The Tolls of Death: (Knights Templar 17)

by Michael Jecks

  He stiffened under her hands, but then gave a low, reluctant chuckle. ‘That is the trouble with you, woman, you always read my mind. Yes, it’s Richer. I don’t know what to do about him. I am sure he is innocent and he deserves the opportunity of remaining with Warin. After all, he was sent here with the squire, wasn’t he? Sir Henry must trust him; so should we.’

  ‘If your trust is misplaced, we could be risking other lives,’ Lady Anne said gently. ‘Richer may have slaughtered not only Serlo, but his past lover, Athelina, and her children.’

  ‘That wasn’t him,’ Nicholas grated, and she felt his muscles tighten again.

  ‘Perhaps you should make the Coroner aware of our doubts?’ she suggested. ‘He can take such action as he deems fit.’

  ‘You wish to have Richer hanged for something he didn’t do?’ Nicholas demanded.

  ‘No, of course not.’ Anne withdrew. ‘My love, I only seek to help you, you know that.’

  He held his head, then shook it, like a dog clearing its brow of water. ‘Yes, of course I do.’ He finished his wine, turned and pulled her down to him. His lips tasted of the strong, sour wine, but she revelled in the flavour. She did love her man when she was with him like this.

  As she smiled down at him, his face on a level with her breast, he gave a wolfish grin and buried his nose in her cleavage, rubbing his stubbly jowls up and down. She squealed and drew away. ‘Enough! Husband, you have work to do.’

  ‘Aye, I know. And you must rest,’ he said seriously, a hand patting her belly. ‘I don’t want you overdoing things. Take care of yourself for the child’s sake.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised as he rose and left the room.

  She stood a while, her hand on her belly, smiling with satisfaction. Her man was prey to concerns at times, but her duty was to remain calm. She must uplift his spirits.

  It was so sad she couldn’t tell him of her past. He knew much, of course – especially about the death of her parents and the hideous journey here with the lascivious friar – but nothing about that period of her life as a whore. She wasn’t sure he could understand or forgive that, any more than he could forgive her brief affair while he was away.

  Yet it was all too natural that she should have panicked, convinced that he was dead. And seeking another man who might protect her had seemed so sensible. A woman who was without a husband or wealth was a woman in danger. She couldn’t return to the brothel; she would rather cut her own throat.

  Outside there were voices, a relief from her grim thoughts, and she stood on the threshold from where she could see into the yard.

  With a flicker of interest she saw that Sir Baldwin and his taciturn friend the Bailiff were both there, and she decided it would be diverting to learn how the two had fared. She knew they had ridden to see Father John at Temple that morning for there were no secrets in a small castle.

  Standing on tiptoes, she waved to Sir Baldwin. The two men exchanged a glance, seeing her beckon, then she saw the Bailiff shrug and both made their way across the yard. Soon they were in the hall. She indicated the replenished jug of wine and cups, then took her own seat near the table. The two bowed and sat on a bench, filled cups in their hands.

  ‘Sir Baldwin, Bailiff. I heard you had travelled to see that odd fellow at Temple. Tell me, did he help you?’

  It was Baldwin who responded. ‘Alas, he was little aid. He considered our questions impertinent, or perhaps he thought we touched on subjects which were more the domain of a priest than a King’s officer!’

  ‘John is very sure of himself,’ Anne agreed. ‘He is closely allied to the King’s cause, you know. His father died at Bannockburn, I believe. In any case, most priests would be reluctant to speak of their feelings about the miller. Most had reason to dislike him.’

  ‘You too?’

  ‘Oh, that’s different!’ she laughed, but there was an edge to her amusement. She hadn’t expected him to spot her weakness quite so swiftly. Yes, she could easily have killed Serlo for his attempted blackmail.

  ‘Do not fear, Lady,’ Baldwin said. ‘You didn’t kill him. In your present condition you would be quite unable to drag him along the track where he was killed and push him into his machine. I doubt whether you could have done so before you were pregnant, but it would be impossible now.’

  ‘I suppose I should be glad you feel so,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm. It was hardly chivalrous to speak to a woman in such a way.

  ‘Of course you could’ve paid someone else,’ Simon said.

