Season of the Raven (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 1) by Denise Domning Page A

knee into the wet beside the monk and watched the herbalist run his hands over the front of Halbert's tunic. "What are you looking for, Brother Herbalist?"
    "Colin," the monk said, sitting back on his heels to eye Faucon from under thick snowy brows. "I am Brother Colin to men who can stomach a lay brother and former tradesman who dares speak as an equal to those of better blood. Am I wrong to suspect you are such a man?" His dark eyes sparked with vibrant, intelligent life.
    That made Faucon smile. "Brother Colin it is then," he replied. "In case you did not hear, I am Sir Faucon de Ramis, the newly-elected Keeper of the Pleas for this shire."
    "Keeper of the Pleas?" the monk repeated in confusion.
    "Brother Edmund might have used 'coronarius' to describe my new position," Faucon replied.
    "Crowner, is it?" Brother Colin offered, his easy translation of the Latin word suggesting that he was fluent in both the Church's and his king's tongue as well as his own. "And what is it that a keeper or crowner does?"
    "I'm not wholly certain as of yet, having only been elected a few hours ago," Faucon admitted. "I take it I will mostly be counting and recording the fees owed to king and court. This, I am told, is to prevent the sheriff from slipping a penny here and a penny there into his own purse. However, amongst all my counting duties is also the right to hold inquests over the bodies of those who die unnatural deaths."
    "Huh. I expect our lord sheriff cannot have been too pleased to hear of your appointment, Sir Crowner," the monk said as he eyed Faucon much as Marian had the previous day. He looked back at Halbert and continued. "As for what I'm doing, I am confirming what I thought I saw when Halbert was lifted from the race—that the miller did not drown, but was dead when the one who killed him put him into the water."
    His words took Faucon aback. He studied the miller. No matter how he looked, he saw nothing but a wet dead man.
    "How can you tell that from a glance?"
    "Hardly a glance," Brother Colin replied. "Let me show you what I see when I look at our miller. We'll start here." He once again maneuvered the miller's left hand so it was displayed palm up.
    Faucon shrugged. "I see a hand as empty and as wrinkled as I would expect of one who'd been a night in the water."
    "But what is it that you are not seeing?" Brother Colin asked. "Let us say it was you who'd fallen in the race. The water is pushing you toward the turning wheel. What would you be doing to prevent yourself from being dragged to your death?"
    At the thought of being trapped under the water, Faucon's stomach turned and his throat closed. Even imagined it stirred panic. "I would grab whatever I could to save myself," he replied.
    "So would I," the monk agreed. "Now, look at the wheel."
    Faucon did as instructed. The miller had not been rigorous about cleaning his wheel. The paddles and rims were splotched with green moss and slick algae. He took Halbert's sinister hand from the monk to better examine it. It was clean.
    "Do you mean that we should see marks on his hand when there are none? But that cannot be so strange. Wouldn't the water have washed all away?" Faucon asked.
    As he spoke his gaze returned to the wheel, his thoughts turning as if driven by the water in the race. With Halbert's right shoulder trapped under the paddle, he had only his left hand to use. The most sensible place for him to grab would have been the left side of the wheel's wooden rim. Not that he could have saved himself by doing so. Once his shoulder was between the paddle and the stones, he was doomed. Still, in the desperation of drowning he would surely have torn at the wood with all his might as he fought for his life.
    By the same token, the rim of the wheel was the only sensible place for him to have grabbed if he'd tried to save himself before the wheel had caught him. Again, he wouldn't have been able to stop the wheel, not with the greater power of the water turning it and