‘Have you heard any more?’

‘Only a little about Taillefer’s night time activities.’

Edmund blushed. He knew what she meant.

‘May we meet?’ she asked.

‘Same place?’

When she nodded he hurried off in Fitzjohn’s wake.

**

The boys were half hidden among the straw under the buttress when she ducked her head under the stone arch later on. Simon, posted on guard duty, followed her inside as the others began to emerge from the straw. They reminded her of wild cats, concealing themselves until it was safe to come out.

Edmund was first. ‘Any nearer the truth, domina?’

She told them briefly what she had found out as they brushed straw from off their court clothes.

When she finished, Bertram was tight with fury. ‘It must have been one of the cardinals. He’s going to get away with it!’

There was a murmur of protest but it was half-hearted and Peterkin asked, ‘Do you think Maurice’s murderer is the same man who stole the dagger?’

‘He must be,’ Bertram gritted.

‘He might escape us but he’ll never escape the wrath of God,’ Peterkin asserted.

‘Listen,’ said Hildegard. ‘This is how it seems to have been. Maurice was ordered to fetch the dagger secretly from the treasury by someone but was stopped before he could hand it over. It quite likely contained poison despite what the pope’s clerk tried to insinuate. It was similar to ones I saw in Florence when I was there a couple of years ago. Whoever instructed Maurice must have wanted it for that reason.’

Peterkin asked tentatively, ‘Could it have been Cardinal Grizac?’

‘If so it was a monstrous thing for a lord to ask of a retainer,’ said Bertram. ‘But why would the cardinal want to obtain poison in such a roundabout way?’

‘Does the cardinal have an enemy in the palace?’ Peterkin was looking thoughtful. ‘He’s the most pleasant of men. Devout and one of the few not given to lewdness. I can’t see him wanting to poison anyone. And how could it turn out that Maurice was killed on such a mission? Someone must have known he was going to break in.’

‘Who is the cardinal on close terms with here?’ Edmund looked at Hildegard. ‘Could he have let slip a word to someone about his desire to obtain it?’

Hildegard thought immediately of Athanasius. He and Grizac had a strange relationship. It was based on power with Athanasius’s quick, cynical wit often making the more tender-hearted Grizac wince. She couldn’t see him confessing anything to Athanasius.

‘What about Taillefer?’ she asked. ‘Where do you think he fits in?’

‘Obviously he was stabbed for stealing the dagger from the stranger in le Coq d’or.’

The boys fell silent at Edmund’s words until Peterkin made the observation that if Taillefer was stabbed when he was on the bridge, the sentry must have seen him run past, followed by the man who stabbed him. ‘But you say he did not mention seeing them?’

Hildegard shook her head. ‘In fact he said he saw no-one. The inn keeper also says he saw no blood on the stranger’s hands - although of course he could have easily washed it off in the river.’

‘You mean Taillefer could have been stabbed by someone else - someone already up there?’

‘It would have to be somebody in authority,’ broke in Peterkin, ‘those sentries are particular about who they allow to cross at night, for fear of French militia mounting an attack, or smugglers cheating on taxes.’

‘Someone in authority? Like the cardinals?’ broke in Edmund.

‘The cardinals?’ exclaimed Peterkin in a horrified voice.

A brief silence followed.

‘Maybe we have to ask ourselves who would have as strong a motive to kill Taillefer as the victim of the theft,’ Bertram pointed out.

‘But let’s suppose that if the dagger was stolen the first time round on Cardinal Grizac’s orders - for whatever reason - it was he who was the true victim of the theft. He would want it back as much as the stranger at le Coq d’or,’ Hildegard pointed out. ‘We know he passed over the bridge that night because the sentries at both ends said so - even though the timing doesn’t work out properly,’ she amended weakly.

‘Grizac? Surely impossible? I feel guilty even for thinking it,’ Peterkin admitted.

They were silent for a few moments, struck by the enormity of the idea, until Bertram tried another tack. ‘Do we know if Taillefer got on the wrong side of anybody recently?’

Hildegard remembered Elfric throwing down the gauntlet to Taillefer in the tilt yard the other day. ‘Elfric?’ She turned.

‘Not me. He was my sword partner.’ He seemed disinclined to say more.

‘There was that fellow in the Great Courtyard the other day. The one we thought was trying to frighten him,’ Bertram reminded.

‘We still have no idea why he issued such a threat,’ Edmund added.

‘We must find out more from this cursed sentry.’ It was Bertram again. ‘We’ve got to know exactly who went onto the bridge that night. Don’t you agree, domina?’

‘I do.’

‘We need to know who was involved in the argument the ferryman heard. It must have been Taillefer and his murderer. The sentry must be lying about the cardinals being the only ones to go across. There must have been someone else.’

‘I’ll talk to the sentry,’ Edmund interrupted. ‘I told Taillefer about the dagger in the first place. It’s my fault he went looking for it and got himself into trouble.’

‘Don’t blame yourself, Edmund. He was as eager to find Maurice’s killer as we all are and thought, as we did, that the dagger might be a clue to the mystery.’

Edmund gave her a grateful glance but was not entirely reassured. ‘I’ll go and speak to him, nevertheless.’

‘We only asked Taillefer to escort the miners to the ferry,’ Bertram pointed out. He placed his hand on Edmund’s arm. ‘We wanted nothing more from him. He’s the one who got himself into this mess by choosing to visit his girl at the inn -’ he broke off with a swift glance at Hildegard.

‘I know about her,’ she said.

‘Well, just don’t go blaming yourself, Edmund,’ he mumbled.

‘So what now?’ Edmund asked in a tone that showed he was still shouldering the blame.

‘I’ll talk to the priest of the bridge again,’ Hildegard told them. ‘I feel he knows more than he’s willing to admit.’ She moved towards the arch into the passage.

‘We could go and lark around near the ferryman’s cottage and maybe get him to tell us if he saw anything else. His cottage is so close to the bridge I can’t believe he didn’t have a good look when he heard voices. Despite the storm he must have seen something.’

‘He’s a liar. I wouldn’t trust him, Edmund.’ Peterkin gave a toss of his head.

‘Let’s hope he remains careful with the truth in regard to the payment he received from Taillefer,’ Hildegard admonished. ‘A more honest man would have refused to take the miners across.’

‘It’s called being pragmatic.’ Peterkin gave a cynical shrug of his shoulders.

‘The last thing we want is for him to start blabbing and setting Fitzjohn on their trail,’ observed Edmund testily.

‘Gentlemen,’ Hildegard looked round the circle of earnest faces. ‘I shall be honoured if you will give me your solemn promise that you will on no account put yourselves in danger. If there is anything that strikes you as at all suspicious I want you to come to me to discuss it before taking hasty action. Do I have your word?’

‘You have, domina,’ they chorused.

The boys replied with such alacrity her fears were unassuaged.

**

The sentry’s face reminded Hildegard of a slab of beef, red, raw, unexpressive. Now he stared at her as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘It’s a simple question, Emil,’ she insisted. ‘Did the fellow from the inn follow the thief onto the bridge? Remember, he had just discovered that his dagger was stolen, a weapon he hoped to sell for a large sum. He was angry. He gave chase. Did he, or did he not, chase the thief onto the bridge?’