Hermitage turned his eyes to Wat who indicated the upstairs room with a nod of the head.
'We can use the chamber up the stairs?’ Hermitage offered.
'Good.’ Le Pedvin accepted this. 'Tell your serving girl to bring us wine,’ he commanded.
Cwen's mouth was open and Hermitage could see from her eyes that there were many words queueing to come out.
'Yes,’ Wat ordered with a glare, 'bring us wine.’ With a variety of facial contortions he tried to indicate to Cwen that this was a known Norman killer, five of his friends were outside, that the man carried a large and deadly looking sword as well as a knife at his belt, and that if Cwen said one word she would bring a heap of trouble on their heads. Trouble which might see Wat's head less firmly attached to the rest of him than was healthy.
It seemed to work as she closed her mouth and skulked off to the cellar. Hermitage suspected she would be back very soon to find out what was going on.
At the foot of the stairs Hermitage stood back to let Le Pedvin go first but the Norman made it pretty clear that the monk would lead the way. What a suspicious bunch they were.
Once up the creaking staircase and into the room, bare but for a small tapestry on an easel, Le Pedvin prowled about once more. He went to the window seat and checked on the men below, looked in all the corners and even into the beams of the ceiling.
Hermitage wondered what on earth he could be looking for.
'No one can hear us?’ Le Pedvin demanded.
Wat shook his head.
The Norman sat down on the seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. He glanced at the tapestry. 'Not your usual sort of thing,’ he commended Wat.
'No.’ Wat tried to sound happy but it came out all wrong. It was of Cwen’s works, one he was not all happy with. 'New line we're erm working on. Commissions to hang on church walls.’ He tried a smile, which also failed to function correctly.
'Really?’ Le Pedvin sounded vaguely interested, 'couldn't hang your normal stuff on the wall eh?’
'Ha ha,’ Wat gibbered a bit, 'absolutely.’
There was a silent pause. Hermitage wondered if Le Pedvin was ever going to get to the point. There had to be one after all, the Normans not being known for their social calls.
'Where's that girl with the wine?’ Le Pedvin growled.
'I'll go and see,’ said Wat as he happily skipped from the presence of the Norman, without a backward glance at Hermitage.
'So, monk,’ Le Pedvin said.
'Aha,’ said Hermitage.
'Been investigating recently?’
Hermitage could usually talk until the cows came home, got milked, went back to the fields and then did it all over again. He needed a topic though, and being in a room on his own with a well-armed Norman frightened all the coherent thoughts from his head. His voice quivered and broke and he just hoped he didn't sound as if he'd lost his senses. 'Well there was a little local matter, all to do with tapestry as it turned out.’
'Tapestry eh?’ Le Pedvin nodded. 'And death?’
'Oh yes,’ Hermitage nodded, 'definitely death as well.’
'That's good then.’
It seemed this mighty Norman was as uncomfortable with idle chat as Hermitage.
'Have you come far?’ Hermitage tried.
'Normandy,’ Le Pedvin replied.
'Ah.’
'Oh you mean after that. I was in Lincoln for a while. A few jobs for the King here and there. You know, tidying up a bit.’
Hermitage could imagine what tidying up a bit for King William meant.
'Where is that wine?’ Le Pedvin stood now.
Wat appeared at the head of the stairs but seemed to be struggling with the wine. Someone further down had hold of it and clearly didn't want to let go. There was much hissing and many angry exchanges in harsh whispers. Eventually the weaver staggered back, only slopping a bit of the wine on the floor.
He came over to the tapestry and held out three simple goblets. Hermitage took one for himself and one for Wat while Le Pedvin took the other. Wat poured from the earthen jug into Le Pedvin's cup and waited for the Norman to indicate he had enough. When the cup was brimming the Norman sat down again, taking the jug from Wat in the process.
Hermitage and Wat stood holding their empty cups as if that had been the plan all along.
Le Pedvin downed his drink in one and refilled. 'Now,’ he said.
Hermitage and Wat were all ears.
Le Pedvin beckoned them closer and looked around to make sure no one was listening.
'Jean Bonneville is a murderer,’ he announced.
