The Malice of Unnatural Death

Chapter Twenty-Five

Exeter City

The alley was quickly darkening now, and Will was ready to return home and gather up his staff and lamp, when he heard the stepsapproaching.

At least now the body was gone. It had been hard, standing here with the corpse and Tom atte Moor in the background, watching,and Tom probably chuckling to himself.

Everyone laughed at him. He knew that. Back some years ago, they’d all been sympathetic as they could be, but then as he grewunable to continue with his normal work, as the demands from his wife increased, the compassion of his friends started todull a little. While the fire was fresh in everyone’s minds, that was one thing. When he went to the tavern after that, hecouldn’t put hand to purse without a drink appearing and a muttered, ‘Sorry to hear about them, Will,’ accompanied by a handon his shoulder. That all changed over time. Margie accosted some people in the street and shouted at them because they hadn’thelped save her wains, and then the tales of her shouting and screaming at others grew more common.

Will had enough problems already. As soon as it grew obvious that he wouldn’t be able to keep his business afloat, he hadstarted to decline, but that had been halted by the appreciation of his wife’s dependence upon him. Before the fire she had taken in a little spinning and hawked some goods aboutthe city, but that was all in the past. After her appalling injuries, she could do nothing of that kind. Suddenly he had anadult to provide for.

It was the spur he had needed. He could see that now. With a little more luck, he might have been able to return to his trade,but the fact was, he needed to be there almost every day to look after her. At night it wasn’t so bad. She grew tired easily,and once she was asleep it was all right for him to leave her. She couldn’t keep abusing people when they were all in theirown beds.

When he first spoke of taking on the post, she had been driven almost lunatic by the thought of his leaving her at night. Yes, that had been hideous. The filth that came from her lips … accusations of his whoring, of his having other childrento visit, of his being ashamed of her, of his being determined to go and drink himself to oblivion to forget what his shamefuldrinking had done last time, when he had condemned his wife and children to their fates.

Through it all, he had to try to forget the sight when he had first returned to the house.

Now, peering at the place where his house had once stood, he could almost hear their voices: the children in the front yardby the door to the hall, shouting and screaming with delight as they kicked a ball about. There were so many happy memories: of digging round a tree trunk with Tom and then setting a fire about it to remove it from their little garden so that theycould start to grow their own vegetables; building a small shed for logs; seeing all their faces alight at Christmas as thehouse was decorated … so many happy memories. And memories of his wife, too. Because that was all he had left. Memories of those wonderful times when he had been whole and happy.

At least in his mind his family was still there.

And as Will began to sob once more, the man clad in the worn and tattered old cloak watched him with dispassionate speculationas he waited for his messenger. And when the woman arrived, he turned from his contemplation of the weeping watchman to gowith her into a darkened doorway.

Friday Next after the Feast of St Edmund⁷

The Bishop’s Palace

Baldwin and Simon were at the bishop’s palace as soon as the close opened its gates the next morning.

To his disgust, the coroner had been called away, and the two were relieved to be marching across the cathedral green together,although neither spoke much. Simon was feeling light-headed and foolish after drinking with the coroner last night, whilealso trying to make sense of Busse’s wanderings. For his part, Baldwin was still feeling bruised after his first discussionwith the bishop. It was hard to believe that the bishop had asked him to begin to investigate the death of the king’s messengeronly a matter of hours ago.

If he was honest, though, he was also petulant after the treatment he resented so much: being told that he must go to jointhe parliament when he had neither desire nor interest to do so. All he really wanted was a peaceful time far away from politicsand the dangers of the king’s household and court. There was no useful purpose in his taking the place of so many others, and all the reasons in the world for him toavoid going. To be noticed now was to be in danger. If a man went to the king’s parliament and spoke in any manner againstthe interests of the king’s friends, he risked his life.

The bishop was up and waiting when they reached the palace, and they were shown in together. He sat at a table, with a softwoollen cap on his head, a great gown trimmed with fur, and warm, high boots. At his eyes were his spectacles, as usual, whichhe drew away as they entered. He smiled genially at them both, but Baldwin was sure that there was a hint of steel in hiseyes as well.

‘Sir Baldwin — I had hoped to hear from you sooner than this. Have you told Simon about our little problem?’

‘I think I intimated that I would report as soon as I had something to report,’ Baldwin said firmly. ‘There was all too little until last night.’

‘Really? And what happened last night?’

‘The watchman who discovered the body of the messenger had also found the body of another man only the previous night. Thisvictim was a worker in bone and antler, and was murdered on his way home after an evening in the tavern.’

‘A common enough occurrence, sadly,’ the bishop observed. ‘Now, about the messenger?’

‘He died the night after the other man. That is too much of a coincidence,’ Baldwin stated. ‘They were both murdered withina few yards of each other. And a short while later, during the day following the messenger’s murder, a man climbed into Master Richard de Langatre’s house, killed his servant and tried to kill him too.’

‘I believe I have been told of this matter. Brother Robert has brought the case to my attention, and I am inclined to advise the sheriff that Langatre is in holy orders.’

‘The sheriff seems dead set on having him taken to the king at the earliest opportunity,’ Baldwin observed.

‘A sheriff is a sheriff,’ Stapledon noted; there was a trace of sudden steel in his voice as he added, ‘but a bishop is alord. I have jurisdiction over this man.’

‘I am convinced that he is innocent,’ Baldwin said. ‘I even discovered traces which showed a man had been in his sleepingchamber after the attack.’

Suddenly Baldwin felt as though the air had left his lungs. A strange light-headedness assailed him as he realised what hehad just said, and what he had failed to do.

