Free The Renegade Merchant by Sarah Woodbury Page A

superiors, who best
understood the workings of day-to-day life. Huw was discovering, in
this case, that he didn’t know as much about his masters as he’d
thought.
    “We assumed he’d gone to meet someone who
was staying at the inn,” Gareth said. “Would you know anything
about that?”
    Martin’s eyebrows were almost to his
hairline as he shook his head. “No. Nothing. He said nothing to me
last night.”
    “To me either,” Huw said, now speaking in
English.
    “Do you know this man?” Gareth pulled out
one of the sketches he’d made of Conall. “He would have had red
hair.”
    Martin pursed his lips as he gazed down at
the image. Then he looked up at Gareth. “Did you draw this?” At
Gareth’s nod, he added, “You’re quite good. We can always use a man
like you in our line of work, because a customer likes to see what
he’s getting before he buys. My brother and I—”
    For a moment there it seemed that Martin
might be offering Gareth a position, but with his own mention of
his brother, Martin broke off as his face went gray again, and he
handed the sketch to Huw, who took it without speaking.
    “As far as I know, this man hasn’t been to
the yard, is that right, Huw?” Martin said.
    “Right,” Huw said.
    Martin nodded, as if agreement from his
apprentice was a given. “But if he has red hair like you say, and
he was in Shrewsbury for very long, someone is sure to remember
him.” He paused. “I just realized you’re showing his picture to me
because you think this man killed Roger.”
    Gareth accepted the paper from Huw and
pocketed it again. “It is really too early for us to think
anything. Again, I am very sorry for your loss.”
    “Please give my condolences to Jenny,” John
said. “I know that she was fond of Roger, and that he was kind to
her. I’ll be by later this evening to see her.”
    Martin nodded. “Thank you.” He coughed.
“Wh-where is the body?”
    “Still in our custody,” John said. “He’s on
his way to the abbey right now, and you can contact the brothers
there about burial.”
    Another nod. “Thank you.” Martin turned
away.
    Gareth and John did too, striding down the
driveway and out into the street. Gareth didn’t say anything for a
dozen paces, not wanting to taint John’s first impressions with his
own. They headed east, towards the monastery, which John’s watchmen
should have reached with the body by now. After two streets,
however, John pulled up. “Can I tell you what I’m thinking?”
    “I hoped you would,” Gareth said.
    “Three things,” John said. “The first is
that Martin didn’t say outright that he didn’t recognize Conall—did
you notice that?” John didn’t wait for more than a nod from Gareth
before continuing. “He said only that Conall hadn’t come around the
yard that he knew.”
    “Likely, that’s the truth, which is why—if
he is, in fact, lying about knowing Conall—he tried to distract me
by complementing me on the drawing.” Gareth jerked his chin.
“What’s the second thing?”
    “There’s not a lot of sadness inside Martin
at the loss of his brother, is there? He looked ashen when we told
him, but he was all business afterwards and almost offered you a
job. That isn’t the act of a grief-stricken man.” John’s eyebrows
lifted for an instant and he flashed a brief, satisfied smile. “For
whatever reason, Martin knows more than he’s telling.”
    “And the third?”
    “I know for a fact that Roger beat his
apprentice, and yet, to my eyes Huw expressed more concern at his
death than Martin did.”
    “I am hardly the man to instruct another in
how to grieve, but I think you’re right on all three counts.”
Gareth clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “We’ll make a sleuth of
you yet.”

Chapter Nine
    Gwen
     
    S howing Conall’s image to the various monks and lay workers at
the abbey was something Gwen could do with Tangwen by her side.
Shrewsbury Abbey was laid out in a pattern similar to