The Malice of Unnatural Death

Chapter Thirty-Three

Exeter City

Maurice reached his sister as her legs began to buckle. ‘Sister! Sister, did she cut you?’ His arms went about her, and he grippedher in a hug.

Her eyelids fluttered, and as his panic communicated itself to her she shuddered, and then pushed him away. ‘Sarra! Sarra!’

Maurice had seen enough death already in his life. He glanced down at the maid where she lay twitching on the ground, eyeswide but unseeing. ‘She is dead, Alice. I am sorry.’

Alice gave a short scream, instantly quashed as she realised who was holding her. ‘Maurice, you must run! Fly from here. Myhusband’s men will be here any moment. Please, run!’

Maurice looked over at the house. He could see all the people in the roadway about them staring at the body at his feet. ‘Icannot …’

‘Leave me! Just go!’

He nodded dumbly. Slowly and reluctantly he let his sister free from his arms, and saw her sink to her knees on the roadwayat Sarra’s side, weeping as she reached out to Sarra’s face, stroking it gently as the life left her.

And then he turned and set off in pursuit of the bitch who had tried to kill his sister.

Baldwin sat musing for a long while after Robinet had finished. It was plain enough to him that this man had reason enoughto kill the messenger, but he was less convinced of his ability to do so. For one thing, unless Robinet managed to have Jamesoverwhelmed with drink, it was clear enough that James was the younger, the taller, and the stronger of the two. In a straightfight, James must surely win. Then there was the other aspect: the fingers removed while James was yet living. He couldn’tsee why Robinet should want to torture the man.

It was Simon who voiced his feelings. ‘How would this fellow get the messenger to submit to losing a finger or two?’

‘Money, Bailiff,’ the coroner said. ‘It’ll always bring in a hireling to help do your business. This is a large enough city. There are plenty of men here to do a man’s bidding.’

‘It would take a strong man to hold down the messenger while his finger was taken off,’ Simon said musingly.

‘What of this fellow’s friend?’ the coroner said, as though reluctantly. He was averse to bringing to justice those who actedfrom good motives, clearly.

‘Walter of Hanlegh,’ Baldwin murmured. ‘The man who would do the king’s bidding. Where is he now, fellow?’

‘I do not know,’ said Newt. ‘I suppose he saw someone whom he sought to follow or something … Perhaps the man he thoughtmight have been the killer of James.’

‘He too was a friend of this James?’ Baldwin ventured.

‘Alas, no. He considered James a traitor to me, and for that reason he refused to speak to him. Walter is a man of firm views.’ Newt smiled thinly.

‘Firm enough to avenge the injustice done to you?’ Simon queried swiftly.

‘No,’ Newt said firmly. ‘He denied it and Walter is a man of honour.’

‘Was he a local man? Was he born Exonian?’ Coroner Richard asked. ‘I don’t remember the name.’

‘No. He was here some years ago, and liked the city. When he left the king’s service, he had money to buy a house, so he camehere to live.’

‘What was he doing here before?’ Simon said.

‘It was a service to the king, that is all I know,’ Newt said. ‘He would not discuss his tasks with me, and I won’t speculatewith you about him. He is honourable and fair-minded. I will say no more.’

‘Let us go to his house, then,’ Baldwin said, rising. ‘Perhaps we shall find him there.’

Newt nodded, albeit unhappily. He already felt as though he had betrayed his oldest friend, but there was little else he coulddo in the face of their suspicion, and just now all he wanted was to ensure that these men accepted his own innocence.

They made their way from the tavern, and as they did so they heard the all too familiar sound of the hue and cry.

‘Sweet Jesus, what is the matter with this city?’ Coroner Richard boomed as he heard the regular blasts on a horn. ‘Come, Keeper, we should go and investigate this, too.’

Baldwin shook his head, grunting. ‘I would prefer to see this Walter … but is not that noise coming from the east? Ifwe continue on our way to Walter’s house, we shall surely pass the place from which all this noise is coming.’