Caput II
A Killer for Sure
‘Oh dear,’ said Hermitage. It wasn't very good but it was all he could think of. He had no idea who Jean Bonneville was, and consequently not the slightest clue about any murder. It gave him no pleasure to think that as there was a murder, he would pretty soon be up to his neck in it.
'Oh dear indeed,’ Le Pedvin nodded, 'that's why I've come to you.’ He nodded again as if that was that.
'Aha,’ said Hermitage, still not making much progress.
'So your job,’ Le Pedvin went on as Hermitage's heart sank, 'your job as King's Investigator, is to investigate and bring the murderer to justice.’
'Is it?’ Hermitage sought confirmation.
'Yes it is,’ said Le Pedvin, taking more wine.
'I see,’ Hermitage tried to look thoughtful. He knew that suggesting he wasn't available was out of the question. Saying he'd really rather not would be equally fruitless. He wondered what on earth he was supposed to do next and cast a hopeful glance to Wat. The weaver gave an imperceptible shrug.
The advice of Hermitage's father came back to him. “If you ever find yourself in trouble just do what comes naturally. Talk. You can do it for hours without taking breath and most people can't stand it and will leave you alone.” He had thought it rather harsh at the time but it had to be worth a try. He put his hands behind his back and started to pace up and down in front of the Norman. His father had done a lot of pacing up and down in front of Hermitage as well.
'So this Bonneville is a murderer eh?’ he speculated.
'I just said so.’ Le Pedvin clearly wasn't in speculative mood.
'Who has been killed?’ Hermitage asked, just trying to fill in time.
'Eh?’ Le Pedvin was puzzled by this, which itself puzzled Hermitage, it was pretty fundamental to the situation wasn't it?
'Who has been killed?’ Hermitage repeated, 'who's the victim?’
Le Pedvin shook his head in irritation, 'Well I don't know do I.’
'Pardon?’ Hermitage was in danger of getting seriously lost and the conversation had only just begun. He looked from Le Pedvin to Wat as if someone knew what was going on and wasn't telling him.
'How do I know who's been killed?’ Le Pedvin was impatient. 'That's your job, you're the investigator for God's sake. I've told you who the killer is, do I have to do everything?’
'Erm,’ Hermitage came to a rapid halt. 'But he's definitely a killer?’
'Absolutely.’
'Then he must have killed someone.’
'Of course,’ Le Pedvin stated the obvious. 'I don't think much of your investigations if this is all you can come up with.’ He gave the monk a hard stare. 'You explained all that business at castle Grosmal,’ Le Pedvin reminded Hermitage of their last encounter, 'just do the same thing here.’
'You want to find out who he's killed?’ Hermitage tested the water.
'If you like,’ Le Pedvin returned to his wine.
'But,’ Hermitage started but didn't know where to go. 'That isn't how it normally works,’ he eventually came up with.
'How does it normally work then?’ said Le Pedvin, clearly disinterested in the details.
'We have a body, a victim, and then we find out who did it.’
'That's alright,’ Le Pedvin nodded to himself, 'this is the same only the other way round.’
'Other way roun
d?’
'I've told you who did it, all you have to do is show he did it to someone.’
'What if we can't find someone? What if there's no body?’
'Bound to be one somewhere. I know he's killed someone, just not who exactly.’
Not exactly, thought Hermitage? Either a man was a murderer or he wasn't, he couldn't be not exactly a murderer. And if there was a murder there had to be a victim. It was in the definition of the word. From the old High German if he recalled correctly, or was it the Latin murdrarious? He glanced at Le Pedvin and with momentary insight thought this wasn't an etymological moment. Anyway it stood to reason, no one could claim to be a murderer if they couldn't produce a dead body. Unless of course....
'Aha,’ Hermitage got it now, 'there's a body but you can't identify it.’
'Is there?’ Le Pedvin was puzzled again.
Hermitage wondered for a moment if it was him. He pretty soon concluded that no, it wasn't, it was the Norman.
'Yes,’ Hermitage persisted, although his thoughts were playing strange tricks with his head, 'you have a body but it's been so badly damaged you can't tell who it is. That's why you don't know exactly.’ That seemed to work.
'No,’ said Le Pedvin, 'that's not it.’
