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hard-bitten and arrogant breed, especially those from Flanders—and as Chacal approached, she decided that he fit the image. Despite the rebuke he had recently received from John, he walked with a slight swagger and there was little deference in his voice as he said to Marshal, “You wished to be advised when the king returned, lord. The gateward on the tower reports that his party is approaching.”
    With a brief nod to the mercenary, Marshal rose from his seat and turned to Nicolaa. “Will you accompany me into the bail, lady, to greet John?”
    With a nod of assent, Nicolaa rose from her seat and left the hall with the earl, signing to the two knights of her escort, and Gianni and Clare, to stay where they were until she returned.

Chapter Four
    The king came thundering through the gate on a snow-white stallion, the hem of his ermine-lined cloak streaming out behind him. At his heels was an escort of half-a-dozen mercenaries, all wearing coats of mail with conical metal helmets and each heavily armed with sword and mace.
    John came to a sliding halt in the middle of the bail, his expression as dark as a storm cloud. It lightened slightly when he saw Nicolaa standing with Marshal at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the keep. After he had dismounted and tossed the reins of his horse to a waiting groom, he came across to where she was standing and greeted her warmly, clasping both of her hands in his. “I am pleased to see you, lady,” he said, “although I would wish the circumstances were different.”
    â€œAs would I,” Nicolaa assured him. “Marshal has told me of the murder of your servant.”
    John nodded, his eyes full of sorrow. “Poor Molly. She did not deserve to die such a terrible death.”
    Abruptly he put aside his grief, and in a brusque tone he said to Marshal, “Has de Cornhill arrived yet? He is sheriff; he should be here to attend me, especially as a crime has been committed in his bailiwick. His continued absence is most displeasing to me.”
    â€œA letter arrived from him this morning, after you had left for Dover,” the earl replied, his manner equally stiff, the constraint between Marshal and the king obvious. “He is at his estate in Rochester and apologises for his tardiness, but he has been overtaken by a virulent fever and is unable to rise from his bed.”
    â€œDamnation,” John swore softly.
    â€œAs you requested in the message you left for me, I met with the coroner at the townhouse after you left this morning,” Marshal added. “He has recorded the details of the murder and released the body for burial. The town bailiff came with him and offered his assistance in the search for the murderer, but his resources are limited—he has only the men of the town guard at his disposal—and their expertise is confined to dealing with much smaller crimes, such as robbery and drunkenness. Despite his willingness, I fear his efforts will not meet with much success.”
    â€œNo, the investigation cannot be left in the hands of a town official,” John declared. “Someone of more competence must be found, and quickly, before the trail grows cold. I will give the matter some thought.”
    Turning back to Nicolaa, he apologised for keeping her standing in the cold. “You have had a long journey, lady, and will be anxious to know the reason for my summons. Come, let us go into the keep and I will enlighten you.”
    As he took Nicolaa’s arm and turned towards the stone tower, he added over his shoulder, “It will be best if you come with us, Marshal. You are aware of the subject I wish to raise with Lady Nicolaa, and our conversation will be rendered more expedient if you are present.”
    As John led the way into the hall, Miles and Gilles, as well as Gianni and Clare, rose from their seats and hurriedly made an obeisance, but the king swept