Free Fortune Like the Moon by Alys Clare Page B

shrine and the monks’ house, and to the little pool that forms below the shrine. That track – the one, in fact, on which she was found – is smaller. It is not much used.’
    That, then, was one question answered. Whatever mission had taken Gunnora out that night, she had not gone far. But, as seemed increasingly to be the case, one question answered posed more: had she completed what she had set out to do, or had she been killed on the way?
    He watched as, again, the Abbess performed her rearranging task.
    Then, coming to stand beside him, they both stood in silence, gazing at the dead girl.
    He no longer had the feeling that there was more to be learned from her. It was time, finally, to leave her alone. He stepped forward, picked up the coffin lid and replaced it. Then, inserting the tips of the nails back into their holes, he used his baulk of timber to bang them down again.
    He resumed his place beside the Abbess. Then, as if they had been waiting for some inaudible sign that they were dismissed, they turned and went back up the spiral staircase.
    *   *   *
    ‘I have been trying to arrange it that someone usually sits in vigil,’ she said as they left the church, which, as it had been when they went in, was still conspicuously empty. ‘But it has been so long, now. I sensed that my nuns were distressed by the task, that, by continuing to take their turn at sitting with poor Gunnora, this dreadful event was kept in the forefront of their minds.’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘I no longer insist on it.’
    ‘Wise, if I may be allowed to comment,’ he said. ‘Probably the feeling that she has been abandoned, that no one from her family has come for her, increases the poignancy.’
    ‘It does indeed. My lord d’Acquin, it is strange, is it not, this failure in response? I sent word, of course, as soon as I could, and the family home is but a day’s ride away at most. And I know my message was received, for the bearer reported back to me to that effect.’
    ‘Did the bearer say how the tidings were greeted? With shock and distress, I’m sure, but—’
    ‘He – it was one of the lay brothers – did say that the father appeared shocked, yes. But it was peculiar, he said, because the man seemed shocked before the brother had so much as got down from his horse.’
    ‘He guessed, do you think? Surmised that a rider arriving on a hard-ridden horse from the Abbey where his daughter lives must be bringing bad news?’
    ‘Perhaps.’ She frowned. ‘Yes, probably no more than that. But it’s odd…’
    He waited. ‘Yes?’
    Again, the shrug. ‘The brother had the strong impression that the father hardly took in the news. He – the brother – took some pains to repeat his brief account of what had happened, this time in the presence of two of the household servants.’
    ‘With no more response the second time?’
    She gave a half smile, as if even she found it hard to believe what she was suggesting. ‘That’s the strangest thing of all. The father, so the lay brother says, seemed to brush him away. Gave the strong impression that he was preoccupied with something else, that this dire news of his daughter was a distraction.’
    ‘A distraction,’ Josse echoed. Yes, it was strange. ‘You can trust the word of the lay brother? He is not the sort of man to embellish a tale so as to increase the drama?’
    ‘Absolutely not.’ She was vehement. ‘Brother Saul is an excellent man, reliable, trustworthy, and observant.’ She glared at Josse, as if to say, why else do you imagine I chose him?
    ‘Very well. Then let us ask ourselves why a father should treat news of a daughter’s death – her murder, indeed – as if it were something of a nuisance, taking him away from more important matters.’
    ‘Matters already causing distress,’ she added.
    ‘Aye. That too.’
    They had moved right away from the church and were standing in the shade of the cloisters, and she, he was sure, was as relieved as