A sleepy-looking le Bret and de Tracy emerged from a turret door. “So you’ve been roused, dogs?” he said.
Le Bret’s big stupid face remained mute in reply, while de Tracy’s gaze sought out de Morville’s slack, soaked body.
“What ails de Morville?” said de Tracy, as he and le Bret hurried over.
“Guess.” Fitzurse flung the corpse onto its back on the ground to shocked murmurs from those watching.
De Morville’s eyes fixed sightless and glazed. With a blue hue, his thin face was splotched with livid pooled blood where Fitzurse had carried him over his shoulder. Cream foam mixed with pink blood leaked from his mouth and nose.
“Dead,” said le Bret, mystified but unquestioning.
“How?” De Tracy’s amber eyes bulged like a squeezed frog’s.
Fitzurse wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. “Palmer.”
“But Palmer was with us…” De Tracy stopped, realizing his mistake.
“Was. Until?” The question hung in the air.
“Not there now.” Le Bret kept his gaze on the body.
“No.” Fitzurse pulled off his leather gauntlets and struck him hard across the face.
Le Bret didn’t even blink.
De Tracy remained transfixed at the dead de Morville. “But my lord Fitzurse, why did Palmer kill him?”
“The answer lies in the dungeon,” said Fitzurse.
De Tracy didn’t look any more comprehending. “The anchoress?”
“No,” said Fitzurse. “The oaf of a guard de Morville found in there.”
De Tracy paled. “You mean — ”
“Yes.” Fitzurse cut across him. “Palmer’s freed the girl and murdered our companion in the process.”
“Why?” said de Tracy. “He hasn’t a bean to his name. He was following you for the money like you had twine tied round his balls.”
“He hadn’t the stomach for real men’s work,” said Fitzurse. “Instead, he plans to ransom her back to the church. Get his sordid little pile by those means.”
“But he has ruined us!” De Tracy struck an angry fist into his other, open palm. “May the devil piss on his soul for all eternity.”
“Quite.” Fitzurse raised his voice to address the guards, who stood in silence, staring at their dead lord. “Put the word out through the town that this heinous crime has taken place. There is a reward of fifty gold crowns for the man that secures the woman prisoner, Theodosia Bertrand.” A murmur of delighted appreciation at such riches met his words. “She’s pale, slim, short dark-blonde hair. Dressed in rags. But she is not to be killed, do you hear me? I want her alive.”
“What about Palmer, my lord?” asked one of the guards.
“Palmer’s tall, dark; his surcoat’s got a garish cross.” Fitzurse slid his gauntlets back on and noted the stains from de Morville’s bloody effusions with deep irritation. Palmer wanted to be worth his weight in gold, did he? That was a wish he, Fitzurse, could still grant. “The reward for him is a gold crown for each piece of him. No limit.”
With a roar of anticipation, the guards set off for the gates.
De Tracy looked at Fitzurse. “Us too?”
“Of course not. You’re the pox-brains that let them run off in the first place. But I’m not unduly worried. Palmer can’t have got far.” He went to walk back inside.
“Uh, my lord?”
Fitzurse turned at le Bret’s voice. “What now, idiot?”
Le Bret pointed at de Morville’s body. “What about Sir Hugh?”
“What about him?” said Fitzurse.
Le Bret exchanged an unsure glance with de Tracy. “We need a priest. Bury him proper.”
Fitzurse gave an impatient wave of his hand and continued on his way indoors. “Feed him to the pigs, for all I care. The saphead deserves no better.”
Le Bret’s shocked grunt stopped him once more. “But, but, he should be in the ground…” He trailed off.
Fitzurse sighed. Too bone-headed to continue a coherent argument. “Then pay someone to make the necessary arrangements. I’m far too busy. I have important business to attend to before we set off.”
“What business would that be, my lord?” De Tracy kept his enquiry properly polite.
Fitzurse rolled his eyes and held up his blood- and mucus-stained gauntlets to his companions. “These, of course. If I don’t get some clean water and salt soon, my favorite gauntlets will be ruined. That would upset me greatly.”
De Tracy kept his expression neutral, but le Bret stared at him like the simpleton he was, scarred mouth slack and open.
“Now, do not delay me any longer.” Fitzurse went inside with all haste, his irritation ready for the first servant he found.