The Crooked Spire

by Chris Nickson

  Wood. Two men had died so someone could make a profit from timber. He sat up awkwardly in his bed and reached to the floor for a mug of ale. He could have been the third one killed; he was certain that murder had been the order. He’d seen the anticipation in the talker’s eyes, the way he licked his lips.

  He had survived by sheer luck, nothing more than that. If Walter hadn’t been so conscientious about a chisel and so good with a slingshot, he’d be dead now. How far would the coroner have investigated? Would he have simply called it a robbery, or would he have gone deeper into it? Would he have even cared?

  He sighed and drank more of the ale. They were questions he couldn’t answer. Those men had gone, but would others come to silence him? He needed to be alert every moment now. Until his arm healed he was going to be at a disadvantage in any fight.

  At least he could be certain who’d sent the two men. Hugo, the steward. He was the only person who could have done that. He had made a powerful enemy. Would the man be satisfied now the warning had been delivered, or would he want silence?

  He felt safer once dawn arrived. It was foolish, he knew that; a knife could end his life in daylight just as quickly as it could in the darkness. But with people around, voices on the streets, it seemed less likely.

  ‘You look pale,’ Martha told him as he cut part of a loaf to break his fast.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Just a bad night.’ That, at least, was true. He had no wish to worry her by telling everything. ‘I’ll be fine once I start working.’

  • • •

  He look a longer route to Saltergate, watching all the folk around him, his good hand resting lightly on the hilt of the knife, ears alert for any unusual noise, of boots straying too close. By the time he reached the house he was breathing hard, feeling a thin sheen of sweat on his face.

  Katherine led him straight through to the garden, her face serious, mouth set hard. She closed the door behind them and said, ‘Walter told me what happened last night.’

  ‘Did he tell you he saved my life?’

  She shook her head. ‘He didn’t say that. He was fearful for you.’

  ‘Well, it’s true. Without him I’d probably be dead,’ he said honestly.

  ‘Why were they after you?’ Before he could respond, she added, ‘And don’t tell me they were trying to rob you, because I won’t believe that. Walter was there long enough to hear what they said.’

  He sighed. He didn’t want to involve her in this. None of it concerned her; it shouldn’t touch her.

  ‘Are we friends?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  ‘Then you’d better tell me the truth.’ Her eyes were hard on him. ‘If you value me you’ll give me that.’

  He explained it all, glancing across as he made each point to catch her listening intently.

  ‘You’re certain?’ Katherine asked as he finished.

  ‘I am,’ he admitted sadly. ‘It’s the only way it makes sense. There’s no other reason anyone would want to kill me.’

  ‘Trees,’ she said bleakly, shaking her head. ‘The coroner won’t do anything?’

  ‘Brother Robert claims he won’t.’

  ‘Have you told them what happened last night?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should. At least tell the brother.’

  ‘Do you think he’d do anything?’

  ‘I don’t know that, John.’ She took his hand in hers. ‘But if anything else happens, he’d know about this.’ He nodded slowly and she added, ‘I pray to God it doesn’t.’

  ‘So do I,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m attached to my life.’

  ‘Go and see him today.’

  ‘I will,’ he promised. ‘Right now I have things to do, if you still want me here.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she answered, slapping him lightly on the arm. ‘And I expect a full day’s work from you, too.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘I’ll bring you some ale.’ Her voice became serious again. ‘I mean it, John. Go and talk to Brother Robert. Let him know.’

  He nodded and slipped the satchel off his shoulder. ‘I’ll start with the last of the limewash back here.’

  He worked steadily until dinner, joining the family again at the table in the hall. It was the same pottage as the day before, with more beans, thickened with flour and a few small pieces of bacon for flavour. The girls were lively as bubbles in a stream, making him smile with their joy, defying all Katherine’s attempts to calm them. The meal done, he stood and said, ‘I’ll be back soon.’ She looked at him curiously. He nodded in reply and saw the brief smile on her lips.

  • • •

  Brother Robert was with the coroner in the parlour. The coffer was open, piles of silver coins lined up on the table as the monk scribbled on a piece of vellum, stopping only to sharpen his quill with the short knife in his left hand.

  ‘Well, carpenter, what do you want?’ de Harville asked.

  ‘I was attacked last night, Master.’

  ‘Oh?’ The coroner sat up straight, suddenly interested. He glanced at Robert. ‘Where was this?’

  ‘Between Saltergate and Knifesmithgate.’

