[This story is part of the Soothfinder Series.]
Thomas stood at the back of the crowd and gawked with his ears, if such a thing was possible. For Thomas the verdict was still out on the existence of God, but he was now absolutely certain that angels were real, because one was singing by the southern town gate to the beat of drums. Her voice was more clear than the tones of the flue that accompanied her. The sound pouring forth from her soft lips was doing something incredible in his heart, and he wanted more.
Softly, a gentle weight leaned onto his arm. He looked down and saw Isabel resting her head wistfully against him. She let out a long sigh. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Isabel turned and looked up at him. “I’ve been listening to her sing from my window for the last hour.” She gave him a knowing wink. “Couldn’t help but notice the way you were staring at her.”
Thomas cleared his throat and gulped discreetly, then looked out at the band of musicians casually. “I do enjoy listening to good music,” he said disinterestedly.
The tambourine crashed dramatically while the angel held a wonderfully high note from atop her modest wooden pedestal. She bowed with a flourish and the crowd erupted with applause. Thomas felt his heart flutter as she brushed a strand of her long, black hair out of her bright eyes. Even from a distance he was enchanted by her facial features and charm.
He glanced down at Isabel who was staring up at him with a deeply amused smile.
“You like her,” Isabel teased. “I’m going to go learn her name for you!”
“What? No! Wait! Come back!” But it was too late. She was already ducking and weaving through the crowd and the mud that had accumulated during the recent rain storms.
Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed as Isabel burst out of the crowd around the band. He watched nervously as Isabel approached the singer. The woman smiled down at his apprentice and leaned over, hunching low on her wooden box and listening intently as Isabel whispered into her ear. Then the angel laughed and withdrew, covering her mouth and glancing around the crowd before leaning back in to whisper in Isabel’s ear. The young girl performed a dainty bow and ran back into the crowd.
The woman turned and addressed her band quietly, then returned her attention to the townsfolk. “I have just been informed,” she announced, “that I have a very handsome, eligible suitor listening here today, and that he is quite taken with me.”
Thomas’s ears burned red hot just as Isabel popped out beside him again, smiling deviously.
The crowd was hushed, every man present listening with bated breath.
“I must admit,” she continued, “that everywhere I go many men swoon and gawk at me.” She blushed and fluttered her eyelashes. Some of the women laughed while men nodded and pursed their lips. “I will also confess to you all that I would be happy to find a husband in this very kingdom, should the right man present himself.” She smiled. “So I dedicate this next song to my future husband, a man who will win my heart before I depart on the morrow!”
A tumultuous cheer rose up from the people as her band launched into another tune. Thomas scowled down at Isabel who gave him a smug grin.
“Don’t you want to know what her name is?” Isabel asked innocently.
“No,” he lied, focusing on the band again.
The next morning Thomas rose just before the sun, as he usually did. Outside Joan’s door he could hear a distant commotion. Joan began striking her flint and steel to prepare a small cooking fire.
“Thomas,” she called up. “Would you happen to know why there has been so much noise outside the house at such an early hour?”
He climbed down the ladder from his loft and patted her on the shoulder just as the kindling began to smoke. “No, but I’ll find out,” he assured her.
Stepping out into the cool night air he peered down the road. Three horses wearing the queen’s colors were lazily standing by while their riders, castle guardsmen, roamed around outside the tavern with crackling torches. He took a deep breath and entered the muddy streets, noting the fresh puddles from last night’s rainfall.
As he got closer, one of the guards spotted him and quickly drew his sword. “Who approaches?” he demanded, squinting past the flame of his roaring torch.
“Thomas,” he replied calmly, taking in the scene as he continued walking. “The queen’s soothfinder.”
“Oh,” the guard replied, sheathing his weapon. “Sorry, didn’t recognize you in the dark.”
“What has brought you out to my neighborhood so early?” Thomas asked as the other two guards resumed their aimless roaming.
“Got a report of a dead body by the tavern,” the guard said blankly. “Only, when we arrived there wasn’t any body. Been looking around, and as far as I reckon we may have been pranked.” He shrugged.
“Have you looked for drag marks in the mud?” Thomas asked.
“Drag marks?” the guard asked, bewildered.
“Perhaps someone dragged the body away, leaving a trail of smeared mud.”
The guard looked down at his mud-covered boots, sunk deep in the fresh footprints he made. He looked back up at Thomas with wide eyes.
