The Malice of Unnatural Death

Chapter Thirty-Five

Exeter City

Baldwin and Simon walked back towards their inn with the coroner.

‘My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut!’ Coroner Richard declared loudly as they passed the bloody stain in the street where Sarra had lain.

Baldwin was looking at the stain, and now he frowned and stared towards the undercroft. ‘Whoever killed Walter, they musthave invited him down there. Surely a professional killer like Walter wouldn’t have let the man get behind him?’

‘If it was an older man, perhaps then he’d do it,’ Simon guessed. ‘This necromancer is said to be tall and skinny. A haggardold man, from what we’ve heard. Surely a brave and brawny man would feel safe enough with someone like that behind him?’

The coroner was thinking. ‘If I were a mercenary killer like Walter, I doubt I’d let my own mother behind me. I’d be insidethe room and sidle round with my back to the wall. I certainly wouldn’t allow a man rumoured to be a paid assassin to getbehind me, no matter how old and decrepit he was.’

‘That is how I read it too,’ Baldwin said. ‘It makes little sense to me. Do you think that man was telling the truth, Simon?’

‘Yes. I trusted his word,’ Simon said. ‘He seemed quite rational and sensible to me.’

‘Certainly rational,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I wonder if he told us all the truth.’

‘What else could there be?’

Coroner Richard stopped and was gazing at Baldwin with his head set to one side. ‘You have an idea, don’t you?’

Baldwin continued walking for a few paces, then halted, his head bowed. ‘I think I have the beginnings of an idea, but I amsure of nothing yet. I have to consider things more carefully.’

‘In the meantime,’ Simon said, ‘I think that we ought to make sure that the woman who tried to kill the sheriff’s wife hasbeen captured. If she is still wandering the streets, others could be in danger.’

‘Yes,’ the Coroner agreed. ‘We should make our way to the castle as quickly as possible and ensure that the good lady arrivedhome safely.’

‘To check that she has suffered no harm,’ Simon agreed.

‘Oh, yes. And to see what they serve in the sheriff’s hall for dinner. It is a fish day, and I have heard that he does notstint when it comes to a good fish pie and wine,’ the coroner agreed unperturbably, a beatific smile fixed to his face.

Robinet stood watching from Langatre’s doorway as the three men disappeared east up the hill, and only when they were outof his sight completely did he dart back into the house, into the magician’s hall, and over to a table. There he found a knifewith a good oak handle. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. The blade was a scant two and a half inches in length, and black all over, unpolished from the forge, with only the edge keen and gleaming where it had been honed. Putting it on his forefinger, he found that the short blade balanced the heavy wooden handle nicely. It was ideal.

With it in his pocket, he peered out through the doorway into the street. He had worked in places like this often enough torecognise potential danger when it was visible. Today he could see nothing, and he soon nodded to himself and slipped out,his back to the wall for the first five paces, eyes scanning the street, where there was nothing to give him cause to shy. After that, he set off at a smart pace, up towards the Carfoix, and once there he turned southwards to the South Gate.

He knew that his friend had been grabbed from behind. He intended to see that no one had an opportunity to do the same tohim.

His old friend had been in that room for a specific reason. He reckoned that it was likely that the necromancer had invitedhim inside, or perhaps the man had left the undercroft, and the watcher had thought it safe to essay a short investigationinto what the magician was attempting. No matter. The man had killed a close friend. He would suffer for it.

First, he must find the evil bastard who had been there in the room. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that yet, but he’dthink out a way soon, and then, when he had the man in his hands, he’d kill him very slowly indeed. He’d learn whether a necromancer could beg a demon to harm a man when his own fingers had all been cut off.

He came to the South Gate and nodded to the gateman. In the house he saw Art, and stared at him meaningfully. Art looked from him to his father, but his father was already speaking to someone else in the gateway, and Art quickly left thehouse and came to him.

‘Boy, I need help.’

‘It’ll cost.’

‘It always does, boy. It always does.’ He smiled, and then the smile was wiped away. ‘I want you to find me a necromancer.’

Exeter Castle

Sir Matthew was back in the city in the late afternoon, a little weary, but elated after a fine ride. The rounsey was stillfull of spirit, and if he’d wanted to, he felt he could have ridden the beast all the way to Winchester and back!

Not today, though. There was too much to be done. This was a busy time of year, and there was still the matter of the writabout the murder attempt on the king and the Despensers.

