of his new subjects.

  And, he thought ruefully, the latter
might just be the case. He had spoken to William of Evrecy, whose father owed fealty to Rufus’ brother Robert in Normandy, about his enmity towards fitzRanulf because of his decision to wed an English girl instead of William’s sister, and had not been completely satisfied with the knight’s answer. Evrecy had claimed that he had only been in Maidstone on one occasion—when fitzRanulf had taken him there—and had never more been in the village, nor did he know any of the inhabitants, so could not have paid any to commit the crime.

  “I promise you, sire, on my honour, that I know nothing about this girl’s death,” he had said, his face white with dread that Rufus would not believe him. As he stood giving his explanation, the king watched him carefully. Of medium stature, with sandy-coloured hair and brown eyes, he was not known as a bold knight but was, nonetheless, a competent one, courageous enough in a charge against an enemy as long as he was not in the forefront. Rufus kept that in mind as he listened to the words that tumbled from the knight’s mouth.

  “I had never even heard of her existence until I went to Ashford to congratulate fitzRanulf on the good fortune of his inheritance and to ask him, now that he was in a position to marry my sister, to name the day he would wed her.” Evrecy said with every appearance of candour. “Instead he asked me to ride into Maidstone with him to meet someone he had come to care for and, even after he introduced me to the girl, I thought her nothing more than his paramour. When he told me on the way back to Ashford that he intended to marry her, I will admit I was enraged at his betrayal, but even had I felt the urge to despatch her—which I did not— it is impossible for me to have done so since I was never in her company again.”

  Rufus had dismissed him, not completely trusting him, and because of that, kept him close at hand by ordering him to remain at Dover as one of the cohort of knights that manned the castle. But then, after Evrecy had left his company, he had summoned the constable of the fortification, James de Fiennes, and told him to keep a close watch on the knight for any signs of treachery.

  Now, curling his hands into fists, he began to pace. Restless and impulsive by nature, he tried to curb his disquiet by movement. How he wished that Lanfranc, the recently deceased Archbishop of Canterbury, was still alive, he mused. The elderly cleric’s wisdom had been extensive and his advice invaluable. What would he have counselled in the current situation? Almost as though the dead archbishop was standing beside him, the answer came to his mind in a whisper. ‘Be watchful and patient.’

  *************

  Leofwine had not yet returned from Ashford when Estrid and her companions arrived back at Godser’s mill in Bearsted. After introducing Humbert to the miller and his wife, and explaining the purpose of his presence, she then told them he was going to ask the priest at Holy Cross church to provide him with a pallet for sleeping, but that if they would allow it, she would appreciate it if he could remain in the mill during the daytime.

  Godser and Tilde readily gave their assent, and then Estrid asked Ugg to carry in the two panniers of food that she had, at the last moment, changed her mind about bringing with her. The reason she had decided to do so was that she was concerned that the continuing presence of herself and her companions, especially Ugg—who had a seemingly insatiable appetite—might put a strain on Godser and Tilde’s household budget. The miller and his wife were not poverty stricken, but neither were they wealthy and since they seemed appreciative of the gesture, Estrid was glad she had finally acquiesced to Cuthbert’s suggestion.

  While Humbert went to Holy Cross church in Ugg’s company to introduce himself to the priest and give him Bishop Gundulf’s letter of introduction, Estrid asked Tilde if she had heard any fresh news about the murder.

  Tilde shook her head in negation, “We have had some of the villagers from Maidstone come here asking us to sell them grain while Siward’s mills are closed—which we have had to refuse as our store is very low—but none of them has mentioned anything further about her death, even though all were angry at Siward for denying them the wherewithal to make bread. Most of them think he is doing it as a means of revenge for loss of the wealth he would have gained through Alfreda’s marriage, but there were a few who said they believe he is truly grieved and can think of no other way to discover the name of her murderer.”

  “Both might be true, I believe,” Estrid said thoughtfully, “if I assessed his attitude aright in the brief glimpse I had of him at Alfreda’s funeral. But, to give the man his due, if anyone in the village knows, or even has a valid suspicion, of who the murderer might be, his tactic may be successful.”

  “One of the customers told me that Reeve Osric has arranged for sacks of milled grain to be sent from Ashford for the villagers to purchase while Siward’s mills are shut,” Godser said.

  “Which he will, no doubt, hire Gifel to transport, of that you can be certain,” Tilde interjected in disgust for the reeve’s partiality towards his friend.

