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Day Four
Math
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The stable boy’s name turned out to be Gwrgenau, a name that made Ralph’s eyes cross even more than Moriddig’s. Math suggested they call him Gwrgi, but while the boy didn’t necessarily take offense, he was insistent: “My name is Gwrgenau.”
So Gwrgenau it was.
“Is it hard for you when the horses come and go, like is happening this week?” Math asked as Gwrgenau led them unerringly across the fields to the village and the inn in question, known (appropriately) as The Mare, with a sign of a trotting horse for all those who couldn’t read.
“I have never minded when new ones come, but I used to get upset when any would leave or die. That was when I was younger. I am better about it now.”
This was a small village to have its own inn, but with the proximity of the bridge across the Dee, it was a common stopping point for many. It also marked the border between England and Wales. Overton had become an English town, albeit with many Welsh (like Gwrgenau) in it, making a living as best they could. As they all were.
By now, Math was starting to realize the kind of person Gwrgenau was, and that he’d met men like him before. They were often brilliant in their own way, about their own very specific interests. For Gwrgenau, it was horses.
“That’s him,” Gwrgenau said in a loud voice and pointed with his whole arm. “That’s the man.”
Subtle, he was not. But then, he had done as he had promised and had given them more of a lead than anyone else had so far.
The man they had come to see was just getting up from the table where, from the looks, he had enjoyed a splendid repast. His eyes went wide at the sight of the two men in the king’s livery looming over him. Ralph put a heavy hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down to his bench. The common room had a dozen other people in it, every single one riveted by the scene before them. Math had never been more aware of the king’s crest on his chest.
“What do you want with me?” The man spoke first in a small voice and then, when he too felt the eyes of everyone in the room, with more force. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know anything!”
Unimpressed with such a comprehensive denial, Math came around the table to the other side of the bench, boxing him in. “Everyone has done something. What’s your name?”
“Roger de Retondeur.” This was all happening in French, the same as his name.
“You’re a shearman?”
“A draper, as was my father before me. He gave me his name too.” He had calmed a little, since they’d asked him questions he could answer easily.
“Let’s take this conversation outside, unless you want your business shared with everyone else in the room?”
“I have nothing to hide.” It was a protest, but not as loud as before.
Math bent forward. “Is that so? How about that good horse you have suddenly acquired?”
Roger’s jaw fell open. Into the momentary pause, Ralph lifted Roger to his feet and urged him towards the door.
On the way, Roger motioned to the room at large. “I have done nothing wrong. This is just a formality. I am a decent man!” As Ralph got him outside, he added, “You have to believe me!”
“We don’t, actually,” Math strolled out the door after them, “but we are willing to be convinced.”
It was definitely easy to think the man was protesting too much. If he hadn’t made such a fuss to everyone else in the room, they might have let him stay seated, but he’d turned them into a spectacle. By the time they got him to the stables and in front of the horse Gwrgenau helpfully pointed out as the one that had been Hugh’s, Math was feeling more impatient than anything else. “Gwrgenau tells us this is Steward Hugh’s horse.” He cut through Roger’s continuing assertions of innocence.
To salvage whatever was left of his dignity, Roger straightened his tunic as best he could and threw back his shoulders. “It was Steward Hugh’s horse. He gave it to me of his own free will.”
“He gave it to you.” Math’s voice was steady. “Why would he do that?”
“To make amends.”
Math studied him, wondering if things might all of a sudden be starting to make a tiny bit of sense.
But Ralph glowered as if he didn’t believe him. “Amends for what?”
“For something that happened with my father, years ago.”
That sounded like the truth to Math. “What something?”
Roger gave his head a shake. “It had to do with needing a good word with the old Lord Gruffydd, and Hugh making him pay for it. It was before I was born.”
“Can you tell me more about the dispute?”
“Not really. Steward Hugh didn’t want to explain. I thought he was embarrassed, frankly. That’s why I took the horse, to make it easier for him.”
“Your generosity knows no bounds,” Ralph said dryly.
Roger chose to ignore the sarcasm. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. What was I to do? Not take it? It’s a horse! Of course I was going to take it.”
Honestly, Math could appreciate the man’s dilemma. “What happened to Hugh after that?”
“How should I know? He went off with a woman, and that was the last I saw of him.”
Math turned now to Gwrgenau, who’d been listening to the conversation with an impassive expression, as if he didn’t care about its outcome one way or another. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe all he really cared about was horses. “Did you see Hugh with a woman?”
“Yes.” He spoke as if the answer should have been obvious.
Roger interrupted. “Why don’t you just ask Steward Hugh to confirm my story? I am telling you exactly what happened.”
That flummoxed Math for a moment. “Steward Hugh was murdered. How could you not know that?”
Roger’s mouth fell open again. “When?”
With Hugh’s body waiting for burial, Math was truly astounded Roger would still be ignorant of his death. He had assumed knowledge of the murder would be all that was being talked about. “Yesterday. He was stabbed.” Math held out his hand. “May I see your blade?”
His face paling, Roger fumbled at his belt to comply. Although an afterthought on Math’s part, he thought it might be a good idea to start making a study of belt knives, in the same way he’d started looking at hands for a ring or indication that a person had removed one recently.
This sheath was plain and unadorned, giving no indication any gems had ever been affixed to the leather. Math freed the knife and held it up to the light. “It’s been cleaned and oiled recently.”
“As it should have been,” Roger said. “I don’t doubt that you care for your sword nightly.”
Ralph still had a grip on Roger’s shoulder, and he shook him a little. “Did you kill Hugh?”
“No! Of course not! Why would I do that?”
“For the horse, of course.” Math turned from the knife to focus on Roger’s face. If Roger had begun with why would I do that, thus answering a question with another question, Math would have been immediately more suspicious. But the denial that had preceded it had been unforced.
“I already told you he gave the horse to me. If he were alive, he could have confirmed it. I am far worse off now that he’s dead.”
Ralph glared at Roger one more time, but then released him. Meanwhile, Math thrust the dagger back into its sheath and returned it. “Do not leave Overton.”
Roger blinked. “Such was not my intent. I have a stall at the market fair. Good cloth, if you need any.” That he would take a moment at the end of being questioned about a murder to sell his wares only improved his case.
Leaving Roger, who had collapsed against his horse’s stall at being released, Math stepped outside the stables and looked once again at Gwrgenau. “Now, about this woman.”
