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it. For that matter, he still could. Eldred is out for vengeance, but the court could uphold Hugh’s right to pay Ficht-wite and the matter be ended. You would, of course, have to send him from you and appoint another in his place.”

Treven nodded slowly. “There are two men here accused according to Folkright," he reminded Kendryk, “and, according to that common law, both must answer charges.”

“Eldred will swear his oath,” Kendryk shrugged. “He will have no trouble finding a dozen men to be his oath helpers. Could Hugh find the same?”

“It could be done. We would have to send to his kin folk, or to the King. Enough still serve him that knew Hugh in times of war. They would swear an oath for him.”

“But you are reluctant to have that done?”

Treven did not reply at once, he tore chunks from the bread and chewed slowly. Staring into the fire, he sought inspiration and clarity in the licking, leaping flames. Finally, he said. “I am reluctant on two counts. The first is that it would look to the King and to Hugh’s kin that I cannot manage my own affairs here and must appeal for help. You might welcome that, but I would not. For the second; words are cheap. It has been known even for a man of honour to perjure himself on oath.”

“But such instances are rare,” Kendryk pointed out. “Most men believe their oath to be sworn before God. It is more than their honour or their soul is worth to swear false.”

“And if I sent for Hugh’s kinsmen or battle companions, they could swear with clear conscience that they’d know him to be brave and true and honourable. In battle, in all of those aspects of his life that they would deem precious, he has done no wrong. They would swear to his good character, not to the fact that he did not kill Cate.”

“Is that all your reason?” Kendryk pushed him.

Treven shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “I believe that at least the marks on her throat are Hugh’s doing. If he did not kill her then it was by default.”

“And the blows to the head?”

“If we see guilt in the one action, then the other has to follow.” He pushed his food away and pressed a hand hard against the fierce pain in his belly.

“What ails you?” Kendryk asked him.

“Pain in the gut. It is nothing. Osric has made a potion for me.”

Kendryk said nothing but continued to watch as Treven tried to ease his discomfort. “So,” he said finally. “You will persuade him to pay the blood price and then send him packing?”

“I will try. I will stand surety for him until such funds can be raised.”

Kendryk laughed aloud. Treven glared at him, irritated by his contempt but the sight was also a disturbing one, that skeletal face, split-mouthed as though a death’s head cackled.

“I have said something to amuse you?”

“Eldred will want gold, not surety. And you, Lord Treven, King’s Thegn, what do you own?”

“I have my land,” Treven told him heatedly “and my sword and horse and sheep and cattle too. I own a hall and two books . . .”

“Two? Riches indeed. Maybe I misjudge you.” He dropped the mocking tone and leaned forward across the table. “Treven, you hold land at the King’s discretion and we all know the moods of kings are fickle. The sheep, I believe are strays from my Abbey farm . . .”

“Which strayed onto my land. They were there when I found them and no mark to say otherwise.”

“We will let the sheep pass. The cattle, I grant you were bought free and fair and the farmer is gleeful that he will neither have to fodder them through winter nor have the trouble of salting their meat and, come Litha, when the poor of the district come to their lord for extra bread and apportion of meat, he too will be there with his hand held out for his share of those cattle you paid him for. The man stands to benefit twice. And as to your horse, he’s seen more winters than that threadbare cloak of yours. Your horse keeps his feet by sheer force of will, love of his master and, no doubt, the herbs Osric adds to his feed that make him feel he is a colt again.”

“The King has promised me two brood mares come Eostre time.”

“You think your horse will have the strength to cover them? Osric will need to dose him well. Your sword, I grant, is a worthwhile thing. A swordsmith of great craft and worth made that, but I know too you’d as soon lose your life or that of Hugh de Vries as give that up.” He sat back in his seat. “Send to his kinsmen, have them pay Cate’s blood price or make Hugh sacrifice some of that finery he wears. The brooch with which he fastens his cloak, alone would come close to fulfilling his pledge.”

“Whatever happens,” Treven said slowly, “Hugh must leave this place.”

“Too true. He has kinsmen in the south that will welcome him back?”

“They will welcome him, but I doubt he’d want to return.”

“How so?”

Treven couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “They wish him to enter the Church,” he said. “As a younger son he was destined always for the Abbey. He could rise high in the ranks there, his family are wealthy and have powerful friends.”

“The Lord preserve us,” Kendryk said fervently. “Still, at least he’d be in the right place to repent.” He didn’t sound hopeful of that happening. “Go to Hugh, tell him to confess his guilt. I will ensure that Eldred waits until the gelt can be raised and then I’ll arrange for escort home to Kent. I do not trust Eldred or his friends not to look

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