  “Did any of your customers offer a suggestion as to who might be the poisoner?” Estrid asked.

  “Not one,” Tilde replied, and Godser nodded his head in confirmation.

  “I did ask two or three of them who they believed might be the culprit,” the miller added, “but every one of them was reluctant to even discuss it. I think they were afraid that, if they did, Siward might hear of what they said and accuse whoever they had mentioned, even if there was not any proof of that person’s guilt.”

  “That is an attitude I must try to change,” Estrid declared.

  CHAPTER 17

  The next morning, after Leofwine arrived from Ashford with the king’s affirmative response to her request, Estrid, along with Judith and Humbert, set out for Siward’s house, Leofwine and Ugg accompanying them as escort.

  Siward’s house stood next to the larger of his two mills, and was outside the south-western edge of the village, his other mill being located on the far side of the hamlet. Godser had explained the operation of both mills before they left Bearsted. The larger one was run by the miller himself, and the grain store adjacent to it was overseen by his youngest son Penda—who also aided his father in grinding grain in the mill when there was need for his assistance—while the eldest son, Harold, was in charge of the smaller one.

  When they reached their destination, they found that the mill and house were encircled by a high wooden fence to keep out unwelcome visitors, both human and animal. Through the barred grill in the gate they could see that this mill was indeed a large one. It towered above the river at least forty feet, the vertical wheel that drove the mechanism for turning the grinding stones proportionate in size, and now stationary due to Siward’s mandate that he would cease operations until his daughter’s murderer was apprehended. Nearby was a grain store and threshing shed, with the house set a little apart from both these buildings and the mill. The residence itself was a grand one, being two stories high, the lower course of stone, and the roof tiled with slate.

  Leofwine rode up to the iron bell attached to the gate and rang it. Immediately two small dogs of terrier breed—on the premises, no doubt, to keep the grain store free of rats—commenced to bark and the door of the house opened.

  Siward himself came out in answer to the summons, and when he saw Estrid seated on her horse beside Leofwine, he immediately came forward and opened the gate to allow her and her companions to enter.

  Once inside the compound, they could see the other buildings it encased more clearly. There was a stable and cowshed set alongside a small vegetable plot, a run for chickens near which two goats were tethered, and a large shed with the doors open, revealing a sturdy cart and some half-dozen wheelbarrows inside.

  “I give you my most welcome greetings, Estrid Thunorsdohter,” Siward said respectfully to Estrid and she realised he must have seen her during her previous visit to Maidstone and been informed of her identity, perhaps by Valerie. “My sister has told me that she asked you to investigate my daughter’s murder, and she has my complete support in the request. I hope you have come to te
ll me that the king has given his permission for you to do so?”

  “I have, Siward,” Estrid replied, “That is why I am here—to inform you that he has—and also to introduce to you Brother Humbert, whom Bishop Gundulf has kindly allowed to come with me to make a written report of my investigation for Rufus.”

  The miller gave Humbert a courteous greeting and then Estrid asked if she might, while she was there, meet the rest of his family.

  Siward quickly ushered them inside, where they found Valerie and the miller’s two sons and their wives all gathered around a table in the large hall on the ground floor. On the far side of the chamber, four young children were playing among the rushes who were, the miller told her, the offspring of his two sons.

  After Estrid entered, all of the adults looked up and each gave a nod of welcome as the miller introduced them. Although she had seen them all before at Alfreda’s funeral, she made no mention of this to Siward as he gave her their names. First was Harold who, as she had previously noted, appeared to be a replica of his father with the same stocky build and thick neck, but without the bald pate and extra girth on his middle that his sire had acquired through age. Harold’s wife, Edith, sat beside him, her expression, as Estrid remembered from seeing her at the funeral, dour. As Estrid had already met Valerie and the miller’s youngest son, the last to be named was Penda’s timid wife, Helga. She was seated close by her husband, almost, it seemed, in his lap, and looked up at them shyly, her cheeks flushing bright red in embarrassment as her father-by-marriage made the introduction.

  Once that was done, Siward asked Estrid if she and her companions would take a cup of mead but, mindful of her decision that none of them would eat or drink anything they could not be certain was untainted, even among the murdered girl’s relations, declined the offer. “I thank you for the courtesy, Siward,” she said, “but we do not have time for I intend to go directly to Reeve Osric to make arrangements to use the village hall for interviewing witnesses.”