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B ronwyn fell back against the slippery ground, dropping the dresses. Her hands slid against the mud and pebbly shore, the rough stones digging into her palms. She gasped. “That’s Mabel.”

“Who?”

Mabel’s bloated face gazed up at her. Bronwyn felt like her dark eyes were accusing, looking straight through her.

“It’s Mabel. Lady Morwenna’s maidservant.”

Theobold cursed. “This is bad. What was she doing out here all alone?”

Bronwyn nodded toward the clothes floating in the river.

“Likely the same as me, wanted to bathe or do some washing.” She paused.

“But that’s odd. When we last spoke, she was off to do her chores yesterday afternoon.

It was still light when we parted ways. Someone would have seen her if she’d fallen in. ”

“Maybe, maybe not. There’re always people in the river, but there’s also a lot that can happen that goes unnoticed.”

She tilted her head at him.

He wiped his hands on his trousers and looked down at Mabel’s body, his wet, curly black hair dripping on her corpse. “I’m surprised Lady Morwenna hasn’t noticed her gone. I wonder when this happened.”

Bronwyn asked, “What do we do?”

“We’ll have to report it. Can you stay with the body? I won’t be long. I’m going to fetch some men. The empress needs to hear about this.”

“Yes.”

He gave her a sharp nod. “I knew I could trust you. I’ll be back soon.”

Theobold strode up the riverbank, his long legs carrying him up and over the top. His head of black hair disappeared, leaving Bronwyn alone with the body.

She made the sign of the cross, said a quick prayer, and leaned over the body, looking.

Mabel’s wispy, blonde hair lay plastered across her cheek and neck. Her face was bloated and her eyes glazed over, but her mouth was open. Water trickled out of it, making Bronwyn tense and shudder.

“Mabel, what happened to you?” she whispered.

She picked up the stick that Theobold had dropped on the bank and used it to gently move Mabel’s body. It bore no trace marks or blood, just sodden and tangled from river weeds and the detritus of the water.

Bronwyn peered at the morning light, a quiet, pink glow that began to rise behind the black, scraggly trees.

The sky began to lighten gradually, as it did sometimes.

The darkness had faded to a deep, dark grey, and now a lighter grey, revealing the shoal of the riverbank, the moving waters, the outline of rocks and the slick tracks in the mud of where she’d slipped.

She looked at the ground. She knew that she had left tracks in the dirt and mud from where she’d fallen in, but had Mabel? Could it have been an accidental fall?

Try as she might to find evidence of an accident, there were too many pairs of footprints that dotted the shore, particularly at the water’s edge.

Any number of people might have come by.

The earth was no help. How could Mabel have died?

Had she tripped and fallen, and like Bronwyn, gotten stuck in the river and couldn’t swim?

Bronwyn’s own experience had shown just how easily that could happen, especially if she’d been alone. It could all have been an accident.

But something about the timing of it made her think otherwise. For Mabel to have died so soon after Lady Alice had been attacked and named her as being involved in the crown’s theft, it was too timely to be a coincidence. Theobold knew, but who else could she tell?

She heard footsteps approach and realized she was still standing there in her shift.

She quickly wrung out the wet dresses and put her old one on over her head, shivering.

She held the new purple dress at her side.

She’d try washing both again later. She smelled like the river, but it was better than being dead.

The footsteps heralded the arrival of Theobold, followed by a pair of guards, as well as Sir Ranulf and Sir Miles, and the young healer, Edmund. The men surveyed her and then the body.

She bowed her head and stayed quiet as the men discussed the situation.

“What happened?” Sir Ranulf asked. A middle-aged, heavyset, stocky man, he wore light mail over his tunic and fiddled with the sheathed sword at his belt.

He looked bleary-eyed and rubbed sleep from his eyes.

He peered at Bronwyn. “You’re here? I should’ve known.

You’re as bad as him.” He nodded toward Theobold. “All right, who died?”

“It’s Lady Morwenna’s maid,” Theobold said.

He glanced at Mabel’s body. “What is that to me? Find the woman another. Or better yet, let it be a lesson to her to take better care of her maids. The girl shouldn’t have worked in the river before light. It’s dangerous.”

The guards agreed. Bronwyn eyed Sir Miles, who stood quietly.

Sir Miles was of an average height for a man, but he was slim and wiry, and he seemed taller.

