Crowner's Dilemma - Part Twenty Five

[ismenin]

Another of Summer'shobbit's lovely pics!

Aha! Oho! And other ejaculations! Giggle. I am in a very odd mood tonight. Could it be the Navarin of Lamb I have just consumed? I really enjoyed it, I must say. Must try it with couscous next time. Wibble. :D

So, anyway, on to The Story. I am finally seeing the light! Things are falling into place. Huge woot. Some may not believe that I don't plan these stories out - but I don't. I sit down at the puter and write what comes. In that way, I'm reading it for the first time, as you are!

I now think I know who killed Wenna - but it could be one of three people, so I'm still not certain! It's such fun!

Here we go, anyway.


Thank you LSR for your tireless beta! Huggles.


Part 25


The group sat entranced whilst John Barebone revealed to them the story of Orlando's life.

He told of meeting Umar Al-Rashid, as he had first known him, at the University of Fez in Morocco, where they studied together, and become fast friends.

John's gaze rested for a moment upon Dom and Elijah, sitting side by side. "In the end," he continued, not moving his eyes from Elijah's face, "we became as close as Elijah and Dom have become over the past year. Yes, I would say we were as close as that."

Elijah smiled at John, and all present were left in no doubt as to what John meant. He and Umar had been lovers.

"Oh, I broke no holy vows, for I was not then a priest - it was many, many years ago - before some of you were born. We studied medicine under the great physician Al-Maymoun for six years, and by the time our studies were complete, we knew all there was to know of medicine and surgery in all the known world."

"One day a message came to him - from his brother - asking him to come home. We talked about it that night, and next day we left Morocco. It was unthinkable that we should not go together."

Dom unconsciously took Elijah's hand in his. Unthinkable

"His brother was a ruler, I knew that. Also that he was the Sultan Al-Malik. I was never much interested in anything but healing. It was the only thing - apart from love - that burned within me. I knew little of a leader called Saladin, except that he was the scourge of the Crusaders. He must have been, at that time, nearing thirty - three or four years older than were we."

He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if not knowing how to go on. "He had a wife, Al-Malik, to whom he was devoted, and also a mistress, who was accepted in the home. Malik's wife was a sensible lady who knew better than to rouse a sleeping lion to anger. Al-Malik was ever an ardent spirit - much like his son."

John glanced at Orlando, sitting beside Anselm, his hands clasped firmly in his lap as he listened to the unravelling of his early life.

"We stayed at his summer palace at Jouai. It was cooler there than in the desert, as it was a fine oasis, with water and beautiful trees, and gardens built for the women and children. Truly an echo of Paradise."

"There I met a young lad, four or five years old, who was Malik's son by the Frankish lady. I never knew her name - she was always addressed by the Greek title, 'Despoina' - lady."

"I remember Umar bringing sugared plums to the lad, and his delight in watching the child eat them. It seemed to me that my friend would have made a good father - he was wonderful with children - indeed, he had six, in the end. Four sons and two daughters, he has lately told me. I could see that little Al-Malik was a well-favoured child, with a sunny disposition and a ready smile. I never saw him cry, as do many children, to get his own way. He was happy in whatever he was doing at the time."

"Then, a few weeks later - on one never-to-be-forgotten day - little Malik went with two nurses to the bazaar, as he had been asking his mother for sweetmeats that morning, the way young children do. The lady was not feeling well, and I had given her a draught for her ailment, and she was sleeping when the nurses ran in screaming..."

There was silence for a moment, as John poured himself some wine, and drank it, his hands suddenly trembling.

"Al-Malik was like a man driven mad when he heard the news. He ordered the nurses to be garrotted - no-one could stop him, he was as a lighted brand. Umar tried, but all he had for his pains was a blow to the head. The child's mother was screaming, Malik's wife was weeping - all was in uproar."

Orlando was shaking with emotion, and John - ever the physician - ordered that he be given some wine. He could not even hold the cup.

"Shall we leave him to rest?" Elijah asked, concerned by his friend's distress.

"There is not much more to tell. It will be better over with sooner rather than later," John advised.

Orlando nodded. "Yes, I beg you - go on. I am well." He looked far from well, but there was no way of imparting this news to him other than the way it was being told.

