The Shattered Rose Page 0,45

clung to the head as a trophy.

Raoul passed Galeran a wineskin. "I assume that wasn't Raymond of Lowick."

"God, no." Galeran rinsed out his mouth, then drank deeply. ""You'll know Raymond when you see him. He's tall as you, with golden hair and a noble demeanor. The sort women go silly over." He leaned against a tree, still shivering as if it were January.

"Then it would have been convenient to question the wretch."

"What point? It was clearly Lowick's plan."

And Jehanne's? Galeran's quivering mind was asking.

Had she led him into this trap? He could feel frantic sweat trickling cold down his back.

"A witness, at least, if it comes to law."

Galeran looked around at his men, who were beating back the dogs and pretending nothing much had happened. "We have witnesses if we need them. The man was abroad with two crossbows. What other purpose than to kill?"

Raoul looked down for a moment. "Perhaps he was just guarding your lady's back?"

"With two crossbows? He couldn't hold back a troop. At the very least, an ordinary bow would be better because he could fire more arrows. The crossbow is a murder weapon, as all know, and the only effective one against a mailed man." Galeran pushed away from the tree, passing the wineskin to a man. "Bogo, Godfrey, dig a grave and put that in it."

Then he walked back toward the road.

Raoul walked with him. "What are you going to do now?" he asked in a carefully neutral tone.

Galeran flashed him a look. "Don't worry. The blood lust has left me. I'm just curious to see whether anyone comes back to count corpses."

"Then you can have your sword back."

Galeran took it and cleaned it on some leaves before sheathing it.

"So you think it was a trap?" Raoul asked.

"The bait was attractive, and he was waiting."

"I don't think your lady - "

"Don't speak of it."

Galeran couldn't bear to hear his thoughts on another's lips, even to deny them. If it wasn't spoken, it would have less power.

As they halted at the edge of the trees to study the deserted road, birds began to sing again. After a while a rabbit cautiously hopped across the road. One of the dogs whined hopefully, but Galeran stayed it with a hand signal.

"Well?" asked Raoul sometime later. "The sun is starting to set. Are we to stay here all night?"

Galeran sighed, accepting that staying there was pointless. He was just reluctant to progress to the obvious step. "Of course not. We ride on to Burstock and visit my wife's uncle."

Galeran took Bogo's horse, sending the man back to Heywood, but under orders not to speak of this event. Then he led his troop along the road in the fading light. Recent rains had turned the dirt soft enough to hold hoofprints, so it was clear Jehanne's party had not stopped or turned off.

Could it just be an innocent trip to visit relatives? Galeran would like to believe it, but Jehanne's party had been traveling in haste, and had speeded when pursued. Moreover, he had left clear instructions that his wife was to stay in the castle.

And, of course, there was the bowman.

He didn't want to think about that bowman.

Night settled and the moon was clouded, so they slowed to a walk as they crossed the moors. Galeran heard the nearby convent bell sounding lauds as they came in sight of Burstock.

Burstock Castle was a simpler structure than Brome or Heywood, developed twenty years earlier around an old manor house that sat near a river. A motte had been thrown up behind the house, but it was still crowned only by a simple wooden watchtower. The family lived in the comfortable wood manor house within the palisade.

At this time of night, of course, the gates were firmly closed.

"Will they let us in?" Raoul asked when they drew up some distance away.

His friend's patience was beginning to wear on Galeran's nerves. "Probably, but I think we'll camp here for the night"

"Why?"

"I want to see what happens in the morning."

"We've no food and precious little wine."

"Pretend it's Lent. No fires."

The men weren't happy with the situation, but there were no complaints, which wasn't surprising after Galeran's berserker rage. They must wonder when next that kind of violence would erupt, and who would be on the receiving end.

Galeran wondered too.

He took care of his horse, cooling it, then leading it back a short distance to a stream to drink. He unsaddled it and hobbled it so it could graze on the low moorland