The Malice of Unnatural Death

Chapter Forty-One

Exeter City

The man who had murdered his friend was gone, but he could find out where with some luck. He was back in the house as soon ashe realised what the magician had been attempting. Squatting in front of Michael, he eyed the bloody mess of cloth wrappedabout his hand. ‘You should learn to talk more quickly.’

‘Please — I don’t know how to help you. You must believe me!’

‘Ah, but I don’t.’

‘I cannot tell you anything more.’

The girl had returned. She held a large bowl of warmed water from the copper, and she stood in the doorway with a terrifiedlook on her face.

Michael shook his head at her. ‘Go! It’s not safe for you here!’

‘Oh no, I think she ought to see to your wounds,’ Robinet said with a flash of his teeth. He had the knife in his hand againnow. Against the wall, he saw one of the fingers, and he picked it up and studied it. There was a crash, and when he glancedround the girl had fainted again. ‘You should get her viewed by a physician. She seems too phlegmatic for words. Now — youwere going to tell me where he’s gone.’

Michael looked up into the man’s eyes and saw nothing there but a cold intensity that spoke of his determination. ‘I don’t know anything,master.’

‘You can do better than that. You will have to.’

‘Master, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!’ Michael pleaded.

‘A man with no fingers is a sad sight. You know that?’

Michael withdrew his hand as his torturer reached for it.

‘Now, naughty. If you don’t help me, I may get angry, and look to something other than your finger. Do you want that?’

‘Please! I don’t know anything.’

‘The only thing that looks worse than a man with hands but no fingers is probably a man with no fingers and no eyes.’ He wasspeaking ruminatively, with a pensive expression that sent ice into Michael’s blood. Gently, he reached for Michael’s bleedinghand, and took it, pulling the linen away as he did so. ‘Ah, good, clean cuts. I thought that knife was good and sharp. Now- you’ve lost those two already. What is it to be next? The thumb or the next finger? What? Not sure? Shall I decide for you?’

‘The bishop! He’s going to kill the bishop, God save me!’ Michael burst out, pulling his hand away and weeping.

‘Enough!’

Michael was close to puking. The interruption gave him the moment’s respite he needed. He turned his head and retched emptily. There was nothing more to come.

‘Leave us, Langatre.’

‘I will not! You are committing a gross offence on that man, and I will not permit it!’

‘You will learn to keep your silence.’

‘Why? So you can execute him? What if he is telling the truth? What if he is nothing more than an innocent tradesman who rented a room to a stranger? You are performing a foul injustice on him. Out of my way!’

‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Langatre. Leave me with him for a few more minutes. He will tell me where the murdereris.’

‘You are no better than a murderer yourself. I will not leave you. I demand that you release this man to me instantly. Ivo? Ivo! Get in here. If he tries to harm that man even by so much as a scratch, you will strike him with your staff.’

‘Master, I don’t think …’

‘I am sure you’re right and fortunately there is no need for you to do so! If he so much as scratches that man, you knockhim down. Do you hear me? Right, now, Master Michael, you come with me. This man will not harm you any more.’ Langatre pushedpast Robinet and leaned down to help Michael to his feet. ‘Come, fellow. Where is the nearest leech?’

Exeter Castle

Coroner Richard was unhappy to see the girl bound, wretched and groaning with despair, but he wasn’t willing to risk her grabbinga dagger and putting paid to another life. No. Best to see that she was kept controlled.

‘What will you do with her?’ he asked the sheriff.

‘She is a murderer. She should be gaoled until the next court is held. If the bitch comes before me, I’ll have her hangedin a day!’

Coroner Richard nodded. Understandable, he reckoned. The silly minx had killed off a perfectly good young servant for no reason. Well, only because she wanted to kill someone else and her blow went awry, which was not the best legal defence against a capital crime he had ever heard. No, he was fairly sure that she would soon join her dead friend.

There were some who asserted that extreme cases of dementia like this were caused by demons who inveigled their way into thebody of their victim, and then began to cause mayhem. The coroner had no idea whether that had happened in this case, buthe wondered whether it was possible. In some cases, so he had heard, the use of prophylactic flogging could bring on a recovery,as could the use of starvation occasionally. Perhaps this was a case where such a treatment could be considered.

‘Yes. I’ll have her hanged in a trice, damn her soul!’ Matthew said.

The Coroner looked at him without speaking. The sheriff was visibly shaking as his wife put her hand over his shoulder andtried to comfort him. He hardly seemed to notice her, but after a little while his hand rose and took hold of hers. Still,he could not speak without a quaver in his voice.

He was so knocked back, Sir Richard wondered whether he had indeed led the poor child on. Perhaps even raped her. It was hardlyunknown for a pretty maid to be bedded by her master, and if the master then thought that the mad bint was going to try tokill him and his wife, it would hardly be surprising if he was a little unnerved by the thought.

