Page 10 of Winter’s Poison (The Winter Murders #1)

T he next day, Bronwyn was kneading dough in the castle kitchens when a clear feminine voice called out, “Hallo there.”

She looked up toward the source of the voice, as did a bunch of the cooks and servants. Lady Alice stood in the entrance and walked forward, no doubt seeing she was becoming the center of attention. “I have need of a servant.”

Odo came up to her. “Begging your pardon, lady, but we here are cooks and scullery, not pages. If it is a servant you seek, I’d say—”

She interrupted him, sticking her nose in the air. “No, no. My maid was lost to me, and I need a new serving girl to wait on me for a few weeks until I find someone appropriate. The other girls are already taken, and the queen said I could choose anyone I want.” Her eyes fell upon me. “That girl there. She’ll do.”

Odo glanced at Bronwyn. “Ah, you don’t want her. She’s a baker. The queen wants her here, in the kitchens, where we can keep an eye on her. Trouble, she is.”

Bronwyn’s cheeks turned pink as she slapped the dough hard on the worktable, envisioning Odo’s face as she did so.

He laughed and continued. “She’s just a baker. She’s never waited on anyone before. She’s got rough manners.”

“ No manners!” a boy called out, and the others laughed. Bronwyn’s cheeks burned.

Lady Alice said, “Then clearly, it’s time she learnt some. You, girl.”

Bronwyn looked up.

Alice strode across to her and whispered, “Play along.” Loudly, she said, “Stop what you’re doing and clean your hands. I need you to wait on me.”

Odo frowned. “Now see here…” he started.

“Do I have to tell the queen you refused to give me a servant, when she said I could choose any I wanted? Do you want to refuse the queen’s order?” Lady Alice asked.

“N-No, my lady,” Odo said. “But the queen did want her here. A stranger did poison some rolls, as I’m sure you’ve heard, but her father is being held in case he conspired with him. Are you sure you want such a girl working for you?”

“Well, she didn’t poison anyone, now did she? So that’s none of my concern. But I have need of a maidservant and I want her. I’ll keep an eye on her, if that’s what you’re worried about. At least with me, she won’t have time to take after her father.”

Bronwyn dropped the dough, her temper rising.

Odo started. “But, my lady, a servant is not something to be taken on lightly. You must speak with her family, and….”

“Oh, I see. You want me to skip down to the dungeons and ask her prisoner father if I might improve her life by taking her as my maid? What do you think he’ll say?” Lady Alice’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Odo heard a snicker. He turned and said to the boys, “Keep turning the spit. Go back to your work.” To Alice, he said, “I’m just saying, there are agreements to be made. You can’t just take any girl and put her to work for you. Not when she’s been assigned here. It’s not right.”

“It won’t be for long. It’s only temporary, until I find a proper maidservant. Funny, I didn’t think she was that important to you. Or are you in desperate need of clean pots?”

He looked confused.

“Her hands are rough and red—even I can see that from here. It’s clear what you’ve been having her do, when she could easily be serving me instead. I’ll be doing her a service. Now, if there are no more excuses, I’d like my maid to help me.” She looked at me. “Well? Did you hear me? Put down that mess of whatever you’re cooking. I need you to wait on me. Now.”

“But, my lady, I don’t, I mean, I haven’t—”

“I don’t care what you can or don’t do. A bad servant is simply one who hasn’t learnt how to be a good one yet. Now, will you wash your hands or not?” Lady Alice demanded.

Bronwyn blushed harder, feeling the boys’ eyes on her, and went to a nearby bucket to clean her hands. Once she’d washed and dried them, she wiped them clean on her apron. “Lady.” She curtsied and almost fell over.

The boys snickered, and Lady Alice’s mouth withered. She would make a fine old lady someday. “Well. I can see we have work to do. We’ll fix that curtsey first. Come along.” To Odo, she said, “I’ll send her back from time to time to help you, if that is agreeable?”

“Yes, my lady.” Odo bowed.

Lady Alice held her head high and walked out of the kitchens, lifting her skirts ever so slightly to avoid getting anything on her hem.

Bronwyn followed her like a shadow, anxious at being watched. Once they were out of the kitchen, she started to speak when Lady Alice snapped her fingers and said, “Come. Don’t talk unless I speak to you.”

Bronwyn followed her up a spiral staircase and down a corridor to a room. It was small and narrow, with a creaking, wooden floor, a thin bed that needed making up, and with a rickety, wooden table and bench nestled against the left-side stone wall. The room was cold, but not uncomfortable.

