Simon listened with astonishment as Baldwin spoke about Gerard and his sudden disappearance.
‘So just as in the tale of Milbrosa, the abbot’s wine was drunk and plate was stolen,’ he muttered. ‘And now the supposed perpetrator has been carried away? Was the abbot sure that this boy Gerard was actually guilty? Perhaps someone else took the wine and things.’
‘The abbot seemed quite convinced,’ Baldwin said. ‘Another brother had suspected him.’
‘Did the abbot say why the lad was suspected?’
‘Not that I recall, no.’
‘Then we should find out,’ Simon said firmly. ‘But before that, I had better reciprocate.’ He related all he had learned, although he refused to tell Baldwin who it was who told him about the club. He had promised Hal he would keep that silent, and he would not break his oath.
Baldwin was drying himself and pulling on fresh clothes, and Simon wiped his face and did the same, shouting for Ellis. When the barber put his head around the door, he passed him some coins.
Just as Ellis was about to leave the room, Baldwin held up a hand to stop him. ‘I am glad to have an opportunity to speak to you,’ he said quietly. ‘Barber, I have heard that you detested Wally because he had got your sister with child. Is that right?’
Ellis gave the knight a sickly grin. He had been expecting to be questioned ever since the two men appeared, and the anticipation had been terrible. When they had told him to leave them, he had thought he was safe, but they had only been lulling him.
‘It was, but I was wrong,’ he said in a choked voice.
‘Oh? Who was this mystery lover of hers, then?’
Ellis’s face hardened a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. ‘Master, I have got myself into trouble once by saying who I thought was her man. I won’t say any more, since Sara herself asked me to keep her shame secret.’
Baldwin nodded. ‘Back to Wally, then. At the time of his death, you still believed he was your sister’s lover?’
‘Yes. Look, I went up there on Friday morning to give him a warning, but I left him alive. He was in a state, because he had been drinking and whoring all night and he could hardly concentrate, his head was so bad, but he was alive. I just shouted at him to leave my sister alone, that was all.’ Ellis hung his head.
‘Did he deny an affair?’
‘Yes. But then I expected him to. Look – I didn’t lay a finger on him, all right?’
Baldwin eyed his razors and knives. ‘I rather think you’d have picked a more simple means of despatch, had you intended murder,’ he admitted.
‘Did you see anyone else up there?’ Simon asked.
‘Two monks. One was Mark, that salsarius. The other one, I don’t know.’
‘Could it have been Peter?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Might have been,’ Ellis agreed after a contemplative pause. ‘Don’t know, really.’
‘Where was this Mark?’
‘He was walking towards the middle of the moor. It was only a fleeting glimpse, but you don’t forget a man like him. He’s so big. You could practically see the glow from his red face!’
‘Did you see him again?’ Simon asked.
‘When I got back, yes. A little while before I pulled Hamelin’s tooth. Mark came back down from the moor alone, and I saw him hurrying off to the abbey. He was there later when I went to shave some of the brothers.’
‘So he was upon the moors while Wally was alive,’ Simon said. ‘And came back after you, when you had left Wally in good health?’
‘Yes.’
There was a sudden commotion outside, and Simon and Baldwin ceased their questioning. With Ellis trailing in their wake, they went outside to the court, to investigate.
Simon arrived there first, rubbing a hand over his smoothed cheeks and enjoying the sensation. At the abbey entrance he saw a horse with the well-wrapped body of Wally thrown over its broad back. Some monks and lay brothers had wandered over to view this arrival, although several of them had retreated from the odour emanating from the blankets. A pair of stolid peasants cut the body free from the packhorse and allowed Wally to slump to the ground like a sack of grain, but the knife must have slashed the rope binding the blankets, for they opened and Wally’s bloated, discoloured face was exposed. Worse, the horse was startled by his load falling, and set to bucking and struggling, making everyone in the yard bolt, all but Ned, who walked over grimly and took charge.
It was just as Ned grabbed the horse’s reins and hauled his head down, gripping it with a finger in each nostril and a fist in its mane and swearing viciously into its ear, that Sir Tristram appeared in the entrance to the stable, looking about him to find the cause of the disturbance. Seeing the body, he peered at it a moment, and was about to walk away, when Simon saw him hesitate, turn, and stare at it more closely.
