The Winter Knight, page 19
Arnau turned to Felipe. ‘Bernhard. Bernhard was here just before we passed through the village. A day earlier at most. After the young lord had died.’
‘He never said such a thing,’ Felipe noted.
‘No. And unless it was him arranging a little welcoming party with the sons of Friderich, what in God’s name could he have been doing here?’
Felipe shook his head. ‘But Bernhard is innocent. He was attacked.’
‘Was he?’ Arnau said. ‘Or is he “the great old serpent that is called the Devil, and Satan, that deceiveth all the world”?’
The squire continued to shake his head. ‘He is innocent. At least of Rüdolf’s death. He was in the church. Father Oswald confirmed it.’
‘Unless Father Oswald is somehow in on it?’
The two men shared a look for a moment, and Arnau sagged. ‘No, I don’t believe that either. But it’s impossible to ignore that Bernhard was in the village at a very convenient time and has said nothing about it.’
Felipe tapped his lip. ‘It is just a fresh puzzle on top of all the others.’
‘No,’ Arnau disagreed. ‘This is a step towards solving it all. I feel we have everything we need, but I cannot quite see how they fit together. It is maddening, but we are close, Felipe. Very close.’
‘What now?’
‘Now we go back to the castle.’
‘And confront Bernhard Bulstrich?’
Arnau sucked his teeth. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think we want to reveal all our findings immediately. Let’s hold our tongue for now and watch. See how things work out tonight and in the morning. I want to keep an eye on the marshal, for a start. And I think we might want to search again, but this time just you and I, without relying on Bernhard. If he is involved in all of this somehow, then even with others alongside, he might have deliberately overlooked things.’
‘He might know how to use a crossbow,’ Felipe said suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Bernhard had been on Crusade. He might well have acquired a crossbow and the skill to use it.’
Arnau nodded. ‘He might, at that. But it is not proof and, as you pointed out, he still has an unassailable alibi for the night of the murder.’
Arnau felt the frustration building. They were tantalisingly close. Thanking the village priest, Arnau dropped a generous donation onto the platter near the door and the two Templars left. Hurrying down the path as the late afternoon light began to slide into sunset, they reached their horses and untied them.
‘Should we stay in the village?’ Felipe asked uncertainly.
‘No. Things are coming to a head. We need to be in the castle.’
Minutes later they were departing the village and making their way back along the route they had used to reach Renfrizhausen. By the time they began to climb the true slope of the hill, the sun was gone behind the peaks to the west, and the light was fading.
‘I don’t like this,’ Felipe muttered.
Arnau pointed onwards. ‘Right now, I suspect we are safer here than in our room, but I want to get back regardless. A prolonged absence might be filled with any number of disasters.’
Slowly, they plodded through the snow, Arnau occasionally producing Bernhard’s map and holding it up to attract the best possible light, then confirming directions and pressing on. Darkness had fallen by the time they reached the crest of the slope and began to make their way towards the twinkling lights of the castle. Approaching the gate, they were relieved when it was opened ready, figures awaiting them.
Inside, Bernhard, Conrad and Wolf stood in the shadow of the gatehouse, the latter closing and locking up behind them, while the stable hand took their horses and made towards the stalls for the night.
Arnau tried not to look the marshal directly in the eye yet. He didn’t want to give anything away, and a flash of a glance at Felipe warned him too.
‘Did you learn anything useful?’ Bernhard asked.
Arnau painted an expression of vexed nonchalance on his face and turned. ‘Not particularly. It does not appear that Kovacs has been in the village. What has happened to him, I cannot say.’
‘But you found something?’ Bernhard pressed. ‘I can see it in your face.’
Damn it.
Arnau straightened. ‘I have identified the bandits that attacked us. Four villagers, belonging to a poor family on the edge. It appears they stole a bow from the village’s hunter. It seems that these conditions really do drive people to the most extreme acts.’
