be seen across the hall.
The others who yet remained at the tables had stood when Lord Gilbert did so, and I watched the squires to see if one would flinch to see the sheriff holding forth the lampstand wherein he had hidden a murder weapon.
Conversation in the hall faded as first Lord Gilbert,then the others watched us enter and approach the high table. The squires also fell silent, curious expressions upon their faces as they saw Sir Roger approach Lord Gilbert with a common lampstand which must have seemed similar to the one they had last seen in their chamber. Neither youth showed any sign of fear or apprehension. Their expressions were bland; no furrowed brows, darting eyes, or chewed lips. One of these squires, or both, I thought, should be a traveling player.
“What is this?” my employer asked when Sir Roger stood before him.
“Master Hugh has discovered…”
“A lampstand, m’lord,” I interrupted Sir Roger. I did not know what more than that the sheriff might say, but thought the less others in the hall knew of the stand, where it was found, and what was discovered within it, the better.
“I can see that,” Lord Gilbert sighed, “but why have you brought it to the hall in the middle of the day when no light is needed?”
“We will explain in the solar, m’lord,” I said.
“Very well. Come.”
Lord Gilbert left his place and strode toward the stairway which led to the solar and adjacent chambers. As I passed the high table I saw Lady Margery’s eyes fall to my hand and the slender shaft of iron I held. Neither of the squires had shown any dismay at the appearance of the lampstand, but the Lady Margery seemed to stagger back a step when she saw what I carried, before she steadied herself with a hand against the linen covering of the high table. Her eyes lifted to mine, she fixed me with a brief, haughty glare, then turned to speak to Lady Petronilla.
“Whence came this lampstand?” Lord Gilbert asked when we had entered the solar and closed the door behind us.
“’Twas in the squires’ chamber,” the sheriff replied. “And ’tis no common lampstand.”
Sir Roger upended the stand, pointed to the base, and said, “Look there.”
Lord Gilbert did so, looked to Sir Roger, then to me, and said, “What am I to see? Is there something remarkable about the thing?”
“Do you see the hole in the center of the stand?” I said. “We drew this from it.”
I held out the iron bodkin and Lord Gilbert took it from me. “Too fine to be a nail,” he said, “and no head. Why was it in the stand?”
“’Twas hid there,” Sir Roger said. “Show Lord Gilbert the message again that put us on the trail.”
Reading is not a task which comes easily to Lord Gilbert, although he does possess a most excellent book of hours to aid his devotions. He once read well, but many folk of his age must hold a document at arm’s length, or admit the frailty of age and seek spectacles in London. And the note was written in a poor hand. As my employer scowled at the parchment I repeated what words were there.
“Was this used to slay Sir Henry?” he said, peering at the tool with some distaste.
“It may be,” I replied. “If so, ’twas wiped clean when the deed was done. There is no trace of blood upon it.”
“Plenty of blood on the cloth that was stuffed up the chimney,” Sir Roger said.
One of Lord Gilbert’s eyebrows lifted. “A bloody cloth?”
“Aye. Hidden above the fireplace in the squires’ chamber,” I said. “A corner of it fell free, so ’twas visible.”
I withdrew the cloth from my pouch and held it forth for Lord Gilbert’s inspection. He studied it intently, but would not take it from me.
“So one, or both, of these squires is guilty of murder?”
“Likely,” Sir Roger replied.
Lord Gilbert peered at me. “How will you discover which has done this felony?”
“Take ’em both to the dungeon at Oxford Castle, ’til they confess the deed,” the sheriff
The others who yet remained at the tables had stood when Lord Gilbert did so, and I watched the squires to see if one would flinch to see the sheriff holding forth the lampstand wherein he had hidden a murder weapon.
Conversation in the hall faded as first Lord Gilbert,then the others watched us enter and approach the high table. The squires also fell silent, curious expressions upon their faces as they saw Sir Roger approach Lord Gilbert with a common lampstand which must have seemed similar to the one they had last seen in their chamber. Neither youth showed any sign of fear or apprehension. Their expressions were bland; no furrowed brows, darting eyes, or chewed lips. One of these squires, or both, I thought, should be a traveling player.
“What is this?” my employer asked when Sir Roger stood before him.
“Master Hugh has discovered…”
“A lampstand, m’lord,” I interrupted Sir Roger. I did not know what more than that the sheriff might say, but thought the less others in the hall knew of the stand, where it was found, and what was discovered within it, the better.
“I can see that,” Lord Gilbert sighed, “but why have you brought it to the hall in the middle of the day when no light is needed?”
“We will explain in the solar, m’lord,” I said.
“Very well. Come.”
Lord Gilbert left his place and strode toward the stairway which led to the solar and adjacent chambers. As I passed the high table I saw Lady Margery’s eyes fall to my hand and the slender shaft of iron I held. Neither of the squires had shown any dismay at the appearance of the lampstand, but the Lady Margery seemed to stagger back a step when she saw what I carried, before she steadied herself with a hand against the linen covering of the high table. Her eyes lifted to mine, she fixed me with a brief, haughty glare, then turned to speak to Lady Petronilla.
“Whence came this lampstand?” Lord Gilbert asked when we had entered the solar and closed the door behind us.
“’Twas in the squires’ chamber,” the sheriff replied. “And ’tis no common lampstand.”
Sir Roger upended the stand, pointed to the base, and said, “Look there.”
Lord Gilbert did so, looked to Sir Roger, then to me, and said, “What am I to see? Is there something remarkable about the thing?”
“Do you see the hole in the center of the stand?” I said. “We drew this from it.”
I held out the iron bodkin and Lord Gilbert took it from me. “Too fine to be a nail,” he said, “and no head. Why was it in the stand?”
“’Twas hid there,” Sir Roger said. “Show Lord Gilbert the message again that put us on the trail.”
Reading is not a task which comes easily to Lord Gilbert, although he does possess a most excellent book of hours to aid his devotions. He once read well, but many folk of his age must hold a document at arm’s length, or admit the frailty of age and seek spectacles in London. And the note was written in a poor hand. As my employer scowled at the parchment I repeated what words were there.
“Was this used to slay Sir Henry?” he said, peering at the tool with some distaste.
“It may be,” I replied. “If so, ’twas wiped clean when the deed was done. There is no trace of blood upon it.”
“Plenty of blood on the cloth that was stuffed up the chimney,” Sir Roger said.
One of Lord Gilbert’s eyebrows lifted. “A bloody cloth?”
“Aye. Hidden above the fireplace in the squires’ chamber,” I said. “A corner of it fell free, so ’twas visible.”
I withdrew the cloth from my pouch and held it forth for Lord Gilbert’s inspection. He studied it intently, but would not take it from me.
“So one, or both, of these squires is guilty of murder?”
“Likely,” Sir Roger replied.
Lord Gilbert peered at me. “How will you discover which has done this felony?”
“Take ’em both to the dungeon at Oxford Castle, ’til they confess the deed,” the sheriff
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