| |
Day One
Llelo
––––––––
Someday Llelo was going to head up an investigation all by himself, but he wasn’t sorry that the moment for that particular ascension wouldn’t be today. He had his hands full with the woman who’d found the body. To Llelo’s mind, the woman’s response was a far more difficult thing to have to deal with than the body itself.
To his utter and complete horror, she was currently sobbing uncontrollably in his arms. In the dim light of the candlelit church, her manner appeared entirely genuine, completely overcome by the shock of seeing the decayed and dirt-covered body reclined in the priest’s chair next to the lectern.
So far, that a body had found its way into the chair, a place it absolutely should not be, was all he’d been able to determine about the crime scene. Somehow, it had fallen to him to hold her in his arms. He longed to get closer to the corpse, as Hamelin was doing. He was sorely tempted, in fact, to call Hamelin over and make him take her. After all, Llelo was the investigator, and Hamelin was an older Frenchman. He knew all about women!
More than anything, Llelo felt it was his task to have a better idea of what they were facing before Dai returned with his parents. He would have liked to be able to tell his father when he arrived a litany of details about the scene, ones Llelo had already elicited from both the body and the woman. But all he had managed to determine since he found her in the church porch, opening her mouth to scream for help, was information he himself could see just as easily.
While he knew from experience that hearing her true thoughts when they were fresh would save time later, so far, the woman’s own story was a nearly impenetrable mix of tears, recriminations, and anguish, all said in French with a broad Scottish accent that was hardly more than mush in his head. He’d spent most of the time he’d been holding her simply trying to soothe her and stop her (unsuccessfully) from soaking his shoulder with tears.
Finally, he was able to seat her on a bench against the wall, shielded from the body by a pillar and the altar. The woman was thin, almost angular. If he’d had to guess, given the lines around her eyes and mouth and touches of gray in her hair, she was in the vicinity of fifty years of age.
“Madam, if you could just tell me what you know, I would be most grateful.” Llelo was crouched in front of her, far enough back so that he wasn’t touching her anymore. Thankfully, she’d pulled a handkerchief from her waist and was dabbing her eyes with it.
“I came here to pray as I often do in the evening. Once the knighting ceremony was over, I saw no reason to stay in the hall.” Her voice firmed slightly. “I knew my husband would be well entertained with the other nobles and their wives, and he gave me leave to depart. I first refreshed the flowers by the front door and afterwards started my prayers. But then I noticed this horrible smell wafting towards me from beyond the altar, and then I saw that—that—that thing in the priest’s chair only a few yards away from where I was kneeling. How could I not have noticed him sooner? How long has he been just—just—just sitting there?” These last comments were accompanied by stuttering and renewed sobs.
As the woman’s tears began again in earnest, Dai returned with their parents in tow—and Prince Henry and King David. Llelo took a few steps away from the woman in order to bow. “My apologies, my lords, for disturbing your evening.”
He might have added, I also didn’t intend for my brother to fetch you too along with a warning glare at Dai, but Llelo was going to be knighted (he hoped, provided the appearance of the body didn’t change what Prince Henry wanted), and he needed to be careful about chastising those beneath him, as Dai had suddenly become, especially when the situation was hardly his fault.
The thought was a revelation. By Welsh law, Llelo had become a man at fourteen, but he’d known it for the lie it was. Now, however, whether or not he really felt himself to be an adult inside, he needed to make it so.
And Llelo supposed it was inevitable that the king and prince would want to see the body for themselves. Even if Gareth had come alone, he probably would have had to fetch them. It was the king’s church after all.
King David motioned with one hand, in a manner Llelo had seen him use several times already in the short while since they’d met. “It was necessary.”
Gareth halted next to Llelo. “Summoning us was the right thing to do. While we didn’t actually come to Carlisle to investigate the whys and wherefores of an unexplained body, it seems inevitable somehow that one has come for us anyway.”
A burst of sobbing came from the bench where Llelo had left the woman. In those brief moments of normalcy, he’d genuinely forgotten her.
“My dear Margaret.” King David moved towards her. “I am so sorry you had to see this. Would you like me to send for your husband?”
Margaret’s tears ended abruptly, and she gave a vehement shake of her head. “You and I both know that Lord Carr is averse to unpleasant smells and even more to unpleasant scenes.” Then she flung out her hand in a dramatic gesture to point in the direction of the priest’s chair, which she couldn’t see from where she sat. “Just look at him!”
None of the others had been immediately cognizant of the body that had brought them here in the first place. Hamelin, who was the only one who had so far approached the corpse, was almost invisible in the shadowed church. He hadn’t initially come forward to greet his brother and the king, leaving such formalities to Llelo.
Now, he took a few steps away from the body, such that his white face and the blonder highlights in his red hair reflected some of the candlelight that was working ineffectively to light the church. “It’s over here.” He bit his lip. “Just as a warning, it’s an ugly sight.”
Llelo hovered between where the king now looked down at Margaret sitting on her bench, and the corpse, which he wanted to see up close. Whether his father saw his hesitation and took pity on him, or had simply decided the way things needed to go, he looked at Llelo’s mother, canting his head in Margaret’s direction as he did so and raising his eyebrows questioningly.
Gwen didn’t quite roll her eyes at Gareth, but her aversion was plain on her face. Llelo felt bad to be foisting Margaret on his mother. But not bad enough to deal with the noble woman again himself.
His mother knew what he was thinking, as of course she would, and her mouth twitched as she passed him. “Don’t feel guilty, son. I didn’t need to see a body today anyway.” She spoke in Welsh too, for his ears alone, and then she smoothly transitioned back to French as she approached Margaret, who was now sobbing in the arms of the king. “Perhaps it would be best if you came with me? I’m sure a cup of wine wouldn’t go amiss.”
Margaret agreed, to the relief of the men in the room, even if they’d maintained their concerned façades up until now. Once Gwen successfully guided Margaret down the nave to the door, there was a general sigh of relief around the room. Everyone became more matter-of-fact, eased by the familiar stoicism of the men around them. It was an attitude Gwen had run up against time and again as she’d taken part in investigations. Many men wanted to treat all women like fragile flowers and became patronizing in their presence. Sadly, Margaret’s hysterics had done nothing to challenge the attitude or expectations of these men.
The women’s departure did give Llelo the opportunity to finally approach the body alongside the king. The church was arranged similarly to every other church Llelo had ever entered, though it was larger than most, as befitted the grandeur of Carlisle Castle in general. Twice as long as it was wide, the nave was divided two-thirds of the way down its length by a dais upon which the altar, the lectern, and the priest’s chair rested.
Parishioners were confined to the western two-thirds of the church, while the eastern portion was the domain of churchmen. This area included choir stalls and another altar on the eastern wall, immediately beneath a glorious stained-glass window, designed to let the light of the morning sun flood the church.
“This is not what I expected.” The king came to a halt within view of the body but not crowding Gareth, who was crouched in front of it.
And it was a good description. It was still a body, but it barely looked human, other than being dressed in military gear: a padded coat such as a common soldier might wear and that once might have been blue, a wide belt at the waist upon which a sheathed knife still rested, and high boots. The face was desiccated and also waxy, with a yellowish sheen to it, while the hair was half gone, like a dog with mange. The man had been dead for a long time. It would be up to his father—and thus Llelo as well—to determine how long.
“My apologies, my lord.” Dai’s eyes were wide, since it appeared he was getting a good look at the body for the first time too. “I-I-I myself didn’t realize—”
Gareth put out a hand. “You came running, as you needed to. Though I suppose, given how long ago this fellow died, walking would have made no difference.”
