Sword of shadows, p.13
Sword of Shadows, page 13
Jack heard a clatter and looked up. Instinct made him jump aside, just as the slate roof tiles skidded off the roof and shattered at his feet. His eye caught bits of mud up the side of the wall, as if someone had scaled it. ‘God’s blood!’ Quick as a lizard, Jack leapt, fingers grabbing the sharp edge of the stone, climbing up the church with ease, footholds and handholds aplenty. On the roof in no time at all, he found more mud. He followed it over the spine of the roof to the other side, and when he looked out over the green plains, he saw a figure, running.
Jack scrambled back down, nearly leaping off the side of the roof, skidded around the corner of the chapel, and grabbed his horse’s mane. He pulled himself up as he yelled at it to run. He’d barely made it into the saddle as the horse jolted into a gallop.
He couldn’t find the reins and gave up and kept hold of the mane instead. Leaning so far forward his face was nearly beside the horse’s, he urged Seb to full speed.
The dark figure, with cloak flying out behind him, came into view here and there as the landscape rose and fell. He’d almost caught up to him when he disappeared again down a ridge.
Jack plunged the horse down and the beast landed hard, knocking Jack’s teeth in his head. Slowing the horse, he kept his ears sharp and his eyes open. He slid off the mount at a run and crouched low, stealthily making his way over the rocky mounds.
There! Something darted forward. He pounded ahead, kicking up turf and stones. Whoever it was seemed compact and agile, flitting from rock to rock like a bird. But Jack’s longer stride served him well and he gained on him. He gathered himself and leapt, soaring forward with arms outstretched. He landed squarely on him, grabbing the bony shoulders and dragging him down, rolling down an embankment with his arms wound around the miscreant.
When they came to a stop at last, Jack was on top of the man and cocked back his arm to deliver a good punch—
‘Stop, Master Tucker!’ cried Kat, hands up over her face.
The hood fell away and her auburn hair spilled out around her, almost like the pool of blood he had just seen under Thomas Dunning. She was wearing a man’s dark tunic and stockings.
Still straddling her, he sputtered, ‘What … what are you doing, Mistress Pyke?’
‘Get off me. I can’t breathe.’
‘You killed a man back there.’
‘No, I didn’t. I was hiding from the killer.’
‘But you ran.’
‘Of course I did! I didn’t want him to catch me.’
Jack stared at the woman beneath him before she pushed at him.
‘You are too heavy, Jack. Get off!’ She shoved him hard and Jack finally took the hint and moved off her.
He sat back while she curled a leg under her – a very shapely leg in its men’s hose – and held a hand to her chest. ‘Whoo!’ she breathed. ‘That’s better.’
Jack glanced over the plains. Nothing but sheep. ‘You truly expect me to believe you didn’t kill that man? There is no one else on this damned island.’
‘Yes, I do expect you to believe me. I didn’t even know who that man was. All I know is that he is dead.’
‘So, who killed him, then?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see him properly.’
‘And where were you when all this transpired?’
She pulled her collar away from her throat. Her hair blew in curls around her face in the cold wind. She sighed. ‘On the roof.’
‘And what were you doing on the roof … and dressed disgracefully like that?’
‘Spying on you. I wanted to see what treasure was being found. And it is much easier dressed as a man than flitting about on roofs in a gown.’
Jack frowned. ‘I never heard you.’
‘Of course not. I’m good at what I do.’
‘Mistress Pyke!’
‘Jack! I’m not lying! I was spying on you. And then that man showed up, creeping around the chapel, spying on you as well. And then he climbed up to the roof. I flattened myself so he wouldn’t see me. Praise God he didn’t. He must have been too distracted with watching what you were all doing.’
‘Seems like an awful lot of people around this little chapel, and us not noticing.’
She shrugged. ‘Can I help it if you’re unobservant?’
Narrowing his eyes, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.
