The False Virgin by The Medieval Murderers Page A

maliciously adding that his writing was notoriously poor. Avenel
exchanged a bemused glance with Fitzmartin.
    ‘We never asked Philip to write anything,’ said Fitzmartin. ‘Why would we? I can write myself – an unusual skill for a knight, I admit, but one that is useful even
so.’
    ‘Did he meet you in the Eagle?’ pressed Gwenllian.
    ‘Yes.’ Avenel shrugged. ‘He has taken to following us around. It is a nuisance, but he wants what is best for Carmarthen. Indeed, he is rather fanatical about his hopes for the
place.’
    Gwenllian declined to ask what he meant, reluctant to acknowledge that she did not know her cousin as well as she had thought. ‘Did you see or hear anything that might allow us to catch
the killer?’
    ‘No,’ replied Avenel. ‘We did not stay out long, and were back in the castle hours before the storm struck. You may confirm this with your guards. They saw us.’
    They walked away, leaving Gwenllian thinking they might well have dispatched the deputy on their way home. They certainly could not prove otherwise. She glanced up as Odo approached, Hilde at
his side.
    ‘I heard what the sheriff told you, and it is the truth,’ Odo said. ‘We were studying the stars last night, and we saw him and his friend. They did not stay long in the Eagle,
perhaps because the heat had spoiled the ale.’
    ‘Then did
you
spot anything that might help us find Miles’s killer?’ asked Gwenllian.
    Odo shook his head apologetically. ‘My attention was on the heavens, I am afraid. I saw the storm come in, though, like a herd of horses. It was a magnificent sight, and we are indeed
blessed by Beornwyn. I spent the rest of the night praying to her.’
    ‘We both did,’ asserted Hilde. ‘We feel privileged to have witnessed her celestial power, and to prove our devotion to her, we shall pay for the altar in her new
chapel.’
    She smiled dreamily, then hurried to rejoin the builders. Odo was not long in following. Gwenllian watched, aware that there was more hammering and sawing around the shrine than there was at the
new tower in the castle.
    ‘I know they are your friends, but I think it is odd that they spend hours staring at the sky,’ said Cole, also observing them thoughtfully.
    ‘They are good people,’ said Gwenllian firmly. ‘They would never commit murder. They are too devout, and would fear for their immortal souls.’
    ‘Not if they believe they were carrying out Beornwyn’s wishes,’ persisted Cole, then turned away to watch Rupe and his henchmen sanding the door. Gwenllian’s inclination
was to ignore the remark, but then it occurred to her that Odo and Hilde did seem particularly taken by the saint and her so-called miracle, and they had been out all night with no alibi but each
other. Then she shook herself. How could she question such dear friends?
    Hot and dispirited, Gwenllian stepped into the shade of the trees to think. Her attention was immediately taken by Kediour, who had approached the two monks and was addressing
them in a ringing voice.
    ‘Show us this hand you claim to have. You declined to do it last night, but now we have been “blessed” by this miracle, we must have earned the right to see the
thing.’
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Rupe eagerly. ‘And then we shall dip it in the spring to make doubly sure of its holiness.’
    He dropped to his knees and put his hands together in an attitude of prayerful expectation. The folk labouring on the shrine did likewise, and silence descended on the clearing, broken only by a
faint breeze rustling through the trees. Reinfrid gave a strained smile as he picked up the little reliquary and handed it to Kediour.
    ‘We are not worthy to attempt such a thing, so perhaps you will oblige, Father.’
    He stepped away, head bowed, leaving Kediour grimacing his annoyance. The prior tried to open the box, but something was wrong with the lock. After several moments of futile fiddling, he thrust
it at Cole.
    ‘It is broken,’