Chapter Four
Bronwyn cleared the mess of feathers as best she could, using a sack she’d purloined from the kitchens. She sneezed and blew stray feathers away from her ticklish nose. “Why didn’t you call for the servants who usually clean the empress’s chamber?”
“I did, then thought better of it. We ladies decided amongst ourselves that we don’t want to disturb the empress with these little incidents. She’s already nervous. This would just bother her more, when she’s already got so much to worry her. Can you help me?”
Bronwyn looked at her. So far, Lady Susanna had done nothing to help clean up the mess aside from stand there. “Yes, all right. Help me put the feathers into this sack.”
Together, they picked up every feather, sneezing from time to time. Lady Susanna looked forlornly at the empress’s deflated pillow on the bed. “This is terrifying. If the empress knew about this, she’d be so scared.”
“Who could have done this?”
“I don’t know. That’s what’s so frightening. The guards won’t let just anyone in. They wouldn’t have let you pass if I hadn’t brought you.”
Bronwyn left Lady Susanna a moment and went over to the pair of guards manning the entrance to the empress’s solar. She cleared her throat, and one of the guards looked over his shoulder. She asked, “Did you let anyone in here before Lady Susanna?”
The guard’s expression turned grumpy. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“Please,” Lady Susanna said from behind her. “We need to find out who did this. Someone came in here, without you knowing. The empress won’t like it if you refuse to help. She might even blame you.”
The guard’s jaw hardened, and his eyes narrowed. “We didn’t let anyone in besides yourself a short while ago.” He peered at the feathers scattered around the bed. “What a mess.”
“You didn’t hear anything?” Bronwyn asked.
“No. But… I only took up my post half an hour ago. Didn’t see or hear anyone but yourselves.”
“Who was guarding here before you?”
“Thomas and Edwin. This time of night, they’ll be in the stables.”
“Why the stables?”
He looked around. “They like to play dice in the evening with the grooms.”
A haughty gasp came from inside the room. Bronwyn and the guard looked at Lady Susanna, who put her hands on her hips. “Playing dice is a form of gambling, and that’s sinful.”
Bronwyn coughed to hide her snort. Considering Lady Susanna was rumored to have been having a secret love affair with a man a few months ago, it seemed rather hypocritical of her to be condemning others for being sinful.
The guard rolled his eyes. “You want to speak with them, that’s where you’ll find them. Best you don’t bring her along.”
“I heard that.”
He smiled and turned back to his post.
Bronwyn finished clearing up the feathers with Lady Susanna. She wasn’t sure what to do with it all, but it was obvious they couldn’t remain in the room. She tied the bag tightly to ensure no feathers escaped and peered over at the ruined pillowcase.
The knife fit awkwardly in her hand. It wasn’t made for a woman’s hands, but a fighter’s.
The wooden pommel was heavy and uncomfortable to hold.
The handle, which bore ornate whirls, had been carved well.
She didn’t dare touch the blade; it looked incredibly sharp.
Bronwyn held it up. “Have you ever seen this before?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe.” Lady Susanna peered at it. “What an ugly thing. I don’t recognize it, but it could belong to anyone.”
Bronwyn shook her head. “A blade like this wouldn’t belong to just anyone. You wouldn’t use this at dinner, either.”
Lady Susanna hmmmed again. “You’re right. But how could someone have gotten in here without anyone seeing? Could the spirit have helped them?”
Bronwyn grinned, then tried to hide her amusement at Lady Susanna’s serious expression. “I don’t think a spirit was involved here. But you should go back. The empress will be wanting her shawl.”
“Oh. I can’t believe I forgot. She’ll be furious at me for dallying so.” Lady Susanna crossed the room to the empress’s wide, wooden chest at the foot of her bed and began to rifle through until she found a soft, woolen shawl. “I’ll be going. You shouldn’t stay, either.”
Bronwyn nodded and followed her out, hefting the bag of feathers over her shoulder. She slipped the knife up her sleeve. Whomever it belonged to, she meant to examine it more closely. “Lady Susanna?”
“Yes?”