‘Aye, well, I’ll be leaving you now. Business to attend to,’ he said, and made his way from the hall, out into the court andthence to the castle gate. ‘Hoi, guard, where is the best alehouse around here?’

He was soon being given directions to the place favoured by the castle’s guards, and thinking that a tavern which was patronisedby the castle’s men at arms would be ideal for him too, he set off over the bridge to the High Street. But before he could reach it, he saw the grim face of Langatre hurryingup the street towards him.

‘You are in a hurry.’

‘I have been searching for you, Coroner. You can be a most elusive person on occasion. You must come with me to hear whathas been happening to the poor man Michael in his own house.’

Coroner Richard held up his hands. ‘Tell me as we walk. I have a need of some food and drink first, though. If you want totell me this tale, do so now and while I eat.’

‘You must come at once, Coroner!’

‘Why?’

‘The man Robinet — he has been torturing Michael. I had to get him away, and have left him with a leech.’

‘So he is safe at the moment?’

‘Well …’

‘Tell me as I eat, then,’ the imperturbable coroner repeated, and listened as he marched at his best speed to the tavern, Langatre dancing at his side as he tried to keep up. ‘You know this Michael?’

‘Yes. He is an old companion of mine in the taverns. He is a kindly man. He doesn’t deserve this assault.’

‘Then what was he doing protecting this necromancer? It sounds to me, from what you’ve said, that the fellow deserved allhe got.’

‘It is illegal to capture a man and torture him,’ Langatre said, and there was a fierce determination in his voice.

Coroner Richard looked at him for a long moment. Then, ‘Very well. But first I want my companions to join us. I will senda message for them to meet us here. Now, where is that bone-idle bugger of a landlord? HOI! HOI! I AM THIRSTY!’

Exeter City

John had heard the brouhaha as soon as the first knock came on the door. He had already packed up all his remaining belongingsagainst just such an eventuality, although it did not please him to learn that his place of hiding was already discovered. Still, at least the man who owned the house would keep his mouth shut if he knew what was best for him.

Quickly, he grabbed his pack, now considerably heavier than it had been originally, and threw it over his back by the stoutrope that bound it. He ran to the wattle fencing hurdles and pushed his way between a pair of them, then darted up the adjacentgarden all the way to the end, where it gave out onto the road near the south-western corner of the city wall. Once there,he set off eastwards. That was the way to the busy street from the South Gate, and once there he could easily lose himselfin the crowds.

He was still cursing under his breath as he reached the gate, and turned northwards again, pulling his hood over his face. In this cold weather, most people were doing the same, conserving their warmth as best they might, and he did not stand out. It was ideal.

Yes. It was annoying that his refuge had been lost, but perhaps it was all for the best. Now he had but one night to worryabout, and for that he knew exactly where to go. In the north-western angle of the wall was the old Franciscan abbey, butthe brothers had moved from the city a few years ago, to a new location outside the walls near the river. Since then, theplace that had held their cloisters and dormitories had become the province of various poverty-stricken families. There wouldbe space there for a poor wanderer like him, and no one would be the wiser. It was only for one evening, after all.

It took him little time to find the place. Soon he was traversing the muddy, icy paths, and looking for a dwelling that couldaccommodate him. There were several near the outer wall, but he didn’t want to be too close to the edges. Better to be entirelyimmersed. He would keep on going until he felt sure that no one following him would be able to find him with ease.

At last he saw it. A rough lean-to, much of whose thatched roof had long ago disintegrated. However, a section of it stillfunctioned, and when he peered in through the doorway he saw that beneath the straw there was a good space in among the rafters,and if he pushed the door up there he would be able to lie snugly off the floor, secure from the wet and hopefully warm enough.

Pushing the door up was a trial, but in time he succeeded, and then he clambered up after it, opening his pack and pullingout his book, and laying it reverently on the boards. Next was the blanket, wrapped about the first of the figures, and hetook it out now, peering at it with some pride. Tomorrow it would serve its purpose.

It was almost dark already when the three men were able to sit at the table at their inn and rest.

‘Not a sign of him,’ Baldwin muttered as he eased his legs out before him and leaned back against the wall.

‘He could have been swallowed by the earth,’ Coroner Richard agreed.

Simon was more positive. ‘Perhaps he has left the city to escape? After seeing what Robinet did to that landlord, I’m notsurprised.’

They had gone to speak to Michael almost as soon as Baldwin and Simon had met the coroner in the tavern. Langatre had taken them at an urgent pace to the physician’s house where he had deposited him, and he had held back as theyentered, as though fearing that Robinet might have been there before them and killed all in the house. ‘He’s a mad bastard,that one. He enjoyed cutting off Michael’s fingers. I swear it! He enjoyed it.’