Hermitage opened his mouth but no sensible sounds came out.
'Has someone gone missing?’ Wat asked, 'has there been a mysterious disappearance and all the facts point to Bonneville?’
Le Pedvin shrugged. 'Don't think so,’ he said, 'sounds promising though.’
Hermitage was getting more and more lost and Wat didn't look in a much better state. Perhaps it was a Saxons and Normans thing. Maybe this was just the way Normans thought and there was no way a Saxon could follow. It was not a good starting place though, he could hardly embark on a murder investigation without understanding what he was doing. Although thinking about it, he hadn't really known what he was doing the last few times either. If at first you don't succeed Hermitage, he told himself, carry on not succeeding until everyone gives up.
'If this Bonneville chap is a murderer there must be a victim. A dead body.’
'Exactly.’ Le Pedvin seemed happy that they were making some progress, 'which is where you come in.’
No, Hermitage still couldn't get it.
Le Pedvin was clearly getting annoyed. 'What is the matter with you people?’
The matter with us? Hermitage thought, what's the matter with you? He was burning to ask but even he knew better than to put such a question to a large Norman with a sword who was in the same room.
'Look,’ Le Pedvin leant forward in his chair as if explaining how to break someone's arms to a particularly stupid squire, 'Bonneville is a murderer, it stands to reason. He's bound to have murdered someone hasn't he? I mean we've all murdered someone at one time or another.’
'I haven't,’ Hermitage protested.
'Well no, but then you're a monk,’ Le Pedvin pointed out, 'can't have monks going round killing people, be chaos. I bet the weaver's knocked a few off in his time though.’ He winked conspiratorially at Wat.
The weaver shook his head in despair at Norman thinking.
Hermitage spoke to Le Pedvin, hoping the man would acknowledge the ludicrous statement he was making, 'You want us to prove Jean Bonneville is a murderer even though nobody's dead?’
'Lots of people are dead,’ Le Pedvin helpfully pointed out, 'Bonneville must have done one of them.’
'Nobody specific I mean.’
'Look,’ Le Pedvin's patience had left the room, 'you don't tell me how to slaughter in the thick of battle, and I won't tell you how to investigate. I just assumed you knew what you were doing. You just have to show that Bonneville's killed someone.’
'Why?’ Hermitage's question was simple but it seemed to go the heart of the matter?
'Why did he kill someone?’ Le Pedvin checked, 'who cares?’
'No why do you want Bonneville brought to justice? Perhaps he hasn't killed anyone? Perhaps he's not a murderer at all? You don't seem to have any information to suggest that he is one.’ Hermitage took that line further, 'Apart from the fact that apparently everyone is a murderer, except monks.’
'Look monk…' Any semblance of happy conversation vanished from Le Pedvin's demeanour, not that it had been noticeable by its presence anyway. 'I've told you what I want you to do, and I am bringing you this task from King William himself. He appointed you King's Investigator and now he wants you to investigate. He wants you to investigate Jean Bonneville and show that the man has committed murder. The King will take it from there.’
Hermitage was about to point out that this wasn't how it worked again, when Wat interrupted.
'Of course,’ the weaver said, taking Le Pedvin's threatening glare away from Hermitage.
Of course? Hermitage was alarmed, there was no “of course” in it. This was ridiculous.
'You want Jean Bonneville brought to justice for a murder he's bound to have committed at some time or another,’ Wat began.
Le Pedvin smiled that someone was getting it at last. 'That's about it.’
'Which is all we need to know,’ the weaver continued enthusiastically.
No it isn't, thought Hermitage.
'But no ideas at all about any individuals he might have actually killed? No hints, clues, suggestions?’ Wat was trying to encourage the Norman, which was never a task anyone took on lightly.
'Like I said,’ Le Pedvin repeated slowly and deliberately, 'you are the investigator. Or rather the monk is.’
'Indeed he is and we can crack on with this straight away. Look into Bonneville's whereabouts, what he's been up to, who he likes, who likes him. Who he hates, more to the point.’
'If you've finished?’ Le Pedvin stood up. 'I have important work to do and I can't spend the day here gossiping with you two. You know the job, just get on with it.’
