Free Never Trust a Dead Man by Vivian Vande Velde Page B

pilgrim who got separated from the rest of his company. I've been wandering, lost, for the better part of two days. This was the first house I've seen, and I came to beg food. I didn't see that anyone was here."
    Merton didn't say anything, and Selwyn couldn't tell how reasonable he found the story.
    "I'm sorry," Selwyn said—as a pilgrim, there was no way that he'd know this wasn't Merton's house, so he pretended he thought it was—"I'm sorry I took your food. I'd be happy to do work for you, to make it up to you." It would, in fact, be a good excuse to stay, to find out more about what had happened the night of the murder.
    Merton slowly lowered the rake. "It's not my house," he said, which was a relief: Selwyn had recognized the possibility that the farm might have been taken away from his parents, for having a murderer for a son. Merton added, "I'm just looking out after the animals..."—he hesitated—"while the owners ... are away. For a day or so."
    The animals. Of course, the animals would need tending. Selwyn realized the chickens would have rushed right up to him at his approach if they hadn't eaten in days. If the goats had been left loose without food, they would have wandered off for good; and if they weren't loose, they would probably be close to starving by now. "Thank you," Selwyn said earnestly. "That's very good of you."
    Merton, who had no way of knowing why this pilgrim should be so grateful for his care of somebody else's animals, frowned in puzzlement.
    "I ... ah ... have vowed to offer a prayer at the shrine of Saint Agnes of the Lake for all the good people I meet along my journey."
    Which wouldn't include you,
Selwyn mentally added.
Take care of my animals, but leave me to die.
He gave Merton a bright smile.
    Merton said, "Well, the people who live here are good people, too. Offer up a prayer for them, and I'm sure they wouldn't begrudge you the food."
    "
Do
they need prayers?" Selwyn tried to sound innocent. "Especially?"
    Merton looked surprised but only answered, "Doesn't everyone?"
    "Who are they?" Selwyn asked. "Where are they?"
    Merton narrowed his eyes suspiciously again. "Ask a lot of questions, don't you?"
    Selwyn said, "I'd like to thank them. I'm sure what I ate here today saved my life."
    "
I'll
thank them for you," Merton told him. "I'm here much of the time, my farm being the next one over."
    It wasn't, but perhaps Merton was only suspicious that he was a thief and was warning him that the place would be well watched. Selwyn hoped he hadn't looked too surprised, for neither pilgrim nor thief would know that Merton had lied.
    "Well, God bless you and the people who live here," he said. "May each of you be rewarded for your actions as you deserve." The second part, at least, he could say in all sincerity.
    Merton scowled, which Selwyn thought might be evidence of a guilty conscience.
    Then again, it might have been because he caught sight of the back of Selwyn's hat as he passed—with Farold the bat hanging from the brim.

ELEVEN
    "Oh, that was well thought out and skillfully done," Farold told him as they headed down the road to the village. "Learn a lot, did we?"
    Leave it to Selwyn's luck that Farold couldn't have slept through that ill-handled exchange. "Be quiet," he grumbled. He glanced behind to see if Merton was making sure he was really leaving and saw that he was. Merton was watching him while raking the patch of garden his mother kept, which would yield vegetables till the first frost if kept clear of leaves and debris.
That might make up for giving my knife to Farold to teach me a lesson,
he thought,
but it won't make up for not speaking up when that knife turned up IN Farold.
Merton stopped raking and glowered. Selwyn waved, lamely, which couldn't have done anything to allay Merton's suspicions that he was a thief.
    "So who are we going to interrogate next?" Farold asked from his position on the back of Selwyn's straw hat.
    Selwyn decided he wouldn't let Farold's persistent