The tanner was little help. ‘I don’t know where he is. I rented him a room, and then he came to ask for another. That’s all.’

‘You were renting the undercroft to this man, weren’t you?’ Simon pressed him. ‘You knew he was planning to murder the bishop,didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell the beadle? It was your duty.’

‘I didn’t dare. I thought he was a powerful wizard, and it looks as if he is, doesn’t it? I mean, where is he? If he was a man, someone wouldhave seen him by now, and yet he’s disappeared. He must be a necromancer with a lot of power.’

‘He could just be hiding in a room somewhere where the landlord is not fussy,’ the coroner commented. ‘Come, now, where couldhe have gone?’

‘I tell you, I do not know!’

Thinking back to his terrified expression, Simon reckoned that if he had even a remote inkling as to where this ‘John’ hadgot to, he would have told them. Apart from anything else, it was clear that he wanted someone else to suffer for the painhe had endured that day.

‘And he didn’t have any more idea where Robinet could have gone,’ Baldwin observed. ‘Where can he have got to?’

‘In God’s name,’ the coroner grunted, loosening his boots, ‘I confess I find these disappearances baffling. Each time someonefinds the wizard, he seems to slip away. And now that damned fool Robinet has gone too.’

‘Perhaps the pair of them have killed each other,’ Simon mused. ‘What do you reckon, Rob?’

‘Me? I don’t know anything, do I? I just get sent to walk about in the cold and stare at people, I do. No brain at all, me. Except I was able to help tell you about the sheriff, of course.’

The coroner had an amiably bovine face, but it concealed a sharp mind, and there was nothing wrong with his hearing. ‘Eh? What’s this?’

Baldwin sighed and closed his eyes. ‘If you continue to speak out of turn, Rob, you will learn that life can be unfair andmore than moderately painful. Coroner, this was some information that came to us. It would seem possible that the bishop hassome strong concerns about the sheriff, and has even gone so far as to put them to the king.’

The coroner whistled low. ‘That could cost the sheriff dearly.’

Simon yawned. ‘His ballocks would be off, wouldn’t they?’

‘I do not like to speculate about matters like this when the man himself has no opportunity to defend himself,’ Baldwin said.‘I should like to know what has led the bishop to leap to this conclusion. There must be some reason for it.’

‘I have not noticed many bishops who need good reason to jump to conclusions,’ the coroner said sourly.

Baldwin smiled, but only fleetingly. He soon reverted to his frowning contemplation, which he maintained as Simon and Coroner Richard ordered food for them all. Before long steaming plates filled with pies and boiled pigeons appeared before them, alongwith a loaf of heavy bread. The sight and smells persuaded Baldwin to turn his attention to the table, and he slapped Rob’shand away from the food quickly, making him wait until the coroner had filled his own plate. Then he motioned to Rob to continue, watching the lad while hesipped at a strong wine.

When they had eaten their fill, and even the coroner declared himself satisfied, Baldwin returned to the matter. Simon hadoften thought that his friend was rather like a dog which would return to worry at a bone until all was gone.

‘I cannot help but believe that a man so determined to attack the king and others would not have run far. But why? If the fellow is determined to commit murder by means of a demon or some other form of wizardry, surely he could be anywhere. What would be the point of proximity? If I were an assassin, and I wished to kill a man, would I not do so from a distance?’

‘He’s mad. That’s the thing. Like this girl killed the sheriff’s servant. Same thing. Quite potty. She even returned to thesheriff’s hall for some reason.’

‘Why?’ Simon asked.

‘I don’t know!’ the coroner declared testily. ‘You’d have to be insane to comprehend her motives. Same with this sorcerer.’

‘From what you said, the maid was in love with the sheriff.’

‘No accounting for tastes.’

Baldwin gave a faint grin. ‘True. But the fact is, she thought she would be receiving a generous welcome from her lover, fromthe sound of things. In reality, she petrified the poor fellow. There can be little similarity between her and this John from Nottingham.’

‘Unless there is something unique about the murderer, of course,’ Simon considered. ‘Perhaps it is simply that he hates the bishop and wants to be there when the bishop is struck down?’

‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said. He stifled a yawn. ‘But after a lack of sleep last night, and all the exertions of searching forthe fellow today, I think I must to my bed. I shall see you in the morning.’

It was later, as Simon entered the room to go to his own bed, that his words returned to Baldwin. Something about the ideaof a demented assassin being in a specific place to witness the effectiveness of his murderous sorcery that stuck in Baldwin’smind. Yet even that could not prevent him from slipping into unconsciousness before Simon had even begun to snore.