Page 45 of The Herald's Heart
“There is no physician hereabouts.”
“Thank you for reminding me. Father Timoras, send a rider for the abbess. Have her bring Larkin with her. Say nothing of why Mother Clement is needed but only that she is needed most urgently. Once she arrives, send the rider after Baron Le Hourde. As the earl’s nearest vassal, Le Hourde should witness what we do here. While you go, the smith and I shall put the door back in place. Cleve, you will guard it so that none may disturb this place.”
Talon saw his orders followed, then descended to the great hall where he stared into the fire. Cleve was right. The earl did not look like he died of natural causes. Someone probably murdered him. But who and how? The room had been locked, and the only key found in the pocket of the robe covering the corpse. Who knew the keep well enough that he or she might find a way to do murder, then escape without being seen? Talon did not like the direction his thoughts led.
• • •
’Twas past midday when Father Timoras returned from the abbey with Mother Clement and Larkin.
’Twas late afternoon when the abbess finished examining the body and joined Talon at the table in the great hall with Larkin at his side. Mother Clement took a seat across the table on the bench where Cleve and Timoras perched, while another guard stood watch at the chapel door. Flagons of ale stood next to trenchers of stew that steamed in front of each person, but only Mother Clement had any appetite.
Talon waited as patiently as he could for her to finish eating.
She wiped her mouth and pushed the trencher aside. “I suppose you’d like to know what I believe happened to the former Earl of Hawksedge.”
“Aye, Mother Clement, I would.”
“I have never seen anything like this, but I have read of such things, so I have a guess as to what caused his death.”
“Then I would hear your guess. For I must be certain that the earl’s death was natural.”
She looked Talon straight in his eyes. “His death was most strange and definitely not natural.”
Several gasps sounded around the table.
“Then you are certain he was murdered?”
“That I cannot say, Sir Talon, for it appears that the earl died from an itchweed rash. I do not know how a murderer would cause that to happen.”
“Surely a rash is not so strange or deadly?” Larkin protested. “The villagers get rashes all the time from insects, dirt, and the itchweed that grows by every path and lane.”
“Itchweed does not grow inside stone walls, nor do people normally die of it, although the rash it causes can be most irritating,” Father Timoras said.
“Stranger still, the rash seems to have crept inside the earl’s body. His mouth and nostrils were swollen with the stuff,” Mother Clement interjected.
“Impossible,” Timoras said. “The earl was most careful of his health. Other than his face, he refused to allow any exposure of his skin when out of doors. He told me that he feared contact with the itchweed that abounds in this area.”
“Aye, he did hate the three-leafed plant,” Cleve agreed. “I heard tales that when young, he took so ill with the rash that the priest was called to give last rites. His recovery was so miraculous, he gives yearly to the abbey.”
“Really? Do you know of anyone who might have seen the earl when this happened?” Talon asked.
Cleve shook his head. “All in Hawking Sedge who might be old enough to know have died.”
“Pity.” Mother Clement’s gaze turned distant. “Comparison of the symptoms may have proven useful.”
Talon watched as the holy woman sipped her ale. “Then I must thank you, Mother Clement. I will have a groom escort you to the abbey.”
“I am sorry I could not be of more help.” She rose and began gathering her things.
Talon rose with her. The others followed his lead.
As they walked toward the door, Alice came running into the hall. “Thank the good Lord you are still here, Lady Abbess. I have the most dreadful rash. I beg ye look at it and give me something to ease the itching.”
“Of course. Sit down, please.”
They returned to the table, where candles still cast light on the surface. The cook sat and laid both her arms flat out, palms upward.
Talon choked on the bile that rose to his throat.
