The Merchant's Murder by Joyce Lionarons

Author:Joyce Lionarons [Lionarons, Joyce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective - Middle Ages
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Published: 2022-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

14

Graeme Ore was sit­ting on the top step of the nar­row stair­case when Rownt re­turned to his rooms. Though the rain had stopped, Rownt was thor­oughly chilled, his cloak heavy with soaked-in rain­wa­ter and the cloth­ing be­neath it wet. He did not rel­ish the prospect of fight­ing in the prac­tice yard of the Tower and was re­lieved to see that Ore ap­par­ently felt the same.

“Did you catch the girl?” Ore asked as he stood and made room for Rownt to open the heavy iron pad­lock that se­cured his door.

“I did not try,” Rownt replied, push­ing the door open and step­ping to the bra­zier. “She but looked to see if I was there, then ran away.”

“She saw you?” Ore laughed. “My God, Rownt – ”

“Don’t,” said Rownt. “Not now.”

“You should have fol­lowed her,” said Ore, all jest­ing put aside at the ir­ri­ta­tion in Rownt’s voice. “She might have led you to who­ever is sell­ing the goods she steals.”

Rownt blew on the coals in the bra­zier, try­ing to coax a flame. “And leave the house open to be robbed by an ac­com­plice? There were two girls the first night; last night I saw only one.”

Ore reached for Rownt’s flint and steel. “Let me do that,” he said. “Your hands are shak­ing.”

“I’m all but frozen,” said Rownt, step­ping back a pace. “Let me find some­thing dry to wear.”

When he re­turned to the front cham­ber in a dry tu­nic and leg­gings, the bra­zier burned brightly with at least some of its smoke es­cap­ing through the half-open win­dow. Rownt held his hands near the flames, sigh­ing as the warmth pen­e­trated his fin­gers. “I need to sit by a real fire,” he said. “And I need some­thing hot to eat. Rafe opens the Lion early – we can go in a minute or two.”

Ore perched on the bench, his cloak still wrapped around his shoul­ders against the cold. “Nate and I ques­tioned all three of the sus­pects in Toth’s mur­der again,” he said. “But we still don’t know which one it was.”

Rownt turned from the bra­zier, one hand held up. “Not be­fore I’m warm and have eaten,” he said. “My mind is as frozen as my feet.”

Ore grinned. “You’ve never been af­fected so much by the cold be­fore,” he said. “Are you get­ting old or just soft?”

“You spend a night in the rain with me out­side that house,” said Rownt. “In fact, that might be a good idea. Had there been two of us yestern­ight, one could have fol­lowed the girl while the other watched for more.”

Ore shrugged and stood. “Nate and I have made no progress on Toth’s mur­der, so I may as well. Per­haps if I can bring in a thief or two, de Frowik won’t be as an­gry that we haven’t dis­cov­ered the killer.”

“Stop wor­ry­ing about de Frowik. You work to stop the killings and thefts, not to please the Sher­iff. I thought you had re­al­ized that yester­morn­ing – or have you for­got­ten al­ready?”

Ore gri­maced and vis­i­bly bit back a re­tort as Rownt

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