“Shut the door,” Lady Alice said, and she opened up a chest of dresses. She picked up one and held it up, then another, finally deciding on one of plain, grey wool. “Here. Try this on.”

“But I already have a dress.”

She snorted. “You smell like bread and you’re covered in flour. If you’re going to act as my maidservant, you need to look like one.”

“But Odo was right. I am supposed to be in the kitchens.”

“And I tell you, it doesn’t matter what Odo says. As far as he is concerned, you are my maidservant now and you’ll do whatever I ask.” She shot Bronwyn a look. “And in case you’re wondering, I have the queen’s permission to take any woman I choose as a maidservant, provided she isn’t already in service to someone else. You seemed like the obvious choice.”

Bronwyn’s eyes widened. Had her circumstances changed so quickly?

“Calm yourself. I don’t mean for this to be a long-term arrangement. You’re completely unsuitable for a maidservant, and I wouldn’t want your company all day long anyway. I’d find you tedious and send you away just to be rid of you.”

Bronwyn blinked. Tell me how you really feel , she thought.

“I had a think last night about our relationship, and what we both want, and thought we need to stick together if we’re going to succeed in both our endeavors. So what better way to keep you near me than to make you my maid?”

Bronwyn almost groaned. Maidservant to Lady Alice? What could be worse?

“Are you going to answer me?” Alice asked. “If this is going to work, you need to understand when I’m simply talking and when I want a response from you. For instance, right now, I—”

“I understand,” she said.

“I don’t like your tone,” Lady Alice said, crossing her arms. “Put on the dress. And take off that disgusting kerchief. You’re not in the kitchens anymore.” She rummaged through a collection of small items on a small table nearby. “Here.”

Bronwyn unbound the kerchief that held back her dirty-blonde hair and accepted the wooden comb from Alice’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

She turned her back and quickly changed out of the woolen dress she had on, pulling the new one over her shift and hose. It went to her ankles and needed tying up with string at the bosom, but it fit well enough. As Bronwyn began to comb her hair, raking the wooden comb through knots and tangles, Alice watched.

“You’re almost pretty. You’ll do very well.”

Bronwyn looked up at her.

“A maidservant is a reflection of her mistress. In this case, you reflect me and how I am to be perceived by others at court. Which is why I need you looking good.” She stood by and once her hair was tangle-free, she helped plait Bronwyn’s waist-long blonde hair back in a thick braid so it was out of her face yet still hung prettily enough. In the grey dress, she turned in a circle.

“Pretty. Your hands are still shockingly red and your complexion leaves no doubt as to your profession. It’s clear standing in front of an oven all day has done you no favors, but you’ll do.”

Bronwyn touched her cheeks. What’s wrong with my skin? It’s not so fair as that of some of these highborn ladies, but still. My cheeks are my own.

Alice said, “Now, once we’re downstairs, I’m going to need you to pay attention.”

“What do I do?”

“As a servant? Keep a distance from me and stay nearby, so if I need you, then you’re there, but not so close as to be breathing down my neck. I’ll send you on errands if I need something, but otherwise, I’ll have you follow me around as I speak to the knights in question. Who are they again?”

Bronwyn repeated their names.

“Why them?”

“When de Roumare’s men were beaten, King Stephen imprisoned seventeen of them in the dungeon along with him.”

“Wait, what? You mean that man we met last night, the rude one. That was William de Roumare? He’s their leader?”

“Yes. You never met him?”

“No,” Lady Alice said, putting her hands on her hips, her wooden comb in hand. “Contrary to what you might think, I haven’t met every knight and nobleman in the empress’s camp, especially when they’re off doing things like taking over castles. I think you’d better tell me everything. I can’t look like a fool in front of the others.”

Bronwyn leaned against the plain stone wall. “You’ll know of course, that when the Earl of Chester and William de Roumare took the castle back in December, the earl escaped and de Roumare remained, along with some of his men. It’s why there were something like seventeen knights in the dungeon at one point. I don’t know who else is there, only that my papa is there and—”

“Yes, yes. I know all this. I don’t need to hear more about your father. I understand this is important to you. But I need to know who is still loyal, and who has forsaken the empress. The information you hold could be essential to me, which is why I need to know everything. Are you often in the way of delivering messages to the men?”

“No. That was the first time I’d been asked to do so.”