‘Here now! No need to be so rough. I saw the other show up, the killer, I suppose. He came up from the other path.’
‘What other path?’
She pushed her hair up off her face and pointed. ‘Over there. The low side of the chapel.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t see anyone.’
‘I didn’t. I fear I never got a good look at him. He was wearing a cloak and a hood.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘No. This cloak is gray. It blends into most things, especially the slate roof. I was silent and still. And the wind masks the sounds.’
Jack listened. Yes, it was always windy on the island, it seemed.
Exasperated, he dragged her to the horse. ‘You’re going back with me. You can tell your wild tale to Master Crispin.’
She dug in her heels. ‘Oh no, Jack, please! Crispin won’t believe me either.’
‘And well he shouldn’t.’
‘I beg of you. I don’t think I can stand the thought of his disapproving frown.’
He tightened his grip on her arm. ‘You either get on the horse with me or I’ll toss you over the saddle on your belly. Which is it?’
With a sour expression, she relented. Jack held tight to the reins in case she got any ideas about escaping with the horse – and wouldn’t that be a thing to face Master Crispin with? – before he mounted up behind her. He kicked the horse’s flanks and they galloped awkwardly back. In truth, he didn’t trust her and believed her lies even less … but he had a hard time truly believing she had killed Thomas Dunning. To what end would she have done it?
Master Crispin trotted forward to greet them and slowed when he recognized Kat.
‘God’s blood.’
‘I didn’t do it,’ she insisted and slid off the horse. ‘Crispin, I didn’t kill that man. I swear by God and all His angels!’
‘And what good are your protestations, Mistress Pyke?’ he said tightly.
Jack could tell by the clenching of his master’s jaw that he was holding his anger in check. But he wouldn’t be able to hold it long. There was nothing worse in his master’s eyes than a betrayal, and Kat Pyke was dressed in the very fabric of it. Still, Jack found himself wanting to defend her, God knew why. Absurd! He had no proof whatsoever that she was telling the truth. If she were, then where was the killer? He stretched his neck, searching for the hundredth time over the countryside. Of course, he had been focused on her. If another had done the crime, they could easily be hiding in any number of hollows or outcroppings over the whole of this stark island. And all they had to do was wait till nightfall and slip away under cover of darkness.
That is, if there were another.
Teague pushed Jack aside. The man stood with mouth hanging open. ‘Mistress Pyke!’ he gasped.
She flicked a glance at him, but her eyes seemed only for Master Crispin. ‘Stand down, Carantok,’ she said impatiently. ‘I’ve no business left with you.’
The man sputtered and Jack laid a hand gently on his arm. ‘Master Teague, sir,’ he said softly. ‘She and my master knew each other from a few years ago.’
‘But she … she used me to …’
‘Aye, sir. She did do that. Best to let it lie.’
And then he looked at his master.
FOURTEEN
Crispin felt his jaw crack as he clenched it. She lied. Again. And killed. Again. He had had his chance to turn her in to the sheriffs in London four years ago and she had cajoled him not to. Why had he not trusted his instincts?
He grabbed her arm and yanked her with him, stalking forward. ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘Why does everyone insist on grabbing my arm?’ she muttered.
She struggled only a little as he took her to the other side of the chapel, away from Jack and Teague. He shoved her hard against the chapel wall.
‘Ow! There’s no need for—’
‘I tell you when to speak and when to keep silent. Do you understand?’
She scanned his face, eyes flicking here and there. She had the sense to lower her face and at least have the appearance of humility for once.
‘Tell me true or I shall beat it out of you. Did you kill that man?’
She raised her face, her mouth contorting to an uncharacteristic flat line. ‘No.’
He drew back his arm to strike and she flinched slightly, recovered, and raised her chin higher.
His arm was drawn back, his hand open and ready to slap her … and he found he couldn’t. He dropped the arm to his side. Kat’s held breath released.
He shook his head at himself. ‘You try me to the very edge, wench.’
