alone?”
“Aye. He paid and climbed the stairs.”
“The harlot came next? No one else?”
“You think I have the time to spy like a woman on her neighbors? I’ve a business to run, something you seem to have forgotten.”
“You keep your eyes honed well enough for anyone who might cheat you of a tiny silver farthing or cause trouble.”
The innkeeper solemnly considered that for a moment, then his features relaxed as if he had concluded the observation was a compliment. “Hob and Will arrived, then the whore. The brothers often joined Martin upstairs for ale.” He snorted. “And more if the cooper was feeling generous.”
“Who served the food and drink?”
“My niece. Perhaps you might find some answers there, if you sing sweetly enough.”
Ralf’s face grew hot. “I am investigating a murder, not playing minstrel.”
Glaring at the king’s man, the innkeeper growled like an apprehensive dog. “She has yet to kill a man, Crowner, although she might have had cause—one time or another.”
Ralf swallowed a retort.
The man swept the fish back into the basket. “On her way to deliver the fare, she stopped to talk with me. She did not like that I rented the room upstairs to men who pay to swyve Ivetta.” Shrugging, he continued, “Not that I fault her, but the coin was reliable and Ivetta is clean. No one has claimed to have caught any sickness from her. Had anyone complained that they had done so, I would have banned her.”
The crowner nodded.
“While we talked, she put the tray down. Perhaps someone dropped the poison in the food then?”
“Did your niece always serve them?”
“Aye. She knows our inn depends on its reputation for good service given in exchange for good coin. She might not like doing it, but she understands business.”
“Did she say anything later about what she saw that night?”
“I didn’t ask her. Look, my niece has never been happy about this agreement. I do not want to start a quarrel so I never bring it up. See no point in inviting her woman’s squall. Now that Martin’s died, the whoring upstairs is done. It’s one thing to rent a room for a purpose I can turn my back to, but I don’t want the reputation of running a brothel. Ivetta can whore from now on in her own hut, if she can find the custom without her bawd.”
“Whatever you may have wished, your niece chose to confront you about the arrangement anyway. Was that a common practice of hers or had something different happened to cause it that night?”
“Nothing odd. That’s just a woman for you, continuing to argue about settled matters.” Shaking his head, the innkeeper lugged the fish basket over to the door. “These are ready to gut,” he shouted.
A man as tiny as the innkeeper was huge rounded the corner. With ease, he hoisted the basket onto his shoulder and disappeared in the direction of the inn’s cookhouse.
The fish had looked good, Ralf thought, his stomach issuing an appreciative rumble. Maybe he’d return for the evening meal. “Where did your niece put her tray down?” he continued.
“At the table near the door.” The innkeeper waved for the crowner to follow him into the public room, then pointed out the specific place.
“And who passed by while you talked?”
“My back was to it. Ask Signy if you want details.”
“No one was sitting there? On such a busy night?”
“You were near. Why don’t you ask yourself if you remember anyone?”
Ralf walked over to the innkeeper and jabbed a finger into the man’s chest. “Mock and you may find your inn is filled with my men often enough to frighten away anyone with the slightest fear of the king’s justice.”
The man stepped back. “No need, Crowner, no need! I have told the truth. I saw nothing, remember nothing, and am too busy to care what anyone is doing. Were I to notice such things, I might be crowner instead of you.” He yelped as Ralf shoved him. “A jest! ‘Twas a jest!”
Ralf did not step away. His
“Aye. He paid and climbed the stairs.”
“The harlot came next? No one else?”
“You think I have the time to spy like a woman on her neighbors? I’ve a business to run, something you seem to have forgotten.”
“You keep your eyes honed well enough for anyone who might cheat you of a tiny silver farthing or cause trouble.”
The innkeeper solemnly considered that for a moment, then his features relaxed as if he had concluded the observation was a compliment. “Hob and Will arrived, then the whore. The brothers often joined Martin upstairs for ale.” He snorted. “And more if the cooper was feeling generous.”
“Who served the food and drink?”
“My niece. Perhaps you might find some answers there, if you sing sweetly enough.”
Ralf’s face grew hot. “I am investigating a murder, not playing minstrel.”
Glaring at the king’s man, the innkeeper growled like an apprehensive dog. “She has yet to kill a man, Crowner, although she might have had cause—one time or another.”
Ralf swallowed a retort.
The man swept the fish back into the basket. “On her way to deliver the fare, she stopped to talk with me. She did not like that I rented the room upstairs to men who pay to swyve Ivetta.” Shrugging, he continued, “Not that I fault her, but the coin was reliable and Ivetta is clean. No one has claimed to have caught any sickness from her. Had anyone complained that they had done so, I would have banned her.”
The crowner nodded.
“While we talked, she put the tray down. Perhaps someone dropped the poison in the food then?”
“Did your niece always serve them?”
“Aye. She knows our inn depends on its reputation for good service given in exchange for good coin. She might not like doing it, but she understands business.”
“Did she say anything later about what she saw that night?”
“I didn’t ask her. Look, my niece has never been happy about this agreement. I do not want to start a quarrel so I never bring it up. See no point in inviting her woman’s squall. Now that Martin’s died, the whoring upstairs is done. It’s one thing to rent a room for a purpose I can turn my back to, but I don’t want the reputation of running a brothel. Ivetta can whore from now on in her own hut, if she can find the custom without her bawd.”
“Whatever you may have wished, your niece chose to confront you about the arrangement anyway. Was that a common practice of hers or had something different happened to cause it that night?”
“Nothing odd. That’s just a woman for you, continuing to argue about settled matters.” Shaking his head, the innkeeper lugged the fish basket over to the door. “These are ready to gut,” he shouted.
A man as tiny as the innkeeper was huge rounded the corner. With ease, he hoisted the basket onto his shoulder and disappeared in the direction of the inn’s cookhouse.
The fish had looked good, Ralf thought, his stomach issuing an appreciative rumble. Maybe he’d return for the evening meal. “Where did your niece put her tray down?” he continued.
“At the table near the door.” The innkeeper waved for the crowner to follow him into the public room, then pointed out the specific place.
“And who passed by while you talked?”
“My back was to it. Ask Signy if you want details.”
“No one was sitting there? On such a busy night?”
“You were near. Why don’t you ask yourself if you remember anyone?”
Ralf walked over to the innkeeper and jabbed a finger into the man’s chest. “Mock and you may find your inn is filled with my men often enough to frighten away anyone with the slightest fear of the king’s justice.”
The man stepped back. “No need, Crowner, no need! I have told the truth. I saw nothing, remember nothing, and am too busy to care what anyone is doing. Were I to notice such things, I might be crowner instead of you.” He yelped as Ralf shoved him. “A jest! ‘Twas a jest!”
Ralf did not step away. His
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