“Quite.” Fitzurse eyed the corpse with deep irritation. If the old fool’s heart hadn’t given out, he would have been a far better source of information about the girl and Palmer.
“You want him moved?” asked le Bret.
Fitzurse looked at the huge knight, shoulders hunched to ensure he didn’t bump his head on the shop’s low beams. “No. We haven’t time.”
Rapid footsteps came from the stairwell, and the old man’s wife appeared, her sharp face set rigid with shock but not dampened with tears. Averting her gaze, she stepped around her husband’s body and addressed Fitzurse. “I have been through Gilbert’s things. What’s missing is a pair of dark red hose and a blue doublet, a brown woolen cloak and a dark hat. You already know what the young woman wears.” She swallowed hard and drew herself to her fullest height. “Now, I realize I haven’t delivered them to you, but I have given you vital information. If it pleases your lordship, what’s my reward to be?”
“Reward? Who in creation do you think you are?” De Tracy’s bellow in such confined quarters buffeted Fitzurse’s ears.
To her credit, the woman didn’t flinch but kept her gaze on him. “My reward?”
He saw a repeat of the look she had given him in the market, the look that suggested she was a kindred spirit, that they shared common goals in life.
How wrong she was. “Your reward is that you are free to flee with your life when the guards burn this place to the ground.”
“You can’t.” A whisper of defiance, but still no tears. “It’s all I have now.”
Fitzurse clicked his fingers to le Bret. “Tell the guards to act immediately. De Tracy, come. We have work to do.”
The woman fled over to the shuttered window and pulled out a bag of coins from a shelf beneath. Her hands shook with haste as she went to attach it to her belt.
“Mistress?”
She looked up.
“I’ll thank you for that,” he said. “I can make good use of it.”
She passed it to him, a low moan of despair escaping her lips as he took it from her.
He threw the bag to de Tracy, who caught it in a deft movement. “Share it out amongst the guards. My thanks for ensuring the traitorous furrier’s entire property will be naught but ashes.” He gave the woman a final glance as he left. Ah, now the tears came. Good.
CHAPTER 12
The sun lowered in the sky in a red fireball over one side of the town square’s tall roofs. Dark clouds gathered around it and fueled a biting wind.
Theodosia shivered in the strong breeze and pulled Gwen’s yellow shawl tighter around her, scanning the crowds for any sign of the knights. A short way off to her left, Benedict stood at the entrance to a dark, narrow alleyway in intense discussion with an odd-looking man. The knight had ordered her to stay here, with a curtness that allowed no argument.
The man was older than Benedict, and well dressed. But he had a difference about him that seemed familiar. His pale skin, his heavy features. A reddish beard. Something passed between them, then the man turned and disappeared back down the alley.
Benedict gestured for her to join him as he set off at a pace for the other side of the square.
“What have you been doing?” she asked.
A scream pierced the noise surrounding them.
She clutched at Benedict’s arm.
“Fire! Fire!”
The scream was taken up with shouts, roars, a surge of people moving toward the shouts as still others ran from it.
“I’ll wager it’s Gilbert’s, it’s over that way.” Benedict pulled her along. “But thank the Almighty for the distraction.”
She clung to him in the confused mass of yelling, shouting people as the smell of smoke floated on the breeze.
“Fitzurse?” she whispered.
Benedict nodded, shielding her in his steady hold.
“Make way!”
The crowd pressed back as a small cart rumbled past, pulled by two men and loaded with water-filled barrels. People fell in behind it as it raced along, headed for the source of the spectacle.
Benedict led the way to where a fenced-off area held a group of horses, the animals shifting nervously, eyes rolling at the commotion and smell of burning.
“Benedict. You have not answered me about that stranger you spoke to.”
He paid no heed. “Fellow,” Benedict called to one of the men who watched them.
The man came over.
“I’ve my eye on that gelding,” said Benedict.
The man nodded and went to fetch the horse.
She tugged at his sleeve. “We have no money for a horse. Please do not tell me you are going to steal one.”
He shook his head and reached beneath his cloak. “We’ve got money.” He pulled out a small leather bag and selected a few coins. “I’ll sort the animal,” he said quickly. “You go and buy food for our journey.”