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Day Three
Simon
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Although Simon did not pretend to know as much about investigating as Rhys, he did know politics, God help him. Never mind that he made it his mission in life to avoid embroiling himself in the maneuvering which was the lifeblood of the royal court. While it had turned out that Math had to be the poor soul who’d informed Owen de la Pole of the death of his bard, Simon was determined to take on the responsibility for telling him about this new murder. Moriddig’s death was one thing, but to add on the death of Hugh was quite another. There was a double murderer on the loose, and it looked to Simon as if he was getting closer to Owen with every step.
It was raw anger Simon had seen on the floor of that barn. He’d been in too many battles and seen too many angry men let off their leash to be confused about what had gone on. That anger could be expended, but once allowed out in the world, it was never completely sated.
Being the one to break the news would also give Simon a chance, and an excuse, to inquire about Hugh’s finances—and thus Owen’s. Up until now, Owen’s station had made such questions unseemly, and Rhys hadn’t wanted to approach him without better evidence than hearsay. Yes, they were investigating the murder of Owen’s bard, but Owen remained in high favor with the king. All of them were reluctant to rock that boat.
But if the murder of Moriddig was a summer squall, Hugh’s was a winter storm that Owen might not be able to weather.
As a bard, Moriddig held an important place in Owen’s court, but Hugh had been Owen’s steward. His responsibilities extended beyond this festival. Simon didn’t know Owen well enough to have witnessed much in the way of the internal workings of his household, but in most, a steward knew everything about his lord and his doings. Hugh would have been in charge of Owen’s accounts, his employees, his alliances, and possibly his very thoughts. His loss would be a severe blow.
Simon entered the castle’s receiving room to find Owen speaking with his wife, who was noticeably pregnant with what Simon knew to be their first child. Owen and Joan were a decade younger than Simon, though of course so much higher in station that Simon put his heels together and bowed. “My lord. My lady. I am afraid I have some more bad news.”
Owen’s lips twisted. “Someone else is dead?”
“I am afraid so.” Simon knew it would be best to speak plainly. Having just told all this to the king, he had it in his head how best to do it. “It’s Hugh, my lord. He was found dead just now. Murdered too.”
Joan’s eyes narrowed. “Murdered? How?”
He had been hoping not to have to explain while Joan was in the room but, despite her pregnancy, she had shown herself to be the opposite of a delicate flower. “Stabbed in the belly. We found him in an abandoned barn above the river. The killer appears to have left a trail of coins from the door to the body.” This was a detail they might normally have chosen to keep back, but he used it here as a segue into talking about money in Owen’s household. “It looks as if he even emptied a bag of coins on top of Hugh after he killed him.”
Joan eyed him carefully. “How much money?”
“We have collected it, but haven’t counted it,” Simon said. “Many of the coins are covered in blood and still inside the wound.”
“Where is the body now?” Owen continued to evidence more dismay than his wife. “Don’t tell me you’re bringing him here too!”
“Yes, I’m afraid so, my lord. The body should arrive momentarily. This was Hugh’s home, and Reese has informed me that you have adequate space for the dead in the place Morrydig lay before his burial.”
“I’ll see to it,” Joan said in an undertone to Owen, though loud enough for Simon to hear. “I’ll speak to Adam, too, about stepping for a time into Hugh’s shoes. It’s a good thing Hugh was so organized. From here on, the festival can practically run itself.”
Owen nodded, and his wife departed.
Simon had never really seen the pair of them interact before, outside of formal events. From even this brief exchange, he would have said they had something of a compatible marriage. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected it. Perhaps it was seeing Joan in the churchyard with Adam. Or just that Rhys despised Owen so profoundly, it was hard to imagine a woman making a life with him.
Now alone with Owen, Simon told himself he couldn’t get away with looking elsewhere above Owen’s head. He had to act as if he had no concerns about the last time they’d talked, that strange exchange after Moriddig’s death. For his part, Owen seemed at ease, throwing himself into his regal chair and once again waving a hand towards the sideboard. “Pour us some wine, will you?”
Simon again moved to obey. “I am sorry to have brought such bad news.”
“Unless you murdered him yourself, none of this is your fault.” Owen nodded his thanks as Simon handed him a cup.
If two days hadn’t passed since their last conversation, Simon might have wondered if he was reliving previous events. “My lord, I’m afraid I have an even more fraught issue to discuss with you, one related to Hugh’s death. It might even be directly relevant as it is in regards to money.”
“You mean the coins poured onto the body?”
“Perhaps.” It was time to get to the crux of the matter. “We know that Hugh had a history of taking bribes, what he called fees—from contestants when he oversaw a music festival.”
The expression on Owen’s face could not have been more astonished. “That never happened. He couldn’t have. You’ve been lied to.”
“We have multiple testimonies to that fact, my lord. What we don’t know is how, or even if, his actions had anything to do with his death. We don’t know from whom he might have taken a bribe this week.”
Owen managed a laugh. “And yet, you say his body was covered in coins. Who would do that? Why kill him if the hope was to pay him for services rendered.”
“I don’t know, my lord. All I know is that Hugh is dead.” Simon hesitated, fearing to be more forthright, but also thinking it was necessary. “We may have to consider the idea that Hugh could have been selling more than just a victory at this festival.”
Owen frowned at him, genuinely confused. “What more are you talking about?”
“Your secrets, my lord. Hugh could have gone to the barn thinking he was about to get paid ... and was killed instead for what he knew.”
