ample time to kill the washerwoman by coming to the chamber earlier than he claimed and then, when the king came in, told him that the washerwoman had already been dead when he entered the room. With that thought in mind, the lad jotted down a direction for Miles to ask about Aquarius’ relationship with the victim.
“It would seem that the performance of your duties would require you to be in the company of the washerwoman fairly often,” the knight said. “Not only did she prepare the king’s bath, at which you attended, but she would have laundered his clothes, for which you were responsible.”
“That is true,” Aquarius replied. “I oversaw the condition of his garments and if there were any stains that required attention, or creases to be smoothed, she would carry out the repairs under my direction.”
“And did she respond amiably to your supervision?” Miles asked. “She, after all, was a servant of long standing while you were new to your post. Did she resent your authority?”
“I do not think so,” Aquarius replied carefully. “She could be a little prideful at times for the favour in which the king held her, but she was very skilled at her duties and so I listened carefully to any advice she gave me. I think she appreciated my deference, for cross words never passed between us.”
Miles nodded thoughtfully, and glanced at Gianni. Aquarius’ answer had been a reasonable one, but was his apparent humbleness merely a pose? Had he, in truth, resented the high-handedness of the washerwoman, so much so that he felt she was a bar to his advancement and decided to remove her? It was difficult to tell.
The knight went on to his next question. “Do you know if she had a recent quarrel with anyone, one of the other servants perhaps, who may have felt resentment towards her?”
The bath attendant did not give an immediate answer. After seeming to give some thought to the question, he pursed his thin lips tightly together and then said, “No, lord. She seemed to be on good terms with all. I do not know of anyone who might have wished her dead.”
Chapter Eight
It took over two hours to question the rest of the staff. After Aquarius had been dismissed, Inglis brought in the two menservants who had carried up the water for the bath. This pair, ostensibly, was the last to have seen Molly alive, for no one else had reason, or claimed, to have gone to the antechamber between the time they left and Aquarius found the body. As such, they, too, were high on Gianni and Miles’ list of suspects, having ample opportunity for one of them, or both together, to commit the murder before they came back downstairs and rejoined the household.
When the steward ushered them in, he informed Miles that their names were Simon and Alfred before directing them, in an authoritative tone, to go and stand before the knight and answer any questions that were put to them. The older of the pair, Simon, was about thirty years of age, with a sturdy build and a bovine expression. The other, slimmer, but wiry, was not much past twenty years of age, with a shock of tow-coloured hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to hint at a Saxon heritage. Simon, when asked, said that he had been born locally, while Alfred told them he was from London.
When Miles asked them to tell about the duty they had performed just before Molly was killed, they explained that after bringing the tub and its base into the antechamber from a storeroom on the second floor, they had brought up heated water from a large cauldron in the kitchen, carrying it up the stairs in leather buckets.
“We had to make two trips, each of us carrying a pair of buckets both times,” Simon replied. “The king likes his bath deep.”
“And how long was this before the alarm was raised?” Miles asked.
The two men looked at each other, trying to estimate the time. “Must have been about an ’our,” the Londoner finally said.
“And was there anyone in the passageway, or
“It would seem that the performance of your duties would require you to be in the company of the washerwoman fairly often,” the knight said. “Not only did she prepare the king’s bath, at which you attended, but she would have laundered his clothes, for which you were responsible.”
“That is true,” Aquarius replied. “I oversaw the condition of his garments and if there were any stains that required attention, or creases to be smoothed, she would carry out the repairs under my direction.”
“And did she respond amiably to your supervision?” Miles asked. “She, after all, was a servant of long standing while you were new to your post. Did she resent your authority?”
“I do not think so,” Aquarius replied carefully. “She could be a little prideful at times for the favour in which the king held her, but she was very skilled at her duties and so I listened carefully to any advice she gave me. I think she appreciated my deference, for cross words never passed between us.”
Miles nodded thoughtfully, and glanced at Gianni. Aquarius’ answer had been a reasonable one, but was his apparent humbleness merely a pose? Had he, in truth, resented the high-handedness of the washerwoman, so much so that he felt she was a bar to his advancement and decided to remove her? It was difficult to tell.
The knight went on to his next question. “Do you know if she had a recent quarrel with anyone, one of the other servants perhaps, who may have felt resentment towards her?”
The bath attendant did not give an immediate answer. After seeming to give some thought to the question, he pursed his thin lips tightly together and then said, “No, lord. She seemed to be on good terms with all. I do not know of anyone who might have wished her dead.”
Chapter Eight
It took over two hours to question the rest of the staff. After Aquarius had been dismissed, Inglis brought in the two menservants who had carried up the water for the bath. This pair, ostensibly, was the last to have seen Molly alive, for no one else had reason, or claimed, to have gone to the antechamber between the time they left and Aquarius found the body. As such, they, too, were high on Gianni and Miles’ list of suspects, having ample opportunity for one of them, or both together, to commit the murder before they came back downstairs and rejoined the household.
When the steward ushered them in, he informed Miles that their names were Simon and Alfred before directing them, in an authoritative tone, to go and stand before the knight and answer any questions that were put to them. The older of the pair, Simon, was about thirty years of age, with a sturdy build and a bovine expression. The other, slimmer, but wiry, was not much past twenty years of age, with a shock of tow-coloured hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to hint at a Saxon heritage. Simon, when asked, said that he had been born locally, while Alfred told them he was from London.
When Miles asked them to tell about the duty they had performed just before Molly was killed, they explained that after bringing the tub and its base into the antechamber from a storeroom on the second floor, they had brought up heated water from a large cauldron in the kitchen, carrying it up the stairs in leather buckets.
“We had to make two trips, each of us carrying a pair of buckets both times,” Simon replied. “The king likes his bath deep.”
“And how long was this before the alarm was raised?” Miles asked.
The two men looked at each other, trying to estimate the time. “Must have been about an ’our,” the Londoner finally said.
“And was there anyone in the passageway, or