The queen's man : a medieval mystery by Sharon Kay Penman Page A
Authors: Sharon Kay Penman
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formidable a weapon as the finely honed sword at his hip. But if even half of what Justin had heard about John was true, he knew nothing of moral boundaries. Not a comfortable man to encounter in the shadows.
"Have you been in my lady mother's service long?"
"No, not long."
"I understand you delivered an urgent letter about ten days ago. I would be most interested in learning the contents of that letter, Master de Quincy."
Justin swallowed. "I regret that I cannot be of assistance, my lord. I would never dare read a letter meant for the queen's eyes. As for that particular letter, I remember nothing of urgency about it. You must have been misinformed."
"Not likely. Those who serve me know how much I value accurate information. I hope you change your mind—about the horse. I would naturally make it worth your while."
"I will think upon it," Justin said, as noncommittally as he could.
"It would help if I knew where to reach you—in case you do decide to sell."
"I have no fixed abode, my lord, so it would be difficult for you to find me."
"You'd be surprised how good I am at finding people, Master de Quincy. What of your family? Surely they'd know where you might be?"
THE QUEEN'S MAN
Hoping his voice held steady, Justin said, "Alas, I have no family, my lord. But I do know how you can contact me. You need only ask the queen."
There was a silence that seemed endless, and then John laughed. "Now why did I not think of that?" He sounded genuinely amused by Justin's audacity, but Justin's tension did not abate until he signaled to his men. "I daresay our paths will cross again."
"Farewell, my lord count." Justin's throat was still tight. He stood where he was, not moving until long after John had departed the stable. The queen had twice warned him about the perils he was likely to face in Winchester. But what if the greatest dangers were to be found in London?
THE QUEEN'S MAN
feet. "That is all 1 remember, and what 1 told the deputy. 1 do not see why he saw a need to have me go over it again ..."
Mumbling to himself, Torold headed off in search of the serving maid. Justin had not claimed outright that he was acting on the deputy's behalf, but neither had he corrected the guard's misunderstanding. He suspected that the free ale had done more to loosen Torold's tongue than any hints of legal authority, but he hadn't gotten much for his money. Not that he was even sure what he'd been hoping to find. His assurances to Eleanor notwithstanding, he could not help feeling as if he were fishing without bait.
The guard had confirmed Justin's suspicions, though, that the outlaws had not ridden out of the city before the goldsmith on that last morning of his life. Who knew how many bandit lairs and encampments were hidden away in those woods? No, they were already lying in wait—and for Gervase Fitz Randolph. Not only had they let Justin go by unscathed, they had also ignored that "swaggering lout with a fine furred mantle and a finer grey stallion," surely a tempting target for men with robbery in mind.
Justin reached for his ale cup, trying to decide what to do next. Even if he could track down the overweening lout or Torold's mayhap-monk, what good would it do? What were they likely to have seen? But there had to be some way of finding the bandits, for how else could he hope to prove who'd hired them? If only he did not have so many suspects! Was it the zealot? The disgruntled brother? The illicit lovers? Or that arrogant, cocksure deputy? Or was it a stranger, elusive and sinister, a spy in the pay of the French king?
"Would you fancy some company?" Without waiting for Justin's response, the woman sat down beside him, staking her claim with good-humored aplomb. It took Justin only a moment or so to decide he'd like to be claimed. It had been too long since he'd lain with a woman, and this one was appealing in an elfin sort of way, fair skin dusted with freckles, small boned and delicate. When Justin signaled for more
"Have you been in my lady mother's service long?"
"No, not long."
"I understand you delivered an urgent letter about ten days ago. I would be most interested in learning the contents of that letter, Master de Quincy."
Justin swallowed. "I regret that I cannot be of assistance, my lord. I would never dare read a letter meant for the queen's eyes. As for that particular letter, I remember nothing of urgency about it. You must have been misinformed."
"Not likely. Those who serve me know how much I value accurate information. I hope you change your mind—about the horse. I would naturally make it worth your while."
"I will think upon it," Justin said, as noncommittally as he could.
"It would help if I knew where to reach you—in case you do decide to sell."
"I have no fixed abode, my lord, so it would be difficult for you to find me."
"You'd be surprised how good I am at finding people, Master de Quincy. What of your family? Surely they'd know where you might be?"
THE QUEEN'S MAN
Hoping his voice held steady, Justin said, "Alas, I have no family, my lord. But I do know how you can contact me. You need only ask the queen."
There was a silence that seemed endless, and then John laughed. "Now why did I not think of that?" He sounded genuinely amused by Justin's audacity, but Justin's tension did not abate until he signaled to his men. "I daresay our paths will cross again."
"Farewell, my lord count." Justin's throat was still tight. He stood where he was, not moving until long after John had departed the stable. The queen had twice warned him about the perils he was likely to face in Winchester. But what if the greatest dangers were to be found in London?
THE QUEEN'S MAN
feet. "That is all 1 remember, and what 1 told the deputy. 1 do not see why he saw a need to have me go over it again ..."
Mumbling to himself, Torold headed off in search of the serving maid. Justin had not claimed outright that he was acting on the deputy's behalf, but neither had he corrected the guard's misunderstanding. He suspected that the free ale had done more to loosen Torold's tongue than any hints of legal authority, but he hadn't gotten much for his money. Not that he was even sure what he'd been hoping to find. His assurances to Eleanor notwithstanding, he could not help feeling as if he were fishing without bait.
The guard had confirmed Justin's suspicions, though, that the outlaws had not ridden out of the city before the goldsmith on that last morning of his life. Who knew how many bandit lairs and encampments were hidden away in those woods? No, they were already lying in wait—and for Gervase Fitz Randolph. Not only had they let Justin go by unscathed, they had also ignored that "swaggering lout with a fine furred mantle and a finer grey stallion," surely a tempting target for men with robbery in mind.
Justin reached for his ale cup, trying to decide what to do next. Even if he could track down the overweening lout or Torold's mayhap-monk, what good would it do? What were they likely to have seen? But there had to be some way of finding the bandits, for how else could he hope to prove who'd hired them? If only he did not have so many suspects! Was it the zealot? The disgruntled brother? The illicit lovers? Or that arrogant, cocksure deputy? Or was it a stranger, elusive and sinister, a spy in the pay of the French king?
"Would you fancy some company?" Without waiting for Justin's response, the woman sat down beside him, staking her claim with good-humored aplomb. It took Justin only a moment or so to decide he'd like to be claimed. It had been too long since he'd lain with a woman, and this one was appealing in an elfin sort of way, fair skin dusted with freckles, small boned and delicate. When Justin signaled for more
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