‘You … you told me to tell you true. I did. I did not kill that man.’
‘Then who did?’
She sagged against the wall. ‘I don’t know.’
‘It all happened in a matter of moments. Thomas Dunning wasn’t there, and then he was, dead.’
‘He followed you. I followed him. And the murderer … must have followed us all. Or was already there.’
‘Why did you follow him?’
‘I overheard you two talking. He rightly surmised you were seeking Carantok and his treasure.’
‘And that is what you were after.’
‘As you suspected all along.’
‘Dammit, Kat! Why? Why must you … must you …’
She sighed, pulling her cloak about her. Though the chapel cut some of the wind, it did not shelter them completely from that and the salt spray. ‘It is the way I make my living. Do I scorn the way you make yours?’
‘I am not a thief.’
‘Is your Carantok Teague a thief? If not, then I am doing what he is doing.’
He bit his tongue. If she was robbing from his troves, well … ‘Tell me how you got here. To the castle. And I don’t mean just now. I mean how you got to Cornwall in the first place.’
A lock of hair blew out of her hood and lashed against her lips until she took a finger and threaded it back beneath the hood. ‘Are you certain you want to know?’
He was rethinking his not slapping her. ‘Just tell me.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘it is a long tale.’
He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I have the time.’
‘Very well. Let me think. I met Carantok Teague in some Cornish village inn over a month ago. The man was in his cups and talking much too loudly about his ventures. So … I sat beside him, shushed him a bit, and, with more wine, he told me more. And then we … you can guess the rest.’
Crispin scowled.
‘He left early to get away from me and his embarrassment, I suppose. He was headed toward London – to fetch you, perhaps. Meantime, I set out for Tintagel. I got there in a few days on foot and I met a man from the castle in the inn in Treknow. I asked him if he knew about Carantok and he told me. He was most amused by him until one day he saw some of the man’s cache. I convinced him to show me one of Carantok’s “holes”, as he called them.’
‘Whom did you meet?’
‘Some caretaker from the castle. An old man,’ she said purposefully, for she knew what Crispin was thinking.
‘And how did you come by the players?’ he went on.
‘Oh. Well, that constable sent me away. Said he’d throw me in the gatehouse cell if he saw me in the castle again. I tried to re-enter the castle by stealth but it’s damnably hard to do. There’s a sheer cliff on one side. I tried it from the beach side, from the cove they call the Haven, but that’s fairly steep. The constable nearly caught me too many times for comfort. So I … gave up. I know it’s uncharacteristic of me, but truly, it wasn’t worth the hardship. I started out on the road again out of Cornwall. A few days later I ran into the players’ wagon and cajoled my way into their company. I thought I could disguise myself and enter that way. I, er … convinced them to come here, in fact.’
So that was true too. He breathed deep for a moment. ‘Did you know Roger was dead?’
‘Never knew him.’
‘If you’re lying …’
‘I’m not. Please believe me, Crispin. No one in the whole world believes me. If you stopped, then I don’t know what I’d do.’
Her eyes grew glassy with tears. It was a good touch, he thought. Maybe even a bit of a tremble from her lips. Yes, there it was. As pathetic as could be. Any other man would instantly fall for it. But she was good at deception, this he knew. Still. Her earnest face could be very convincing. And appealing.
‘If I believed you …’ he said stiffly.
‘You can. By all God’s angels, you can. It’s the truth this time.’
‘If I believed you, what will you do now?’
‘You mean …’ She stepped closer, cautiously, taking one step and waiting, then another. ‘If you let me go?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly.
‘I … I wouldn’t go at all.’
He blew out a breath. ‘You still want the treasure.’
‘No! I want to help you solve the murders.’
‘What? For God’s sake, Kat.’
‘No, I truly mean it. You’ve helped me before, now I can help you. Won’t you let me? It’s the least I can do.’
‘I’d rather you left the area.’