Simon was about to go to him, when a rotund fellow with an apron tied about his waist with a string came into the court. ‘Is there a coroner here?’ he asked.
‘Who wants him?’ Baldwin called sharply.
‘I am Nob Bakere, and I’ve been sent by Brother Peter of this abbey to ask for the coroner. Hamelin Tinner’s dead.’
Baldwin immediately sent to find Coroner Roger, but Simon stood a moment. Sir Tristram had reached the body and now he stood over Wally, staring down with an expression of contempt twisting his features.
‘What is it, Sir Tristram?’ Simon asked, walking to his side. ‘Do you know this man?’
Sir Tristram looked up but barely acknowledged the bailiff. ‘This man? Oh yes, I know him!’
‘Where have you met him?’ Simon asked with surprise. ‘He was a Scotch raider up in the March. I fought with him once, but failed to kill him. He was taken in by…’ His voice didn’t alter, but Simon saw that his eyes focused more firmly on him. ‘…by the man who lives here as Brother Peter, the almoner. This man was one of those who attacked Brother Peter, and raped and murdered his woman. What’s he doing here?’
‘His name was Walwynus. He was the miner found dead up on the moors,’ Baldwin said. ‘Are you sure you recognise him?’ he added doubtfully. ‘His face is badly beaten.’
‘He was a Scotch raider, I tell you. A reiver. I would recognise him in the midst of the fires of hell – where his soul is burning even now,’ Sir Tristram said, and spat into Wally’s contorted face.
Chapter Twenty-two
While they waited for the coroner to arrive, Simon told Baldwin what Sir Tristram had said about Wally’s real identity. When Sir Roger de Gidleigh arrived, still wiping his cheeks to rid them of pastry crumbs, Simon and Baldwin hastened with him and the flustered-looking Nob to the alley where Hamelin lay.
Nob was not only hot and bothered, he was also plagued by doubts. In the past he would never have considered divulging information to an official, not unless there was some money involved, but now he was reconsidering.
It was this sudden death of Hamelin. First Wally had found some money from somewhere, and then he’d given it to Hamelin and died. Now Hamelin was dead too. It was too much of a coincidence. As they reached the mouth of the alleyway, he stopped to face Coroner Roger.
‘Sir, I don’t know if this is important, but I feel I should tell you…’
The coroner was panting a little, and rather than unnecessarily expend more breath, he motioned with his finger for Nob to continue.
‘Sir, my wife knows this dead man’s wife well, and she told my woman the other day that Hamelin had been given a purse of gold by the miner who’s died.’
‘You mean Wally?’ Simon asked. ‘Wally gave him money? Why?’
‘Ah, that I don’t know, but I do know that Hamelin said Wally had bought a loan from him – a debt owed by a monk. The monk wasn’t in Holy Orders when he borrowed the money, but when he lost it all, he joined the monastery, so Hamelin couldn’t get his cash back. That’s why the poor soul was working out on the moors. He was desperate to make a bit of money.’
‘But the debt would be worthle
ss,’ Baldwin said. ‘Why would this Walwynus give good money for a debt he couldn’t recover?’
‘Must have been mad,’ Coroner Roger said, moving into the alley.
‘And shortly afterwards Wally dies,’ Simon mused. ‘It’s almost as though the money was evil and Wally wanted to get rid of it. But why should he?’
‘Know that and we’ll know the full story,’ Baldwin said as he set off after the coroner.
Peter was standing at the body’s side. With him were the nearest neighbours, all called to have their names noted so that they could be amerced for this infringement of the King’s Peace. None looked happy, but that was no surprise. In Simon’s experience, people rarely liked having to part with their money.
While the coroner took charge of the men gathered, Simon addressed Peter. ‘I have just been talking to Sir Tristram. He says he knew you in the north – that you were attacked by Walwynus when you got that wound. Is that true?’
Peter tilted his chin defiantly. ‘Yes. Sir Tristram was a marauder, as I told you. He raided from the English side to the Scottish, while Wally came down the other way.’