John resumed his story. "That night Al-Malik made Umar swear an oath. That he would search for little Malik whenever the opportunity arose, if the search took the rest of his days. That he would ask questions - pay for information. Anything."

He lowered his head. "All they ever discovered was that an English m'lord had taken the boy. Nothing else was ever known of the child."

"Malik had, I suppose, tolerated my presence in his home, because he loved his brother right well. Now it became clear that as one of the nation of the Infidel Crusaders, one of whose countrymen had stolen his son, I was not welcome there. Umar would have left with me, but Malik forbade it. As the head of his family he was instantly obeyed. I...bade farewell to Umar, and left for...for France, then returned to England."

"My story ends there. I became a priest, and then, two years after I was ordained, I entered a monastery. I thought I could find solace in prayer, and so I did, for a season. But as I laboured in the Infirmary, I soon discovered that my heart lay in healing people, seeing as I could not heal myself. So I asked permission of the archbishop - Lord Vincent's predecessor - and left to work in the city where you found me, my lord duke, doing what I do best. I never saw Umar more, until he rode in with Richard. Ah! Such joy to see him again! Such a short time we had together to talk."

"He told me he had brought money with him; gold, and jewels, provided by Saladin, hidden in the base of his medicine chest, and sewn into his saddle and clothing. He had used some of it to discover, at Richard's court, that it was one Lord Ranulf de Masron who had come back from Outremer with a small boy that he said was his son."

"He sent the messenger to Masron's estates, but the man found both Masron and his wife had been dead these last ten years, of a fever, and that their son had been taken by a priest, and was never seen in that place again. He had no notion that you were to meet so...so..."

Orlando raised his head. "It was a blessed day when Umar Al-Adil came into my life, for he brought with him a father's love, which before I had never known. The man I had thought my father - Lord Ranulf - tolerated me because his wife loved me. That was all. He never did. When they both died, first him, then my...the Lady Masron, I was glad to leave the manor. It was sold, there being no heirs but me, and I did not want it - and the money was paid to the church to train me as a priest. I have never regretted that choice - for it was my choice."

The young man smiled. "You, all my dear friends, have my undying love, and I know full well that you love me in return, my brothers. Dear Anselm, here, loves me as a father, that I know - but Umar is of my blood. I am thankful to God that I met him, even for such a short space. I..."

He could not continue. There was no more to say. There was silence for a few moments, then Bishop Anselm took the blind man's hand. "Come, Orlando. We will go to the chapel. It is a haven for us - prayer."

Orlando nodded. "That it is, dear Father. Thank you, John, for telling me - us - the fuller version of my story. It was painful for you to re-live the experiences, for it was heard in your voice. May God bless you for it."

John smiled, even though he knew Orlando could not see it. "God blesses me continually, Orlando. I pray he will ever do so. If you allow, I will accompany you to the chapel. I have some praying on my own account that I wish to perform."

The three priests left, and Dom and Elijah were left alone once more.

Elijah sighed deeply. "It seems to me that families, although a joyful gathering, can bring altogether too much distress on occasion, Dom. I am glad to be rid of mine - at least for a short season."

Dom kissed Elijah's brow. "Even Vincent and Aunt Truda?" he said, laughing.

"Even them," Elijah concurred, smiling back. "We will have peace, now, to prosecute the abbey crimes." His mood became more solemn. "But first, I must see where my Wenna is laid. I think I can walk that far, if you will give me your arm, my love."

As they walked slowly to the burial plot, Dom made a few swift decisions. He had not told Elijah that he believed Wenna had been murdered. He would speak to Astin - tell him not to give way to his suspicions to his master, until he had been given permission. Elijah would have to recover a little longer before that horror was sprung upon him.

Also, he decided, as they reached the grave, that he would mention nothing of the secret room, the treasure, or the books. Not yet. There was time and enough for that. Dom resolved not to go near the room until it was time for the revelation. True, he was interested to read on - to see whose son Astin was, and why Wenna had brought him to her mistress - but it was not as important as coaxing Elijah back to health, and that could not be accomplished by loading his weary shoulders with more mysteries.

Something Astin had said pricked the back of his mind, but he could not remember what it could be. He would leave it until later - there would be time enough for that when Elijah was returned to full strength.