“Why?” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Why you?”

“I was on my way out and bumped into Sir Clarke. He ordered me to deliver the message. Simple as that.”

“Perfect. And now some knights are in the dungeon, and others are upstairs with the king. And there’s no way to tell who’s actually loyal. Just perfect.”

Alice glanced at Bronwyn. “We are on opposite sides of this war, but that does not mean we can’t be allies. You keep my true loyalty from the queen, and I won’t betray you to my betters. And frankly, I can see why you need my help. These are knights. They won’t talk with just anyone. You were right to come to me.”

Bronwyn tried not to roll her eyes.

“Did the queen really bid you looking into this poisoner? Or is it just an egregious rumor circulated by yourself?”

“It’s true. What is ‘egregious’?” Bronwyn asked.

“It means ‘shocking.’” Lady Alice shrugged. “You might have done this to gain consequence in the eyes of your betters. Get attention, be seen as important for once in your life.”

Her jibes, so nonchalant, began to irk Bronwyn. “Well, I didn’t. But thanks to a court gossip, everyone knows. Brother Bartholomew is asking around, and Sir Nicholas too.”

She smirked. “Sir Nicholas. He was the one you barged into de Grecy’s room with before, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s had the entire castle guard looking for you.”

“How strange, I’ve been with the other ladies right under his nose,” Lady Alice said.

“I don’t think he got a good look at your face. It might’ve been the disguise you wore when we first found you, or the knife you threw at him.”

Alice smiled. “Yes, well. It was his own fault for getting in my way.”

“Were you really aiming for his head?”

Her smile widened. “Enough chatter. Let us go downstairs.” She crossed the room and stood in the doorway. “Bronwyn.”

“My lady?”

“I rarely miss.” She giggled and led the way out of the room.

Light rain pattered outside. Bronwyn watched as Alice picked up her skirts as she walked, and something about her stiff back, her head held high, and her straight gaze ahead caused servants to move and get out of her path, and for other members of the court to stop their conversations and watch as she passed by.

Gazes landed on her too, and Bronwyn ducked her head. She wanted no share of their attention. The way Alice moved, it was like she wanted, nay, demanded to be seen, recognized, and acknowledged as the noblewoman she was. Bronwyn felt her part as a mere servant in her shadow and kept her gaze pointed downward as they walked through the castle corridors.

They entered the main hall, where the ladies sat and talked, some men played a board game whilst others warmed themselves by a large fire in the hearth, and King Stephen sat back with a smile and toasted the men with a cup of wine. Some men rolled dice, and Alice said casually over her shoulder, “We shall visit the knights and converse with them. If you spot anything amiss, offer me some refreshment.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Alice boldly entered the room and made her way to the queen, who sat surrounded by a few of the ladies present. Alice did not speak to the queen but curtsied and waited to be acknowledged. “Curtsey,” Alice hissed to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn curtsied and stood in place, keeping her eyes facing the ground. But she wobbled slightly, earning some amused glances from the ladies present.

“Lady Alice, I see you found a maidservant to your liking. Let us see her,” Queen Matilda said.

Bronwyn rose and tilted her face upward. Queen Matilda’s eyes widened. “Why, if it isn’t our little baker. Whatever are you doing out of the kitchens?”

“I—”

“She was being wasted there, my lady,” Alice said. “The men had her scrubbing pots and pans and I thought her too pretty for such work. Don’t you agree?”

Bronwyn looked at the queen’s feet. It felt wrong to meet her eyes somehow, as if to do so would be seen as a challenge.

“Give us a turn, girl,” the queen said.

Lady Alice stood aside and Bronwyn turned in a circle, her long, blonde braid and grey skirts moving in a slow turn. She stood before the queen.

“Very pretty, indeed. You’re right—she’s too comely to be a kitchen wench. It was very good of you to take her out of there. Although what I will do without my favorite white rolls with honey, I do not know.” Queen Matilda cocked her head.

“I would still be glad to make them, whenever you feel hungry, Your Grace,” Bronwyn said.

“Good. I do not approve of raising people above their station, particularly without merit, but as long as you serve Lady Alice well and do not make a nuisance of yourself, I see no reason why you cannot stay. A good choice, Lady Alice.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Alice curtsied once again and Bronwyn followed suit, watching as Alice gracefully rose, a bit like a flower. Bronwyn rose stiffly, awkwardly.

The queen smiled. “You will of course teach her how to properly curtsey too, I take it.”

