A Conspiracy of Wolves

‘Gerta screamed, threw a stone at them, then turned and jumped into the river. From the moment she hit the water it was plain she could not swim. And even if she could, the current was so strong. I dived in after her. So cold, and the water so dark – I hadn’t thought about how impossible it would be to see her in the choppy current. I had never been in the river in a flood. Something hit me and I went under. I thought I was dead. I could not tell which way was up. But I was pushed against the bank and caught on to a branch, pulled myself up along it. I was catching my breath when I saw her red skirt. And then I saw her hand. I swam out. Death would be better than to live knowing I’d given up trying to save her, save her from the death I brought on her. I don’t know how many times I went under, lost sight of her, saw her again, then lost her, but she’d caught a log and was managing to keep her head up. I kept swimming toward her. When I reached her I thought, at last! But she was draped over the log, limp. Alive? I could not stop to check, just worked on pulling the log to shore. But then – if I climbed out first, I had to let go of the log and risk losing her. And there was Warin, the poacher, crouching down, lifting her out.’

‘He put her on the ground face down and pushed the water from her lungs. When she began to cough and retch, I sank to my knees and thanked God.’

‘God watched over her,’ said Owen.

‘Did he?’ Crispin looked doubtful. ‘She was so close to death.’

‘How did Warin come to be there?’

‘He said she lived with his family, his daughter’s close friend. His daughter had come to tell him what had happened. “Your friends won’t thank you,” he said, “but I do.” I told him they were not my friends and I didn’t deserve thanks. I wanted to come along, help him with her, but he told me to go home.

‘I followed anyway, for a while, until she woke and ordered me away. “Richard must not know about you,” she said. Warin growled at her, told her to be quiet about that ungodly man. “Don’t call him that. I love him. We are to wed.” Warin cursed and she ordered him to set her down. I asked who she was talking about, who she was to wed. Warin said Richard Goldbarn had been calling on her, bringing her gifts, filling her head with ideas. He cursed him. Gerta slapped him. I– I stumbled away, my heart breaking. The sergeant of Galtres – that old man and my Gerta? God help me, I loved her. I’d begun to think– When I reached home I told my father all of it, and said I wanted to go off to be a soldier. He locked me in my room. I found a way out, and left. I never saw my father again.’ Crispin’s voice broke. ‘All that while I had not understood what I felt for Gerta. I should have protected her.’

Lucie allowed herself a sip of wine as they sat for a moment in silence.

‘And then what?’ Owen asked.

‘Years later, in a camp before a battle, someone who had been in York at the time told me that a few days later her body was pulled out of the Ouse by a fisherman. She’d been dead before she went in the water, strangled, her head cracked open – maybe in the water, maybe by her strangler. The coroner’s jury – Bartolf’s jury – found Warin the poacher guilty, and hanged him at the crossroads.’

Euphemia’s accusation now made no sense to Lucie. Nor to Owen – she saw him shaking his head. ‘Warin?’ Lucie asked. ‘But–’

‘Of course it didn’t make sense,’ said Crispin. ‘Until my father wrote to me – once I left the fighting and was in trade, I let him know where I was, and he wrote to ask my forgiveness. He’d told mother all I’d told him. Then, when Gerta was murdered so soon after I’d fled, she feared I would be accused – they’d say I did it and ran.’

‘You would be the obvious suspect,’ said Owen.

‘I wish she had let it lie. Father could have warned me to stay away, and I would have. My return has brought no joy to anyone. But Mother prayed for my return. So she had Father go to Bartolf and tell him that Gerta had told me she feared Warin, he had an unholy lust for her. It suited Bartolf. He must have been frantic for his friend Richard Goldbarn, fearing he’d be blamed, and how could Bartolf defend him.’

‘You believe Goldbarn murdered her?’ Owen asked.

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Who else might it be?’

‘You describe her as quite beautiful, wandering the forest alone, or with another young woman. Crispin, it is not at all obvious Goldbarn was guilty,’ said Lucie. ‘Have you ever heard any proof of it? Any witnesses?’

‘I had Elwin check the coroner’s report. Very little is said other than that Warin was seen bending over her a few days earlier, then carrying her, apparently in a faint, through the wood.’

‘When you carried her out of the water, were Paul, Hoban, and Olyf there?’ asked Owen.

‘If they were, I did not notice. The next time I saw any of them was this summer, on my return to York.’

‘So they’d not run downstream to help you?’ asked Lucie.