Newt was content to have their visit to Walter’s house delayed. For all he knew, this was another little incident in a large city: a churl caught trying to snare a purse in a crowd,or an urchin grabbing a loaf and bolting. There were always little felonies being committed in a city the size of Exeter.

They made their way up the lane towards Carfoix, and it was as they turned a corner in the street that they came across thelittle group of people. A woman stood weeping loudly at the side, being comforted by Langatre and another man, while otherspeered and spoke in hushed voices.

‘Stand back!’ The coroner stood in the road with his hands on his belt and bellowed with full force, and the men in the crowdmoved away hurriedly. A woman at the far side of the road gave a small shriek on hearing him, and dropped a basket of eggs.

‘Well? What is all this?’ Coroner Richard demanded. ‘Oh! Good Christ!’

‘Who is this child?’ Baldwin demanded as he dropped to a knee at her side. There was a terrible wound in her flank, he saw. It looked as though a long blade had stabbed in, and then been torn out through her stomach wall. Blood oozed slowly throughthe mess of intestines, and although her hand remained over the gash, her eyes were already dim, lips pale, flesh waxen. Shewas past rescue. ‘You poor, sweet child,’ he murmured.

A priest hurried up, unstoppering his bottle of water as he flung himself at her side, making the sign of the cross and beginninghis ritual. It was enough to bring Baldwin back to his senses. He brought himself up from his knees and cast about him. ‘Langatre- what can you tell us about this?’

‘This is Lady Alice. I heard her scream, and when I came to see what was the matter, her maid here was lying as you see her. Another servant did it, apparently.’

‘It was Jen. She was cast from our household this morning,’ Lady Alice said, and shuddered. She was cold, so cold! Wrappingher arms about her, she managed to prevent herself from succumbing to the waves of nausea which threatened. She wanted tothrow herself into Maurice’s arms, but that would only cause more comment, and she dared not. She must be strong! ‘I thoughtshe was a little unhinged — she said my husband had promised himself to her, and that he would divorce me in order to winher. I was so furious that I decided she must be sent away, but I had no idea … no idea …’

‘What happened?’

‘Jen appeared. She had a knife, and tried to stab me. It was only because I moved quickly that she didn’t kill me.’ Aliceheld up her arm. There was a slash in the rich material of her tunic, and a little blood had stained it. ‘As soon as I wasaway and safe, Sarra tried to speak sensibly to her, but she wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t hear anything. Just kept repeatingthat I was in her way, or something. I don’t know … I can’t truly recall her exact words … and then she lunged andtried to stab at me, but caught little Sarra instead. She did that … and then fled.’

‘Where?’

It was Langatre who answered. ‘Up that alley there. She has half the men from the street after her, though. I doubt she willescape them all.’

Baldwin looked at Sir Richard. ‘You are coroner, old friend. What should we do with her? You have seen her body already. Isthere any need for her to remain here until the jury can be collected?’

‘No, of course not! Let us set her down in the undercroft with that necromancer. That would surely be best,’ Coroner Richard said, quietly for him. He kept gazing down at the littlebody, and Baldwin saw the glistening at his eyes. It made his own begin to well.

Activity was always the best cure for such emotions, and he quickly sniffed to himself, then called to men to fetch a fewboards or a door to carry the body down the stairs. In a few minutes a door was provided and Baldwin helped the priest and Langatre to lift her little frame onto it. It was not a heavy job. She was little larger, so Baldwin felt, than his own Richalda. No. Nonsense. Richalda was only an eighth the age of this young woman. Still, the feeling of sadness would not leave him ashe watched Simon and Robinet pick up the door with its sad burden and begin to march to the undercroft.

The dark was like a clammy blanket after the open air in the street, and as they walked inside Baldwin heard Simon bellowingfor a candle. Baldwin felt the cool lick up his cheeks as he trailed in after them, cursing as he felt his boot squelch inthe mess of dirt and blood at the doorway, and then he was feeling about for tinder and a flint. Soon he managed to strikea glow, and blew it gently until he had fanned it into flame. Setting a candle to it, he lighted two more and placed themon a shelf before, helping to clear a space on a table. Simon and Robinet lifted the door up, and carefully rolled Sarra’sbody onto the table before bowing their heads respectfully and moving away.