“Yes, my lady.” Alice’s voice held a note of civility, but she shot Bronwyn a dark look.

Bronwyn followed Alice to a corner of the room where on the long table normally used for dining, there were small plates and platters of food for nibbling.

Alice helped herself to some bread. “Which are the knights you seek?”

“I don’t know. I’ve not seen all of them before, except…” She glanced around the room. She spied Sir Clarke standing apart with Bors and another man dressed in a knight’s tunic. They lounged by the fire and played dice. “Over by the fire is Sir Clarke, Sir Bors, and a man I do not know, but I bet is another of them.”

Two other men entered the room and joined them. Would it be so obvious for the new allied knights to stay in each other’s company, or would they try to join the others and make a place for themselves in King Stephen’s retinue?

“Can you play chess?” Lady Alice asked.

“No.”

“Me, neither. Let us ask the men to teach you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Do not question me. I don’t have the patience for it. Come.” Lady Alice walked over to the men, who all looked at her.

“My lady?” one asked.

“Which one of you knows how to play chess?” she asked.

Alice was a sight, wearing a dark-red dress that spoke of wealth, her jet-black hair curled and pinned back into two long braids that hung to the middle of her back. Her eyes darted and challenged. “Well?”

The men exchanged looks, and one said, “I will play you a game.”

“Oh, it’s not for me. I want my maid to learn. Will one of you be so good as to teach her?”

The men looked from her to Bronwyn, who kept her gaze down, demure. Then she thought, Alice was challenging, so why mightn’t I be too? Her eyes flickered up to the man who’d spoken, and she met his gaze.

He was a man in his thirties, with cropped, brown hair, a round face, and a chin with a divot in the center. But his expression was friendly, despite the stiff, military bearing he carried. He smiled at her. “All right.”

The men made space on the long table and brought over a board and set up pieces. The man introduced himself as Sir Grossetete and bid them hallo. He held up each piece as he explained their names and what they did and began to tell Bronwyn how each worked.

They played a game and she lost, badly, but he didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, he rather seemed to enjoy winning.

Alice chattered away to the other men, offering smiles and teasing jokes, when they were joined by Brother Bartholomew. “Playing games, are we?” he said.

“What does it look like?” Alice said.

The men smirked. He recognized Bronwyn, and said, “My, my, we have come up in the world. Did you know you’re playing against a baker, Sir Grossetete?”

Sir Grossetete gazed at her. “You bake?”

She nodded. “My papa is a baker.”

“Oh, but not right now. He’s languishing in the cells, along with your friends. She goes down there to visit every day, instead of going to church or attending to her work in the kitchens,” Brother Bartholomew said snidely, crossing his arms. His face took on a pinched look and he said, “Remind me, why is your father in the dungeon?”

Bronwyn’s cheeks grew hot, and she made another move in the game. She looked up to see Sir Grossetete watching.

Sir Grossetete’s hand froze over the board, just for a second. “Your father is the one imprisoned? The poisoner?” His voice was deep.

“He is no poisoner,” she said.

He hovered over the pieces and took her pawn. But his hand trembled and he knocked a few of the pieces over by mistake, sending them flying. “Forgive me. I’ve lost my taste for the game. Excuse me.” He rose and left, leaving her to pick up all the scattered pieces.

Bronwyn glared at Brother Bartholomew, who smirked as she knelt to the floor and picked them up.

“That was rude,” Lady Alice said.

“It’s the truth. The man should know whom he’s playing with, don’t you think?” the monk said.

“Trust you to ruin a perfectly decent game of chess,” Alice replied.

“I might ask you why you’re trying so hard to involve yourself in courtly affairs when you are new here. It is most odd. Perhaps you want to pick up where de Grecy failed?” Brother Bartholomew said.

Alice laughed. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“We all know he joined the king’s retinue under, shall we say, suspicious circumstances? Not so dissimilar to your own situation, I’d say. You only joined us recently. I wonder if you are truly as loyal to the king and queen as you profess to be.”

“You speak in riddles, Brother.” Her face took on a bored cast. “Or is it that you seek to throw suspicion from yourself by accusing others?”

They stared at each other when one of the knights approached. “Brother, I should’ve known you’d find the prettiest young women in the room. Cannot you understand, they are not interested.” The man looked the monk up and down, his upper lip curled in a sneer.

“Sir Gilbert. Why does it not surprise me that when the conversation steers toward traitors, you are near?”