“Who do you think would have done this?”
“I couldn’t say. If not a spirit, then… someone who didn’t like the empress. Or her pillows.”
Bronwyn laughed.
“I’m serious. A bad pillow is horrid for your neck and back, so they might have been trying to do her a favor.”
Bronwyn cocked her head.
“No, that can’t be right, after all. A knife in her pillow is a horrid sight. Someone wanted to scare her, I think.” Lady Susanna shivered. “May I see it again?”
Bronwyn showed her the knife.
“Hmm. This is different from the swords that the men carry, isn’t it? They always like big swords and daggers and things. I wonder if it’s meant for someone smaller like—”
“What a woman would carry,” Bronwyn finished.
“Yes, exactly. Good luck. I always thought you were smart, so I know you’ll figure this out. I knew you were the right person to ask for help.” She beamed.
They parted ways. Bronwyn brought the sack of feathers down to a storeroom, where she knew they’d go to good use.
The empress might notice one of her pillows missing, but perhaps she’d take that over a knife and a mess.
It was clear to her it was a warning, and yet who would have done it?
If Lady Susanna was right, then the weapon belonged to or had been stolen by a woman.
Keeping the knife close to her side, she walked out to the stables, hunching her shoulders against the night’s chill. Even though it was August, the day’s warmth had given over to an evening breeze. Bronwyn walked hurriedly to the stables, where a light and welcome warmth beckoned.
She opened the stable door and closed it behind her. The gentle nicker and whinny of horses greeted her, watching. The smell of hay, horse, and dung met her nose, and she headed toward the sound of men talking and laughing, teasing each other.
At the sound of her approach, one of the men glanced over. He froze at the sight of the weapon. “Who are you? And what are you doing with that?”
Bronwyn held up a hand. “I’m nobody. Just wanted to talk with Thomas and Edwin.”
Two men glanced up from the dicing. Both were of a similar age, in their twenties, if she had to guess. Instantly, they looked at her hair, bound up in a kerchief, her face, her bosom.
Bronwyn blinked and suddenly realized her decision to come to the stables alone at night might’ve been unwise. One, with a head of short, cropped, dark-brown hair and leering eyes, said, “That’s us. What you want?”
“To ask you about the empress’s room. Spare a minute?”
His mouth curled in a smile. “I’ll give you more than that.” He rose.
“Ease up, Thomas, she’s protected. She’s a pet of the empress,” Sir Miles’s squire, Tristan, said, not looking up from his dice. “Flirt all you like, but you touch a hair on her head and you’re a dead man.”
Thomas glanced at Tristan, who calmly looked at him. His hand rested on his knee as he sat on an overturned bucket, and he didn’t look away. The other men had frozen, and none said a word. But the sight of Tristan’s short sword hanging from his scabbard at his hip didn’t go unnoticed.
There was a quiet moment, then Thomas looked away. He marched over to Bronwyn. “What’s your question?”
“Tonight, did you let anyone into the empress’s room when you were guarding it?”
“No. Just the empress herself.”
“Did anyone try to come in, or ask you to let them in?”
“No. It was dull. And I didn’t hear anything, either.”
“That’s not true,” the other man who’d looked up from before said.
He was tall and tanned, with towheaded blond hair.
“You remember, Thomas, the noises we heard from inside her room. It sounded like someone was moving around in there, but when we looked, there was nothing amiss. Figured it must’ve been mice. ”
Bronwyn nodded. So whoever had knifed the empress’s pillow had done it after the room had been checked. That didn’t leave much time for the person to go in and out of the empress’s room before possibly being discovered.
She held up the knife from her sleeve. “Either of you ever seen this before?”
The pair looked at the blade, eyeing its keen edge, which looked needle sharp, and its ornate, wooden-carved handle. Edwin said, “No. But there’s lots of people who might carry a knife like that. It looks foreign. Some men might carry one if they’d been to the Holy Lands.”
“You hear or see anything that was strange? Anyone come talk to you during your time guarding her room?” Bronwyn asked.