The marshal held his gaze for a while, then one eyebrow rose a little. ‘Quite. Well, at least that clears one matter up. You need not fear the woods now.’
‘No, although we will not be leaving yet. I still find myself half believing that Kovacs will turn up unexpectedly.’
‘His murdering hide will be long gone.’
‘I’m not so sure. Things remain shadowed in Renfrizhausen,’ Arnau said.
‘Then we must all look to our safety.’
‘Yes. If you will excuse me, I think I need to change my sodden hose and prepare for compline.’
Bernhard nodded. ‘I shall see you there.’
As the marshal turned back to Wolf, Arnau led Felipe away, across the courtyard and to the stairs to their chamber. Once they were safely in their room, the squire examined their things while Arnau locked up behind them.
‘Someone has been here again,’ Felipe said.
Arnau frowned, and crossed to the chest. Everything appeared to be perfectly in order. ‘How do you know?’
The squire pointed at the chest itself. ‘I plucked a hair, licked it and stuck it across the gap of the lid,’ he explained. ‘It has gone, fallen when the lid was opened.’
‘Or spit is not an adequate adhesive and it simply fell?’
‘No. Someone has been in it.’
Arnau frowned. ‘The document? The keys?’ He reached up and removed Felipe’s kettle hat from the wall. He had not taken it with him to the village. It was empty, and Arnau’s pulse quickened, but Felipe drew both the keys and the documents from his pouch. ‘Nowhere was safe here, brother. You said so yourself, so I brought them with us.’
Arnau laughed. ‘You are a marvel, Felipe.’ The smile slid from his face quickly, though.
‘Bernhard is guilty,’ he said.
‘You’re sure?’
A nod. ‘I have no proof, and cannot possibly approach Dietmar and accuse his righthand man, who has a long history of loyalty to the family. But I saw the devilment in his eye when we spoke at the gate. He was waiting to find out what we knew. I suspect he had already feared what we might discover in the village.’
‘But you told him nothing.’
‘It was what I didn’t tell him that he was busy reading in my eyes. I know Bernhard is guilty somehow. But the problem is that he now knows that I know. The next few hours might be a very tense game.’
‘I am still at a loss,’ the squire muttered. ‘Bernhard stands to inherit nothing. Neither the will nor the Order’s documents will make any difference to him. I do not understand what might have driven him to do such a thing?’
Arnau nodded irritably. ‘There, of course, is another stumbling block, although the main such is the fact that Bernhard was in the chapel at the time and could not possible have done the original deed.’ Arnau deflated with a heavy sigh and sank to the bed. ‘This vexes me, Felipe. Somehow, deep in my gut, I know that Bernhard is guilty, but I cannot for the life of me fathom a motive, and he simply had no opportunity. He did it, I think, but at the same time he cannot have done it, and had no reason to do it. I shall keep a very close eye on him at the service tonight, on the assumption he is there. You, I’m afraid, will have to stay in the room and make sure our inquisitive friend does not rummage through our belongings once more.’
Felipe nodded, clutching his beloved book of the Rule tight.
‘Tomorrow is the Lord’s day,’ he said.
Arnau nodded. He hoped so. Dearly, he hoped so.
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday night
Arnau turned over in his blankets, shivering at the sudden intrusion of cold air into his world. His mind was churning, continually working things through and denying him any hope of sleep.
The service in the chapel had been exceedingly odd. Though on the surface nothing had seemingly changed, the few odd times that Bernhard and Arnau had caught one another’s glance both men had been sizing each other up in a way that suggested the growing threat of violence. And yet both dangerous gazes had been fixed above deliberately easy smiles that no one else would possibly pick up on. Strained didn’t even come close to a description.
Once the service had ended, Arnau had watched the marshal stride nonchalantly back into the main range and had fought for any realistic excuse to follow, but found none and had reluctantly returned to his own room.
