An Uncertain Choice

“I regret to inform you, my child,” the abbot said gently, “that the sheriff was found murdered in his bed this morning.”


“Murdered?” I rose rapidly from my chair, unable to believe that such a thing could happen. Who would have done it? Not with the fortifications the sheriff put into place around his estate. Not with his vicious dogs. Of course, I had reason to dismiss and discipline him. But murder? I shook my head.

The abbot glanced at Derrick with a sharpness that sent a sudden tremor through my heart.

No! The silent protest screamed through my mind. Not Derrick!

But when the abbot turned to face me again, I trembled so that my knees almost gave way. “The sheriff’s servants found their master in his bed this morning . . . with his heart cut from his chest. They informed my messenger, here, of what happened.”

I shook my head, too dismayed to respond.

“The heart was found nailed to the post in the middle of the town square.”

I collapsed into my chair.

“I’m sorry, your ladyship,” the abbot said.

“That doesn’t mean —?” I couldn’t bring myself to accuse Derrick.

“Several servants saw Sir Derrick inside the sheriff’s estate last night.”

All eyes turned on Derrick, who stood frozen next to the duke, his face a stony mask. I silently begged him to explain himself, to tell us that he hadn’t broken in to the sheriff’s house again, that he hadn’t sought revenge against the sheriff for the altercation in the market square yesterday.

But he remained silent.

To my relief, the duke spoke. “There must be some mistake. Sir Derrick never made any mention of going out last night —?”

“I did go there last night, your Grace,” Derrick said. “But I only went to investigate. I have my suspicions that the recent outbreaks of illness in Lady Rosemarie’s lands are related to the sheriff somehow, and I only wished to find evidence of such.”

“And so while you were there, you got into another fight?” the abbot asked.

“I didn’t seek out the sheriff,” Derrick said, shaking his head. “I had no wish to fight him.”

The abbot’s eyes narrowed. “Only to murder him —?”

“Please refrain from accusing my knight until you have solid evidence.” The duke’s voice was low and edged with anger.

“I think we have plenty of evidence,” the abbot said in an equally hard tone. “Everyone in town heard Sir Derrick tell the sheriff yesterday that he would cut his heart out. Even I have learned of it. And if that’s not enough, we have Sir Derrick’s own admission he broke into the sheriff’s estate last night. What more do we need?”

“We need more than assumptions,” the duke said.

“You know as well as I do that Sir Derrick is already close to censure for all of the accidents regarding his friends Sir Bennet and Sir Collin,” the abbot replied.

I sat forward to the edge of my seat in surprise. I’d known the sheriff had questioned Derrick, but I hadn’t known the lawman was seriously considering Derrick as a suspect.

“He’s in no way to blame for the murder attempts,” the duke countered calmly, although his eyes and nose flared with barely concealed anger. “He’s one of my most trusted men. I would put my life into his hands. And I know they would do so for each other. They aren’t capable of perpetrating what you say.”

I glanced to where Sir Bennet and Sir Collin stood. Their faces were as hard as their leader’s, eyes flashing with resentment directed at the abbot. They obviously didn’t accuse Sir Derrick either.

“But the circumstances are quite unusual, are they not?” The abbot’s brow lifted and crinkled against the ring of hair that surrounded his bald head. “Since when have your men had to compete against one another for the most desirable woman in the land?”

“We may be competing with each other” — ?Sir Collin pushed away from the wall — ?“but we would never seek to harm one another.”

“I’ve seen the discord between you,” the abbot said. “We all have.”

I thought back to the dance, when the men had almost come to blows with one another.

“No matter the tensions we’ve experienced this month,” Sir Collin spoke again, “we aren’t murderers.”

“Perhaps that’s true of you and Sir Bennet, who both have land and wealth to speak of,” the abbot said. “But since Sir Derrick has none, he has much more to gain in the union.”

Derrick stood immobile, his back stiff, his chin held high. Why would he not rise to his own defense? Surely he could say something to deflect the abbot’s condemnation . . .

Unless he was guilty.

As soon as the thought came, I thrust it aside. I cared about him too much to think him guilty even if all the evidence said otherwise.