The Malevolent Tree

Glitch

Who is the most likely suspect? Me.

* * * * *

His throat tight, Tavish inched the door open. Thank goodness for the well-oiled hinges. He exited, secured the lock, placed the key beside the oldest of the snoring knights and tiptoed down the stairs.

Three imperatives lay before him: keep his promise to Agneta to travel to her sister Gunnhildr, keep his promise to himself to find the culprit behind the murders and—at all costs—keep suspicion away from himself. Images of Osgar's frenzied murder of Jock flashed in his mind, and he leaned against the granite wall. 

No time to collapse. I must get organized.

First, he'd put his mobile on the charger. Using it as an investigative tool had depleted its power, and he'd be needing it on his trip. Second, tell Kenna the absolute truth and swear her to secrecy. That wouldn't be hard. She trusted him, and she knew what Osgar had done to Jock.

When Tavish reached his floor, he saw neither light nor steam coming from under the laundry room door. Leith would have accepted his explanations without question and washed his bloody clothes. But like all the sensible people in the castle, she was still in bed.

With a sigh, he continued to his door. If not for the risk of Osgar jumping to conclusions, he'd tell the absolute truth to everyone. Once he went down the path of pretending he hadn't already been investigating the crime scene, he'd have to stick to that story. Nothing screamed guilt more loudly than a lie that didn't hold up.

* * * * *

Tavish was in the privy when he heard the warning trumpet. Had the princess's body finally been found?

He'd hidden both his wizard's robes and his twenty-first century Glasgow jeans and shirt in the deepest corner he could find of his quarters. The costume was filthy with mud, yew sap and bits of poor, dead Jock. The rest of his clothing was stained with poor, dead Agneta.

As Tavish secured the drawstring on his fairyland wool trousers and checked that Leith's water vial still hung around his neck, he listened to the patter of running feet in the corridor and shouts from outside. By the time he opened the privy door, his face was composed into an expression of concerned curiosity.

One of Lord Cullen's knights and the guard who'd helped him take down Jock's head blocked his way.

"What is it?" Tavish asked. "What's all the shouting about?"

The knight narrowed his eyes. "As if you didn't know."

Tavish's stomach clenched. Then he wrinkled his forehead as if innocently perplexed. "Huh?"

The guard coughed. "Lady Agneta was found murdered—"

"What?" Tavish reared his head back, miming disbelief.

"Her men informed Lord Cullen you were with her last night, first in her chamber then down in the dungeon. The watchman said you left the castle in the middle of the night, accompanied by a stranger."

Tavish shrugged. "What of it? I was merely..."

The guard gave a tight shake of his head, and Tavish shut up. "Her master of horse told the lord he was preparing rides for you and the princess. His lady had told him you'd both be waiting in her room just after dawn. Yet when the time came, you were nowhere to be found." He shifted his weight. "It's a relief we didn't find your body lying on the floor somewhere or floating in the moat. It does raise a question, though, why you didn't return to the princess as expected, why you didn't find the body yourself."

*****

Tavish huddled in the straw on the floor of his tiny dungeon cell, gripping his forehead. It hurt from banging it against the wall.

How could he have been so stupid? Lack of sleep was no excuse for not taking into account that somebody had to be readying Princess Agneta's horses. In this dimension, journeys weren't so simple as getting into a car and starting the motor.

When he heard rustling outside his door, he muttered, "Go away."

"Oh, Tavish."

Hearing Leith, he scrambled to his feet. He grasped the sides of the tiny window at the top of the door and tried to make out her face. "I didn't do it. I'm not a murderer."

"I know."

Of course, she does. "But anyone with common sense would think I am."

She hung her head. "Prince Osgar is certain you're guilty. This time Lord Cullen is standing up to him. He told him he has to make sure before—"

"Executing me?"

Leith let out a little moan. Tavish wondered whether his death would be as quick as Jock's. If Osgar had time to cool down, he'd probably insist on drawing and quartering. He shivered. He should have jumped down the privy hole and taken his chances with the moat.

"You'll think of something. I have faith in you."

Woefully misplaced.

"Maybe this will help." Leith pressed his mobile into his hands. The screen was on, and the charge was once again at one hundred percent.

Footsteps. Before they could exchange any more words, the guard shooed Leith away. Tavish sank to the floor. She was right. He had to think of something. 

Tavish tapped in his passcode and brought up his photo gallery to re-examine the crime scene photos. When he reached one that showed both Hextilda's coffin and the surrounding floor, he gasped. It couldn't be... but it was. A bloody shoe print of a different shape than his. His chin lifted as if of its own accord.

"Guard!" he yelled. "I have a message for Lord Cullen."

After several more shouts, the same guard who'd taken him into custody appeared at the door. "I have a name, Tavish of Grouch."

Ach. Now he'd offended him.

"Quinn. At the Battle of the Wulvers you placed me in charge of the right flank. I've never forgotten."

"Yes, of course. Quinn." Quinn, Quinn, Quinn. Clasping his hands in the most prayerful gesture he could muster, Tavish said, "Please." 

Quinn raised his chin. "What's the message?"