Chapter Six
Of the many things that protected the town of Shrewsbury and the castle within its walls, none was more useful than the river Severn, for the city and a small percentage of the fields that supplied it sat at the center of one of the rivers many large bends. With only a narrow strip of land at the northern edge of town and four easily defendable bridges across the frequently turbulent waters, the river – nature's addition to man's fortifications – provided a constant protection for Shrewsbury's many inhabitants. However, it also offered a severe and often underestimated danger to those inhabitants as well. For during the heavy rains of the spring the river's protective waters became a racing track of icy cold depths which, once or twice a year, took the life of one either too foolish or too careless to avoid its threat.
It was to the river, its waters at their highest and almost black as they rushed past, that Brother Donald hurried at Gibbs' summons. The area of the riverbank which Anthony's description led him to was one of particular peril. The gently sloping bank just outside the Abbey grounds painted a deceptive picture for anyone wandering nearby, as the easy shallows hinted at by such banks almost immediately gave way to a steep drop layered in rock – the perfect spot for under tows and whirlpools to form. It was certainly not the first time that Ducky had been called here by the Lord Sheriff, but he still dreaded the sight he knew he was likely to find upon his arrival.
However, as Donald stepped around the Lord Sheriff's men-at-arms and moved toward the tall form of Gibbs himself, the scene that he had expected to find was surprisingly absent. Rather than a drenched and pale white corpse newly dragged from the river, the monk found before him the mostly dry body of a young man, well dressed and in apparent good health, with its head all but covered by the shallow waters of the rivers edge. Even from several feet away he could see the bunching of the man's tunic where he'd, presumably, been held to keep him under water and the way his boot tips were dug deep into the mud from the struggle of his last breaths.
Moving to the Lord Sheriff's side, Donald glanced curiously at the graying man. His unasked questions were answered almost immediately.
"He was found about fifteen minutes ago by one of Madog's lads. The boy was searching the banks for any sign of a boat that slipped its moorings this morning when he found this instead." He paused for a moment, sighing heavily at the poor child's sudden discovery of the harsher truths of life, before continuing in a matter of fact tone. "He swears he didn't touch it at all and neither have any of my men. We await your learned opinion."
Gibbs' tone was laughing and his bowed gesture towards the body comical, but Ducky was well aware of the high level of regard his 'learned opinion' was held in, not just by Gibbs, but by most of the townsfolk, and he therefore took no offense at the comment's lightness as he stepped carefully over to the body and began his examination of it and the surrounding area.
"He definitely struggled for his life, - Didn't you my boy? – The ground all around is disturbed, both from feet digging for purchase and hands clawing for respite." He gestured to the mud around him, speaking to no one in particular though he knew his words, and their greater meaning, were being carefully marked by the graying sheriff. Moving closer to the riverside and ignoring the cold water that lapped against his sandaled feet he crouched to peer at the corpse's head. "Bruising all along his neck, though from hands or feet I cannot say for certain, and here, slightly darker, at his right ear." He paused briefly to consider the shape of the bruise, before continuing, "He was struck I believe, along the ear and temple. Something heavy, but not sharp as it did not pierce the skin. No doubt it would have dazed him, left him easy prey; it wouldn't have taken much, in such a state, to keep his head under water."
He glanced briefly up at Gibbs, who was nodding slowly, obviously mentally cataloging everything the monk said. Sure that the Sheriff was still with him, he turned back to the body, reaching down to pull the collar of his tunic back. He was startled as his hand contacted the dead man's flesh and he pulled away quickly, standing and moving to face Gibbs as he did.
"His body is still warm to the touch, Jethro. Whatever else may prove true about this death, it happened only a short time ago. Perhaps an hour, certainly not much more."
This pronouncement drew Gibbs' eyes immediately to the Welshman's, both men simultaneously taking in the full depths of such information. Together they turned to look towards the Abbey grounds. With the strong waters of the river in front of them, the nearest bridge into town guarded at all hours and some fifteen minutes walk distant and the alarm raised so quickly the Abbey, its extensive grounds and lodgings, would have provided the only reasonable escape route. It would also explain why the body was found so far from the roads and town. Certainly it would be a simple enough matter to lure someone down to the riverbank, hidden from Abbey and roads by trees and from the town by walls, if the attacker or victim or both had been guests at of the Church.
Unwilling to voice the very real possibility that the killer had come from and then returned to the sanctity of the Holy Grounds, Gibbs instead knelt down by the corpse, continuing Ducky's evaluation as the monk moved to the man's other side.
"Blood on his fingers and hand. Not a lot, but…" He paused as he glanced up and down the length of the body. "I don't see any injuries other than the bruising on his neck. Can we turn him over, Duck?"
With a short nod, the Benedictine rolled the body, careful not to disturb anything that might lie beneath him. Unaware that the Lord Sheriff had tensed next to him, Donald made short work of examining the arms and face of the poor soul that lay before them. Finding no marks other than the extensive bruising that they had already noted, he spoke, his attention still on the lifeless body.
"No…no injuries but the bruising. That blood could not have come from him. Perhaps he managed to injure his attacker during the struggle? A deep enough scratch or a blow to the face would certainly have produced that amount of blood. It would also give us a very definite way of identifying his murderer if –" He stopped mid-sentence as he looked up at his younger companion.
Gibbs' attention was firmly fixed on the body which lay between them at the river's edge, but Donald could easily tell that the usually attentive man had not heard a word that he'd just said. Instead of the look of fierce concentration which Gibbs normally wore as he mentally filed away details for later consideration, a blank sort of horror had twisted the handsome man's features. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. Highly concerned the Welshman had just opened his mouth to ask if he was alright when the Sheriff spoke instead.
"You said that this wouldn't take very much strength, correct? With the blow to his head, almost anyone could have summoned enough force to finish the job?" His voice was steady, his tone even as he spoke and had the Benedictine not known him so well he might have missed the rather haunted look in the Sheriff's eyes. Nodding slowly, he had just opened his mouth to ask Gibbs what was wrong when the other man continued his earlier questions, "Could a woman have had the necessary strength?"
Donald looked back at the body, silently gauging both the extent of the bruises and the evidence of a struggle, before he spoke, "Well, it certainly wouldn't have taken much after that knock to the head, so yes, a woman would be capable of this." He saw the other man's shoulders tense at the information and turned fully to face him as he continued, his voice now confused and curious, "Do you know who this is, Jethro? And do you have a suspect already?"
It was several long moments before the Lord Sheriff answered, his voice low and dangerous, the words meant only for Ducky's ears.
"Yes, I do. This is Thomas Kerrigan, Caitlyn Todd's fiancé."