Baldwin was already cupping a hand about the first of the candles to snuff it when he heard the explosion of shock.

‘Christ’s cods! Sweet Mother of Christ, NO! ’

And then Robinet fell to his knees beside the body on the ground.

‘Walter! Walter, no!’

Jen was strangely cold. There was the noise of the people chasing her along the alleyway, and that made her heart thud likea hammer in her breast, but that wasn’t it. In some way it felt as though she wasn’t here at all, as though she was relaxedand unconcerned, floating high over all the people and the city, observing with the detachment of an angel as her body poundedalong the cobbles.

Sarra would understand. Given time, she’d understand. This wasn’t some silly infatuation like so many girls had every so often,this was real love. Love that could scorch a couple when it ignited. Sarra couldn’t see that yet, but she would when Matthewdeclared his love for her. Trying to tell her, Jen, that he didn’t care for her! Hah! She must have thought Jen was blind not to have seen it. His adoration was there in his eyes at every moment when he was in a room with her. There was no concealingit. The only obstacle was his first wife, and she must leave him. She would go one way or another.

There was no guilt in Jen. Not now. Not ever. She was only fighting as any woman must to protect her love and her lover. Alicewas nothing. A mere encumbrance to him. Jen was his real soulmate. She would have him, too. And when Sarra saw how happy theyboth were together, she would understand.

But there was this odd feeling in her. It was like a panic, as though she was anxious or something. But that was daft. Shewas not worried about anything. Except escaping from these people. It was maddening that she must run from them as thoughshe was some common felon, when all she was doing was trying to protect herself. That was it. She was protecting herself. Didn’t any woman have the right to defend herman against other whores who might seek to take him away? Yes. And she would, too.

The alleyway ended in the second street, and she had the presence of mind to thrust the knife into her bodice. Looking downas she started up towards Carfoix, she saw the redness on her hand and for a second her eyes opened with horror. She thought,she really did, that she had cut herself — and then she almost laughed aloud at the silliness of it. Of course, it was onlythe scratch she had given Sarra. She’d have to apologise for that later, but Sarra would understand. She was a kind girl, Sarra. It would be nothing once she saw how happy Matthew was with his Jen.

She hid her hand in a fold of her dress and ducked her head a little as she made her way on, pushing through the crowds likeany other native of the city. Yet there was a constant irritant. Behind her she would keep hearing the blowing of horns andthe shouts of the men in the hue and cry. Once she risked a quick glance over her shoulder, and saw a man glowering ferociouslyat all the people in the street. He almost caught her eye, but she turned away and continued, her head lower still on hershoulders.

Near the crossroads in the middle of the city, she heard more calls and shouts. At first she thought it was merely the hawkersup there, but then she understood that someone had already made his way to the place, and there were three or four men standingand peering at the approaching women with intent, serious expressions. She could not stop; she could not continue, and returningwas impossible. That man with the brutal glower might do her harm. For a moment she actually considered taking him into herconfidence and telling him that it was all right, the sheriff had sanctioned her actions — but then she shook her head. She hadn’t been ableto tell him yet what she was trying to do to help him, hadn’t told him that she was going to remove his wife so that theycould be together for ever.

There was a stall to her side. It was a butcher’s from the shambles opposite, and she acted almost without conscious thought. A foot lashed out and the trestle holding up the table on which the wares were displayed collapsed. Amid the shrieks of ragefrom within the shop, Jen hurried along the street to the opposite corner and darted over the main intersection, thence upand along the High Street.

She had only the one thought: she must reach her lover before anyone else could get to him and lie about what had happened.

The man was inconsolable, and it was some while before Simon and Baldwin could persuade him to stand, leave the body on thefloor, and go with them up the stairs.