He had a thoughtful expression. Judging by the way his eyes darted around the scene, taking in the sight of the scattered clothes on the river surface, Mabel’s body on the shore, and Bronwyn standing by, she knew that he missed nothing.

Bronwyn watched as the young healer, Edmund, stepped forward and inspected the body.

Seemingly having no qualms about death, he touched the woman’s head, turning it this way and that.

“There’re no marks on her neck or face, nothing to suggest anything other than drowning.

I think she probably slipped and fell and couldn’t swim. An unfortunate accident.”

The men nodded. Sir Ranulf farted and belched, scratching at his belly. “I’m headed back to bed. Don’t wake me unless it’s actually important.”

Bronwyn stepped forward, her face scrunched up in a frown. The death of a person, however low in rank, mattered. Mabel had mattered, and this had been more than just an unfortunate accident.

The men looked at her. Sir Ranulf said, “You have something to say?”

Bronwyn swallowed. “I wonder if she was pushed.”

The men exchanged glances. Edmund stood as the guard said, “Why are you here? Besides, the healer says she drowned.”

“I came here to bathe when I fell in. Theobold pulled me out of the river and found her floating,” Bronwyn said.

The men shot Theobold a few looks. Sir Ranulf grinned. “You two were down by the river together alone, eh?”

Theobold rolled his eyes whilst Bronwyn put a hand on her hip. “It’s not like that.”

“Never mind why you two were here together—no one cares about that. Why would you think the maid’s death wasn’t an accident?” Sir Miles assessed her.

“No reason. She’s making up tales,” Theobold said, shooting Bronwyn a hard stare. “Don’t worry yourself about this. I’m sorry you had to see this. You can go.”

Bronwyn’s mouth dropped open. “But…”

“Go on. I’m sure your mistress is waiting for you.” His tone was pleasant, but his eyes were hard. There was a clear message there. Go.

Bronwyn frowned and her cheeks flaming, she turned to go, conscious of the men’s eyes on her.

“Nice bottom, that one,” one guard said. The men laughed at this.

Bronwyn grimaced as she trudged back up the riverbank.

She washed her hands in the grass that was damp with dew and hadn’t been eaten by the horses yet.

Sighing, she wrung out the water from her clothes—again.

Both dresses were damp and smelled, and those were her only woolen socks.

If she ruined them, she’d be running around in her bare shift with hardly a stitch on.

She wrung out her hair and realized she’d lost her kerchief in the river. She normally tied it around her neck, but it had come away. Now she’d need another to tie her hair back in the kitchen tents when she worked. Her shoulders slumped. How had life suddenly become so hard?

She rejoined the camp and sat on a log, thinking. First things first, she had to tell Lady Morwenna that Mabel wasn’t coming back. It was barely dawn, and as she looked in on the ladies-in-waiting, they were all sound asleep.

She instead went back down to the river.

Mabel’s body had disappeared, as had the men.

But Theobold’s stick was still there on the side.

She used it and spotted her kerchief floating downriver.

She managed to hook it on the stick and reach it—just. But to get it, she had to get her shoes and socks wet again.

Still, she almost retrieved the kerchief.

She’d just reached it, when it slipped off the stick and sailed away, downriver.

Bronwyn sighed and cursed. That was a bit of bad luck.

So much for her kerchief. Now she just needed to figure out what to do next.

She washed both her dresses quickly and sitting in her shift on the bank, wrung out her socks, whipped them around to try to air-dry them, and once she was satisfied they were just a touch damp, joined the makeshift kitchen to help prepare the morning meal.

But as she began chopping vegetables and preparing dough for bread, she lost track of time and in an hour or so, she heard the head cook Mary say, “Did you hear? A woman’s drowned in the river. ”

Bronwyn turned. So the consensus was that the maid had drowned. She thought quickly. It must have been at least an hour, maybe two, since dawn. She had to tell Lady Morwenna and the other ladies. Lady Alice needed to know.

“It’s true. A servant was found in the river this morning. Must have slipped in and fell. That’s what the men say. They’re telling all of us not to go swimming or wade out too far, in case we fall in and can’t swim. It’s a strong current, they say.”

“Who was the woman?” a cook asked.

“Some maidservant. Mabel?” Mary shrugged and walked away.

Bronwyn dusted off her hands and quietly said to the nearest cook, “Can you take over? I need to speak with my mistress.”