of the woodland. After forty or so paces I came near the birds and found what had attracted them. The hog’s eyes were gone, but most of the flesh was not yet devoured.
Arthur looked upon the boar’s head with distaste. Most of the time he is eager to see pork before him, but not in such a fashion as this.
“How long, you think, before them birds do to this pig’s head what they did to the novice?”
I had asked myself the same question. “Three or four days, I think.”
“Then whoso murdered the lad did not leave ’im in the pond, but put ’im over against the wood soon as ’e was dead.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “So it seems, and ’twould make no sense, I think, to do otherwise.”
“But why leave ’im where someone was sure to find ’im?”
“The lad was last seen last Thursday. That was a moonless night.”
Arthur’s expression told me that he did not follow my thought.
“If his murderer dragged him across yon meadow, there would likely have been enough starlight for the killer to see where it was he was going.”
“Ah,” Arthur said, “I see. When ’e got to the wood all was dark, even with the leaves gone from the trees an’ only naked branches to shut out the starlight. The felon could not see where ’e was takin’ the corpse, an’ was likely stumblin’ about in the shadows, so ’e left the novice there, where the wood became so dark ’e could see ’is way no further.
“Too bad them sheep can’t tell what they seen.” Arthur nodded toward the flock.
I was still not convinced that John Whytyng’s killer would have risked exposure by dragging a dead body through an open field even with no moon to give him away. I thought it more likelythat the felon would have kept to the edge of the woodland, near the wall, where his shadow in the starlight would have been black against the trees. I said this to Arthur, and bid him watch for broken branches or twigs while we walked slowly back to the fishpond. Halfway there I saw the fur.
A thick patch of brambles lay on both sides of the overgrown wall, between meadow and woodland. Villagers and birds had long since plucked the berries, and I paid the naked thorns little attention until I saw a tuft of fur caught upon a bramble.
At first even the glimpse of fur did not seize my thoughts. It is not unusual, I think, for a rabbit to lose a bit of fur when seeking refuge from a hawk in a briar patch. But rabbits are mostly grey, and the fur which I plucked from the thorns was a silken brown. Rabbits are small creatures. The bit of brown fur I held was fixed to a thorn higher above the ground than my knee.
Arthur saw me studying my fingers. “Caught on one o’ them thorns, eh?” he chuckled. “Doubt as any man would drag another through there.”
“Not through, perhaps,” I said. “But in the dark he might blunder near before he knew where he was going.”
“What ’ave you found?” he asked.
I held the patch of fur out for Arthur’s examination. He at first thought as I had. “Rabbit got himself caught, I ’spect.”
“I found the fur here,” I said, and touched the knee-high thorn which had captured it.
“So?” Arthur said.
“A large rabbit, to leave a bit of his hide so far from the ground,” I replied.
“Rabbits jump,” he said.
“Aye. But few of them are chestnut brown in color.”
Arthur studied the fur again. “Aye, that’s so. What beast you think got entangled ’ere?”
“Mayhap a beast,” I said. “A hound or fox chasing a rabbit might have left this remnant of his passing, or a deer… or a man wearing a fur coat.”
“What would a knight or franklin be doin’ in a patch of brambles? A man what owns a fur coat would likely send servants to pluck berries.”
I own a fur coat, which Lord Gilbert Talbot gave me as an inducement to enter his service as Bampton’s bailiff. I have often plucked berries and have no servant to command. But ’tis true, I have not sought berries while wearing my fur
Arthur looked upon the boar’s head with distaste. Most of the time he is eager to see pork before him, but not in such a fashion as this.
“How long, you think, before them birds do to this pig’s head what they did to the novice?”
I had asked myself the same question. “Three or four days, I think.”
“Then whoso murdered the lad did not leave ’im in the pond, but put ’im over against the wood soon as ’e was dead.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “So it seems, and ’twould make no sense, I think, to do otherwise.”
“But why leave ’im where someone was sure to find ’im?”
“The lad was last seen last Thursday. That was a moonless night.”
Arthur’s expression told me that he did not follow my thought.
“If his murderer dragged him across yon meadow, there would likely have been enough starlight for the killer to see where it was he was going.”
“Ah,” Arthur said, “I see. When ’e got to the wood all was dark, even with the leaves gone from the trees an’ only naked branches to shut out the starlight. The felon could not see where ’e was takin’ the corpse, an’ was likely stumblin’ about in the shadows, so ’e left the novice there, where the wood became so dark ’e could see ’is way no further.
“Too bad them sheep can’t tell what they seen.” Arthur nodded toward the flock.
I was still not convinced that John Whytyng’s killer would have risked exposure by dragging a dead body through an open field even with no moon to give him away. I thought it more likelythat the felon would have kept to the edge of the woodland, near the wall, where his shadow in the starlight would have been black against the trees. I said this to Arthur, and bid him watch for broken branches or twigs while we walked slowly back to the fishpond. Halfway there I saw the fur.
A thick patch of brambles lay on both sides of the overgrown wall, between meadow and woodland. Villagers and birds had long since plucked the berries, and I paid the naked thorns little attention until I saw a tuft of fur caught upon a bramble.
At first even the glimpse of fur did not seize my thoughts. It is not unusual, I think, for a rabbit to lose a bit of fur when seeking refuge from a hawk in a briar patch. But rabbits are mostly grey, and the fur which I plucked from the thorns was a silken brown. Rabbits are small creatures. The bit of brown fur I held was fixed to a thorn higher above the ground than my knee.
Arthur saw me studying my fingers. “Caught on one o’ them thorns, eh?” he chuckled. “Doubt as any man would drag another through there.”
“Not through, perhaps,” I said. “But in the dark he might blunder near before he knew where he was going.”
“What ’ave you found?” he asked.
I held the patch of fur out for Arthur’s examination. He at first thought as I had. “Rabbit got himself caught, I ’spect.”
“I found the fur here,” I said, and touched the knee-high thorn which had captured it.
“So?” Arthur said.
“A large rabbit, to leave a bit of his hide so far from the ground,” I replied.
“Rabbits jump,” he said.
“Aye. But few of them are chestnut brown in color.”
Arthur studied the fur again. “Aye, that’s so. What beast you think got entangled ’ere?”
“Mayhap a beast,” I said. “A hound or fox chasing a rabbit might have left this remnant of his passing, or a deer… or a man wearing a fur coat.”
“What would a knight or franklin be doin’ in a patch of brambles? A man what owns a fur coat would likely send servants to pluck berries.”
I own a fur coat, which Lord Gilbert Talbot gave me as an inducement to enter his service as Bampton’s bailiff. I have often plucked berries and have no servant to command. But ’tis true, I have not sought berries while wearing my fur
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