Elijah knelt, with Dom's help, and wept scalding tears over his oldest friend's grave, Dom's arm secure about his waist.

No, Dom thought firmly, I can keep silence. Let him fasten his interests and energies upon the doings at the abbey, until he be stronger, both in body and in spirit.

They stayed beside the grave for a few more minutes, and then slowly made their way back inside.

***

A week later, Anselm and Orlando, together with John Barebone, left Beauvallet for the city. "Your household in the city will be glad, Elijah, to hear you are winning back to good health," Bishop Anselm declared, signing a cross in the air over the group kneeling in the bailey to see them off.

"I have no doubt there will be a celebration mass held in the cathedral for it, for I am the one who will conduct it! God bless you, my sons."

John admonished Elijah to rest, and eat good, nourishing food. "Time is the greatest healer, but there is no harm in helping her on her way by behaving sensibly," he said, embracing his friends and mounting his horse.

As the three men rode off, Dom and Elijah stood there for a moment, watching them out of sight.

"Well, Dom, I think I am well enough for a short ride. Do you not...?"

He was interrupted by one of the archbishop's men riding into the bailey. He stopped before Dom, and bowing, handed him a leather pouch. "This comes from His Grace, the King. He is leaving shortly for the North. I must not delay." The man accepted a mug of small beer from the barrel kept in the yard for the ostlers, and rode off as fast as he had come.

Dom and Elijah took the pouch inside and extracted from it a large parchment. "Dom, it bears the seal of both Vincent and Richard. What does it mean?"

Dom had kept his interview with the king from Elijah, so he shrugged his shoulders, and said, in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner - "it is the document attesting my Lordship of Mortain, and the rights and assigns that come with my elevation."

Elijah beamed at his lover. "I little thought that Richard would keep his word, Dom. This is marvellous news!"

Dom could not help smiling. It was, indeed, marvellous news. His mother need rely no longer on her eldest son sending her money, or fear that Matt would be in danger. For if John remained in the north, his brother could return to his home. His mother could take her place at the manor-house again, instead of living in a small cottage in the grounds of a friendly neighbour, whose borders ran beside Mortain.

They decided that the short ride to the cottages where Matt and his men resided would not tax Elijah too much. Dom was anxious to impart the good news, and Elijah wished to see how his strength held out. Both men were destined to be pleased by the outcome.

Dom gave the precious documents to his brother, whom he had asked to return to Mortain and take over the running of the manors.

"Poor Cerdic is too old, now, to oversee the running of four farms, but I trust you and your men to do it, and to do it well."

Matt embraced his brother, and turning to his men, asked which of them wished to come to Mortain.

Four decided to stay. They liked the sheep, and the country suited them, leaving seven to go with Matt. Of course, Wat was one of them.

Elijah said he would provide horses and money for those leaving, and, to the sounds of happy farewells, they returned to the castle, where Elijah, to his delight, found he was not as weary as he had feared.

"It may be tomorrow we will go to the abbey, Dom, and continue our search for the murderer. Let us see what can be achieved in the few days before Ben and Red descend on us, once more, to tell us the tale of their sojourn by the river." Elijah's face was lit with excitement, and Dom was willing to indulge his mate if he did not overtax himself.

He was glad that the boys had gone down river with the water-bailiff for a few days now that the danger of the pestis was past. A little while longer in which his love could recover his strength.

Elijah was very tired when they retired to bed, but was hopeful that he would feel better by the morning. However, he was not as recovered as he thought, and Dom refused him point blank. "No, Lij. Tomorrow it will have to be. Today, you rest."

Elijah shrugged. The implacable tone of Dom's voice was not unknown to him. "Yes, your Lordship," he said with a grin. "I will do as you say. Tomorrow it will be." And without further argument, he addressed himself to his breakfast.


The next day dawned bright and fair, and Elijah, admitting to Dom that the rest had done him much good, suggested they leave shortly after breakfast. "It will be warm, then, for the summer days are long in Kent."

He asked Astin to look out his lighter weight clothing, and to find some for Dom as well. "We are much of a size, still - although I admit to losing flesh during my illness."

Dom agreed that Elijah was thinner than he had been, but seeing his appetite return, he had good hopes that soon Elijah would be once more his lively self. Dressed in soft silk tunics - Dom's of a muted green and Elijah in deep red - they rode off for the abbey; both men interested in what they might find there.

