I had contacted Gerard shortly after my arrival in Belgium. I had decided against trying to talk with Benedict for the time being. I was afraid that he would simply try to attack me, one way or the other, if I did.
Gerard had studied me quite carefully. He was out somewhere in open country and he seemed to be alone. “Corwin?” he had said, then, “Yes . . .”
“Right. What happened with Benedict?”
“I found him as you said he would be and I released him. He was set to pursue you once again, but I was able to persuade him that a considerable time had passed since I had seen you. Since you said you had left him unconscious, I figured that was the best line to take. Also, his horse was very tired. We went back to Avalon together. I remained with him through the funerals, then borrowed a horse. I am on my way back to Amber now.”
“Funerals? What funerals?”
Again, that calculating look.
“You really do not know?” he said.
“If I knew, damn it, I would not ask!”
“His servants. They were murdered. He says you did it”
“No,” I said. “No. That is ridiculous. Why should I want to murder his servants? I do not understand . . .”
“It was not long after his return that he went looking for them, as they were not on hand to welcome him. He found them murdered and you and your companion gone.”
“Now I see how it looked,” I said. “Where were the bodies?”
“Buried, but not too deeply, in the little wood behind the garden to the rear of the house.”
Just so, just so. . . . Better not to mention I had known about the grave.
“But what possisbie reason does he think I could have for doing such a thing?” I protested.
“He is puzzled, Corwin. Very puzzled, now. He could not understand why you did not kill him when you had the chance, and why you sent for me when you could have just left him there.”
“I see now why he kept calling me a murderer as we fought, but-Did you tell him what I said about not having slain anyone?”
“Yes. At first he shrugged it off as a self-serving statement. I told him you sounded sincere, and very puzzled yourself. I believe it bothered him a bit that you should be so insistent. He asked me several times whether I believed you.”
“Do you?”
He dropped his eyes.
“Damn it, Corwin! What am I supposed to believe? I came into the middle of this. We have been apart for so long. . .”
He met my gaze.
“There is more to it,” he said.
“What is that?”
“Why did you call me to help him? That was a complete deck you took. You could have called any of us.”
“You must be joking,” I said.
“No, I want an answer.”
“Very well. You are the only other one I trust.”
“Is that all?”
“No. Benedict does not want his whereabouts known back in Amber. You and Julian are the only two I know for certain to be aware of his location. I don’t like Julian, I don’t trust him. So I called you.”
“How did you know that Julian and I knew about him?”
“He helped you both out when you ran into trouble on the black road awhile back, and he put you up while you recuperated. Dara told me about it.”
“Dara? Who is this Dara anyway?”
“The orphaned daughter of a couple who once worked for Benedict,” I said. “She was around when you and Julian were there.”
“And you sent her a bracelet. You also mentioned her to me by the road, back when you summoned me.”
“Correct. What is the matter?”
“Nothing. I do not really remember her, though. Tell me, why did you leave so suddenly? You have to admit, it seemed the act of a guilty man.”
“Yes,” I said, “I was guilty-but not of murder. I went to Avalon to obtain something that I wanted, I got it, and I cleared out. You saw that wagon, and you saw that I had a cargo in it. I got out before he returned to keep from answering questions Benedict might ask me about it. Hell! If I just wanted to run, I wouldn’t go dragging a wagon along behind me! I’d have traveled on horseback, fast and light.”