Belvoir's Promise: A Savernake Novel (The Savernake Forest Medieval Murder Mysteries Book 1) by Susanna M Newstead

Author:Susanna M Newstead [Newstead, Susanna M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MadeGlobal Publishing
Published: 2024-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Later the same morning—oh, how stiff I was—I rolled off my daybed onto my knees, swore, for they were very bruised, stood, dressed as best I could, swore again at the state of my ribs, wrapped my cloak around me and unlocked my door.

It was late, and many of the men had broken their fast and were gone to their jobs. Two men were in the hall: dear reliable Hal of Potterne and Hubert, the blacksmith and farrier who had a workshop in our courtyard.

I nodded to them both, and they stood, as is right, when I entered.

“No ceremony, lads,” I said and waved them down.

I bellowed through the kitchen door for food and drink, exited into the fine morning, for the rain had ceased overnight, and made for the privy tucked into the corner of the northern wall.

By the time I returned, I had food, drink, and warm water for washing, waiting on the hall table. Throughout the washing and subsequent meal, I was thinking about my early morning fall. I rolled down my chausses to my ankle. There was the mark across my lower leg, a scratch which was more a burn—not my imagination then, and not a nightmare.

I ascended the solar steps with a piece of bread and honey in my left hand. All along the stone were the marks of the scattered charcoal, black smudges. One or two tiny bits were left, too small for anyone to pick up in the poor light of last night. I reached the top and opened the solar door. Light flooded over the top step and down onto the first three or four treads. Someone had been up there and opened the shutters. I turned and looked down the flight.

Pushing the rest of the bread into my mouth and chewing, I slowly descended the four-foot wide stair until I reached where I thought I had encountered the obstacle. I turned carefully and continued my descent backwards.

On the fourth step from the top, when I was standing on the fifth, I noticed a tiny knot of hairy string, no bigger than my thumbnail, wrapped around the upright post on the hall side of the stairs. I undid it and picked it up. It was the sort of hempen string we would use to bind up our stooks or secure a small item somewhere on the manor or farm. It had a freshly cut end. Everyone at Durley had some of this. We used to keep it and reuse it. It was too good to throw away, even small pieces. This had not been there when I ascended the stairs last night, for I would have tripped.

On the other side, the wall side, was a hole gouged into the wood which made up the stair rails. The railings were about six inches apart on the hall side and sturdy, made of good oak. Those on the wall side were a softer wood. On the tread, in the very corner, was a small nail.

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