Sir Clement Tidewell had always been an amiable fellow, with light, straw-colored hair and a hearty laugh. Ranulf remembered him from when they were boys, going on hunts together with their fathers. As adults they had met a few times at weddings, feasts, and the occasional festival. His long history with Sir Clement could work in their favor.
But Sir Clement was also shrewd. Very little escaped his notice, which definitely did not work in their favor. Ranulf would have to be equally shrewd, for Annabel’s sake, as well as for the sake of the one she was protecting. Because even if that person had attacked the bailiff to save her, he would still have to pay a large fine and possibly be forced to flee from Glynval — and Annabel’s reputation would forever be linked to the bailiff’s accident. There was no knowing if Tom atte Water would recover, and if he didn’t, she would be ostracized by the rest of the village. She didn’t deserve that, or the guilt she would no doubt feel on behalf of her protector.
Ranulf would do his best to protect Annabel, even though she was clearly repulsed by him, repulsed by a simple, innocent embrace. Although, truthfully, he shouldn’t blame her for the way she reacted. He was her lord, not a friend or relative comforting her. And he should have shrugged off her obvious rejection instead of lashing out at her — hadn’t he learned not to treat her that way? But the look of horror on her face had seemed to stab him in the heart and fire up his old demon temper.
Ranulf would keep Annabel safe from any harm as long as he was able. His conscience demanded it, and his heart wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.
Sir Clement arrived sooner than expected, riding up the next day with the man Ranulf had sent to fetch him. Before even taking a bite of food or swig of ale, he asked to see the barn where the fire had taken place.
“Before you look into this fire, there’s something that has happened of even more consequence.” Ranulf had resolved that morning to address the issue of the bailiff promptly. Doing otherwise might draw the coroner’s suspicion. He went on to explain that his bailiff had been found in the woods with a head wound, lying unconscious. Sir Clement immediately asked to be taken to where the body had been found, and Ranulf led his friend into the woods until they reached the spot.
Both squatting, Ranulf and Sir Clement bent over the ground. Ranulf explained the exact position of the head and the feet while Sir Clement examined everything — the ground, the leaves — and asked questions about what had been found on the bailiff’s person. Ranulf couldn’t neglect to tell him about the knife, although he would have liked to. He had hoped the coroner would think the bailiff had simply fallen, but with a knife in his hand, things looked much more sinister.
Sir Clement examined the rock lying about two feet from the bailiff’s head. When he turned the rock over, a couple of beetles scurried away from their overturned hiding place.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Take me to the bailiff.”
“He is still unconscious.”
“I realize that, but I need to … inspect some things.”
“Of course.” Ranulf prayed the bailiff would still be unconscious when they arrived. If the bailiff told the coroner about Annabel and Stephen, it would be impossible to keep Annabel from becoming embroiled in the investigation.
They tramped to the bailiff’s sister’s house and entered the dank-smelling wattle-and-daub structure.
Bailiff Tom looked quite pale. A large bump the size of a goose egg rose at his hairline above his left temple, adorned with a smear of dried blood. But other than that, he looked like he was simply asleep.
Ranulf introduced himself and the coroner to Joan Smith. “Has there been any change?”
“No, my lord. My brother hasn’t made a sound or a movement since the men brought him here the night before last.”
Sir Clement bent over the bailiff. Glancing up, he asked, “Is he wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he was brought in?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Nothing is altered? Everything is exactly the same?”
The woman blushed under her leathery skin. “We did go through his pockets.”
“What was in his pockets?”
“Only a farthing and some twine. But he did have a knife in his hand.”
“This hand?” Clement lifted the bailiff’s right hand.
“Aye, sir.”