“Well hurry,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes. “If you’re lucky, your companions won’t have trampled the path and you may find a body yet.”
The guard turned and called out to the others to halt their search, running to join them while holding his torch low and watching the ground under his feet carefully.
Thomas smiled and regarded the tavern. Directly next door was the inn. Out of curiosity, he went to the door and pushed it open. He was immediately greeted with the warm glow of a torch by the doorway, and on the floor just inside he saw a single set of muddy footprints. They were too small to belong to one of the guards.
He stepped inside and found the innkeeper’s wife preparing porridge over a flickering fireplace.
“Good morning Brenna,” he said.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Morning Thomas.” She continued stirring what would surely be a wonderful breakfast for her guests.
“Have you been out already this morning?” he asked, looking down at the floor, then at her own clean footwear. The footprints could be seen leading into the space a ways, but soon they disappeared.
Brenna laughed heartily. “Me? Oh my! Out at this hour? No, I’ve only just risen,” she said. “Though I will admit I’m up a little earlier than usual. Someone came in not long ago and the creaking stairs roused me.” She nodded to the stairs leading to the guest rooms.
“Any idea who it was?” Thomas asked.
“No, and every room is full. We’ve got a whole hoard of guests ’cause of that band of musicians.”
“Really?” Thomas asked.
“Sure. Would have thought you of all people would notice. That crowd listening to the music all day wasn’t just locals. Seems that bard lady has quite the following. A whole army of disciples follow her around from town to town just to hear her sing.”
“Interesting,” Thomas mused. “Well I won’t waste any more of your time. Thank you Brenna. Good day.”
“Wait!” she cried as he turned to leave. “Won’t you stay for some porridge?”
“I’d love to,” Thomas said, smiling. “But I’m afraid it would break Joan’s old heart if I don’t eat her porridge this morning.”
Brenna beamed. “Sure is good of you to stay with that old woman. She was always so gloomy before you moved in with her.”
Thomas smiled. “She’s a good woman.”
Isabel was nearly vibrating with excitement. “Woah!” she cried, wide eyed. She grabbed Thomas by the forearm. “This is crazy!”
Bartholomew scowled at the apprentice and looked back up at Thomas. “Obviously,” he began, “the queen would like a word with you.” He rolled his eyes. “My men and I will arrest the murderer and the thief before you’ve reached the castle,” he sneered. He hoisted himself into the saddle and kicked his horse irritably. The beast of war reared and whinnied, then sped off, flinging mud high into the air.
Isabel’s mouth was agape. “A murder and a robbery! This is huge! Do you think they’re related? What do you know?”
Thomas glared at her gently and watched her fight to calm herself.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then exhaled. Looking back up at him, she asked with exaggerated tranquility, “What, pray tell, are the facts thus far?”
Thomas smiled and shook his head. “You heard Bartholomew. A man named Barnabas was found dead in the woods. His body had been dragged from somewhere outside the tavern. He was stabbed with a small knife. As for the robbery, the victim is with the queen, which is where we should be if we want more information.”
Isabel frowned and grunted. “Bartholomew knew more than he said.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Oh? And how do you know?”
She shrugged. “It’s obvious. He wants us to fail.” Her eyes locked onto his. “Why does he despise you so much?” she asked.
Thomas shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said, his mind drifting painfully to the day Emma died.
Once inside the royal hall Isabell dashed across the wide open space to where the queen was consoling a weeping woman. Thomas watched his apprentice throw her arms around the woman compassionately and he felt a pang in his own heart, a burning around the edges of the hole left by his wife’s death.
As he drew nearer he realized it was Cecilia, the woman whose late husband’s treasure had been recovered recently, and the mother of Isabel’s friend Richard.
The queen looked pleadingly at Thomas. “It’s the gold her husband left. It’s been stolen.”
Thomas’s heart sank. Isabel was still holding Cecilia, but she turned to look up at Thomas with big, teary eyes. “Oh Cecilia,” she hummed. “We’ll get…”
Thomas shot her a stern look. He had told her many times not to make promises to victims.
Isabel winced. “We’ll get… to work on this right away,” she said.
Thomas nodded approvingly, then knelt by the crumpled, distraught woman. “Cecilia,” he said softly. “Did you see Barnabas at all last night?”
Cecilia’s sobbing calmed a little and she sniffled, pulling away from Isabel’s embrace. Her whole face was red and covered in tears. The queen quickly produced an elaborately embroidered handkerchief and handed it to Cecilia, who stared at it with wide eyes for a moment, then looked at the queen in shock.
