Read Online Secret Murder: Who Shall Judge? by Ellen Kuhfeld - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ellen Kuhfeld
Ads: Link
abbey road, shortly after sundown. You seem to have been very close to the scene of the crime, at the proper time of day.”
“I visited the abbey, that is true, and stayed for Vespers. Darkness came on somewhat more rapidly than I had expected, which slowed my return to the fair.”
“You were armed quite well when you rode out—sword, and a bow. Thorolf was killed by an arrow. Would those be your arrows, inside the door to your booth?” Gervase motioned, and one of his men went to get the quiver. One of Ragnar’s men accompanied the bailiff’s man.
Gervase took one of Ragnar’s arrows, and the arrow which had killed Thorolf. He placed them side by side, and spent a long time comparing them.
“These arrows are very similar,” the bailiff said at last. “Similar fletching, similar nocks, similar arrowheads. Why, both your arrowhead and the head of the arrow that killed Thorolf bear your mark. I should very much like to know how an arrowhead bearing your mark came to be found in Thorolf’s body, hm?”
Ragnar smiled. At least this is an easy question, he thought, then whistled. “Gunnar! My small chest—you know the one I mean.” Gunnar went into the booth and returned shortly, carrying a small but heavy iron-bound chest.
Ragnar opened it, revealing hundreds of arrowheads like the two the bailiff had been comparing. “I deal in ironwares, and have sold thousands of arrowheads here over the years. These were made in my own shops, and I’m proud enough of them to have signed them. Anybody could use one—why, the Master of the baronial archers was here just this morning and bought two hundred.
“Examine the arrows more closely. Mine has a pine shaft. The arrow that killed Thorolf has a shaft of maple. There are few maples in Surtsheim district, but many pines, so most Northmen use pine. Furthermore, the places where Thorolf’s arrow-shaft was scraped are not the places I put my identifying marks. Your evidence suggests that Thorolf was killed by a resident of Northlanding, or a visitor from the south. As for my going armed, Benedict told me there were rumors of bandits.”
“The cloak spread behind your booth has a bloodstain on it.”
Sweat trickled down Ragnar’s back. “I carelessly went hunting in it. That’s the blood of an animal. In any case, what does this have to do with Thorolf? Benedict tells me the body was undisturbed. How, then, could bloodstains matter?”
“Certain of your men have been observed behaving in a furtive manner.”
“Many merchants have this trait.”
“This man is your cook.”
“Gunnar isn’t furtive. Could your trooper—the one with the scalded cheek—be trying to convince you that Gunnar crept up on him? Gunnar says the trooper was simply too busy eavesdropping to notice.”
Gervase looked at the trooper in question, and raised one brow. “Hm.”
Ragnar was silent a long moment then, fingers stroking his beard, twisting the sweat from its braided tips. At last he spoke. “Bailiff, Gunnar is a strange man. He was wounded in the head, from behind, in the battle six years ago when Snorri Crow was killed. Since then, he rarely sleeps. Most of the time he is normal—but occasionally he dreams, even while awake and moving about. Some of those dreams have proven prophetic.
“But if he were to kill somebody, it would be Otkel rather than Thorolf. Otkel is the one that struck him from behind. I was there when it happened. I tell you truth: you can safely forget Gunnar in searching for Thorolf’s slayer.”
Gervase was silent. Ragnar took this to signify thought. “Bailiff, plain speech deserves plain reply.
“I and most of my men had given our allegiance to Snorri rather than Thorolf in the matter that led to Snorri’s death and Thorolf’s outlawry. I myself killed two of Thorolf’s men in the battle that followed, and Thorolf killed my foster-brother. Further, yesterday Thorolf was pressuring us to trade with him. This would have cost us all a great
“I visited the abbey, that is true, and stayed for Vespers. Darkness came on somewhat more rapidly than I had expected, which slowed my return to the fair.”
“You were armed quite well when you rode out—sword, and a bow. Thorolf was killed by an arrow. Would those be your arrows, inside the door to your booth?” Gervase motioned, and one of his men went to get the quiver. One of Ragnar’s men accompanied the bailiff’s man.
Gervase took one of Ragnar’s arrows, and the arrow which had killed Thorolf. He placed them side by side, and spent a long time comparing them.
“These arrows are very similar,” the bailiff said at last. “Similar fletching, similar nocks, similar arrowheads. Why, both your arrowhead and the head of the arrow that killed Thorolf bear your mark. I should very much like to know how an arrowhead bearing your mark came to be found in Thorolf’s body, hm?”
Ragnar smiled. At least this is an easy question, he thought, then whistled. “Gunnar! My small chest—you know the one I mean.” Gunnar went into the booth and returned shortly, carrying a small but heavy iron-bound chest.
Ragnar opened it, revealing hundreds of arrowheads like the two the bailiff had been comparing. “I deal in ironwares, and have sold thousands of arrowheads here over the years. These were made in my own shops, and I’m proud enough of them to have signed them. Anybody could use one—why, the Master of the baronial archers was here just this morning and bought two hundred.
“Examine the arrows more closely. Mine has a pine shaft. The arrow that killed Thorolf has a shaft of maple. There are few maples in Surtsheim district, but many pines, so most Northmen use pine. Furthermore, the places where Thorolf’s arrow-shaft was scraped are not the places I put my identifying marks. Your evidence suggests that Thorolf was killed by a resident of Northlanding, or a visitor from the south. As for my going armed, Benedict told me there were rumors of bandits.”
“The cloak spread behind your booth has a bloodstain on it.”
Sweat trickled down Ragnar’s back. “I carelessly went hunting in it. That’s the blood of an animal. In any case, what does this have to do with Thorolf? Benedict tells me the body was undisturbed. How, then, could bloodstains matter?”
“Certain of your men have been observed behaving in a furtive manner.”
“Many merchants have this trait.”
“This man is your cook.”
“Gunnar isn’t furtive. Could your trooper—the one with the scalded cheek—be trying to convince you that Gunnar crept up on him? Gunnar says the trooper was simply too busy eavesdropping to notice.”
Gervase looked at the trooper in question, and raised one brow. “Hm.”
Ragnar was silent a long moment then, fingers stroking his beard, twisting the sweat from its braided tips. At last he spoke. “Bailiff, Gunnar is a strange man. He was wounded in the head, from behind, in the battle six years ago when Snorri Crow was killed. Since then, he rarely sleeps. Most of the time he is normal—but occasionally he dreams, even while awake and moving about. Some of those dreams have proven prophetic.
“But if he were to kill somebody, it would be Otkel rather than Thorolf. Otkel is the one that struck him from behind. I was there when it happened. I tell you truth: you can safely forget Gunnar in searching for Thorolf’s slayer.”
Gervase was silent. Ragnar took this to signify thought. “Bailiff, plain speech deserves plain reply.
“I and most of my men had given our allegiance to Snorri rather than Thorolf in the matter that led to Snorri’s death and Thorolf’s outlawry. I myself killed two of Thorolf’s men in the battle that followed, and Thorolf killed my foster-brother. Further, yesterday Thorolf was pressuring us to trade with him. This would have cost us all a great
Similar Books