‘Was it Wally himself who gave you that wound?’ Baldwin said.
‘No, one of his companions. But the pain was the same. He rode me down when I was with a friend. They killed my friend outright; and then his companion attacked me. Then some of them went to my home and raped and murdered my girl.’
Baldwin’s eyebrows shot up. He knew that many priests and monks failed in their vows, but to hear a brother mention it so frankly and almost in passing, was oddly shocking to him. It would have been less so had Peter said that he himself had murdered. Baldwin had taken all the three vows very seriously, and the hardest to adhere to, without a doubt, was that of chastity.
‘What girl was this?’ Simon asked.
‘Her name was Agnes. It was a lonely country up there, Bailiff. I was young, and she was beautiful. It was common enough for monks to seek… companionship. We found Walwynus when Sir Tristram’s men had all but killed him, and saved him, carrying him to my home where Agnes nursed him back to health. He repaid us, so I thought, by raping her while I lay near to death.’
‘He sounds the sort of man whom you could hate for ever,’ Baldwin observed quietly. ‘I suppose that your story explains some of the wounds we found on his body, though. Did you kill him?’
‘Me? No – why should I? Would it bring back my Agnes? No. Would it take away this scar? No. Would it give me back my teeth? No. What, then, could it achieve? I had forgiven Walwynus, Sir Baldwin,’
‘You knew he was here?’
‘Yes. But he always avoided me. It was not until the coining a week ago that he somehow gathered together the courage to speak to me. I was out there in the square, and he walked to me and said he was sorry. That he had felt the guilt ever since. And I told him I forgave him, so far as it was in my power. Aye, and in any case, he denied harming my Agnes. He said he thought that his companions killed her. Martyn or the other.’
Baldwin nodded. ‘Did he say who this third man was? This man who attacked you so viciously?’
‘No,’ Peter said with a shrug. ‘What good would it have done me to know his name?’
‘You did not ask?’
‘I had no interest. After forgiving Wally, and seeing his delight, that was enough for me,’ Peter said with transparent honesty. ‘I felt as though his joy washed away my own pain. Aye, and the years of distress.’
He hesitated a moment as he thought of Joce, and the allegation that Joce was himself the third man, but chose to say nothing. God had given him some peace, and he reflected that the accusation was unsubstantiated. Too many men were convicted because of rumour. No, Peter would confront Joce personally if he could. If not, perhaps then he might repeat what Nob had told him, although by then others would probably already have heard.
‘You are telling me that you forgave the man who caused that to be done to you even after you had saved his life before?’ Simon said disbelievingly.
‘l am a man of God, Bailiff,’ Peter said imperturbably. ‘What would you have me do? Grab a sword and sweep off his head? Jesus told us to love, not hate. He told us to turn the other cheek, didn’t He? Well, I was prepared to try it. I told him I forgave him, and he burst into tears at first, but then his face shone and I confess, I felt a little like God myself, as though He had acted through me. Holy Mother, it was good. When I left him, he was happy and content.’
There was a clearness in his voice that brooked no argument. Simon was still doubtful, but Baldwin nodded understanding. ‘I believe you, Brother. Apart from anything else, it would be an unconscionable amount of time to sit back and wait for an opportunity to kill him.’
‘If you knew him,’ Simon said, ‘did you know that man with whom he arrived down here? The man whom he later killed?’
‘Aye. He was one of the party which killed my friend and tried to murder me too. An evil man. His name was Martyn Armstrong, or Martyn the Scot. It was the third man who actually swung the axe that did this,’ he added, touching his scar.
‘You must have hated Wally.’
‘I did at one time, but it is hard to stay hating a man for ever. I had no part in killing him, if that is what you mean.’
‘You were seen up on the moors on the day Walwynus died,’ Simon stated. ‘Why?’
‘I had to go and visit one of the abbot’s shepherds who has hurt himself, taking him some money to help him through his illness.’
‘Did you come across Walwynus?’
‘Yes. I spoke to him on the way. He was hungover. I got the impression that he had drunk a great deal the night before, after I told him I forgave him.’
