Chapter Seven #3
“Well… all right. We don’t know how the sheep’s head got there. Whoever did it would have been covered in sheep’s blood, but there’s no sign of that anywhere.”
“Could they have hidden their clothes?” Sister Rebecca asked.
“Yes. But they would smell after a while and would likely be found. Especially now, when the guards and servants are aware of it. They would need to clean them or bury them if they didn’t want to be discovered.” Bronwyn clapped a hand to her head.
“What?”
“The laundry. The blooming laundry. Excuse me.” She bolted and ran from the chapel, not stopping until she reached the laundry.
There, Bronwyn found the laundress, Mistress Gregoria, a large, tall woman with streaming, brown hair and ruddy cheeks, who nodded hello.
“It’s not more bloody bedding, is it?” She clucked her tongue.
“Before you came with the empress’s bedding last night, some fool dumped a set of clothes in one of the tubs.
Pure stupidity if you ask me. They must’ve been walking around naked, practically.
It stank to high heaven and was just floating there. Covered with blood.”
Bronwyn started. “When did you notice this?”
“This morning. Why?”
Bronwyn clapped a hand to her head. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? “Did anyone come by looking for the clothes?”
“No.”
“Can I see them?”
“No. They disappeared later that day. I never saw who took them.” Gregoria pointed and Bronwyn went to the clothes hanging on lines to dry.
“I can tell you one thing: they were a man’s clothes.
Wool shirt and trousers. If that helps. Whoever’s they were, they must’ve been walking around with just their shoes and small clothes.
Unless they were noble and had another set of spare clothes to wear. ”
Bronwyn left and mentally cursed herself for not coming sooner.
She returned to the kitchen, her mind buzzing with what she’d learned.
A man had butchered the poor sheep and thrown his dirty clothes into the laundry.
He’d known his way around the castle and likely had washed himself too.
If he was noble, he might have had a few spare sets of clothes.
If he wasn’t, he might not have walked around naked for a while, as even some servants had a spare shirt and trousers or dress in the case of women.
As it was, it seemed like the man had tried to wash the clothes himself and then jumped in the tub to remove any trace of the blood.
But he hadn’t done a good job, apparently.
Bronwyn worked in the kitchen that day and night, thinking over the facts.
First, someone was causing little pranks of mischief to disturb the empress at the worst time, whilst she was experiencing a siege.
Second, Agatha had faked her own poisoning to bother the empress, and someone else knew about it and had wanted her to do something to the empress’s bed.
It stood to reason that she was involved somehow.
Maybe she was acting as an accomplice, or maybe she’d put it there herself.
Third, a sheep had been slaughtered by a man, and its head left in the bed. She pondered this. She needed answers.
But before Bronwyn could do much, she was interrupted by Lady Alice, who pulled her into a small stone alcove and said, “What are you about, Bronwyn?”
“What do you mean?”
“Lady Susanna is telling everyone that you fancy Rupert, and that you wish you two were sweethearts, when he is my fellow.”
Bronwyn gave her head a little shake. “I told her we are just friends.”
“That’s what I said, but she’s a little gossip. She’ll tell anything she thinks might be true, or even a half-truth.” Lady Alice’s dark-brown eyes darted to her face. “There is no truth to the matter, is there? You didn’t give her any ideas?”
“No, Lady Alice. He’s a friend.” That’s all he ever could be, even if it pained her to say it. “But I care about him, and I’m worried about them both.”
“Both? Oh, you’re thinking of Theobold.” Lady Alice began to smile.
Bronwyn nodded.
“Good. As well you should. But you shouldn’t worry. Lady Susanna will find another distraction soon enough.” She whispered, “She’s been making eyes at that squire, Tristan.”
Bronwyn wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
“He’s handsome enough, you silly. Just because you have eyes for Theobold doesn’t mean you can’t look at other men. I can appreciate male beauty, even if you refuse to.”
Bronwyn smiled back. She eventually found Tristan on the parapets with the archers, surveying the city. She nodded to the men and stood by, shading her eyes against the sunlight.
Below the castle, the city of Winchester was enveloped in smoke, with small buildings on fire.
These had resulted from the invading army, which meant to loot, plunder, and destroy the area.
The idea behind the siege was simple enough, she supposed.
Ruin everything to prevent the local population from being able to eat or defend themselves.