He was certain that Bernhard was guilty. Of it all, in fact, and not just one part. But there was no evidence with which to approach the lord of Renfrizhausen, and the marshal had a record of decades of faithful service, while Arnau was an unknown and recently arrived outsider from a mistrusted group. He could only imagine how accusations would be met unless he could back them up.
And he couldn’t back them up.
Bernhard could easily have dealt with Anselm, and he could have searched their room. He was a former Crusader, so acquiring and being familiar, and competent, with a Hungarian crossbow was not out of the realm of possibility. He was strong enough and possibly agile enough to have made that night attack on their room, and he knew the castle well enough to escape. He was right-handed and martial enough to have attacked young Graf Rüdolf. He could even have opened the door to Kovacs’ room, done away with the man and then hit his own head and lay on the floor to allay suspicion.
But there was still a plethora of unanswered questions.
Firstly, and least importantly, where was Kovacs? Whether alive or dead, he still had to be somewhere. Secondly, what possible motive could Bernhard have? He stood to inherit nothing, so the document and the will seemed inconsequential. Even if he’d had cause to try and acquire Arnau’s papers to save the family, why attack the young lord? Or was it something else? But what else connected Rüdolf and Arnau? He’d talked himself in circles all night on that one, even running through a list of everything they had in their pack. The one point he kept coming back to there was the keys, but even then he could not see how they fitted into the puzzle, and how they could connect him to Rüdolf.
But way beyond the missing minstrel and the motive, the biggest problem was how in God’s name he had managed to kill the young lord, when he had one of the strongest alibis in the castle.
Until he could answer these questions there was absolutely no point in approaching Graf Dietmar and stirring up the hornets’ nest. He would have to continue to work things out, easing pieces into place, all the time keeping an eye on Bernhard.
And so, after the service, Arnau had retired. As always now, he and Felipe slept with a blade down beside the bed, door locked and shutters latched, as if that would be enough. It had not taken the squire long to slip into deep slumber, but for Arnau sleep held off, pushed away by his busy, frustrated mind.
And if any of you needeth wisdom, ask ye of God, who giveth to all men largely, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given to him.
He’d begged the Lord for that wisdom, over and over again.
Finally, surrendering to inconvenient wakefulness, he pushed back his blankets, shivering at the sudden cold once more. As he rose and pulled on his mail shirt with some difficulty and more noise than he’d intended, Felipe stirred, opening one eye.
‘Going for a walk,’ Arnau muttered. ‘I’ll lock the door behind me.’
Felipe gave him a groggy nod and then rolled over. Arnau finished dressing fully and then crossed to the door, strapping on his sword belt. Opening the door out into the dim, empty corridor, he turned and locked their room behind him. His first point of call was clear. He walked along the corridor and down the flight of stairs into the courtyard and stopped there, wishing he’d put on one of the cloaks. Looking up, he realised that the silvery light was not there tonight. Clouds had begun to roll over Renfrizhausen, and snow was in the air once more.
Another irritation. He grunted. Not only would a fresh blizzard trap him in the castle once more, it would also erase all tracks and evidence, setting him even further back. Crossing the courtyard, he tried the chapel door. It opened readily, though only a single great tallow candle inadequately lit the large room. He approached the altar with the candle on it and kneeled at it like a knight at vigil.
There he prayed.
He prayed for wisdom and understanding. He prayed for better weather and the freedom to leave. He prayed that the wicked would suffer justice and that Bernhard would make a mistake. He prayed that Kovacs would turn up. He prayed, in short, for a solution. For some time, he prayed.
The Lord’s favour having been sought yet again, he then returned across the chilly courtyard, grabbed one of the cloaks from the antechamber of the main range and began to climb the stairs, past the rooms of sleeping lords and ladies, emerging once more onto the tower. It had snowed since he’d last been up here with Felipe, and the door was difficult to push against the built-up drift outside. After some heaving and great effort, he emerged onto the covered tower top, the highest point in all of Renfrizhausen. Where else could he hope for a better view and potential clarity.
