As Daveth obeyed, Myghal suddenly bolted for the window, threw open the shutters, leaned over the sill and threw up.
Ranulf had wanted to react in much the same way to the sight of Gawan’s corpse, so he couldn’t fault the man’s squeamishness. Once Myghal was out in the fresh air, he’d feel better, although the scene he’d encountered today would probably haunt his dreams for months and possibly years to come.
Making no comment, Ranulf went closer to the bed, and the bodies. He felt Hedyn’s hand. It was cold and stiff, so he’d been dead for some time.
Myghal sat on the floor, his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. “Forgive me, my lord,” he muttered miserably. “I’m not… I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Murder sickens me, too,” Ranulf said. He went to help the younger man to his feet. “Have you any idea who could have done this?”
Myghal shook his head. “No, sir, no. Everybody liked Hedyn.”
Whether the man was liked or not was not the issue, but Ranulf took pity on the distraught fellow. “It wasn’t his friends I was thinking of,” he said. “Was it possible somebody knew of his liaison with Gwenbritha?”
Myghal’s eyes widened. “When his own servants didn’t? Nor anybody else? Because if anybody in the village had known, you can be sure the man’s servants would have heard about it.”
It did seem highly unlikely that such a secret could be kept if anyone other than the lovers themselves knew. “He was also the sheriff, and as such, a representative of the king. Perhaps thiscrime has something to do with Gawan’s death. Maybe Hedyn had discovered something about the other deaths, something that made someone think it was necessary to silence him,” Ranulf proposed.
“Wouldn’t he have told you, my lord?”
Ranulf scratched his beard. “If Hedyn had realized the import of what he’d learned. It might have been something that wasn’t obvious, and Hedyn hadn’t yet realized its significance. What did Hedyn do yesterday?”
“Nothing out of the usual, my lord,” Myghal answered. “He talked to some of the fishermen in the morning after they got back with their catch, and a couple of the merchants. He ate his noon meal in the tavern, then sent me to the castle to see if your patrols had found anything. After that, well, I guess he went to fetch Gwenbritha.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“When he sent me off to the castle. He was standin’ in the main street, waving a farewell,” Myghal finished with a tremor in his voice.
Ranulf sympathized with the man’s sorrow, but he had one more question before he could let him go. “I want the names of the men he talked to.”
Myghal listed eight men—five fishermen and three merchants, including the one from whom Ranulf had purchased the silk fabric for Bea.
Maybe if he’d been thinking less about Bea and more about catching the man or men responsible for Gawan’s death, Hedyn would still be alive. Or maybe this murder had nothing to do with Gawan, and everything to do with Gwenbritha—except why then would she be dead?
Whatever the cause of these murders, there were things that needed to be done. “Why don’t you go and fetch the priest?”Ranulf suggested to Myghal. “You could ask some of the women to help prepare the bodies when I’m finished here.”
“Aye, my lord,” a relieved Myghal said before he immediately hurried from the chamber.
When he was alone, Ranulf concentrated on examining the room, trying to discover if there was a place where an assassin could hide, undetected, and perhaps for hours.
There was no arras, no tapestry or any large cupboard. There was a chest, but a quick look revealed that it was full of clothing and linen. Not even a child could fit inside with the lid closed. He supposed it was possible that someone could have removed the contents first, but where would he have put them in the meantime?
Ranulf went to the window, checking the frame for any evidence of a rope being attached, or a grappling hook thrown. There was nothing, and it was likely somebody in the village would have heard or seen that sort of activity. Surely they would have reportedthatto the watch. Otherwise he’d have to believe some of the villagers were culpable in these crimes.
He walked slowly toward the bed, looking closely at the floor. Unfortunately, Myghal’s visit to the window and then his own had erased any signs of other boots that might have been there.
He should have been more careful.
Next Ranulf went to Hedyn’s side of the bed and got down on his hands and knees to peer beneath.
It was remarkably free of dust, and there were a few marks that could be from a man sliding out from underneath, or a damp rag swished about to clean.
He couldn’t imagine lying under a bed while a man and woman sported, waiting for them to fall asleep, and then killing them in cold blood—but then, he was no assassin.
He examined Hedyn’s wound. The weapon that had killed him had been very thin and very sharp, and probably foreign. Thefatal blow was nearly in the center of his chest, made by someone who knew exactly where to strike.
Ranulf walked to the other side of the bed. Slowly, carefully, he moved Gwenbritha so that she was lying on the bed, then brushed the hair away from her face.
Although she was pretty, she was no great beauty. She wasn’t as young as Bea, but likely closer in age to Celeste. In the stillness of death, he could tell nothing of her personality, yet she must have had some qualities men found attractive.