‘You were seen with him.’
‘Aye, well I walked with him a way, as soon as I saw how bad he was. He could easily have fallen off the trail and into a bog, he was that far gone. I stayed with him until he was home as an act of charity.’
‘You went with him to his home? What was he doing back here, then?’ Simon burst out.
‘I have no idea. His cottage is on the route to Buckfast, so it wasn’t out of my way.’
‘And then?’
‘I carried on to find the shepherd who was deserving of my lord abbot’s kindness. An orphan.’
Simon sucked at his teeth. ‘And Walwynus was fine when you left him?’
‘Yes. I swear it. Although…’ His face was suddenly troubled, a crease marking his brow.
Simon said sharply, ‘Yes?’
‘It is likely nothing, but while we were talking, he denied having raped or hurt Agnes. He confessed to being part of the raiding party which attacked me, but said that he wouldn’t lead the men to my hovel, because he wouldn’t have allowed anyone to harm Agnes, not after she’d nursed him back to life.’
‘And that worried you?’
‘It made me think that I had misjudged him, or that he wasn’t prepared to confess with honesty, but… perhaps his memory was playing him false. It can do things like that to people. I don’t know. Certainly he appeared greatly upset when I left him. He was sitting at his stool, weighing his purse in his hand unhappily.’
* * *
The next morning, when Augerus woke, he remembered the corpse and shuddered. He had seen Wally’s body being brought in, but had hurried away before the poor devil’s ruined remains could be uncovered. He had known Wally as a sort of business associate, a drinking companion, too, well enough to not want to see the wreck of his body out in the open like this. Reaching the abbot’s undercroft, he had unlocked the door and entered, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning on it, panting heavily. With the little cup he used for tasting the quality of the wines in the barrels, he had drawn off a good measure of the strongest, red spiced wine, and sank it at a gulp, grateful for the warmth that spread through his body, driving off the chill fear.
Now, in the first light of a chilly grey morning, he felt a queasiness in his belly at the thought of what had happened to Wally, alt
hough in his drowsy state he couldn’t deny a stab of pleasure at the way he had treated Joce.
He had given the bastard a shock, a real good one. Standing there and grabbing Augeras like he was some menial who had misbehaved! The thought that Gerard might tell everyone about their little game hadn’t occurred to him, not until Augeras had made him see sense. Now maybe he’d get rid of all the stuff quickly. Before it could be found! Augerus reflected for a moment on the enraged features of his accomplice as he’d held him by the throat up against his front door. Joce could fly off the handle at a moment’s notice.
When he had attended the morning Mass and seen to the abbot’s breakfast, he pottered for a while in the undercroft, then went to visit Mark. The salsarius was welcoming enough, but he too appeared to have his mind on other things, and after only one bowl of wine and a few slices of dry-cured ham Augerus left him to it. He wanted to visit the parish church to see Wally and pray over him.
He entered the dark church with a feeling of sadness. After making the obeisances, he walked down the aisle to where Wally’s body lay, lighted by the guttering candles. It was gloomy here today, with so little light. Clouds smothered the sun and the great windows with the coloured pictures depicting scenes from the Bible all seemed grim and accusing. As they should be, Augerus nodded to himself, bearing in mind how much this man had stolen from the abbey.
The sight of a decomposed body was not so uncommon that it was a shock, but to see old Wally lying here was depressing. This was the man with whom he had so often enjoyed a drink, the pal with whom he had swapped jokes and stories around the fireside. Later on, Wally had become his partner in crime, the accomplice with whom he had robbed the abbey’s guests.
The loss of a partner was always sad, he thought to himself. Even if the thieving bastard had tried to gull him, taking a larger share of the proceeds than he should. And there was the wine, too. It was hard to forgive him that. Pinching the good abbot’s wine was a sick joke. Even now, Augerus wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. Somehow he must have used Gerard. Jesu! But the lad was a marvel! So slim he could even wriggle through the metal bars at the abbot’s own undercroft, with a bit of squirming. And then he had the brains to take whatever he had been told, even when he must have been terrified of being discovered.
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