The Malice of Unnatural Death

Chapter Forty-Four

The Bishop’s Palace

The bishop felt his headache begin to reduce as he sipped his wine. ‘It was most peculiar,’ he admitted.

Baldwin could say nothing to that. He was still only too aware of the great height from which he had nearly fallen. When hehad reached the ground eventually, which had taken him some time, the ladder did bounce so, he had been confronted with thebody of John of Nottingham, a tortured figure, oddly shrunken. At first Baldwin thought it was his headache and the sensationof sickness. Only later did he see that the man’s leg bones had been thrust upward until they protruded from his torso, soimmense had been the violence of his fall. It was Ivo who pulled the two hands from Baldwin’s belt and threw them after theirowner. Now the groin of his tunic was damp from the spurting blood as they had parted from John’s body.

‘Are you quite well, Baldwin?’ Simon asked kindly.

‘Yes, old friend. I am well enough.’

They were all in the bishop’s hall: Baldwin and Simon, the coroner, and Baldwin’s saviour. Baldwin had also asked Langatreto come to speak to them.

‘So can you tell me what this was actually all about?’ Bishop Stapledon asked.

‘I think that it is quite clear,’ Baldwin said. ‘We know already that there was the assassination attempt in Coventry, when this John of Nottingham tried to make seven wax figures with a view to killing a number of men — among them the king, the Abbotof Coventry, a man called de Sowe and others. He succeeded in one killing, but then his assistant caught a fit of fear, andreported the matter to the sheriff. The sheriff tried to catch all those accused, but there were twenty-seven of them, andperhaps one escaped. John. He gradually made his way here, and found himself refuge in the city, where he managed to finda man who was inclined to help him. This Michael. Perhaps he knew what John intended, but it is possible he did not. Although I can quite see that it would look curious to any man to see how people died when John was near, it is possible that Johnhad a control over Michael’s mind. He was very strong-willed.’

‘You mean that he did have some powers over others?’

‘He tried it on me. At the time I thought he was trying to force me to release him so he could escape, but maybe I was wrong. It is possible he was bending me to his will without my knowledge, and that I was the unwitting associate in his last plot- to kill me as well as himself. If he had succeeded, he might have killed Simon too.’

‘Why did he kill the messenger and take the message?’

Baldwin made a vague gesture with his hand. He still felt enormously weak after the near-death on the wall. Answering whatseemed to him to be fatuous questions was hardly relaxing. ‘He saw the messenger, and he recognised him, I expect. You yourselftold us, I think, that the messenger had brought news of the attempt in Coventry. It is quite possible that in a city thesize of Coventry a messenger would be a not common sight. Perhaps John saw James there, then saw him here, and feared that he was about to be arrested again. He killed the messenger to empty his purse, found the note fromyou and kept it.’

‘Why?’

‘I think Master Langatre is in a better position to answer than I.’

‘Most magic, Bishop, relies on the use of God’s own power and authority, as you know. But when there is some evil to be done,a magician would need more. He would need to have some tokens to give added force to his work. For him to harm you, he wouldhave had to have taken some part of you — parings from your nails, perhaps, or some hair. Or, so I would think, an exampleof your writing on parchment. Such as your writing on the note in the messenger’s purse.’

‘So what happened to it?’

In answer, Langatre picked up the figure from the table on which it lay. Simon had pressed the head back on to the neck, butnow Langatre pulled it off again, and pushed his finger down into the body. ‘Aha!’ He pulled out a little roll of parchment.‘Is this it?’

The bishop tried not to appear too eager as he took it and unrolled it. With an expression of intense satisfaction, he rerolledit and put it into his purse. ‘And the fingers?’

‘Twofold purpose to that,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘One: to provide human flesh which would perhaps aid him in some magic later;or, two: to torture poor James to learn whether or not he had been sent here with news of John. And, of course, once he wassure that he was safe, he could not permit the messenger to live, or James would have gone straight to the sheriff and toldhim all about John. So he died.’

‘And the other man in the alley the night before?’

‘He was walking in a place where John thought he might find James. He died as an example of mistaken identity.’

‘I see. Then he killed this Walter of Hanlegh, because he was following him?’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘Although I am surprised that a strong, powerful man like Walter, a man used to serving the king, wouldhave been so foolish as to let a murderer get behind him. I should have expected only a messenger, or someone else who hadspent his life believing that he was safe from such attacks, to have succumbed to so simple a ploy.’

‘Quite so,’ the bishop said. ‘Now, what of this girl Jen?’

‘I would like to think that she might become cured, Bishop, but it is clear that she will never be entirely safe in the cityhere. She could have a fit at any time, and that would mean that Sheriff Matthew — and his wife — would know no peace. Inany case, they would never agree to have her back in their household, so I think that there is nothing for her here. I wouldask that you find a place for her in a convent, perhaps. Somewhere where the abbess has experience of looking after the ill?’

‘I shall consider it. Certainly I feel sure that she is innocent of wanting to harm her friend. She has been weeping eversince I laid hands on her and demanded that the demon leave her. Yes. I agree.’