Sir Gilbert stepped toward him, getting in his face. Brother Bartholomew was tall, thin, and gangly, whilst Sir Gilbert was broad and stocky.

A loud clap interrupted them, and silence cut through the room. Heads turned to reveal King Stephen, who rose from his chair and approached. He set down his cup and clapped a friendly hand on the monk’s shoulder. “Now, now, I’ll have no fighting among my men. Brother, you know the castle better than most. Tell me, what is the best way to—”

King Stephen steered Brother Bartholomew away, as Sir Gilbert muttered, “That man is impertinent.”

Alice said demurely, “Thank you. He was bothering me.”

“Then he should be punished for his impudence.” Sir Gilbert looked down into her eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I am Lady Alice Duncombe. And you are?”

“Charmed,” he said. “I am Sir Gilbert Allenham.”

She tittered. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Gilbert.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Bronwyn subtly removed the board and pieces from the table, setting them on a side table in a corner of the room. When she’d finished, she observed Sir Gilbert and Lady Alice chatting together, side by side.

A young man approached Bronwyn. “You shouldn’t mind Grossetete’s manners. He never likes to lose a game. You were probably beating him.”

Bronwyn smiled.

“I’m Gabriel. Are you a lady here at court?”

The slim, young man was in his twenties, with dark, curled hair and broad shoulders that bore his tunic well. He had a worn belt and sheathed sword at his waist, and he moved with an assurance that spoke of confidence of battle.

She shook her head. “I’m a baker. I mean, a maidservant. I, uh…”

He laughed. “Are you sure? Would that all maids and bakers were as pretty as you. I’d buy bread every day if you were selling it.”

Bronwyn blushed, her cheeks betraying her, and he laughed again. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

Her cheeks definitely felt hot. “You look young to be a knight.”

He grinned. “I bet you say that to all the knights.”

She giggled.

He continued. “I’m the youngest. We were members of Maud’s camp, but then we got dragged into this foolish scheme and now the others are paying the price for it.”

She cocked her head. “Do you mean when de Roumare took the castle?”

“Him and the Earl of Chester, yes. But more fool us for sticking around. We should’ve known the people would rebel. No offense. It was no surprise to me when Stephen’s forces routed us. It’s clear to me which side was winning, so when Stephen gave us the chance to support his cause, I agreed.” He buffed his nails on the side of his tunic and glanced at them. “It beats freezing in the cells.”

That reminded Bronwyn of her father, who was doing exactly that. Her face fell.

“Oi, are you all right?” he asked. “I didn’t offend you, did I? I always put my foot in my mouth when I talk to pretty girls. It always gets me in trouble—”

“All right, Gabriel, who’s this pretty maidservant the men are talking about?” a familiar voice asked and a man clapped Sir Gabriel on the shoulder, leaning in to take a good look at her. Rupert’s eyes grew wide. “Bronwyn?”

She ducked her head. “Hallo.”

“You know this girl?” Sir Gabriel asked.

“Yes. She normally works in the kitchens.” Rupert shot her a questioning look.

“Then it’s true, you are a baker. What are you doing here? Inspecting the food for His Grace?” Gabriel asked with a teasing smile.

She shook her head.

“Bronwyn, where are you? I need you,” Alice called.

“S’cuse me.” Bronwyn hurried past the men and darted to Alice’s side.

She whirled around. “Where were you?”

“Just putting the chess pieces away.”

She snatched Bronwyn’s wrist and pulled her off to the side. It didn’t matter that they had captured the gazes of some of the men in the room, for Alice seemed to ignore that entirely. “He’s here.”

“Who?”

“You know. The squire.”

“Oh.” Bronwyn’s stomach sank. She watched as Rupert stood nearby, looking for his master, when he noticed Bronwyn and his eyes widened. He glanced at her, then Alice, and started to approach.

Alice elbowed Bronwyn in the side. “Introduce me.”

Bronwyn winced and put a hand to her side, as Alice stepped forward. “Hallo.”

They locked gazes. “Hallo there,” Rupert said.

“Lady Alice, this is Rupert.”

“My lady.” Rupert swept her a courtly bow. “I am Rupert Bothwell. Squire to Sir Baldwin of Clare.”

“I know who you are.” She shot him a coy smile.

“Rupert, this is Lady Alice Duncombe. My… mistress.”

“Your mistress? You’re in her service? I thought you worked in the kitchens. When did that change?” His eyes widened.

