'How long will you be away, m'lord?' Raffe asked the question with uncustomary deference for he knew the whole manor would ask him just as soon as Osborn had gone. They would all be praying it would be weeks or even months, though miracles like that were seldom granted.
'I'll be away just as long as it takes me to find my brother's killer, so stay alert, Master Raffaele, because I shall be riding back here when you least expect it.'
He grasped Raffe's shoulder, his cold grey eyes boring deep into Raffe's own. 'If I discover even the flimsiest shred of proof that someone close to this manor had a hand in Hugh's death, that man will find himself begging and screaming for death long, long before it is granted to him.'
Raffe met his gaze calmly. 'Your brother had a talent for making enemies. You'll not lack for suspects in Norwich. Any man who ever had the misfortune to exchange a word with Hugh will have had good reason to have killed him.'
Raffe heard the horrified gasp from Osborn's manservant, but he did not brace himself for a blow. Hugh would have lashed out instantly and viciously, but Osborn's revenge was always planned and something he liked to savour.
His eyes as he stared into Raffe's own were as hard as granite pebbles.
'My brother was watching you, that much he confided in me. There was something about you he didn't trust, something he was on the point of proving, and when I find out what it was, I give you my oath, Master Raffaele, you will wish your head was even now rotting on a Saracen's spike, rather than that you had lived to fall foul of me.'
'Perhaps,' Raffe said levelly, 'you should have been watching your brother.'
'What do you mean by that?' Osborn demanded.
Raffe hesitated. 'I simply meant, m'lord, that had your brother been better guarded, he might not have been murdered.'
Raffe was certain in his own mind that Hugh was a traitor. But it would be impossible to prove without revealing what Elena had overheard, and even if he tried, Osborn would never listen to him, not in the mood he was in now. His brother's treachery was something Osborn would have to discover for himself.
The two men continued to stare at each other, neither willing to break his gaze first, but the manservant was unable to bear the tension. He hurried forward to assure his lord the travelling chests were now prepared. And Osborn at once snapped into action, bellowing for his retinue to prepare to leave at once, whether or not they were ready.
Raffe stood at the gate, watching the horses thunder out of sight around the bend, their hocks already splattered with mud.
Walter, the old gatekeeper, watched the last hoof disappear, then spat copiously on the track.
'They ride like that in this mud and one of them beasts is going to break its leg and its rider's neck.'
'Let's hope it's Lord Osborn's neck,' a boy's voice muttered behind Raffe, but he did not turn round to admonish the lad. He was certain every servant in the manor was making the same wish, as he certainly was.
He clapped Walter on the back. 'What say you to some mulled ale? I think we can all breathe easy now, at least for a week, but you'd best tether one of the hounds near Hugh's coffin, just to stop anyone going near it. It's not that I think anyone might come in here to steal the lead, but I'm not so certain they wouldn't take the body. A corpse with a heart as poisonous as that would be a fair prize to those who dabble in the black arts.'
'Aye, if I knew the man who'd killed the bastard, I'd embrace him and name him my own son, that I would. But God have mercy on the man who did drive that dagger in, whoever he was, for if Osborn finds the poor devil, it's certain he'll show him none.'
Walter shivered and, with a last look down the track just to reassure himself Osborn was really gone, stomped off towards the kitchens in search of his ale.
Raffe was about to follow him when he heard a long, low whistle. He spun round and saw the unmistakable outline of Talbot's bowed legs next to a clump of birch on the far side of the track.
He hurried across and, without pausing in his stride, drew Talbot behind the trees and