People outside had heard the unearthly shriek and wailing of despair as Robinet caught sight of his old companion, and theystood blocking the way as the men left the undercroft. It took some curses and the threat of Baldwin’s sword before they weregiven a free passage. In preference to the street, Baldwin crossed the way, grabbed Langatre’s arm and hissed urgently, ‘Upto your rooms now, and bring the sheriff’s wife with you. Don’t argue, just do it!’

In a short while they were inside the room and Langatre was fussing about heating water over his brazier for some concoctionfor the lady, while Baldwin secretly wished he had a good quarter-pint of burned wine instead. In his experience that colourlessdistillation was a supreme cure for almost all ills and panics.

‘This maid, my lady,’ he ventured at last, when Lady Alice was seated more or less comfortably on a chair, ‘is she a localgirl from the city?’

‘No … I think she came from north of here … Thorverton, perhaps, or Silverton. I had no reason to question her onit. Master Langatre — could you permit me a little of your wine?’ With her hand she pointed to a small dresser. Langatre noddedand opened a curtain. Behind it was a quartet of pewter goblets and a jug. He poured a measure and passed it to her.

‘Of course not.’ Baldwin smiled reassuringly, thinking that he knew the names of all his serfs, their parents and their offspring,let alone which homestead they had sprung from. ‘Has she shown such violence before?’

‘Never. I would not have allowed her into my house if she had.’

‘You have no children, though. That at least is a mercy.’

‘A mercy?’ Lady Alice snapped.

‘I meant only that she could not have harmed a child, since there were none there,’ Baldwin said, but now he eyed her moreclosely. A woman with no children would often be sharp on the subject, as he knew only too well. His own wife had been accusedof barrenness by her first husband, and he had made her life miserable, refusing to accept any blame for her inability toconceive. Although he had reasons to dislike the sheriff and mistrust him, Baldwin was a rational and fair man. The fellowwas no bully to his own wife, he felt sure. No, any pressure this woman felt was more than likely self-inflicted.

And yet … many a man had unknowingly put his wife under strain. Women could attach significance to the least matter, and then live in despair while refusing to explain what it was that made them upset.

‘My lady, what was it that made you consult this magician?’

‘I? What makes you …’

‘It is clear that you know each other, and you are familiar with his room here. You even knew where he might keep a jug ofwine, lady. I am sure that your reason for coming to such a place as this is honourable, and I suspect it must be a naturalwoman’s concern. Am I right?’

She shot an accusing look at Langatre, as though she expected him to confess to betrayal, and then eyed Baldwin more haughtily.‘What of it? I admit nothing, but yes, I know this man and his rooms.’

‘I ask again: why? You have to understand that at the moment there is a murderer, a most ruthless murderer, loose in the city. He has killed a king’s messenger, the man who lies in the undercroft below, and possibly another, not to mention strikingdown this magician’s servant and trying to kill the magician himself. His throat still bears the mark.’

She could not help but look up at that. Langatre’s throat was visible above his tunic as she glanced at him, and she couldsee the mark about his neck, a dark bruising that encircled it like a necklace. Except here there were bruises at the fronttoo, where his fingers had scrabbled for purchase on the cord. She met his look and let her eyes slide away. ‘I know nothingof this.’

‘Really? The man who was living downstairs was a magician too, by repute. Did you know that? He left the tools and trinketsof his trade, which makes me wonder what he was doing down there.’

‘I know nothing of this.’

‘One thing was not found. Did you know who the first victim was in this miserable little charade? A mere carver of bones andantlers.’

‘I know nothing of him,’ she exclaimed in astonishment. ‘Sir knight, I do not understand what you are trying to suggest! But I am a woman, and if you have an accusation to make, you should speak to my husband, and not badger me without his being hereto defend me. This is unseemly.’

‘No. Dead bodies are unseemly,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘The murder of innocents is unseemly. Questioning a woman who may beable to help resolve some of these issues is not unseemly. It is sensible.’

‘Except I know nothing about any of this. I have enough other affairs to concern me, Keeper.’

‘Did your husband know you were consulting this fellow?’

Her face told him all he needed to know. This, then, was another complication, Baldwin told himself.