An Uncertain Choice(50)

If I did nothing — ?as I had the last time — ?then I would prove how weak I truly was.

Thankfully, the abbot agreed. And after prayers for strength and guidance, the abbot promised to send his messengers to retrieve the sheriff.

As I waited in my golden chair in the Great Hall, my mind replayed all of the conversations Derrick and I had with the peasants the previous day. I realized I must not only discipline the sheriff for his disobedience, I must also question him about the outbreaks of the strange illness. After sharing my concerns with the abbot, he’d been the first to suggest that perhaps the sheriff was more sinister than he’d believed.

The weight of my responsibility sank like heavy stones onto my shoulders. Why did becoming a leader and an adult have to be so difficult?

The knights and their squires were seated at the side tables breaking their fasts, but I had no appetite. My stomach was wound into too many tangles. I kept my focus on the wide double doors, awaiting the sheriff’s presence, mentally trying to plan what I would say to him.

I half-jumped when my porter, James, entered. But I sat back once I realized he wasn’t ushering in the sheriff but rather one of the hired laborers who worked at the monastery. The man approached the abbot, who was breaking his fast down the table from where I sat. After several moments of speaking to the abbot in low, urgent tones, the abbot sprang from his chair with such speed that it toppled over behind him, hitting the floor with a reverberating bang. The abbot’s eyes were round with horror. “Are you certain?”

The hired laborer nodded gravely.

“Do we know who the murderer is?” the abbot asked, his face pinched and pale.

At the mention of murder, silence descended over the Great Hall and all eyes came to rest on the monastery worker.

The laborer glanced around the Great Hall, his gaze only stopping when he reached Derrick, who stood with the duke and his two companions near the double doors. They’d obviously anticipated some resistance from the sheriff and had planned to support my efforts to confront him.

Derrick’s handsome face was unshaven, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. But he stood as straight and strong as befitted a knight of his rank.

The laborer tore his attention from Derrick, shook his head, and then whispered in the abbot’s ear.

The abbot’s eyes narrowed and the creases in his face deepened.

“What is it, Father Abbot?” I asked.

He turned his kind eyes on me, and there was a sadness in them that sent warning bells ringing inside. Something dreadful must have happened.

I prayed it wasn’t another outbreak of the illness.

“I regret to inform you, my child,” the abbot said gently, “that the sheriff was found murdered in his bed this morning.”


“Murdered?” I rose rapidly from my chair, unable to believe that such a thing could happen. Who would have done it? Not with the fortifications the sheriff put into place around his estate. Not with his vicious dogs. Of course, I had reason to dismiss and discipline him. But murder? I shook my head.

The abbot glanced at Derrick with a sharpness that sent a sudden tremor through my heart.

No! The silent protest screamed through my mind. Not Derrick!

But when the abbot turned to face me again, I trembled so that my knees almost gave way. “The sheriff’s servants found their master in his bed this morning . . . with his heart cut from his chest. They informed my messenger, here, of what happened.”

I shook my head, too dismayed to respond.

“The heart was found nailed to the post in the middle of the town square.”

I collapsed into my chair.

“I’m sorry, your ladyship,” the abbot said.

“That doesn’t mean —?” I couldn’t bring myself to accuse Derrick.

“Several servants saw Sir Derrick inside the sheriff’s estate last night.”

All eyes turned on Derrick, who stood frozen next to the duke, his face a stony mask. I silently begged him to explain himself, to tell us that he hadn’t broken in to the sheriff’s house again, that he hadn’t sought revenge against the sheriff for the altercation in the market square yesterday.

But he remained silent.

To my relief, the duke spoke. “There must be some mistake. Sir Derrick never made any mention of going out last night —?”

“I did go there last night, your Grace,” Derrick said. “But I only went to investigate. I have my suspicions that the recent outbreaks of illness in Lady Rosemarie’s lands are related to the sheriff somehow, and I only wished to find evidence of such.”

“And so while you were there, you got into another fight?” the abbot asked.

“I didn’t seek out the sheriff,” Derrick said, shaking his head. “I had no wish to fight him.”

The abbot’s eyes narrowed. “Only to murder him —?”

“Please refrain from accusing my knight until you have solid evidence.” The duke’s voice was low and edged with anger.

“I think we have plenty of evidence,” the abbot said in an equally hard tone. “Everyone in town heard Sir Derrick tell the sheriff yesterday that he would cut his heart out. Even I have learned of it. And if that’s not enough, we have Sir Derrick’s own admission he broke into the sheriff’s estate last night. What more do we need?”