The Hermes Parchment (The Chronicles of Brother Hermitage Book 15) by of Warwick Howard

Author:of Warwick, Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Funny Book Company
Published: 2019-06-27T14:00:00+00:00

Caput XV

Devil of a Job

Lord Colesvain leapt into action as only a tenant-in-chief of the king could leap. He barked out orders to various servants and snapped at them when they didn’t leap as quickly as he did. He ordered one man to summon the Shire Reeve; he instructed others to get out into the town and start looking for his son, and had yet more scouring the house and every corner of it to see if Picot was hiding somewhere.

He completely ignored the people in his library, including Elmund, and strode from the room cuffing the nearest servant round the back of the head, probably to make himself feel better.

‘Oh, my,’ Hermitage said, when they had the room to themselves once more.

‘Well, well,’ Cwen added.

Wat and Martin just exchanged looks.

‘That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it,’ Hermitage offered, when no one spoke.

‘Really?’ Wat asked, sounding surprised. ‘Son of the house goes running from the room where a man has been murdered and he has blood all over his hands? Of course, I’m not the King’s Investigator, so don’t have your expertise, but I suppose it could be suspicious now you come to mention it, yes.’

‘All right,’ Hermitage could now recognise when Wat was being critical. ‘It’s very suspicious.’

‘Why would Picot kill Elmund?’ Martin asked, gazing at the body that still lay on the floor. ‘I never had him as the type.’

‘The type to cut peoples’ throats?’ Cwen asked.

‘The type to actually do anything. He talks a lot, and complains a lot, and moans a lot and tells people to do what he wants because he’s the son of Colesvain, but that’s about it. If he could, he wouldn’t even pick up his own knife to eat his meal, let alone put one in someone’s throat.’

‘All talk and no action,’ Wat summarised.

‘Exactly. If he didn’t have his father’s name to bandy about, someone would have done something crude and unnecessary to him in an alley somewhere by now. He’s very annoying.’

‘Well, it’s still suspicious,’ Hermitage concluded, considering the body of Elmund, which was unavoidable. ‘Do you, erm, think we should do something about him?’ He nodded towards the corpse.

‘It’s a bit late to try reviving him,’ Cwen said.

‘Obviously. I mean should we move him, put him somewhere more dignified? I know he was a difficult soul, but he’s just lying there on the floor in his own blood.’

‘We are sure it is his own blood?’ Cwen asked. ‘Picot was covered in blood as well, we’re told.’

‘Edyth didn’t mention Picot having a big hole in his throat,’ Wat said. ‘And he was still moving, of course. I reckon this is Elmund’s.’

Cwen folded her arms. ‘Hermitage is a monk,’ she said.

‘Erm, yes?’

‘So he’s Christian and forgiving and tolerant.’

‘With you so far.’

‘I’m not. One more clever remark from you, master weaver, and there’ll be one more damaged body in the library.’

Wat held his hands out in mock horror.

‘Brother Hermitage is right,’ Martin said. ‘We can’t leave him here, and all the servants are off doing their master’s bidding.

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