HAUNT OF MURDER, A Read Online Free Page B

terrible murder. The guard who found her corpse is still being sick,
says he cannot forget. Beardsmore’s taken up with rage and sorrow.’
    Everyone sat in silence. Three days earlier Phoebe, a maid from the castle, a buxom, bright-eyed lass, had left to return to her parents in their wattle-daubed cottage on the main trackway out of Maldon. When she did not arrive home, her father came to the castle the following morning to look for her. Beardsmore, the sergeant-at-arms, had taken charge; he was beside himself with worry. He had been on guard the previous night and had not seen Phoebe leave. He was sure his sweetheart was still in the castle. Still, a search had been organised and, within the hour, Phoebe’s body had been found in Devil’s Spinney, a copse of ancient oaks, only a short distance from the castle. Phoebe’s throat had been cut from ear to ear and it was apparent, so Theobald Vavasour said, that she had been attacked and cruelly beaten before she was killed.
    ‘Who could do that to a poor girl?’ Father Aylred asked.
    ‘I …’ Beatrice stared across at an old mangonel which lay on its side on the far side of the green.
    ‘Go on, Beatrice,’ Ralph urged. ‘Tell Sir John.’
    ‘When I left on Monday,’ she said, ‘I thought I saw someone near Devil’s Spinney. All I glimpsed was a cowl and cloak, it could have been anyone.’
    ‘The roads are full of wolf’s-heads and outlaws,’ Sir John commented. ‘Landless men who prey upon the weak.’
    Ralph shook his head. ‘The trackway from the castle is fairly busy. Whoever killed Phoebe would have had to lure her into the spinney first, and no stranger could have done that.’
    ‘You’re saying that Phoebe must have gone to the spinney of her own free will to meet someone – the person Beatrice saw – who later killed her?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Ralph replied.
    ‘It’s all very unsettling.’ Father Aylred was pale-faced and anxious. ‘Phoebe’s murder, Beardsmore vowing vengeance and that cesspool of discontent, the Pot of Thyme.’ He was
referring to a tavern in Maldon, a well-known meeting place for malcontents.
    ‘It’s seething over the disappearance of Fulk the miller’s son.’
    ‘What happened to him?’
    ‘No one knows. They say he came to Ravenscroft and hasn’t been seen since.’
    ‘Oh, enough of all this.’ Lady Anne got to her feet. ‘Tax collectors, witches, ghosts, murders! Now, I’ve made something special.’
    ‘Oh good!’ Ralph rubbed his stomach; Lady Anne’s spiced cheese dish was famous.
    ‘And for afterwards,’ she said, ‘some oriels. You all like elderberry, don’t you?’
    They all did and Sir John, eager to keep everyone happy, said he would serve some of his Rhenish wine which was kept cool in the castle cellars.
    Adam brought out his flute and Ralph sang a song to the Virgin Mary, ‘Maria Dulcis Mater’, in a lusty voice, a fine complement to Adam’s playing. The afternoon drew on. Each of the guests had to sing a song or recite a poem. The sun began to set. Wheeled braziers were lit and brought out, and pitch torches fired and lashed to poles driven into the ground. Their flames spluttered and danced in the night air.
    ‘We shall feast and we shall feast,’ Sir John declared, ‘until we have feasted enough. Then Lady Anne here will serve some marchpane.’
    ‘Time for a pause, I think,’ said Theobald. ‘A brisk walk, clear the dishes and the tables, then some marchpane. Afterwards we can sit here and really frighten ourselves with ghost stories.’
    ‘Come on.’ Lady Anne beckoned to Marisa and Beatrice. ‘Help me carry these pots to the kitchens. The scullery maids can wash them.’
    Ralph pinched the back of Beatrice’s hand. ‘I’ll go for a
walk along the parapet.’ He pointed to the deserted sentry walk high on the wall. ‘The night air is always invigorating.’
    Beatrice and Marisa helped Lady Anne to collect the cups, empty bowls and jugs and take them into the chamber at