“Today. I needed a maid and dear Bronwyn was good enough to accept my little offer of employment.” Alice tossed her silky, black hair over her shoulder and shot Rupert a sultry smile.

“You are new to court, I think. I would have remembered,” Rupert said.

“Yes. But I fear I am often getting lost amongst the corridors. So many twists and turns.”

“Then allow me to show you around.”

“I would like that.”

Bronwyn watched grimly as together, Alice and Rupert began to walk around the room, talking. Alice’s face grew animated and she laughed at something Rupert had said, touching his arm. Rupert flexed his muscles and carried on talking.

But then Rupert was called away to attend Sir Baldwin. Bronwyn heaved a small sigh of relief as Alice returned to her. “Oh, he’s just what I thought. Charming, honest, loyal, and oh-so-handsome.”

“You got all that from one conversation?”

Alice shrugged. “I have no doubt we’ll see each other again very soon.” She smiled, clearly pleased with herself. Once she was sure of not being overheard, she asked quietly, “What did you learn?”

“Not a lot. Sir Grossetete seemed to want to get away from me once the brother mentioned my pa was in jail for the poisoning, and Sir Gabriel is friendly enough. I don’t think he’d want to kill anyone.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t be so sure. Even if he is friendly to your face, he might change when faced with battle. Sir Gilbert is…” Alice touched her black tresses that shone in the torchlight. “He is likely smitten with me, so I’ll have to tolerate his attention.”

“Did he say anything about the night de Grecy died?” Bronwyn asked.

“No. But he thinks Brother Bartholomew is a bit impudent for insulting my maid. I’ll weasel out what he knows.”

“That leaves Sir Bors and Sir Clarke.”

Lady Alice gave an unfriendly look to a person behind Bronwyn. “Sir?”

Bronwyn turned to find Sir Nicholas standing there.

“I overheard what you were saying and can tell you this: Bors and Clarke had every reason to want to poison the king and queen. But it seems more like they were not the intended targets, and I’m inclined to think de Grecy was instead.”

Alice pursed her lips. “I do not know you, sir.”

“Nor I, you, but you seem familiar somehow. Have we met before?” he asked.

Lady Alice shook her head demurely. Bronwyn almost snickered.

“Never mind. It will come to me. I am Sir Nicholas. I have a care for His Grace’s person, and I am looking into this matter of de Grecy’s death.”

Her reaction was subtle, but Alice tensed ever so slightly. “And what makes you think those two knights would want to hurt the king?”

“They are both still loyal to the empress.”

“But how can that be? They joined the king.”

He gave a small shake of his head. “They profess to have done so, but they keep to themselves, and Sir Clarke is the worst of the lot. He’s the right hand of de Roumare and is not to be trusted.”

“I think I can decide for myself who to trust.”

“Mind you don’t make the same mistake de Grecy did. It would be unfortunate to see a young woman like you dead on a slab.”

Alice’s face suffused with anger. She huffed and left in a swirl of skirts, leaving Bronwyn standing with Sir Nicholas. He frowned after her. “That girl is trouble.”

Bronwyn said nothing.

“Why are you posing as her maidservant?” he asked.

“She asked me to.”

“But you’re not a maid, you’re a baker. Is she helping you with your inquiries?”

“We thought it was the best way for us to look into this matter. She can speak with people I cannot.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure you can trust her?”

Bronwyn swallowed. She didn’t want to reveal they had agreed not to make each other’s lives miserable. “She wanted to help.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it. She looks like she only wants what’s best for herself. She’s even been walking around with Rupert. I thought he liked you and you, him. Was I wrong?”

Bronwyn looked away. “She is speaking to Sir Gilbert, and I spoke with Sirs Gabriel and Grossetete. Then there’s Sir Bors and Clarke. What makes you so sure they are untrustworthy?”

“How do you know they aren’t?” he replied.

“I’ll help,” Rupert interrupted. “Pardon me, but I’m a part of this too. My master switched allegiances as well, and I can speak for his loyalty.”

“That seems false, considering he changed sides so quickly,” Sir Nicholas said.

Rupert squared up to him, his expression even and calm. “He is an honest man. I think he did not like this posturing and gloating over the men taking over the castle and treating the local people like dirt. Men are allowed to make mistakes.”

Sir Nicholas met his gaze. “I do not trust a man who changes his allegiance so easily, nor his squire.”

