The old man twisted away and dived for his bed. From under his pillow he pulled out an Italian dagger Pierre had given him, long and sharp and thin. As Talek raised his arm to strike with his sword, Peder turned and shoved the dagger upward with all his might into Talek’s stomach.
The sword fell to the ground with a clang. Clutching at the dagger, Talek staggered backward, stumbling over a stool and falling against the wall of the cottage.
Shaking, Peder rose and went toward him, keeping well away from his feet.
“You bloody bastard,” Talek whispered, blood bubbling on his lips. Then he smiled—a terrible, cruel smile. “Now I’ll never tell you where your grandson’s bones lie.”
With a cry of despair, Peder threw himself down beside the wounded man. “Where is he? For God’s sake, tell me! Let me bury him in the churchyard. If you’ve an ounce of pity…”
“What pity did you have for me?” Talek demanded as the blood trickled down his chin and stained his tunic.
“No churchyard for him, like your daughter. The daughter you think’s such a saint. She’s burning in hell now, though, isn’t she? She probably would have anyway. She was a whore—or as good as. She didn’t put up much of a fight when I held her down so Wicked William could have her.”
Another cry issued from Peder’s lips as he rose and grabbed the hilt of the dagger protruding from Talek’s gut. He yanked it out, then plunged it into the man again, right through his heart.
Talek’s legs kicked once before he lay still.
Panting, Peder staggered back. He ran a quivering hand over his sweating forehead, then dropped the bloody dagger on Talek’s body. He made his way to a cupboard and found the bit of wine he kept for special occasions. He pulled out the stopper and drank deep. Then he wiped his chin and leaned back against the cupboard. He closed his eyes and waited for his racing heart to slow, his mind to clear.
What was he going to do? He felt no guilt for what he’d done. Talek had met the fate he deserved and he was glad he’d been the instrument to mete it out. God would surely understand and forgive. But how was he to explain Talek’s presence in his cottage? The lord of Tregellas would wonder why the man would come there, unless he knew Peder would give him help or sanctuary. Even if he explained that he’d killed Talek because he’d been threatened, and that Talek had set the fire, would he be believed? Lady Constance would trust him, but that Merrick?
His hatred for the lords of Tregellas was too well-known. Merrick might even believe he had set the fire, either alone or with Talek, and was using the man’s death to cover his own guilt.
Besides, why not leave the lord to puzzle over who had done it? Let it trouble his mind for as long as possible, as his mind was forever troubled by the disappearance of his grandson—and never more than now, when it seemed it was no accident after all.
Peder spit into the fire to clear the bitter bile from his mouth.
Lady Constance, though…she didn’t deserve to live with the dread that they had an unknown enemy, perhaps in their very midst. If he could find a way to tell her, she could keep a secret…
But would she? Maybe she’d feel duty bound to tell her husband.
No, better to keep Talek’s death and crime a secret, known only to himself.
Peder opened his eyes, and the first thing to meet his gaze was Talek’s bloody face, his lips twisted from his death throes.
As Peder started forward, he prayed. Not for forgiveness. Not for mercy.
That God would someday show him his grandson’s remains, so he could bring them home for a decent burial. And for the strength to move the body of a lying, treacherous snake.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE DAY OF THE HALL MOOT, THE sky was a dull gray ceiling of clouds. If the weather worsened, they would go inside, Constance knew, but otherwise, the hall was too small for the crowd now waiting with hushed expectancy for the proceedings to start. Even Beatrice was quiet, although that was getting to be far from unusual. Henry had declared he would be bored with such business, and had gone off to hunt. Ranulf was in the ward, working with the new troop of archers. Merrick had decided that Welsh long bows could be an asset, and had set about finding a man to teach a select group, as well as getting the bows and arrows for them.
Constance slid a glance toward her husband as he sat beside her on the dais erected in the courtyard where he would make his judgments, and grant or refuse requests. Just as she’d always hoped, they’d talked at length about the conflicts likely to be brought before him. He’d asked her about the people involved and sought her advice.
She knew him well enough now to see the signs of tension in his neck and jaw. In a way she was glad, forthat implied a lack of certainty, not an overweening arrogance and belief that he was infallible.
She put her hand on his forearm and gave him an encouraging smile. His grave expression didn’t change, but his muscles relaxed.
Fortunately, all the serious cases were swiftly dealt with. Merrick listened carefully to those with complaints and those who sought to defend themselves against them, then rendered his decisions quickly, and with firm purpose. This was a far cry from the stannary courts of the tinners, which were notorious for longwinded speeches and a longer wait for judgment. Perhaps in future, Constance mused, some of the personal disputes that could be settled by stannary courts would be brought here for a speedier resolution.
Finally all that remained was Merrick’s approval of Annice and Eric’s marriage. Since there was no question that Merrick would give his consent, Constance anticipated a quick conclusion to the hall moot. Then she and Merrick could—
A flicker of movement in the shadows of the stable caught her eye, and a glimpse of a familiar face made her catch her breath.
What in God’s name was Kiernan doing here? As a neighbor, he would have been welcome to witness the proceedings, so why would he hide like an outlaw or thief?
This was Kiernan, she reminded herself. He was young and passionate and, she knew from long acquaintance, stubborn. It could be that he still harboredfeelings for her and merely wanted to see her again. Or maybe his presence had a more sinister motive…