Dom had gathered his notes together, and placed them in his scrip. They could discuss what they contained, at the abbey, with St Aubin, for Elijah had decided to let him be party to what they had discovered, if he would share his findings with them.

As they rode into the abbey courtyard, it was with real pleasure that they saw Jefroi St Aubin sitting under the tree that they had occasionally rested under, during past weeks. He rose as they approached and went to greet them.

Dom saw that his arm was still in the sling, and asked him how it was healing.

"Very well," he said, grasping Dom's hand and bowing low to Elijah as his position decreed.

Elijah smiled at him, and took his hand also, and St Aubin was gratified by the condescension shown by one so far above him. He said so.

Elijah laughed aloud at this, and patted the man on his good shoulder. "Well, I would wish to be treated on a par with his Lordship, here," he said, indicating Dom. "The King's Grace has seen fit to elevate him, you see."

St Aubin stared at Dom. "Do you say?" he stammered, hardly willing to believe his ears. "After all he had said of you!"

Elijah frowned. "What did he say, Sheriff? I would know." He looked angry, and the sheriff was not sure how to proceed.

"Well, my lords..." he paused, casting a shrewd look at both men as he spoke. Then he shrugged. "Since he is gone, as the Venerable Lady informed me, I suppose it can do no harm to tell you."

A young novice came to St Aubin with a basket of food, which he gladly accepted. When they were alone again, he said, "there is privacy to be had in the orchard. We will not be overheard there, and the blossoms are pretty."

Dom and Elijah followed the sheriff around the building, and sat with him, under the trees, shielded from the glare of the bright summer sun.

St Aubin put the basket aside, and thought for a moment before he spoke. "It seems to me, my lords, that we have not been, er...very open with each other, up to this point in our acquaintance. I would like to remedy that, for I have come to admire you both, and would be honoured to take you into my confidence."

He smiled at his companions, who could not help but respond. He continued, "but I must ask if you are willing to extend to me the same privilege. I believe - on both sides - there is a story to tell."

Dom glanced at Elijah, who nodded decisively. "Indeed, Sheriff," Elijah agreed, "but within reasonable bounds. We do not much care to share every secret we have with you."

St Aubin shook his head. "I can understand that, my lord duke. But you must know that your gracious king had no such nice scruples when he - interviewed me."

Elijah put a hand upon the man's arm, for St Aubin was looking a trifle disconcerted. "I have known my douce cousin all my life, man. You must know that I am aware of all his habits - both good and ill. You will not discompose me by relating some of them to us. But I do charge you not to repeat them to others. What goes out of Richard's mouth has a habit of coming back to Richard's ears. Such things have the habit of getting back to their source, and I would not see you further injured."

They were further interrupted by a young maid coming with a message for Elijah to visit the abbess before he left, but as soon as she had gone out of earshot, St Aubin spoke again.

"His Grace has a heavy hand, my lords, and a heavier boot. He told me, when he was employing one or the other against me, that Dominic of Mortain was a vile traitor who had stolen away his love - snatched him from my very bed were his exact words - for I have a very good memory, which sometimes is a blessing and sometimes a curse."

"Go on," said Dom, grimly, as Elijah's lips pressed together in the narrow line that Dom knew full well meant that his lover was distressed.

"Fortunately there were only two of his men there at the time, and he later told them never to repeat, on pain of death, what he had heard that day. I doubt they will. I was not a pretty sight when he had finished with me."

"He also said that your Grace had forbidden him - your own liege lord - access to your bed and body, and taken up with a strumpet who was in league with his brother, Mortain, in criminal activity..."

Here Dom jumped to his feet, hotly refuting the allegation, but St Aubin waved him down. "I did not believe it for one moment. It was just his anger speaking. There have been nothing but good reports come out of the City regarding yourself and the Crowner, as all will attest."

"If he said more to the point, I did not hear it, for I was not conscious when he jumped - the archbishop said - on my arm, thanks be to God. That is all that I remember that he said concerning you," he concluded, looking straight into both men's eyes.

Elijah scratched his chin. "What questions did he ask of you, apart from upon this subject?"