  She gazed at him, appalled. ‘You surely don’t …’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Simon said with a smile. Yet she noticed that he did not spell out exactly what he didn’t believe.

  ‘This Serlo was hated by all,’ Baldwin mused. ‘Which makes it hard to find his killer – unless his murderer was related to his apprentice Dan and this act was motivated by revenge. But I understand there are no living relations.’

  ‘I believe not,’ she agreed.

  ‘A lad doesn’t need to be related by blood to be loved,’ Simon said. ‘Maybe it was a jealous rival in love. Could a woman have killed him?’

  ‘He was surely too young,’ Anne chuckled. ‘He was only seven!’

  ‘All right,’ Simon tried. ‘Perhaps a woman attacked Serlo because Serlo had killed her lover.’

  Baldwin shot him a look. ‘Think about her dragging the body to the mill. Few women would be strong enough.’

  ‘And setting it off,’ Anne said. ‘Surely only someone who knew about the mill would have been able to set the mechanism going.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Simon said. ‘I daresay I could start it myself. Mills aren’t complicated devices and many will watch while the grain is milled, both to gossip and make sure the miller is honest.’

  ‘That is an interesting thought,’ Baldwin frowned. ‘Gossip is useful currency anywhere … perhaps Serlo learned something about others in the vill, and was killed to silence his mouth?’

  Anne felt her heart freeze. For a moment she thought she must collapse, and her pallid features caught Simon’s attention.

  ‘My Lady, we have upset you with all this talk of death! Please let me fetch you some wine.’

  ‘No, no,’ she protested, telling them that it was nothing, a mere passing faintness. Her child …

  ‘Ah yes,’ Baldwin said with a smile. He lifted his cup and drained it. ‘I hope your child brings you as much joy as my own did me.’

  He was surprised to see her colour, but thought that it was simply the pleasure of a young woman to be so honoured by two rugged old warriors like Simon and him. The truth would take time to occur to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Inside the alehouse it was dark and gloomy. Richer entered with his chin high and his hand near his sword’s hilt, stopping at the doorway to the screens passage, staring about him.

  This early in the evening, only a few men stood with pots in their fists. One, Angot, was merrily drunk, sitting on the floor near the bar and humming a tune, occasionally breaking into a bawdy song when he could remember the lyrics, and then laughing uproariously.

  Two men were strangers and watched Richer with unconcealed surprise as others glanced his way, and then swiftly averted their gaze, suddenly finding the ale in the bottom of their cups a source of fascination.

  Susan went to see him, hissing angrily, ‘Richer, what’re you doing here? By my mother’s soul, I thought you’d have more sense, man! Go back to the castle before Alexander hears that you’re here! Quickly: go!’

  ‘I am going nowhere. I didn’t kill Serlo, and I won’t skulk in the castle like a felon seeking sanctuary. Fetch me ale, Sue. Wine for my master here.’

  ‘Why, so you can be hanged from my lintel?’ she countered. ‘Get back to the castle until they find out who did kill Serlo.’

  ‘And if they don’t, what then? Shall I remain there for ever? If I hide away, people will think that proof of my guilt.’

  ‘Can’t you talk sense to him?’
she demanded, turning to Warin in frustration. ‘He’s your servant, isn’t he? You have a duty to protect him, in Christ’s name!’

  ‘I’ll have wine; he’ll have ale. We’ll be at the table there,’ Warin declared, pointing to a table at the far wall.

  Richer nodded. It was well-chosen. There was no window behind. Both men could command a view of the entrance, with no risk of an assassin behind them. On the other hand, there was no means of escape, either. He slapped his hand on his hilt and marched to the table. Grabbing a bench, he kicked it against the wall and dropped down on it.

  There was a curious feel to this, as though he had been in this situation before, and then it came to him. Many years ago in Wales, he was a part of the garrison of the King’s new castle at Ruddlan. The country had only recently been pacified, and the men living there detested the English with a passion. For Richer back then, in 1312, it was hard to imagine that the peasants could rise against their lawful King, Edward II, but they did. And Richer and a friend were caught up in it.