“You wipe your face with it,” the queen urged.
“My queen,” Cecilia gasped. She held the cloth out to Queen Julia. “I cannot! It is too beautiful!”
Julia laughed. “Please, I will have it washed, then I will bring you two more just like it. Wipe away your tears and tell Thomas all that you know.”
Gingerly, Cecilia dabbed at her cheeks, looking guilty and pained.
“Barnabas,” Thomas resumed. “Did you see him last night?”
“I did,” she grumbled, sniffling. “I had dinner with him at the tavern. We spent the day together watching the musicians and walking the streets.” She smiled sheepishly. “He was being so kind, I decided to buy him dinner. He insisted on paying, but I assured him I could cover the cost of dinner without any trouble.” She shrugged and looked down with a sigh. “I should probably have been a little more careful with the money my husband left me, but surely a little indulgence with friends can’t be a sin, can it? Even if they aren’t such great friends…” She looked to Thomas.
He was lost in thought and ignored the question. “Were you with him all night?” he asked.
Cecilia scowled. “Well, I’m afraid he was enchanted by the bard who captivated us all. When we finished our dinner he refused to leave with me. The woman and her band had come into the tavern and he wanted to stay and…” She began weeping again. “I had thought he was interested in me, but I was a fool. That singer is far prettier than I am. With women like that roaming around I shall forever remain a widow!”
Thomas winced and Isabel’s eyes locked with his, pleading on Cecilia’s behalf. He looked to the queen with a pained expression, and she shook her head grimly. Cecilia didn’t know Barnabas was dead, and nobody in the room had the heart to tell her.
Bravely, Isabel went back in for another hug. “Cecilia,” she began. “About Barnabas…”
Thomas and Isabel stood inside Cecilia’s home. Her friend, Richard, showed them where his mother had stashed her late husband’s gold. “I told her we needed a better hiding spot for it,” the boy lamented.
The chest that had once contained the gold was on the floor not far from the fireplace, in plain view. Thomas shook his head and knelt by the wooden box to examine it. Snagged in the lid he found a couple strands of hair. Long, dark hair. He presented them to Isabel who furrowed her brow and crossed her eyes trying to get a good look.
“Well,” she said. “I guess Barnabas didn’t take the gold.”
“Richard,” Thomas said firmly. “When was the last time you saw any of the gold?”
“Just this morning,” he said. “Mother took some out before heading to the market right after sunrise. I saw it myself when she opened the box.”
“And when your mother left home, what did you do?”
He shrugged. “I ran out to the fields where I could watch the guards. They were doing something in the forest outside the gate and I was curious. It wasn’t just me though! Seemed like the whole town was out there watchin’ ’em!”
They thanked Richard and stepped outside.
Thomas sighed and turned to Isabel with a knot in his stomach. “Well,” he began. “I don’t like it, but I know who our thief is and I know who killed Barnabas.”
“You know already?” Isabel asked. “What did I miss?”
“I’ll tell you what I know if you will tell me the one thing I don’t know.”
Isabel laughed. “I know something you don’t know?”
“Yes,” he said ruefully. “You know the name of the killer.”
Bartholomew was not happy. He had spent most of the day questioning the people from out of town, but they were irritated because the band was giving their final performance before leaving town and he was making them miss it. Eventually he had given up.
Isabel and Thomas approached the back of the crowd and found Bartholomew fuming, leaning against a building with his arms folded.
Thomas sighed loudly, standing next to the disgruntled head guard. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Thomas nodded to the singer, whose head was barely visible above the crowd thanks to her pedestal.
Bartholomew shrugged. “I guess,” he grumbled.
“She’s got the voice of an angel,” Thomas mused, taking in another long, deep breath and holding it. “Isabel learned her name,” he said offhandedly.
Bartholomew perked up.
Thomas looked over at him. “Would you like to know it?” he asked.
The head guard’s war-hardened eyes lit up briefly, then he relaxed and leaned all his weight against the building again, feigning disinterest. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “They’re leaving after this song.”
“Well,” Thomas said. “You might want to call her by name when you arrest her.”
Bartholomew shot Thomas a foul look. “What?” he asked.
“Oh,” Thomas said, surprised. “Unless you want to let the murderer go free and let her take Cecilia’s gold. I mean, the woman is quite beautiful. You might not want to arrest her I suppose.”
