“I think you did, and all the other women here do, too.”
“You did the lion’s share of the work,” Beatrice noted with a smile.
“So you trust Sir Ranulf?” Wenna asked.
“Absolutely. There is no one I trust more, and the people of Penterwell should trust him, too.”
“I’d like to, but I’ve heard some things, my lady,” Wenna said slowly, and quietly, as if she didn’t want even her baby to hear. “Things about Sir Ranulf.”
Beatrice immediately thought of Celeste’s unwelcome revelations. “What have you heard?”
“Myghal told me something about Sir Ranulf and a wager. It was about seducing women, my lady. Fourteen virgins in fourteen days.”
Just because someone else had heard that lie didn’t make it true, Beatrice told herself. “I’m quite sure Sir Ranulf would never do anything so sordid,” she said with firm conviction. “Where did Myghal hear this astonishing tale?”
“From some fishermen down the coast. You also know about Sir Ranulf and his brother, then?”
“I’m equally certain his brother’s death was an accident,” Beatrice replied. She wondered who else had heard these stories. “Is that why the villagers won’t talk to him about what’s been happening? Do they really think he’s some sort of lascivious rogue who murdered his own brother?”
“Myghal’s told nobody but me what he heard, and he only told me because he knows I admire and respect you, and want only the best for you after all you’ve done for me. He wanted me to warn you, in case you didn’t know. He fears you’ve been deceived by Sir Ranulf.”
“I certainly have not,” Beatrice declared, rising. “Sir Ranulf is the best of men and it pains me to hear these lies.”
Wenna held out her hand. “Please, my lady, don’t be angry. That’s what I told Myghal—that they had to be lies. I said that if nothing else, your regard for Sir Ranulf meant he was a good and worthy knight. And Myghal, of all people, ought to know how it feels to be mistrusted and looked down on when there’s no cause.”
“Really?” Beatrice said, sinking back down onto the stool, her curiosity overwhelming her dismay. “Is it because he was the undersheriff?”
“Not just that, my lady,” Wenna replied as she moved little Gawan to her other breast. “His family hasn’t been trusted here since long before he was born.”
“Is there some kind of feud?”
“You could call it that, I suppose,” Wenna replied. “Folks say Myghal’s family’s too sneaky and shifty by far.”
“If they’re smugglers, I’m not surprised they’re devious,” Beatrice replied. “But lots of other people here are smugglers. I don’t understand why they’d consider those traits a failing.”
“Because Myghal’s family acts as if everybody else is out to rob them or turn them in. Suspicion breeds suspicion, as well as hard feelings, my lady. But no matter what anybody says, I won’t believe Myghal is a bad man, or that he had a hand in Gawan’s death.”
“They’ve accused Myghal of that, too?” Beatrice asked, dumbfounded.
Wenna flushed. “He wanted me for his wife, you see, but I chose Gawan.”
“What doyouthink?” Beatrice asked, remembering the discomfort she sometimes felt in Myghal’s company and wondering if he was not the good-hearted, trustworthy fellow he seemed.
“He couldn’t have killed Gawan. Myghal was hurt and upset when I married Gawan, that’s for certain, and he said some nasty things, but plenty of men say things they don’t mean when they’re upset and in their cups.”
“Did he ever threaten you or Gawan?”
“Oh, no, my lady, nothing like that! He, um, he called me a bad name. That did me no harm, though, as everybody knew I’d never lain with a man before I married. Believe me, my lady, in a village the size of Penterwell, they would have known if I had.”
Beatrice did believe it. “Then you’re quite certain Myghal had nothing to do with your husband’s death?”
“I’d swear to it on a Bible, my lady,” Wenna confirmed. “He’s a good man, is Myghal.”
“Obviously Sir Ranulf believes he’s trustworthy, or he never would have made him sheriff,” Beatrice agreed.
Wenna smiled. “That’s what I think, too, although some of them—the ones who should spend less time drinking and more time working—say Myghal’s made some sort of devil’s bargain with Sir Ranulf to be sheriff.”
“I can assure you, he has not. Ranulf wouldn’t bargain with anybody when it comes to such things.” villagers’ opinion