Fortunately, the bishop had not noticed his brief abstraction. He continued, ‘Sir Baldwin, I am not worried in the remotestby these two others. The dead antler carver and this fellow Langatre …’

‘And Langatre’s dead servant,’ Baldwin reminded him.

‘Yes, him too. They are of secondary importance. The crucial matter which should be at the forefront of your mind is the singularmurder of the messenger and the theft of my note. You must find that roll. It is vital … I cannot emphasise enough just how important it is. If news of it were to become commonknowledge …’ He picked at a splinter on the table before him. ‘You cannot understand how crucial this thing truly is.’

‘Perhaps you should tell us, then, so we can assess its significance for ourselves,’ Baldwin said.

The bishop looked at him for a long moment, but then shook his head. ‘It is a matter of the highest national importance. Ithink it’s best that the information is not shared.’

‘Someone already shares it,’ Baldwin said coolly.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Have you heard from anyone about paying a reward for its return? A ransom?’

‘For the note? No.’

‘No. Not for the note. For something else you told the man. Something so secret you did not wish to put it in writing,’ Baldwinsaid.

The bishop was clearly shocked by the question. ‘Why in God’s name …’

‘The messenger was tortured, I believe, and the only reason could have been to learn something. They could open his pouchwith ease. What would they torture the man for? Clearly if he had some knowledge they desired. Or another message. Which wasit, bishop?’

Stapledon opened his mouth, but then closed it again and raised his spectacles to his nose. He peered at a paper before himas though trying to concentrate, then shook his head. ‘No. It would not be safe for you to know what I put there.’

‘Bishop, soon it is very possible many people will know what it is you told this man,’ Baldwin said. ‘If you tell us now,though, we may be able to guess who could have exhibited enough interest in it to be willing to kill a king’s messenger. Unlessyou tell us, I think it extremely unlikely that we shall be able to find your note, or the man who learned what was in itand the messenger’s mind.’

‘He swore he would tell no one,’ the bishop said. He was not meeting Baldwin’s eye, but instead stared off over Baldwin’sshoulder as though at a tapestry hanging on the wall.

‘Bishop, have you ever seen a man being tortured?’ Baldwin rasped. ‘He will tell anything to stop the pain. And if a man is shown that his torturer will put him to exquisite agony, and still kill him, even the weakest will choose a swiftdeath without much pain over the alternative. He lost two fingers. What more would you expect of him?’

Bishop Stapledon looked at him again. He gave a slow nod.

‘Very well, Sir Baldwin. I shall take you at your word. I was asked to advise on some matters a little while ago. One suchmatter was the likely threat from Mortimer while he lives abroad.’

‘The man has escaped barely with his life,’ Baldwin commented. Simon looked puzzled, so he explained briefly, ‘Lord Mortimerwas the man who escaped from the Tower of London last year. He was one of the leaders of the Lords Marcher who lifted theirstandards against the king and his allies.’

‘He is a greedy, dangerous warrior,’ Stapledon said. ‘Crafty and sly. He has already made one attempt upon the king’s life. Did you know? Only a year ago a man was captured in London — he had been paid by Mortimer to assassinate the king! And therehave been other attempts on the king’s life, and those of his friends, since then, too. This is not an isolated incident.’

‘What of it? If a man is captured trying to kill the king, he will be caught and killed,’ Baldwin said.

‘But what if the enemy is within his own orbit? What if the person whom he should fear most of all is actually nearer to himthan any other?’

Baldwin shot a look at Simon, who returned his glance with an expression of happy incomprehension.

For Baldwin the bishop’s words could mean only one thing: that the bishop had at last realised, along with most of the population of the country, that Despenser was a malign influence at the heart of government. With the power that Stapledonheld, surely there could be some means of removing Despenser before he caused any more hardship to the people of the realm.

‘Yes. I fear that the king is in great danger,’ Stapledon finished. ‘His wife is too untrustworthy.’

Baldwin felt the breath leave his body in a great gasp of horror. He stared at the bishop dumbfounded.

Stapledon continued thoughtfully. ‘There are many who mistrust her. I have myself been anxious about her for some while, especiallysince that nonsensical affair over Saint Sardos in the summer. The French are trying to provoke us. The matter could havegrown much more dangerous. Fortunately, cooler counsel prevailed, but we cannot be assured that it will again in future. Ihave already had to propose that the queen’s household should be disbanded, and all her French friends have been arrestedand are held, but she can still write to her brother. Who can tell what sort of dangerous information she may provide? Perhapsher brother might decide to come and support Mortimer in an attack on our country? If he did, what could we do to protectourselves against his host? And if he was being warned in advance of our lack of defences in different parts of the realm,that would itself be of signal benefit to him. Thus I advised the king in my message. And in addition I advised him, throughthe sealed lips of the messenger, to put his mind most boldly to the idea of an annulment of his marriage.’

‘You suggested that?’ Simon blurted. ‘But what good could that do? The king and she both made their vows before God!’

‘Simon, you have no understanding of international business,’ the bishop snapped. He was himself most concerned, Baldwin saw, andbiting the head off another man was a simple means of assuaging his own feeling of guilt at having exposed himself so gravely.

‘But I do,’ Baldwin said. ‘So, this must mean that you have a spy who can keep an eye on the queen at all times, so that whenshe begins to write a letter there is someone there to read it, or who can open it and read it later, perhaps?’

‘I do not know, nor do I care, what procedures have been imposed upon her,’ the bishop said. ‘All I do care about is thatthe message I sent to his majesty remains entirely confidential and secret! It must never become exposed to all!’

It was some while later that Baldwin realised that the bishop had never admitted whether the message he was so concerned aboutwas the one in the messenger’s mind, or the one put in his hand in writing.