“Fine, then tell me this. What reason would he have to want to have to kill His Grace?”

“The same reason as any member of the French wench’s court,” Sir Nicholas said. “He may have pretended his allegiance had changed, but it may have only been an elaborate falsehood, to get into this court. But that is moot, for we are no longer of the opinion that the attack was targeting Their Graces, but in fact, de Grecy. He so recently joined the court, of course, he would know the imprisoned knights. It would be simple, a plot concocted by de Roumare and his men to ruin the baker’s rolls and poison them. They might have even suggested he purchase the rolls.”

“But surely, if my master was working with de Grecy, they would have offered the king and queen the poisoned rolls first.”

“Perhaps de Grecy was greedy and didn’t know it’s only right and proper for the king and queen to eat first. He would not have known they were poisoned,” Sir Nicholas added. “He might have outlived his usefulness to Maud’s men. His own greed marked his end.

So either someone decided to kill both de Grecy and the king, or they aimed for the latter and he got in the way. In any case, he was expendable,” Sir Nicholas said.

“If it will help, I will speak with my lord,” Rupert said.

“No. He will know what we are about. You will give us away,” Sir Nicholas said.

“The entire court knows your plan. Brother Bartholomew took care of that.” Rupert glanced at Bronwyn, nodded, and left.

Their eyes met, and Sir Nicholas said, “You know something, don’t you? Something you’re not telling me.”

“Walk me back to Lady Alice’s room?”

He followed her out of the room. Once alone, she whispered, “There’s rumor of a rebellion.”

He grew serious. “Where? When?”

“I don’t know. Right now, it’s just a rumor. My father told me. He heard the knights talking about it.”

His eyes clouded. “But this is just hearsay. The men might talk of anything. Lord knows they’ve had little else to think about in the cells.”

“My father is worried.” She looked at Sir Nicholas. “I believe him if he says they are thinking of rebellion. Can you tell the king?”

“I need more than that. For him to take action, we need more than a mere rumor, we need facts. Proof. Evidence. Get me something I can take to the king, and I will.”

She gripped the sides of her dress. “How am I supposed to do that? They’ll think I’m a spy, for King Stephen or for the empress.”

“Aren’t you?” He gave her an even look. “The queen has tasked you with finding who killed a man in her court. That requires some element of spycraft. Go see to your mistress,” he said. “I’ll find you later.”

Bronwyn returned to Alice, who sat in her room before a polished piece of shined metal, gazing at her reflection. “Come comb my hair,” she said.

Bronwyn took up the small, wooden comb, undid Alice’s two long braids, and began to comb her silken, black hair from the ends, working her way up. “How did you know you were supposed to meet de Grecy?” she asked.

Alice cast her eyes downward. “My parents had thrown in their lot with the empress and asked her assistance in settling a matter of land markers. Our neighbors, the Shardlows, were determined to let their sheep graze on our land and declared it theirs, so we brought the matter to the empress. She agreed to settle the matter in our favor, provided that I join her retinue.”

Bronwyn combed, gently taking the wooden comb through Alice’s silky, black tresses.

“At first, I thought it was a great honor, to be one of her ladies-in-waiting. But when I arrived, the empress had forgotten about me entirely and blamed my family for the dispute in the first place.”

“What? But you seemed so loyal to her. I thought—”

“That she is a warrior amongst women? She is,” Alice said. “And I support her and what she stands for. But she will get what she wants by any means necessary.” She breathed in through her nose and let out a deep breath. “She told me that if I were to avoid returning to my family in disgrace for wasting her time and earning her displeasure, then I would do her a favor. I agreed immediately. I couldn’t refuse an empress.”

“What did she ask?”

“That I travel to Lincoln Castle and once there, meet up with her man de Grecy, who would tell me what news to relay back.” She set down the small bit of polished metal. “But it’s gone all wrong. I’m here, he’s dead, and the queen doesn’t trust any of her ladies.”

“What do you mean?” Bronwyn asked.

Alice turned to face her. “One of the girls thought it funny that the queen asked a baker to deliver sweet rolls herself, rather than have a page or maidservant do it. Another one of the girls said it’s because that man was killed with rolls, so now the king and queen don’t trust just anyone to deliver rolls, especially now that the man who did it is in jail. I suppose they trust you because if you tried to poison them, both your and your father’s lives would be forfeit.”

Bronwyn clenched the comb, her face twisted in displeasure. Her father’s predicament was proving nothing more than idle castle gossip to these women.