  He and his friend had entered an alehouse like this, and just like this one, the atmosphere had chilled as they walked in, all conversations stopping. Yesterday the place had gone quiet because Serlo was in the corner; now it was quiet with fear. The folk knew that Richer was a fighter and dangerous, but they also knew that Alexander wanted to capture him and take him to the nearest tree to hang.

  In Wales there had been rumours that one of the castle’s garrison had raped a local girl, and the vill’s men had gathered angrily, waving weapons and shouting for revenge against the ‘invaders’. As if Richer and his companion (he couldn’t recall his name; it was so long ago now) were invading! They were subjects of the same King.

  The mob had appeared at the tavern before Richer knew what was happening. There had been a window behind them both, and as soon as they saw the men pouring through the doorway, his friend pushed him to the window and helped him up and through. Richer had drawn his sword the moment he was out, but even as he turned to help his friend, he saw the blood splash against the wall. The other man turned once, his eyes desperate, and bellowed to him to run and escape, and then he was borne down by the press of bodies.

  Later he saw the body. It had been left dangling, naked, moving gently in the breeze, a bloody mess where his genitals had been. They had been hacked off and shoved into his mouth where they remained, protruding obscenely. The swollen face and bulging eyes seemed to look at Richer accusingly. He still saw that face in his nightmares.

  This alehouse had the same feel. There was anger in the air, a tension like an over-filled bladder, that needed only a sharp blade to release it in death and fury. Richer knew that he was that blade. Unless he was careful, he might precipitate a disaster.

  Warin sat next to him on the bench. ‘And now, old friend, we wait,’ he murmured.

  Letty was much recovered now. At least, she thought she was. Letitia knew she was fortunate enough to have the constitution of a man, and a stronger man than most who lived here in the vill, but even so, the shock of seeing that terrible wreckage lying among the cogs had almost given her a brain fever. She had needed to return home and rest. Awful, too, considering how Alexander had needed her. Poor Alex! He’d seen Serlo lying there. If only she had controlled herself better, rather than screaming and bolting like a pathetic child.

  That was how Alex learned of Serlo’s death: she’d collapsed at her door and Alex had taken her in and seen to her before going to the mill. Unlike most men, who would have left their wives and run, Alex was organised. He first sent a man up to the castle, then called on two women to come to the house. Their maid had also helped, and before too long Letty was back in her bed, Jan applying a damp cloth to her forehead. And only then had Alex gone to see his brother.

  Aumery had been lying near the fire overnight, and exhaustion had prevented his waking this morning, but he was truly awake now, and like any little boy who had witnessed a dreadful event, he wept and started to cry for his mother. Letty was forced to rise from her palliasse and catch him, taking him back to bed with her.

  Then Alex returned, blanched and shaking; he looked like an old man. To see a brother crushed so brutally was a truly hideous experience. Stoically, Alex tried to conceal his feelings. He was never one to wear his pain on his sleeve. A man brought up apart from others, motherless, beaten and shamed by their father in poverty, he had only ever known self-reliance. All his love had been devoted to his brother – until he married Letty. She felt guilty that he must look after her, but she was also glad; he could concentrate on her and save his own grief for later.

  She rolled over when she had managed to comfort Aumery enough to leave him alone, and saw her man at the doorway. ‘Alex? Are you all right? Come and let me hold you.’

  ‘I am all right.’ He didn’t turn to her, but remained staring out at the roadway.

  ‘I am so sorry!’

  ‘I know you never liked him – many didn’t. He was always an aggressive fool: a bully, and in many ways a coward. Perhaps it was my fault. I used to spoil him when he was a child. I’d take the blame for his faults and take his punishment too, just to protect him. If I’d let him stand on his own, perhaps he’d have learned to win friends.’

  ‘You did all you could,’ Letitia said, shivering. She pulled a rug over her nakedness and stood. Tucking Aumery in, she exhorted him to close his eyes.

  Alex continued, ‘It was never enough though. And then when we grew, and I started to make a decent fist of my life, he still wanted to be molly-coddled and swathed in my love. Whatever I did, he thought was good, but he couldn’t copy me. Running the mill was the limit of his abilities. When he tried to make his own way, he failed.’

  ‘In what way?’ she asked. She had walked to his side and now she wrapped her rug around him as well, enclosing him in her own warmth.