Dom, too, was interested to learn what Richard had to say regarding the orders St Aubin had received from Prince John, but there was nothing new to hear. John had ordered St Aubin to seek out some outlaws that were in the vicinity of Beauvallet, and bring them to him at his encampment in the North.

"But this I did not do, although I am sure he would have been interested in what I did find. Your brother, my Lord Mortain, looks very much like you, particularly about the eyes and chin."

Dom stared at the sheriff, hardly daring to speak. "How...why...?"

St Aubin laughed. "There was someone here who was very anxious to rid the world of Matthew Mortain, my lords. I do not believe you thought that I was so stupid as to have missed all the hints that have been thrown at me, here. You could not think me such a booby not to have come to certain conclusions, even though I tried hard to appear one, at times!"

Elijah lowered his head to hide a grin. "I knew you could not be so stupid a man as you seemed, Sheriff. You would not have held your post long if that were true."

But it was Dom who asked the question. "How did you know that my brother had been here, Sheriff? He told me no-one knew his name."

St Aubin shrugged. "Odilla knew his name, my lord. She must have told someone, perhaps more than one of the young girls, for it is well-known, here, that Odilla's lover was the younger Mortain brother."

"Have there been so many of the abbey's inhabitants anxious to divulge what they know?" Elijah asked, staring frankly at the sheriff. "I did not find them so when I was asking questions here."

St Aubin pursed his lips, before answering. "No, I would not say that, exactly, my lord. But I have been listening, watching - piecing bits together, and they make a pleasing shape. If we were to put all the pieces on the table, well, my lords, and stitch them together, I think we could almost make a quilt of it!"

Dom had to ask the question that was burning in his mind. "Why did you not divulge my brother's presence to the king? Surely it might have gained you a little...respite from his anger, sir. Turn it in other directions?"

St Aubin looked shocked. "Betray another man to save my own skin? Never! I am a knight sworn, and will never dishonour that oath I swore. Besides, I know nothing against your brother except he grew tired of John's importunities. No man could be blamed for trying to escape that coil."

St Aubin broke off, eyeing the basket. "It has been three hours since breakfast, my lords, and I am sharp-set. Would you care to join me in a morsel of food?"

He took off the white cloth revealing a duck, some pasties and a fruit pie. His face fell as he realised it would deplete his meal considerably if he was to share it.

Elijah almost laughed at the comical expression on the sheriff's face. "I will go to the kitchens and ask for more. There is scarcely enough in that basket for one." This was hardly true, but Elijah could see that St Aubin plainly thought that. However else he dissembled, his hearty appetite had not been assumed.

Dom pushed him back down. He felt warmer towards the sheriff than ever. He liked his code of honour. It may be, thought Dom, he has not told us everything he knows, but then, neither have we. "No, I will go. Stay you here in the sun. I will not be long."

"If you would be so kind as to bring another few flagons of small beer, my lord..."

Dom grinned. "It is very warm, Sheriff, is it not? But please, no more 'lord's'. I am not as yet used to it, and it makes me uncomfortable. Mortain will do."

"And I am de Woode. Or sir, if you prefer." Elijah smiled.

St Aubin nodded, seriously. "Very well, sir. I cannot bring myself to address the king's cousin in such intimate terms as you suggest, but sir I can, and will, use.”

As Dom hurried off to procure another basket, Elijah turned to St Aubin, his face more serious, now, than it had appeared all morning.

"I am willing to share what we have found. I will rehearse it to you, and you, if you will, can add any scrap that fits in with it. Indeed, before long, we shall indeed have that quilt."

They waited until Dom returned so as not to have to repeat themselves. Elijah told first of the marks in the grass. St Aubin, who had not seen the imprints, was impressed by the thought that the killer could have walked back into the abbey. "Although I see that they could have gone back into the woods, across the stream," he said, gnawing a leg of duck.

"But what you say about Sister Wilda not being able to see, from the window she indicated to you, the place where she said she had seen Odilla's body lying, is very interesting. It would have been useful to have questioned her upon the point. It proves most inconvenient," he said, picking up a pasty.

"Why inconvenient?" asked Dom, pouring out three cups of ale from the stone bottle.

St Aubin waited until he had swallowed his mouthful.

"Because, dear sirs, it is too late, now, to question her. News came this morning from Canterbury. Sister Wilda is dead."