‘But I want to help.’ She was standing right in front of him. How had she gotten so close?
‘I don’t trust you.’
‘Yes, you do. Crispin, I would never betray you.’
‘Ha!’
A genuine look of hurt passed over her face before she masked it. ‘I won’t. I want to help you and Jack. In gratitude for letting me go four years ago.’
He knew he was relenting. He knew Jack would mock him for it. He knew he would regret it.
‘You do have certain … talents … that might prove useful.’
She raised an enquiring brow.
‘Not that talent! Your skills at climbing, at being invisible, at … cajoling.’
‘Oh.’ She stepped ever closer until she rested her hand on his chest. He had forgotten how much shorter she was than him when he gazed down at her upturned face. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I can do all of that. But the other … I reserve for you.’
He grasped her hand and gently pulled it away. ‘That, er … we won’t worry about.’
‘Yes, Crispin,’ she said with a knowing smile.
There was no question. He already regretted it.
FIFTEEN
When he came around the corner escorting Kat rather than manhandling her, he studiously ignored the expression on his apprentice’s face. ‘Mistress Pyke will help us with our investigations.’
‘Oh, she will, will she?’ said Jack.
‘Yes,’ he said curtly. ‘First things first, Kat. You must put on a gown. You can’t be seen wearing men’s clothing. For that you will surely be arrested.’
‘I’ve got it here. In my scrip,’ she said.
‘Then do so now.’
She began to disrobe when Crispin cleared his throat.
She chuckled. ‘I’ll go into the chapel porch, shall I?’
‘Be quick about it.’
She trotted up the steps and disappeared within the porch, as Jack glowered at him.
‘Master Crispin!’ he rasped.
‘Jack, I know what you’re thinking.’
‘I’ll wager you don’t.’
‘I believe her when she said she did not kill him. She told me she followed him here as he followed you, Master Teague.’
‘But we saw no one. Did we, Master Jack?’
‘No, sir. Not a soul.’
‘But as we’ve already established,’ said Crispin, ‘it is far too easy to hide on these plains. I have my suspicions that the murderer still lies in wait out there, not far from us.’
Jack looked about suspiciously, hand on his dagger hilt. ‘That was a lot of people we didn’t detect,’ he said with a deep frown.
‘I understand your skepticism, but the result is there in the chapel.’ Just as he spoke, Kat stepped into the doorway, dressed in a woman’s gown again. She pulled her hood up and looked at Crispin.
‘We must talk to the constable and men-at-arms. It will be interesting to see if any of them are missing.’
‘Master, should we take the body with us?’
Teague wore a horrified expression. He’d already been obliged to ferry one dead and rather ripe body. He’d certainly wouldn’t be best pleased with a bloody one.
‘No. I want Master Teague to get himself out of the castle and into Treknow with all haste. Our hunt for the …’ He glanced at Kat. ‘For the object is temporarily delayed.’
‘Oh, but Master Guest!’
‘It is delayed, sir. Please get into your cart and make haste.’
Grimly, he nodded and climbed up, slapping the reins on the horse’s rump and rattling down the road.
‘Shouldn’t he be taking Mistress Pyke, sir? Back to the village?’
‘No. She’ll be with us.’
‘I was afraid of that,’ he muttered, mounting his horse.
Crispin mounted Tobias, then leaned over to offer Kat a hand. She hitched up her skirts, revealing that she had removed her men’s hose, used Crispin’s foot in the stirrup as a step, and propelled herself onto the horse behind him. He felt her arms reach around him before he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks.
Teague was ahead but their horses would soon catch up. Crispin called to Jack to slow down. They made a more leisurely stride, allowing Teague to get farther ahead of them.
‘Why did you send Master Teague ahead, sir?’
‘I want him out of all this. I supposed that the murder of Roger Bennet was out of jealousy, but with the murder of Dunning, it doesn’t make any sense. There’s something more here, and it might have to do with treasure.’