In actual fact, the cloud was only just above head level here, and gradually descending. Soon the tower would be within the murk.
Where was Kovacs? They had searched the castle completely and, even allowing for Bernhard potentially missing something on purpose, he’d not been alone. The very idea that he might also be in league with Leupold and with Gunther seemed too much. So where could the Hungarian be?
Fuming as he looked down from each edge, he settled once more on the courtyard. In his head he measured the distances from the door below to the well, and to the chapel, where Bernhard had been. But then he chided himself over wasting time. It wasn’t a matter of Bernhard managing to slip out and do the deed. He had been in the chapel, and Father Oswald had confirmed it. The priest, Arnau was sure, was innocent. And he would in the course of the service turn his back on the marshal occasionally while facing the altar, but only for short moments. Not long enough for even the quickest man in the world to get to the main range and back, let alone murder someone and dispose of the body in the process.
Grunting with endless frustration, he turned away once more. Retreating to the warm and dark of the stairwell, he began to descend. He stopped on the top floor and looked around at the doors of apartments, remembering who was behind each, and then did the same on the next floor. None of it helped. Finally, he reached the ground floor and made his way along to the great hall. There he stopped, thinking fruitlessly again before beginning to explore the various nooks and crannies leading off the huge room, using a candle taken from the hall which had thoughtlessly been left burning through the night. He’d explored all these before, of course, during the search for Kovacs. They had even been thorough enough to prise up the wooden seat in the garderobe and check down the stinking hole in case the minstrel had decided he could fit down it in a bid for freedom.
Now, instead, Arnau was picturing Bernhard removing the seat and pushing the Hungarian down it. Still, he would not have fitted. It was fantasy and nothing more. Finding a familiar door, he descended to the cellar corridor and made his way along to the locked door at the end. He could see nothing within, even by the light of the candle, but the vaguest shapes of furnishings and the sad bundle that would be Rüdolf von Ehingen.
There he stayed for some time, sighing and trying to let his mind settle. It was still awhirl. Worse so now than when he’d been lying in bed. Sleep was still some way away, but he could no longer think what to fill the sleepless hours with, and instead he stood by the door to the young lord’s body for some time, saying prayers of passage for Rüdolf and imploring the Lord for wisdom.
Finally, he sighed. Along with his visit to the chapel, he’d been out for over an hour now, possibly even an hour and a half. Dawn would come all too soon, and with it who knew what? Certainly, he couldn’t imagine the coming day providing any improvement. With a heavy heart, he bade farewell once more to the lord of Renfrizhausen that he’d never met in life, turned and made his way back upstairs and to the world of wicked men. Out through the great hall and the tapestry corridor, through the antechamber and into the courtyard.
Nothing was stirring. Dark and oppressive, freezing and empty. He tried to imagine what it had been like for Rüdolf being smashed over the head in that room, dragged out here to the well, then thrown down it. Then he tried rather hard to un-imagine it, and vowed once more to avenge the young graf. He had no idea how, but he was going to make the killer – he was going to make Bernhard – pay for his crime.
Gratefully, he passed once more into the doorway and climbed the stairs, turning onto the upper corridor, and there he stopped, suddenly, flesh a-tingle and hand going to his sword. Their room’s door was open again. Rather than leap into anything this time, he steadied his breathing as best he could and crept along the corridor quietly. There was no sound from the room, but that did not necessarily mean it was empty.
Reaching the door jamb, he peeked briefly round it, spotting no sign of movement. Quietly, he rounded the corner, sword held out in both hands, ready to strike in any direction or to block an unexpected blade. Nothing.
A quick turn revealed nothing hiding round the corner. Pushing the door back showed there was nothing in the way.
The room was empty.
Properly empty.
Felipe was gone.
Arnau allowed himself to breathe deeper again, but knew that something still was not right. It might look as though the squire had just stepped out to the privy, but Arnau knew better. He’d locked the door from the outside and taken the key with him. Felipe had not left. He had been taken.