They would either flock to the castles for protection or flee for their lives.
If the former, it would drain the castle’s resources more.
If the latter, they would be hard-pressed to survive in the woods, especially as autumn was now in swing.
Bronwyn shielded her eyes from the sun and watched as the rows of archers lining the parapets raised their bows and as one, fired in waves.
The air filled with the deadly lines the arrows made, like scratches against the sky.
The silence filled with whistles as arrows screeched down to rain on the invading forces.
Bronwyn stiffened as the arrows shot and impaled men, who cried out and screamed in pain.
Their cries were like an unholy cacophony, and she clamped her hands on her ears, then looked around.
The men around her did not cover their ears, and so neither should she.
She lowered her hands and hugged her arms to her chest, watching.
This was war. There was no use hiding from it.
It was literally on her doorstep, and men were dying before her eyes.
“Bronwyn? What are you doing up here?” Tristan approached her.
“I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“The empress tasked us both with finding out who is behind these little incidents,” she said. “We need to do this.” She cocked her head at him. How much could she trust him? And what if he was Lady Susanna’s mysterious lover?
“I’ve already figured it out,” he said confidently, running a hand along his smooth hair.
“Really?”
“I’m not going to tell you. Not yet. You’ll have to wait along with everyone else,” he said.
Bronwyn peered at him. A bruise had bloomed on his face, near his eye, and his sleeves were pushed up, revealing more bruises on his arms. She asked, “What happened to you?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Why are you covered in bruises?”
His expression darkened and his eyes narrowed. He looked down and lowered his shirt sleeves. “I got into a fight. One of the grooms pushed me too far.”
Bronwyn raised an eyebrow. “Who was it?”
“None of your business. Why do you care? Don’t tell me you fancy me as well?” He buffed his nails on his shirt.
“What?”
“Oh, yeah, you’re after Theobold.” He smirked. “Just as well. I could handle more than one woman, but you’re not my type.”
She cocked her head at him.
“The Lady Susanna is… She keeps following me around and then when I try to tell her off, she giggles and walks away, then I see her following me again. She’s always around and nearby when I’m trying to look after my master, and it’s annoying. Can’t you do something?”
“Like what? I’m just a servant.” She scratched her head. Could he have been lying?
“I don’t know. Give her a bad roll that makes her sick to her stomach and lying in bed for a week. Something. It’s driving me mad. Now I know what a deer feels like when it’s being hunted.”
Bronwyn snorted. Maybe he wasn’t Lady Susanna’s lover, after all. Perhaps he was just tired of the noblewoman. “I’m not going to make a woman sick just so she stops following you. If you don’t like her, tell her so.”
He flinched. “Yeah, yeah, I will.”
She looked at him. What if he actually was Lady Susanna’s lover, but in secret? What if he actually enjoyed the attention and preferred to complain about it? “Unless there’s someone else you fancy?”
“That’s none of your business, baker. Go back to the kitchens.” Tristan eyed her levelly.
“You still won’t tell me who you think is behind all this?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then I’ll suppose you’ll be telling the empress,” Bronwyn said.
“Of course.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing it then.”
“Bet you will.”
They locked gazes, but this was more combative.
Suddenly, she felt more than anything that he had been lying to her this entire time.
About his relationship with Lady Susanna, about knowing the culprit behind the incidents plaguing the empress, and possibly more.
Call it a hunch, a gut feeling. She just knew.
“You don’t actually have a suspect, do you? ”
“Shut your mouth. Of course I do.” Tristan straightened his shoulders and peered out at the invading army in the countryside again.
“So why haven’t you told the empress yet?”
“I’m waiting for the right time. She’s busy.”
“That’s rich, since she’s been asking if I’ve found the culprit every time I see her.”
“Maybe you should spend less time bowing and scraping and stick to the kitchen, where you belong. You’re too dumb to find out real answers and instead you go bumbling about asking questions and sticking your nose where you shouldn’t.
If anyone’s a suspect, it’s you for making the empress think you can actually help.
Stick to making bread rolls, Bronwyn. At least there you’re useful,” he told her.
His words fell on her ears like the rain. Annoying for a moment. She shrugged and left.
That day, Bronwyn was stirring a great big cauldron of soup, when Hugh approached her. “You’re close to the empress, yes?”