  ‘Look at the matter of the tolls. How stupid, taking gifts to let people use the bridge when the castellan and steward must have seen what was happening. Soon they must have taken action against him for that. It was too flagrant. And it defrauded us, too! His own family!’

  ‘I am only surprised that they hadn’t already taken action against him,’ she agreed, tight-lipped. No matter how hard she tried to think kind thoughts about Serlo, when all was said and done, he was an aggressive idiot, just as Alex said.

  ‘And as for his talk about Athelina … I could have hit him for what he said about her.’

  Alex remained silent for a long moment. In the circle of her arms, Letty could feel his heart thundering like a destrier’s after a race, and then she felt the catch as he sobbed.

  ‘And then he made more enemies …’

  ‘It’s all right, Alex. Alex, my love, come!’ she crooned. If only they had been able to have their own children, she thought as she turned him gently and rested his head on her shoulder. She let her cheek touch his and smiled. At least he was letting the anguish out. That was bound to be good for him. He couldn’t stop up all his feelings all the time. Now that fool of a brother of his was dead, perhaps Alex would be able to find some rest. The last link with his miserable childhood was gone. ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she murmured.

  ‘No. All that matters is, Serlo’s dead. That’s all that matters,’ he said dully.

  There was a loud sobbing from the bed, but neither moved. Poor Aumery would have to grow used to his loss, just as would Alexander himself. Both had lost their brothers.

  She saw a figure approach and shook her head at the man, but even as she did so, Alex felt her movement and turned to face the door. There, shame-faced, was Wal from the farm near Holy Well. He shuffled a little under Alexander’s fixed stare.

  ‘Constable? Sorry to hear about Serlo. Some of us, we reckon it’s terrible what that bastard’s done.’

  ‘Thank you. He’ll pay.’

  ‘He’s at the alehouse now. We’ll help you, if you want.’

  ‘He’s come here? He’s flaunting himself in my vill?’ Alexander demande
d, aghast.

  Letitia clung to him. ‘Alex, don’t do anything – the Coroner and his friend will arrest him and see that he’s punished. Don’t go there, it’ll only end in you being hurt!’

  ‘Me? Hurt?’ Alexander gave a hollow laugh. ‘I have no children, no brother, no hope. All I have created will die with me.’

  ‘There’s me, Alex, and there’s still time! If we pray, He may send us a child to—’

  Alex made a small gesture of dismissal. ‘We shall never have children, my love. And justice must be done. It was that son of a hog who killed my brother,’ Alexander said. ‘And now he will pay!’

  Sniffing, Aumery watched as his uncle left. His father had spoken about the lady at the castle, as if the secret was important. ‘If he learned that another man knew his wife,’ his father had said, ‘it would be terrible.’ Aumery was not to speak about it, or his father would kill him. Now his father was dead.

  He sobbed again. The rock of his life was gone, as well as his baby brother. He felt very lonely. He wanted his mother to come home and cuddle him. It was a relief when he felt Letitia’s arms go about him. ‘It’s all right, Aumie. Auntie’s here. Don’t worry. Poor Aumie. Soon I’ll take you to your mother, all right?’

  Yes. That was what he wanted. Then he thought: his father was dead now, so he was master of the house. He was responsible for his mother, and he must protect her. He was big enough. He was nearly four years old.

  Daddy was dead. So was Ham. He sobbed again and hid his face in his aunt’s rug.

  ‘There is no sign of Squire Warin or the man Richer anywhere,’ Baldwin said. ‘Have you sent them on an errand?’

  Nicholas eyed him distractedly. ‘No. They may have gone out for some exercise.’

  ‘No,’ Simon said bluntly. ‘We’ve asked the grooms. All the mounts are there.’

  They had gone to ask Ivo – against Baldwin’s better judgement – but all they had learned was that Warin and Richer had left the castle on foot. Sir Jules volunteered to seek them, and Simon and Baldwin gladly accepted his offer. Both were finding the Coroner’s company tedious. Baldwin, watching him leave with Roger, had a fleeting sense of compassion for the clerk, along with gratitude that it was not his task to look after the Coroner – and gladness that someone else was there to protect the young man from his blunderings.