Bartholomew groaned and let out a long sigh. “Really? It was her? How do you know?”
Thomas looked down at Isabel and smiled. “Barnabas and Cecilia spent the day together, but at night he stayed at the tavern to try to talk to the singer.”
“Genevieve,” Isabel interjected. “That’s her name,” she said proudly.
Thomas rolled his eyes and continued. “We checked with the tavern staff a minute ago. Someone said they saw Barnabas talking to the bard for several hours, late into the night. Their server said she heard them talking about gold just before they left together. Not long after that your guards were told there was a dead body outside the tavern. By the time they arrived, the body had been dragged into the woods and I saw a single set of muddy women’s footprints entering the inn. Of course, to be sure she is the killer you will need to inspect her knife, but since none of this was well planned I am confident that you’ll find blood on the handle of the knife she is wearing now.”
Isabel took a deep breath and piped up. “As for the gold, we found her hair stuck to the chest that held the gold. Barnabas must have told her about Cecilia and her son, and once Genevieve saw that both the son and mother had left the house, she went in to find her prize. Unfortunately it wasn’t very well hidden.”
Bartholomew shook his head. “Why did she kill poor Barnabas though?”
Thomas shrugged. “First, he was the only one who could accuse her of stealing the gold. But also, his death had most of the on-duty guards and nearly all of the town distracted while she entered Cecilia’s house and poked around. She didn’t know it would be so easy to find. She assumed she’d need more time, and thus a big distraction.”
“So you want me to march up there and arrest that singer for murder and theft? Surely she will deny everything and try to keep the gold for herself.”
“That is why Isabel is going to go and retrieve the gold for you.”
“I am?” Isabel asked, surprised.
“Of course,” he said. “If you were Genevieve, where would you keep such a heavy load of gold?”
“Well,” Isabel began, putting a finger on her lip. She stared down at the mud for a moment. “I wouldn’t let it out of my sight,” she concluded, smiling. “Lift me up!”
Thomas heaved her up onto his shoulder. She sat there for a few seconds, quietly staring out at the scene where the beautiful singer was lost in her final performance.
“What do you see?” he asked her.
Isabel scanned a moment longer. “Well, she doesn’t use an instrument, she isn’t wearing a purse large enough…” she bit her lip. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I’ve got it!” She jumped to the ground. “I’ll be right back with the gold!”
“Wait!” Thomas called. “Bring the guard! She’ll try to run!”
Bartholomew hurried off behind Isabel, shoving his way through the crowd while she ducked and cut effortlessly through the enraptured throng.
The woman was startled to see Isabel again and she choked on her song. The rest of the band fizzled to an awkward silence while Isabel ran up to the singer.
Genevieve stepped down from her tiny stage and leaned over so Isabel could whisper in her ear. The woman’s eyes bulged and she leaned back, gracefully draping a hand over her heart.
“I’m flattered,” Genevieve called out, looking bashfully around until her eyes landed on Bartholomew. “A real knight wishes to bid me farewell? With a kiss?”
The singer stepped toward the head guard and Isabel went straight for the box the she had been using as a makeshift stage. She struggled to lift it off the ground, then turned it onto its side and pulled hard at the corner. It jerked open and she pulled out a heavy burlap sack laden with the stolen gold. Isabel held it up for Bartholomew to see. He nodded approvingly and glared at the singer.
“Can I see your knife?” he asked.
Genevieve faltered and took a step back. “My knife?” she asked nervously.
Bartholomew grabbed her and the crowd gasped. “You are under arrest, Genevieve, for murdering of one of our citizens and for stealing gold from a destitute widow.”
Isabel let another arrow fly. It soared true and landed just shy of the center of the target. “Darn!” she cried, stomping her foot in the grass. “I’ll hit the center one of these days, I swear I will!”
Thomas gazed up at the sky and sighed. “Huh?” he asked, looking over at Isabel. “That was a good shot. Why are you upset?”
She laughed and joined him on the bench. “You’re still thinking about Genevieve, aren’t you!”
He peered at her and cocked his head to the side. “Why do you think so?”
Isabel shrugged and grinned. “She really did have the voice of an angel,” she offered. “It’s too bad she wasn’t much of an actual angel.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t worry,” Isabel said cheerily. “You’ll find someone special someday who isn’t a murderer or a thief.” She patted him on the shoulder and got back up, taking up her shooting position again.
Mermaid Pirate Dispatch 
Leave a comment