He had heard a rumour from a friend in court that the Lord Despenser had himself written to the pope asking for special protectionagainst such attempts at assassination using supernatural means — but the pope had written back to tell him to mend his waysand stop abusing his powers, beg forgiveness for his past sins, and nothing more would be needful. Apparently the Despenserhad raged up and down the corridors of his house for hours after reading that.

At the moment, though, Matthew thought he had enough on his own plate. There was the matter of his wife, then the mad maidservant,not to mention this trouble with sorcerers. It was all getting to be a little too much for him. He needed time to focus andconcentrate. Stop being blown about by events.

The castle came into view, and he found himself peering about him, half expecting to find himself confronted at any moment bya mad woman with foaming mouth and rolling eyes. Christ in a cave, but that wench scared him. Madness was akin to leprosy- both were obviously unhealable, and both left the sufferer revolting to all men of good sense. And madness was the worsein some ways. It meant that the victim could not herself see why she had become the object of revulsion.

He rode in through the gate and tossed the reins to a waiting groom, then dismounted and stood watching while the man beganhis work. If there was one thing that Sir Matthew would not tolerate, it was any laxity in the care of his mounts. A stableboy or groom who displayed laziness or incompetence would not last any time in the castle. No one received more than the onechance to do things right in Sir Matthew’s stables.

‘Sir Matthew? There are some men here to see you, in your hall.’

Sir Matthew gazed distastefully at his steward. ‘I have not invited anyone to visit me today.’

‘These were most insistent, sir. The Keeper of the King’s Peace, a coroner, and a bailiff from Tavistock. They are tryingto catch the woman who killed your wife’s maid.’

‘My wife’s …’

‘Your wife was there, sir. It is thought that the woman wanted to harm her too.’

Sir Matthew’s mouth fell wide. He recalled glancing back from the gate, seeing Jen with her hand raised, the fist and forearmpainted with blood … he left the steward in the court and bolted to the hall’s door. He threw it wide and hurried inside.‘My wife, where is she?’

‘I am here, husband,’ Alice responded. She lay on a bench near the fire, while a girl soothed her brow with a cool cloth andpassed her a large gobletful of wine.

‘My darling, I only just heard — your servant is dead?’

‘Yes. She was stabbed by that little bitch we removed this morning.’

‘It is true that it was her, then. And you saw it all?’

‘If Sarra had not sprung in between us, I should be the one lying dead on the cobbles instead of her,’ Alice said.

‘We would like to speak to you about this,’ Coroner Richard said.

Sir Matthew lurched, startled by the voice over his shoulder. In truth, he had been in such a hurry to speak to his poor wife,he had forgotten that he had visitors. Now he spun and saw that there were three men seated at the table at the other endof the hall. ‘Who are you all?’

Baldwin snapped curtly, ‘Come, now, Sir Sheriff! You know me at least, and my good friend here the coroner. And if you donot know my companion Bailiff Simon Puttock, one of my lord abbot of Tavistock’s most trusted servants, it is about time youdid.’

Peering into the gloomier reaches of the hall, away from the fire, the sheriff could make out their faces more clearly. Hecould also see that although the keeper and Simon had risen to their feet, the coroner still remained sitting at the bench. He waved a hand airily while in the other he held a salmon’s head.

Matthew nodded to them, bowing as graciously as he might as Coroner Richard sucked loudly on the head. ‘My apologies, lordings. You were in the gloom there — after the sunshine in my courtyard. I did not recognise you.’

‘Now, Sheriff, can you tell us aught about the woman who left your service this morning? We understand she may have come from Silverton. Is that right?’

‘I have no idea. Perhaps the steward would know?’

‘He thought Silverton,’ Baldwin said, reflecting on how little interest some people took in the lives of those upon whom theircomfort depended. ‘We have sent a man to the vill to see whether she might have tried to escape in that direction, but havehad no luck.’

‘She must be in the fields, then.’

‘I doubt it,’ Lady Alice said weakly. ‘Why should she leave the city? If she had somewhere to go where she would be free,that would be one thing, but if she’s got nowhere else to go, then why should she leave? I think it more likely that she waitssomewhere nearby.’

‘Why, my darling?’ Sir Matthew asked.

Baldwin responded. ‘Sir, we have been discussing this affair since we arrived here. It seems clear that the wench is infatuatedwith you …’ He was tempted to add an acerbic comment about his own surprise at the thought, but curbed his tongue. ‘Itis possible that she fled after her crime, but it is equally likely that she has remained here, in which case you will haveto do all that is needful to protect your lady.’

