Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,33

his head.

"I think not," he said. "my instincts tell me that he is still with us. I think he is in the Castle. I have only to ask the Lord de Warenne who dresses in this man’s distinctive way, and I shall know his identity."

"And warn him of your interest, when de Warenne mentions you have asked about him," said Belaset, scornfully. "He will be gone within moments!"

He cannot leave so precipitately," said Foville. "If he does so, he will arouse de Warenne’s suspicions himself. Besides, if he is a guest, I fancy he will not be alone. Many of those enjoying my Lord’s hospitality have brought their families as well. A man cannot suddenly leave alone, without his wife complaining bitterly. No, I think our stranger will have to play a more subtle game. He may know that we have his identity, and yet be forced to stay where he is. You shall be informed of my progress. As far as I know, your daughter is safely away from Amiens, and should be crossing the Channel by now."

He pulled his hood up over his head and turned to leave. Belaset stood silently behind him, as he opened the door to the street himself. Seeing no-one, he slipped out, closing the door silently behind him. He had taken only a few steps along the narrow street, when a sound behind him made him stop and turn. He thought he saw someone dodge back round the side of a house just behind him. He waited, straining his ears, and heard the sound again. A scrawny dog appeared round the corner, sniffing busily as it came towards him, then, as it noticed the man in its path, it growled and stood still. Foville thrust his staff towards it, striking the thin ribs. There was a sharp yelp, and the dog scuttled away again.

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Belaset’s Daughter

Making his way back down the steep track, over the stream, and up the short slope to the Priory Church, Foville began to relax. At the corner of the transept, he turned again and looked back up the slope towards the houses clustered at the top. There was still no sign that anyone was interested in his movements. He slipped round the wall and into the side door, which he had left not thirty minutes before.

Colin, the kitchen boy, looked cautiously out from the doorway into which he had pressed himself, as he saw the Prior turn and stare up the hill towards him. Twice now, he had narrowly escaped being spotted. He waited until he judged his quarry would be back inside his chambers, then ran swiftly back down the slope, leapt across the stepping stones and up to where the great church loomed up out of the flat water meadows on which it had been built. Using the same door as the Prior, he slipped inside and made his way to the statue of the Virgin. He sat comfortably on its plinth, in the space between the statue and the wall, and began to think deeply.

* * *

High above the Priory, in the Castle, Sir Roger de Tourney stalked into the main hall.

His head was held high and his face faintly flushed. His lips were pressed together in annoyance. He glanced around, looking for his squire. He was sitting with his back to the hall, playing at dice with two others. One of them, spotting Sir Roger’s entrance, nudged him and whispered. The young man sprang to his feet and walked swiftly across to his master. De Tourney, divesting himself of his cloak, tosed it to the squire and waved him away. Bowing, the youth left the hall.

The thick smoke from the central fire swirled in a sudden down-draught, making it even more difficult to see who was there. De Tourney, searching for Jervis FitzHugh, could see nothing for a moment. He waved his arm in front of him, impatiently, trying to clear the air. Walking forward as he did so, he stumbled over the hind leg of one of the dogs lying under a bench. The dog snarled and de Tourney kicked it, angrily.

"A useful animal, a dog, especially for relieving a man’s ill-feeling," said a voice. "After all, it is less likely to strike back than another human."

There was a contempt in the voice which the speaker did nothing to disguise. De Tourney whirled and glared. A handsome, fair-haired young man stared back at him, his gaze unfaltering despite the slightly drooping eyelid. De