BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) JANE ADAMS (fox in socks read aloud TXT) 📖

“Unusual for a churchman or just unusual?”

“Both, I would say.”

Kendryk drank deep and refreshed Treven’s cup before refilling his own. “The day trails towards dusk,” he commented. “I think it time to change to stronger ale.”

He went to the steps and gave an order to one outside. “It is time for food, also,” he said. “A man cannot think well on an empty stomach.”

“What happens when you fast?” Treven asked. “Do your thoughts fail you then?”

“My thoughts,” Kendryk told him, “never fail me. Others are not so fortunate. Most men require a nourished body to think clearly and it is not my belief that God wished any man to starve.” This last was said softly and with a feeling that had nothing, Treven felt, to do with the present conversation.

“And now,” Kendryk settled himself in the throne-like chair once more. “How are we to resolve this? You have spent the afternoon in thought, what conclusions have you come to?”

“That there was another reason for Eldred wishing Cate dead, once her sister was gone.”

“The land,” Kendryk confirmed. “He and Edmund will inherit, of course. Add this estate to their own, such as it is.”

“Tell me.”

“The land the brothers own is fertile but takes more skill at management than either of them has. In these past years much more has been brought under cultivation, but that was Allis’s doing. She divided it into small parcels, a hide or so in each and set cottagers to live thereon and work the land. They pay their tithe, but thereafter, for the most part, need little from their lord in order to survive which, as you must know, takes strain from the shoulders in lean times. Wisely, she has set the tithe in terms of labour. The ditches she had dug have drained the fields and brought more into use and at the eastern end of their property, she had planted hedge and tree to break the wind from the fenlands. You remember, I am sure, how the North wind strikes cold when it blows across the water. We feel its force even this far inland.”

“And how did the brothers react to this management?”

“Edmund was wise enough to welcome it. The mother, Allis and Cate’s mother, was a woman of great wisdom and immense strength of will. She raised her children in the same mould, though little Cate was not by nature like to her mother and sister. She favoured the father, may the good Lord bless him.”

“And Eldred, did he take this calmly?”

“Eldred rages against the slightest restraint, but he had sense enough to accept what must be done and the brothers have prospered by it. You know that the brothers took the women’s name of Scrivener when they married. Tillian insisted upon that before agreeing to the marriage of Aliss. He wished his name preserved. He drew up a will that ensured their direct inheritance.”

“A reason, perhaps, for the brothers to want rid of their women?”

Kendryk shook his head. “Less, in fact,” he said. “There is another child. A third sister.”

“A third? I have heard no mention of this.”

“She is a mere babe,” Kendryk told him. “Fathered by Tillian just after his wife’s death. He confessed it and his family knew though the knowledge is not widely spread abroad. The woman is widowed, as was Tillian I believe at the time of the babe’s conception. He has directed that she should have her share of the inheritance.”

“And was he in his right mind when this child was conceived?” Treven enquired.

Kendryk pursed his thin lips. “That point is moot,” he said. “Aliss doubted.” He looked shrewdly at Treven. “Do not fear, King’s Thegn. I will see that the child is kept safe. Whatever the matter of her conception, she is still entitled to her land.”

Treven frowned but let the matter pass. There were more pressing needs to deal with. “And Aliss was unhappy enough to run away,” Treven mused.

“So it seems. Even wise women can be foolish in matters of the heart. Men too for that matter.”

They fell silent for a moment, waiting while food and drink were brought and Kendryk bade the servants depart. Treven pulled his chair closer to the fire and table.

“The marks on Cate’s neck. They showed the grip of strong fingers, Treven. Is your Reeve capable of strangling a woman?”

Treven carved meat before replying. “Hugh left those marks,” he said slowly. “Of that, I am certain. I watched his face and his eyes betrayed him. He knew what I would find.”

“You think they quarrelled and he tried to kill her?”

“Had Hugh sincerely meant her death, she would have died, I think.” He took a bite of meat and bread and then shook his head. “But no. There is a reverse of that argument. Had Hugh held back, realised she still lived; he must have known she would name him. He could have fled, instead he returned to his bed.”

“Perhaps he thought he had done enough. In panic mistakes are made and Hugh could well have believed that he had killed her. To flee would have been to admit his guilt. So, he lay down to sleep then showed surprise at the manner of her death.”

Treven nodded. “If she recovered consciousness and found him gone . . . she must have known that the charcoal burner lived but a little further on the path. If Hugh then saw her, living, about to raise the cry, he would have had no choice.”

“He had choice,” Kendryk argued. “Had he pleaded that his passion got the better of him. That she angered him and he did not know what he did, he could have pled manslaughter. He is a man of rank, and, one presumes, by those trinkets he wears, of wealth. He could have paid her blood price and be done with