‘I am most grateful, my lord. And now, if you do not mind, I would like to leave and return to my bed. Simon, would you helpme? I still feel very weak.’

Exeter City

They had only walked a matter of yards from the cathedral close when Baldwin started to murmur to Simon.

‘Did you like the tale? I set it up nicely, I think. What do you think?’

‘I liked it, but only because I thought it was real,’ Simon admitted. ‘What parts were false?’

‘There was little actually false, but there were some parts which were not entirely true. Ah, look, there is friend Robinet. How are you?’

‘I am fine, Keeper.’

‘Really? It occurs to me that I only met you after your friend had died. At the time there seemed no reason to doubt you,of course, but it is always a mistake to take a man at his word. Now so far as I know, Robinet was a tall, gangling walkingman, a fellow used to strolling five-and-thirty miles every day. Yet you are stout and powerful, and you are swift to makedecisions.’

‘You appreciated my swiftness to decide to cut his hands off and release you.’

‘Oh, yes. I appreciated that enormously. I did not appreciate your quick decision to torture Michael, though. Even if thereasons were good, your methods were atrocious.’

‘If I had been successful, you would have thought otherwise.’

‘Perhaps so. But tell me: why the deception?’

Walter shrugged. ‘When your bailiff detained me, I already knew Robinet was dead. When we had eaten our pies he said he wasgoing to have a look round, and when he did not return I went in search of him. When I saw my friend dead in that room, Iwas enraged; but then I realised that I might be able to turn it to my advantage. As a king’s man, I have had to kill before,of course, and it does not scare me, but if my enemy knew of my skills, it might make it harder to find him. I thought that if he thought he had killed me and not Robinet, he might try to come to find me to destroy meas well, thinking that I was a messenger who also might have known of him. If he knew that I was the king’s killer, and hehad murdered the wrong man, he would be more likely to flee the city, and then I’d never catch him.’

‘I see. So, what now for you?’

‘I bought my little house here with a view to a new life. It would appear that events have conspired against me. Although I like this city, I do not think I could ever live here safely. I shall sell up and move away.’

‘That sounds to me like an excellent idea,’ Baldwin said. ‘I would do so swiftly.’

‘Very well. God speed, sir knight. And you, Bailiff.’

‘God speed, Walter,’ Baldwin murmured.

‘Well?’ Baldwin said a moment or two later. ‘Does that clear things up?’

‘Yes. A little.’

‘Only a little?’

‘There is still the first man to have died.’

‘You do not think that my explanation will suffice?’

‘No. No more than you do.’

Baldwin nodded, and then looked away. ‘This is a sad story, Simon. I would appreciate your help in telling it. Come, let usfind a friendly tavern.’

There was a favourite which the pair of them had used before, the Blue Boar, which lay a little way from the Palace Gate. Simon led the way, and soon they were sitting, legs stretched out before them, while a maid brought them large jugs of a sweet,light ale.

‘Well?’ Simon pressed him. ‘What is this story?’

‘It is the tale of an old man. He is sad, he is lonely, and he is guilty. His guilt comes from the night many years ago, eightor so, when he was the father of three little children, and owned a thriving business. He had a house in an alley not farfrom here. But he had extreme views. As a trader, he had friends all over the country, and one day he learned that a good,kind businessman and associate of his had died. Hanged when the king sent the whole posse of the county against one city. Bristol.’

‘The tax riots?’ Simon guessed.

‘Exactly. And shortly after that, there were rumours from Exeter that a man here was fomenting trouble. The king had no desireto see his treasure wasted in another costly adventure, so rather than wait until matters got out of hand, he sent a man here.’

‘Not Walter?’

‘I am afraid so. Walter came, he saw the man, and saw how to remove this little nuisance. He went late one night, and setfire to the man’s house. It killed his little children, and dreadfully burned his wife, but the man himself … well, hehappened to be at the tavern that night. He knew nothing of it.

‘This man suffered the torments of hell over his lapse that night. He was ruined, because his house was also his store andfactory, and all his goods were burned along with his property, but he was also saddled with a bitter, vindictive and vengefulwife. There can be few more hideous lives than that of a man who feels such guilt. And he had even lost the love of his woman.’

Simon took a long gulp of ale. ‘Will Skinner?’

‘Yes. I don’t know what happened that night, but I’d bet it was something irrational that simply made him snap.’

They finished their drinks and stood.

‘We can leave him, Simon. We could return to the inn and leave the fellow alone.’

‘We would never learn what made him do it, though,’ Simon said.

‘Do we need to? I am not so sure. And there is another thing,’ Baldwin added, looking about him. ‘Before Walter, or Robinet,whoever he is, managed to cut John’s hands from him, John shouted at us. He said he would see Walter and the sheriff in hell. Plainly he hated Walter for ending his life … but I should like to know why the sheriff was mentioned in the same breathas the man who was killing him. Yes. You are right. We should speak to Will Skinner again and hear what he has to say.’