“Do not take out your anger on me. I didn’t say anything. But the ladies were talking and somehow, it came out that you are looking into this. They knew from their maids, anyway, but this just confirmed it. They exposed the queen’s little plan and now she daren’t ask you for rolls anymore, or she’ll be the subject of gossip.”

Bronwyn bit the inside of her cheek and put the comb back on the table.

“Some of the ladies in her retinue find Brother Bartholomew amusing, even if he is a stuffed toad. But, Bronwyn, I don’t like this. Someone is spreading tales, and they treat all this as if it’s a game.”

“Who do you think is spreading the gossip amongst the ladies?” she asked. “Who are they?”

Alice ticked off her fingers. “Me, Lady Hawise, the Countess of Cambridge; Muriel the chatelaine; and Lady Maud, the Countess of Chester. The queen keeps us all close but takes no one into her private counsel. I doubt even her maids can be trusted.”

“Who among them would have reason to want to hurt her?”

“No one except me,” Alice said unhappily. “The Ladies Hawise and Maud were used as pawns by their husbands in their plot to take over the castle and so would have no love lost there. Muriel de la Haye keeps her foul temper in check when the queen is around but otherwise has a face like an axe and whimpers all the time, never mind having a nasty tongue for the other ladies, and Maud is too young and stupid to appreciate she’s a pawn too. She smiles and laughs and brings good humor to us all, but she is silly. I was never that naive at her age.”

“What is your age?” Bronwyn asked.

“I have seen twenty winters this year. Still in my prime, thank you. I could have been married by now, but none of the men were suitable.” Alice sniffed.

Bronwyn’s mouth quirked in a smile. “It all sounds like whoever was behind this, the women wouldn’t have knowingly taken part unless they were coerced to by their husbands. If anything, it seems they would support the king and queen.”

“I agree. Unless the women willingly took part in the plot and wanted to do more to hurt Their Graces,” Alice said.

“Would they? Lady Hawise seemed cold, and I wonder if she’s that innocent in all this.”

“I hardly know. But she is cold toward everyone—that is simply her way. I would not take it as a personal slight. But… from what I have seen and heard, I have no reason to think they would be involved in all of this. If anything, Lady Hawise and Mistress de la Haye seem more unhappy about being used.”

“What information could de Grecy have had for you?” Bronwyn asked. “He and the other spy? Did the empress really keep you in the dark as to who the other spy was?”

“Yes. It is too dangerous if the names are commonly known. If that sort of information got out, it would mean our deaths if fallen into the wrong hands. It’s why I made sure to burn the scrap of parchment in de Grecy’s room when I got the chance. All I know is he was working inside the castle with someone. I can only guess they were working on some plan to take away King Stephen’s power from within his court and destabilize it so the empress could take over. But the more I learn about de Grecy, the more I find he was considered a braggart and a fool. I think the rolls provided an opportunity for the other spy to get rid of him.”

“What makes you say that?”

Alice looked at her. “These men are knights, in the truest sense of the word. They have their own sense of honor. If they thought another man had besmirched that honor, they’d simply challenge them to a duel. None of these secretive attacks behind the scenes. I suspect they would think it beneath them.”

Is it not beneath you? Bronwyn wondered.

That afternoon, she stood by Alice’s chair at the dining table and looked around, assessing the people there. Who could have used her father’s rolls to kill? Who would have been so bold to try, and who would have been so daring as to believe they could succeed? She could almost admire the cunning, except that her father’s life hung in the balance. A page burst into the hall. “Help! It’s Roger! He’s dead!”

People stopped what they were doing and froze. Alice looked at Bronwyn, her eyes wide. “Go,” she mouthed.

Bronwyn was among the first in the room to respond. She cornered the page. “Where? Show me.”

The boy could only have been around age ten or so, and he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Bronwyn could hear men shout, the pushing back of benches and chairs and men fast behind her, but she ran after the boy, lifting her skirts as she hurried.

He took her out of the castle proper and over to the riverbank. The boy huffed and puffed, out of breath, when he took her to a bit of the river and pointed. “There,” he said, breathing hard.

“What? I don’t see anything,” she said.

“Look.” He pointed.

Bronwyn looked. There toward the edge of the riverbank was the water, frozen over with ice from the cold night. But beneath the clear, glassy surface, was none other than Roger, wrapped in his green cloak, his face frozen in silent horror.