The men shook their heads. “Why all the questions? Did someone—”
“No, nothing like that. I was cleaning her room earlier and found this, that’s all.”
The men nodded. “What’s your name?” Thomas asked.
“Bronwyn. I work in the kitchens.”
“Why’d they have you clean the empress’s room?”
“One of the ladies called me to clean. The other servants had gone to bed.”
“Exactly where you should be. Come, Bronwyn, I’ll walk see you back. I’ve taken enough of these lads’ coins, anyway.” Tristan grinned and rose, dusting off his clothes. That led to a chorus of calls and jeers from the others, and Tristan motioned for Bronwyn to precede him.
Together, they walked out of the stables and into the cold. As they closed the stable door behind them, Bronwyn said, “Thank you. I didn’t think—”
“You never do, do you?” He shook his head and ran a hand through his ruffled, blond hair. “God, Theobold was right. I thought he was joking when he asked me to look after you, but you really do need protection. I didn’t think it’d be from your own stupidity.”
“Oi, that’s rude. And I wasn’t being stupid, I—”
“Was going along with the subtlety of an ox, barging into a dice game without a care. I was building a relationship with the men, and you interrupted it. Ever think I might’ve been trying to get information too?” Tristan asked.
“You were? About what?”
He couldn’t have known about the latest act of vandalism.
“None of your business. Now, what’s all this about cleaning the empress’s room? We all heard you. You need lessons in how to question someone. And whose knife is that?”
Bronwyn handed it to him, and he looked at it in the moonlight. “It’s hard to tell, but the lads are right. It’s different. Looks decorative. It’s practically a quill. Only a lady would carry that.”
“What would she use it for?”
“Something like that? It’s too fine for eating with, but she could do. Why ask? You could have figured that out yourself.”
“I don’t carry knives.”
“Maybe you should. But not that many ladies carry knives.” He escorted her back to the castle. In the main courtyard, he paused at the entrance to the kitchen and said, “You shouldn’t go walking outside alone. It’s not safe.” He turned again to go.
“Wait.”
He looked at her, waiting. His face could have been carved from rock.
“Did Theobold really ask you to watch over me?”
“He wanted me to keep you out of trouble. I was hoping it wouldn’t be a full-time job. I do have my own master to look after. But yeah. He did. So don’t make life difficult for me, yeah?”
She nodded. “Did he say anything else? Give a message for me?”
“No.” He grinned. “You ladies and your messages. Always wanting to get little tokens and gifts and things. Nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Never mind. I’m off. Don’t go wandering around the stables at night again. I can’t always be there to watch your back.”
Bronwyn nodded. So she had a protector now, of a sort. That was new. The knowledge sent a warm feeling through her chest. Theobold cared enough to ask Tristan to look after her. That was sweet. She wondered idly if Rupert had done the same for Lady Alice.
The next day at dinner, Bronwyn was sitting down to an evening meal with the other servants, about to dine on the cheaper cuts of fat and meat prepared for the nobles that were considered too burnt or not good enough to serve.
Those cuts, with a bit of fresh bread and potage, were a welcome sight after a day of working in the castle gardens under the hot sun and then hours of cooking and preparing meals.
They had just said a prayer over the food and were passing a bowl of water around to wash their hands, when a scream rent the air.
Bronwyn stopped, her hands in the bowl of water. She wiped them quickly. “What was that?”
“I think it came from—” one servant started.
Voices rose in an uproar. Shouts and protests came from the main hall, where the nobles and aristocrats were dining.
Shouts and raised voices filled the air, and Bronwyn exchanged worried looks with the other cooks.
People began to rise from the benches, and she was one of the first to leave the kitchen to investigate.
She hurried down the corridor to where pages began running to and from the hall. Bronwyn stopped one. “What happened?”
“Mistress Agatha, she’s sick.”
“Agatha Carre, the empress’s taster?”
“Yeah, uh-huh.” The page ran.
Bronwyn stopped and considered this. If the taster was ill, that meant only one thing. Someone had tried to poison the empress, and whoever it was had managed to slip past her notice. Heads might roll this evening, she thought, as she entered the dining hall.