prayer went unanswered.
Lying on the ground was her father with the jewelled hilt of a dagger sticking out of his back. Her heart began to pound in her chest and she felt sick as she fell on her knees beside his body. Her first instinct was to remove the dagger and see if he was breathing. But as she reached for it, there came a sound behind her. She whirled round, fearing that the murderer had returned, and saw Sir Gawain standing in the tent-opening.
For a moment she could not speak and then she cried, ‘Help me!’
Scowling, he took her by the shoulders, hoisted her to her feet and set her aside. Then, gritting his teeth, he hunkered down beside the body and searched for a pulse before looking up at her. ‘I am sorry, Mistress Llewellyn, but your father is dead.’
‘But—but he can’t be dead,’ she stammered, scarcely able to believe his words nor her own eyes.
‘Did you catch sight of anyone lurking outside as you approached?’ asked Gawain.
‘I—I thought I caught a glimpse of a woman’s scarlet skirts, but I cannot believe my father would have been—’ She fumbled for a camp stool and sat down. ‘Who could have done this?’ she asked in a bewildered voice.
Gawain remembered Master Llewellyn mentioning someone who might have wanted his son dead, but had refused to name names. Could he have confronted this person with his suspicions here in this tent and met his end at that villain’s hand? ‘Do you recognise this dagger at all?’ he asked, getting to his feet.
Beth stared at the elaborately decorated weapon and shuddered. ‘No, but I would wager that it is not the instrument of a hireling.’
Gawain agreed, frowning as he took a cloth from a pouch at his waist and wiped the blade. He wrapped the dagger in the cloth and placed it on the small table nearby. ‘Whoever did this must have been in a hurry to leave such a distinctive weapon behind. Perhaps he heard you approaching and made his escape via the back of the tent.’
Beth glanced at the canvas wall that divided the living area from the sleeping quarters. She opened her mouth to speak, but already Gawain had walked over to the dividing canvas wall and stepped through the opening. She hurried after him.
He was kneeling by the billowing outer wall of the tent; at the sound of her entry, he glanced over his shoulder. ‘The murderer most likely did make their escape this way. See how the bedding has been pushed aside and there are scuff marks on the ground and a couple of tent pegs have come loose. Perhaps the woman you caught sight of might have seen who it was and would recognise him again.’
Beth took a shaky breath. ‘Should we try to find her?’
‘Aye. Where are your servants?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You need someone with you.’
‘They were given leave to see the sights and were to return this evening.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat and added in a husky voice. ‘Jane and Sam have been with our family for years and this will be a terrible shock to them.’
Gawain rasped his unshaven jaw with a finger and his dark lashes hooded his eyes as his gaze washed over her and the froth of feminine garments sprawled on her bedding. ‘Perhaps someone tending a cooking fire nearby might have noticed whoever entered this tent. You will stay here and change your garments whilst I see if I can discover if that is so.’
She moistened her lips. ‘What if the murderer returns for the weapon?’
Gawain hesitated, then said reassuringly, ‘I will keep this tent in my sight, so I will see if anyone approaches it.’
She thanked him.
He brushed past her and vanished from her sight. For a moment she considered running after him, not wanting to be alone. Then she tilted her chin, knowing she must depend on herself for so many things from now on. With her father dead, she would now inherit his business. Even so it made sense to obey Sir Gawain’s order and change her clothing. Swiftly she stripped and donned a cream-coloured high-necked chemise, stockings, garters and a long-sleeved dark blue gown that fastened at the waist to reveal the underskirt of the chemise. The front of the gown was cut to an arch over her bosom and the neckline was fashionably square. She searched for the shoes with buckles that her father had insisted on having made for her in London before they came away. He had never bothered much about her appearance and she guessed that he had only done so recently because he was determined that she should attract a suitor. Well, his plan would come to naught. She would not marry, but run his business herself and make her mother proud of her. God grant that she was in heaven and able to look down on her. Father, too, now, she added forlornly.
Who could have killed him and why? She wiped her face with a drying cloth and then, with a shiver of apprehension and praying that Sir Gawain was keeping his promise, hastily coiled her braids beneath her headdress, the front of which was shaped like the gable of a house. Then from a box, inlaid with different kinds of woods, she took the simple cross of amethyst on a silver chain that had belonged to her mother and placed it about her neck. She smoothed down the conical-shaped skirts of her gown before picking up a blanket and leaving the sleeping quarters.
She gazed down at her father and then kissed his cheek. With trembling fingers she covered him with the blanket and then shot to her feet at the sound of footsteps outside. She gazed towards the tent opening with a racing heart and then sagged with relief as the flap lifted and Sir Gawain ducked his dark head and entered the tent.
‘Thank God, it is you! Did you discover anything?’ she asked.
‘A woman was seen entering this tent,’ he said curtly.
Beth was stunned. ‘I—I don’t believe it!’
Sir Gawain’s frown deepened. ‘She was wearing scarlet, so it seems likely that it was the woman of whom you caught a glimpse. Apparently she was tall for a female, so she could stand out in a crowd and be easily recognisable.’
‘I—I still don’t believe my father would entertain a woman alone in this tent,’ she said fiercely. ‘Maybe it was a man in disguise?’
‘I suppose that is possible,’ said Gawain slowly.
‘It’s also possible that it could have been just an opportunist thief who made the mistake of entering the tent, not realising Father was here.’ She seized on that idea because it was less frightening. ‘It could even have been an accident.’
Gawain did not look convinced and she guessed that he thought she was deceiving herself. ‘You’ll have to go through your possessions to see if aught is missing,’ he said.
Beth reached for the cross at her throat. ‘This was not taken.’
He stared at the lovely column of her neck and felt an unexpected urge to press kisses on her white skin and was stunned that he could feel such thoughts at such a moment. He had a need to clear his throat before saying, ‘Whoever it was must be found. I have initiated a search, but the men are also seeking the youth that one saw enter this tent shortly before I did. They gave me your description,’ said Gawain tersely.
‘You—you mean they think I could be responsible?’ gasped Beth.
‘Hush, woman, keep your voice down,’ growled Gawain. ‘We do not want folk knowing that you dress up as a youth. I told them that he must have escaped by crawling beneath the back of the tent as soon as he heard me enter.’
She sank on to a stool and chewed on her lip. ‘They will wonder why I did not see this youth and scream.’
‘Most likely they will believe that you returned while they were elsewhere. I asked another man to find a physician.’ He paused, ‘You’ll need to get rid of the male clothes you wore. Best give them to me to dispose of. Go, fetch them now.’
Beth hesitated.
He glowered at her. ‘Mistress Llewellyn, if you still have it in mind to continue with this charade, then forget it. You will never again don that costume while I am responsible for you.’
Beth’s