'There is one thing we really do need to know,’ Hermitage piped up, unable to stand any more of this.
'That is?’ Le Pedvin asked as he put his gloves back on.
Hermitage swallowed once. 'Who is Jean Bonneville?’
Le Pedvin looked to the ceiling, let out a loud sigh, sat down again and took his gloves back off.
'More wine?’ Wat offered, before Le Pedvin could demand some. He scurried over to the stairs with the nearly empty jug and the goblets and handed them down to Cwen who was loitering on the steps. 'And fill up the goblets this time,’ Wat begged, 'I think we need them.’
Cwen bared her teeth at him but took the earthenware and set off back to the cellar.
Wat returned, smiling, to the room.
'Jean Bonneville,’ Le Pedvin began, 'you don't know who Jean Bonneville is?’ The man clearly found this hard to believe.
Hermitage and Wat shrugged together.
'He is a noble,’ Le Pedvin's tone said that this should be obvious to anyone, 'his Normandy estates are around Cabourg.’ Again the Norman assumed that a Saxon monk and a weaver from Derby would know exactly where Cabourg was.
'Generally very loyal to the Duke, but William is abroad and old Bonneville died recently.’
'Old Bonneville?’ Hermitage asked.
'The old man, Jean's Uncle, he died in battle a while back and Jean inherited.’
Ah, thought Hermitage, perhaps this was the death and the whole thing was fairly simple. He imagined Norman nobles killed one another pretty regularly. 'Perhaps he was killed by the nephew?’ he suggested.
'Don't be disgusting,’ Le Pedvin snapped back, 'the nephew wasn’t even in Battle at the time. Anyway, William was happy to let the estate pass from uncle to nephew, loyalty and all that.’
'Of course,’ Hermitage acknowledged, although there was something about what Le Pedvin said which bothered him. It was probably insignificant, most of the things that bothered him were, but that didn’t stop him having to deal with them. ‘Where was this battle?’
‘In Battle, like I said.’
‘Er,’ now Hermitage was as
lost as normal.
‘It’s what we’ve decided to name the place we beat the Saxons in battle. We’re going to call it Battle. Good eh?’
Hermitage thought it was an appalling insult to all those who had given their lives, on both sides. He didn’t like to say anything, as Le Pedvin looked enormously pleased with the idea.
'So,’ Le Pedvin rose from his seat, 'I've told you what you need to know, so get on with it. If I spend much more time going over this with you idiots I might as well do the job myself.’
Hermitage thought this was the best idea he'd heard all morning.
The Norman put his gloves back on, took one last look at the two men and strode towards the stairs. He reached them just as Cwen was coming up with a fresh supply of wine.
'Get out of my way, stupid girl,’ Le Pedvin barked as he cuffed Cwen aside, sending the wine tumbling back down the stairs as he strode by.
Hermitage and Wat grabbed Cwen by both arms and held her back as she tried to dive after Le Pedvin, nails extended. Wat clamped a firm hand over her mouth just in time to prevent a stream of Saxon expletive accompanying the Norman on his way from the building.
'Oh, er, one more thing?’ Hermitage asked Le Pedvin's back, as Wat dragged the struggling Cwen out of sight.
'What now?’ Le Pedvin barked, clearly not understanding what else he could possibly say, having given such a child-like explanation of the task.
'Where is Bonneville? At the moment? Actually?’ Hermitage half whimpered through a very false smile.
'I told you,’ Le Pedvin looked back up at Hermitage with the face of a teacher who can't understand how his pupil is capable of functioning without a brain.
'Aha, yes,’ said Hermitage, not remembering when he'd been told. Then realisation came.
Investigating murder was one thing. Yes, he'd done it two or three times now, sort of, but still didn't feel he'd got the hang of it. He was not confident he'd be able to do it again, but then he wasn't usually confident of anything at all. He could give it a go though, he'd know where to start and the sorts of things to look out for. Weapons, wounds, people with bloody daggers in their hands standing over the body, that sort of thing. If this Bonneville really had killed someone, Hermitage was willing to have a bash at figuring out what had happened. As the alternative was probably a swift death at the hands of the Norman.
Hermitage, Wat and Some Murder or Other Page 2