Sir Matthew felt as though he might be sick. This morning he had contemplated the grateful thanks of the king for his swiftand efficient apprehension of the magician, and instead he was being advised to exercise great caution on behalf of his wife.‘Why would the child think I could desire her? It’s insane.’

‘Did you ever give her cause to think you might love her?’ Baldwin pressed. ‘Anything at all?’

‘Never, on my heart! I love my wife, Sir Baldwin. Adultery would never sit easily on my soul.’

‘I have heard of young wenches who gain a false impression of another’s love,’ Baldwin admitted doubtfully. ‘They have such anintense fascination with the object of their desire that they convince themselves that their adoration is reciprocated. Ihave never witnessed such a one, though. Are you quite sure that you never gave her cause to believe that you might …’

He could not continue. One look at the sheriff’s face told him all he needed to know. This was not a man ruled by his hearton most occasions, but seeing him now, Baldwin was forced to admit to himself that unless the fellow was a consummate actor,he was no adulterer. To Baldwin, who had once submitted to his passions and betrayed the love he felt for his own dear wife,it was plain enough that this man had never committed the same sin.

‘This wench is very clearly dangerous. The men must be told to redouble all their efforts in the city to find her, and inthe meantime you, Lady Alice, must not leave the castle grounds.’

‘I would be most reluctant to become a prisoner in my own house,’ she said sharply.

‘And we should all be most reluctant to see you buried for lack of protection,’ Baldwin said as gently as he could. ‘And now, Sheriff, there is another matter which we needs must ask you about.’

It had been damnably cold at the gate when she stopped, but Maurice had steeled himself to kill Jen. The bitch had tried tokill his sister, and he would spill her blood for that.

Standing there, he’d had a stirring of revulsion at the thought of slaying a young woman, but the memory of the great blowaimed at Sarra was enough to drive away any compunction he might usually have felt. The blood … he could scarcely believe that the girl who had smiled at him andflirted as she relayed messages from her mistress, his sister, had been slaughtered like a hog in the street. Her sightlesseyes returned to haunt him now, as though reproving him for doubting the justice of his revenge.

She had been there in front of him as he began to make his way towards her. With her back to him, she made a very temptingtarget. Easy enough to throw a knife at her, except in a crowded street it would be too obvious. No one could miss the sightof a man hurling a missile. Better by far to slip a knife between her ribs from closer.

As he approached, she lifted a hand to wave, and following the line of her sight, he saw the man whose attention she was tryingto catch, saw the sheriff on his horse suddenly spur his mount on, and saw him clatter along the roadway and out through thegate.

Suddenly Jen’s shoulders dropped. Even from behind she presented the very picture of dejection. It was little enough, butsufficient to make Maurice hesitate.

Turning, she stumbled blindly away, a hand at her face, the other clutching at the breast of her tunic.

It was that which stayed his hand. She came closer and closer, and he stood still, waiting, his hand on his knife, until shewas before him, and then he saw the misery in her features, and his hand left his dagger sheathed. It was impossible to harma child in such despair. And that was what she was: a child barely ready to be loosed from her mother’s apron-strings.

She looked at him, her eyes unseeing, and then continued on her way, sobbing with deep, racking shudders of her entire frame, and he couldn’t do it. A man, yes, he could kill any man — but not this child.

Wonderingly, he followed her to a little tavern, but although she went inside, it was plain enough that she had little enoughmoney, and soon she was out again, reeling from one wall to another. Although occasionally she would look about her, it wasclear enough to him that she didn’t recognise him when her eyes passed over him. She had no thoughts for anyone else; shewas entirely focused on her own deep depression.

He was past making an attempt on her life, and yet he would not give up his pursuit. As she walked along a narrower street,then turned into a lane near the South Gate, he trailed along behind her. Soon he saw her test a gate, and enter a small yard. She crossed it, and climbed some steps to a hayloft. With the door open, she looked about her once, and then threw herselfinside, pulling the doors closed behind her.

Walking in after her, he stood a while staring at the doors. They were designed to be locked shut. There was a simple, hingedbar that rotated about a bolt in one door. The two ends of this fitted into wooden slots set into the doorframe on eitherside of the door. Maurice considered the doors for a long time, before quietly stepping up to them and turning the bar tolock her inside.