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is. Most of us had served under your foster father before we served Gervase Canville, and we know military matters. The new earl’s ideas were foolish in the extreme.”
    Hugh was silent, waiting for the story to continue.
    The knight’s lips tightened. “The night before Lord Gilbert was murdered, a group of us who were off duty got together at the Nettle.” The Nettle was the local inn most favored by the castle knights.
    John gave Hugh a somewhat defiant look. “We had a little too much to drink.”
    Hugh’s face didn’t change.
    John met his eyes. “One or two of the other patrons heard Bernard say that Lord Gilbert would do us a favor by dying so that his prospective son-in-law— you —could become the earl.”
    Hugh’s prolonged silence made John shift uncomfortably on his chair.
    “It was just the drink talking, my lord!” he said. “Anyone who knows Bernard knows that!”
    Hugh finally spoke. “But the very next night, Bernard was found, knife in hand, next to the murdered body of Gilbert de Beauté.” His voice was calm and even.
    “Aye, my lord,” John said miserably.
    “What does Bernard say happened?”
    “He says that he received a message from the sheriff to meet him in the Minster, my lord. The message was delivered by one of the castle grooms.”
    “Does the groom corroborate this?”
    “The groom can corroborate nothing, my lord. When the sheriff looked for him to verify Bernard’s story, he was found stabbed to death.”
    An intimidating silence fell.
    The knight shifted again on his seat and continued, “The sheriff had no option but to arrest Bernard, my lord. And I’m very much afraid that, unless the true culprit is found, he will hang.”
    Hugh asked in a neutral tone, “And what is it that you wish me to do?”
    John pulled his stocky body into an erect position, lifted his chin, and announced, “I want you to come back to Lincoln with me, my lord, and save Bernard.”
    Hugh smiled, but it was a smile totally without humor. “That is a rather large commission.”
    “Your father would want you to try,” John said. “Ralf had a great value for Bernard.”
    “Aye,” Hugh returned. “I know he did.”
    “You should know that I have come here on my own,” the knight said. “Bernard is not asking help of you; I am.”
    After a long moment, Hugh gave a long sigh of resignation and leaned back in his chair.
    “I am flattered by your trust, John,” he said mildly. “I cannot promise results, but I will go to Lincoln with you and try my best to discover who really killed Gilbert de Beauté.”
    John Melan grinned. “I knew Bernard could count on you, Hugh!” he said. “I knew it.”
     
    Hugh and Nigel and Cristen sat together in the solar after supper. Cristen’s faithful dogs had curled up comfortably on the floor by her feet, and she absently stroked their heads.
    Hugh had said nothing about John Melan’s request. Now that the three of them were alone, he told them about the arrest of Bernard.
    Nigel, who knew Bernard Radvers, was outraged. “Of course it is a mistake,” he said. “Bernard could have no possible reason to kill the Earl of Lincoln!”
    So then Hugh had to tell Cristen’s father about the marriage that Guy had arranged between him and Lady Elizabeth de Beauté.
    “It is a brilliant match,” Nigel said slowly when Hugh had finished speaking. “It will give the de Leons complete control of two shires and partial control of several more. In one stroke, Guy will have accomplished what Ranulf of Chester and William of Roumare have been trying to do for years.”
    He peered at Hugh intently, trying to read what his intentions might be in regard to this magnificent marriage. Deliberately, he did not look at his daughter.
    “Unfortunately,” Hugh said, “the match has apparently given Bernard a reason to wish de Beauté dead. It is well known in Lincoln that Bernard was a close friend of my foster father’s. In fact, before we marched north to the