Blood Runs Thicker by Sarah Hawkswood (best electronic book reader txt) 📗

him a clip about the ear and days of disfavour. However, the abbot had been amicable when the sheriff’s men had been in Evesham in the spring and was happy enough now for his obedientaries to assist the law, though he shook his head over the need of it.

‘The lord Osbern was a man who found piety in the middle of his life, though I could not say it tempered his nature. A man of impulse, he was, and alas, of anger within his heart, though he was generous enough to us and spared no cost in the renewal of his parish church.’ Abbot Reginald sighed. ‘I am inclined to think both were his attempts to make up for that character, which he knew fell short of what God would wish. His repentance was real, but he continued upon a path where it was much needed. “A soft answer turneth away wrath” was not a message that he understood, but soft answers are less used than hard swords in the realm these days. Ask your questions, my son, and may the answers aid justice.’

Walkelin had found the Guest Master in the Almoner’s little room, for the giving of shelter and alms were often intertwined. Both expressed shock at the news of the violent death of the lord of Lench. The Almoner went quite pale as he crossed himself.

‘Such an end to a life. Thanks be to Heaven he saw his church finished. I will pray for his eternal soul.’

‘As will we all,’ added Brother Jerome, the Guest Master, piously. ‘Now, you came not to bring just the sad news I take it?’

‘No, Brother, I have questions also, about those who took shelter here last night, of your charity.’

‘Then I shall leave you and be about my duties,’ murmured the Almoner, and left, brows knit together.

‘Brother Theodosius is a soul who feels the pain of others most acutely,’ explained Brother Jerome, when he and Walkelin were alone. ‘He even rescued an injured crow from boys who were stoning it, some years back, and cared for it until it recovered, so well that it would linger about the enclave and if he came outside would land upon his shoulder. Some objected, saying that since we have no possessions a pet should not be allowed, but Father Abbot decreed that the bird was not being kept, and that if alms of food were given to one of God’s creatures, there was no harm in it. The novices still call him Brother Corvus behind his back.’ The Benedictine smiled, but had to explain the Latin.

‘Ah, I understand. But now, Brother, what of your guests?’

The Benedictine had reported that there had been three guests the previous night from whom he had asked nothing but attendance at the Mass in the morning, and one had come, he knew, from Stow-on-the-Wold to the south-east. Of the other two one was known by name, as he passed through quite often. He was Alnoth the Handless, and his name told all. Some men lost hands for crimes committed, but he had been born with one forearm tapering to nothing and the other bearing but two misshapen fingers. The Guest Master said he was a ‘gift from God’ because there were some midwives who would have ensured he never drew breath, mortal sin though it would be. Walkelin had not thought this man sounded likely as the one he sought, until the Guest Master added that he had been in a good humour, and even offered a halfpenny for his bed and board, having come into silver, and being blessed with new garments and good boots, though he said it would take more wool gatherings in them to make them fit without rubbing raw.

‘You know, he had a leather tunic, open and sleeveless, and made a jest of it, saying he who was somewhat lacking in arm was better off than a poor tunic that lacked any sleeve at all, and would care for it. Mind you, I said no to his offer of coin, for his wealth was but a penny ha’penny, and that will not last him long if he wants to eat on his travels. He is a godly soul, and I think the Almighty listens to his prayers.’

‘Is he here still, Brother?’ Walkelin had tried not to sound too eager.

‘No, but he had hopes of earning a little by guarding baskets of produce at the market today and will no doubt return this evening. He often stays with us for a day or so if there is the market.’ The good brother smiled at Walkelin’s consternation. ‘Yes, I can see you wonder how a handless man can guard anything, but he is known, and none would steal from the goods he protects. It happened once, a few years back, and he called down the Curse of Heaven upon the culprit, who fell as he ran and broke his arm. No, none would take from the baskets under his eye.’

‘So I shall find him in Evesham still.’

‘Assuredly, but surely the Law does not seek Alnoth for a wicked killing?’

‘No, merely seeks to know what his eyes may have noted on his way here. Thank you, Brother. Er, I came quick this morning and have not so much as taken a beaker of beer. Might your kitchens be generous to one in the service of justice?’ Walkelin had smiled, looking virtuous but hungry. The Guest Master sent him to Brother Cellarer with his blessing. It had been a contented Walkelin who set off among the buyers and sellers in Evesham that morning.

Identifying Alnoth the Handless was not a problem, so Walkelin did not have to advertise his interest in the man by asking after him. He was beside a stall of fruit, bowls displaying the first picked blackberries from the hedgerows, and jewel-like currants in blood red and pearly white. The stallholder was a girl of about twelve, who clearly had little faith in her ability to prevent