“These are the miller’s children, Millisent and Will,” Alfred said.
Gunnar nodded and rose to his full, formid
able height. The miller’s children stiffened, their eyes widening, but they did not back away, although they looked as if they wanted to. He noticed the girl’s hands were blistered from her attempts to put out the fire, and there was a bloody scratch on her throat. In comparison the boy seemed unscathed.
“Where is your father?”
They glanced at each other and then the girl answered, her French awkward and interspersed with English. “He has gone. I don’t know where. Maybe to Lady Rose’s keep.”
Gunnar had had plenty of experience with liars, and this girl was lying. Either she knew exactly where her father had gone, and why, or she knew something of the dead man.
“Your father would leave you alone here?”
“We were…parted. Perhaps he believed we had already gone.”
“Perhaps.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes that he should believe her so readily.
“Do you know this man?” He gestured to the body, keeping his eyes on her face.
She didn’t look at the dead man, but instead turned away and shook her head. “No. He is a stranger here.”
“You didn’t see him when he was alive?”
Again the shake of the head, her mouth stubbornly firm, but tears shone in her eyes.
Obviously there was nothing to be gained from questions now, Gunnar decided, if he did not want a reputation as an ogre. If the dead man was a Norman, he would find out the truth tomorrow, or the day after.
“Alfred, we will take Millisent and her brother to the keep. They will be safe there. And send me Ivo.”
He deliberately spoke in rapid French, and now the girl looked startled, turning to Alfred for an explanation. Alfred stepped closer, almost protectively. She eyed his scarred face curiously, but she seemed too dazed by what was happening to be repulsed. When Alfred shepherded her away, she came meekly, her brother’s hand still gripped in hers.
Gunnar stayed, staring down at the body. A dead stranger in an English village, possibly a Norman stranger. Was it murder? This was a serious matter for all at Somerford Manor. Should he inform Radulf? The answer was clearly yes, and yet he was loath to do so. There was a puzzle here, and Gunnar was keen to solve it. Besides, if Radulf came now, the chance to gain Lady Rose’s land would be lost to him. Lady Rose herself would be lost to him…
His body tightened at the thought of her.
He had not known himself capable of such heat.
The sound of Ivo’s approach stilled his imaginings, and he waited while his second-in-command came to a halt.
“What is it?” Ivo asked, swiftly dismounting.
“A dead man no one wants to claim.”
Ivo knelt down for his own inspection and, when he had finished, raised his brooding dark eyes to Gunnar’s calm blue ones. “What will you do?”
“Stow his body safely for now. We need to find out who he was and who killed him. The miller has run away, I think. We will start there. In daylight.”
Ivo nodded.
“Are we finished here?”
“The fires we could put out are out. The villagers who want to stay have found themselves somewhere to sleep; the rest are on their way to the keep for the night.”
“Good. No sign of any merefolk?”
“Nothing. The attack was swift and silent, the damage was done before anyone knew what was happening, and by then it was too late. They all blame the people from the Mere but no one actually saw them.”