  ‘How many men?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘And you fought them off with one arm?’ de Harville wondered. ‘That’s impressive, carpenter. I’d no idea you were a fighter, too.’

  ‘Someone came along and they ran off.’ It was close enough to the truth, and it kept Walter away from all this.

  ‘Then nothing happened?’ the brother asked.

  ‘They weren’t trying to rob me,’ John told them. He turned to Robert. ‘Did you tell him?’ The monk nodded once. ‘One of them said that I’d upset the wrong people and I needed to learn to shut up.’ As he spoke the words he could hear the man’s voice, the leer of violence on his lips.

  The coroner steepled his hands under his chin. Light from the window caught the pale stubble on his cheeks. ‘You think this has to do with the murders?’

  ‘What else could it be?’

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me. And what do you expect me to do about it?’ de Harville asked brusquely.

  ‘Nothing,’ he answered simply, watching the coroner glance at the monk once more. ‘But if it happens again and I’m killed, at least you’ll know the reason.’

  ‘You place a high value on yourself, carpenter.’

  ‘If I don’t, no one else will.’

  ‘Are you trying to prick my conscience?’ de Harville picked up his knife, using the tip to carefully dig dirt from his fingernails.

  ‘No,’ John said. ‘Your mind’s made up. I just wanted you to know in case anything happens.’

  ‘Robert said he advised you to leave it.’

  John gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘I’d decided to do what he suggested.’

  ‘What made you do that?’ the coroner asked.

  ‘I can’t do anything by myself. The brother told me to choose my battles. The thing to do was withdraw from this one.’

  ‘Wise,’ he said with a nod. ‘But too late, it seems.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll be honest with you, carpenter. This whole business disturbs me, and not just your part in it. You know who’s buying the wood?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And who’s selling it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s a powerful man.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been told.’

  ‘You know I have a suit against him in the courts?’

  John looked at the monk. ‘Robert explained it.’

  ‘It’s bankrupting me.’ He gestured at the money on the table. ‘Every month some of this goes to pay a damned lawyer who speaks fine words and writes letters but never seems to do me any good.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Master.’

  ‘If I had absolute proof that my brother or his steward was defrauding the church, that might help my case, the King might not look too happily on it; they say Edward’s a man of principle in these matters.�
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  ‘Yes, Master,’ he replied, unsure what to say.

  De Harville was silent for a long time, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘You really feel that these two murdered men deserve justice, don’t you?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘It’s possible that your justice and my justice might end up helping each other, carpenter.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  Brother Robert was shaking his head.

  ‘You don’t approve, monk?’ the coroner asked.

  ‘No, Master, I don’t. You want to use him.’

  ‘Aye,’ de Harville admitted with a dark smile. ‘I do. You know as well as I do that Hugo’s behind all this. He’ll be the one who sent men after the carpenter last night. If we get proof against Hugo it’ll sit awkwardly for Henry. He might even be willing to give up the manor rather than have it all come out.’

  ‘But you won’t do it officially,’ the monk berated him.

  ‘I can’t,’ de Harville agreed. ‘I’ve already said the deaths are closed and that’s how it must remain –’ he glanced pointedly at John ‘– unless someone finds new evidence.’

  ‘Is that what you want, sir, for me to go hunting and see what I can find?’

  ‘The choice is yours,’ de Harville said, guardedly, gazing out of the window. ‘Perhaps you feel your friend Will deserves more from the law than he’s had and you decide to look on your own. Perhaps you’ll find something damning and have no choice but to come to me so I can do something about it. What do you think?’

  ‘You’re asking him to play a very dangerous game, Master,’ Brother Robert warned, but the coroner held up a hand.

  ‘You were willing enough before,’ de Harville said. ‘Or have you been scared away?’

  John watched the man’s face, seeing the calculating stare and mocking eyes. Then he thought of Will and his widow.

  ‘I’m still willing,’ he said finally. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  The coroner waved away the words. ‘It’s nothing to do with what I want. I don’t even know anything about it.’ He paused. ‘Do you understand that?’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  Robert shook his head quietly. ‘This is wrong,’ he said, his voice grave.

  ‘Well, carpenter?’ de Harville asked.

  ‘I told you,’ John said. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘People remember success, carpenter,’ he warned. ‘You came here today to report a common assault. You’ve done that, the brother will write it down. I don’t think there’s anything more, is there?’

  ‘No, Master.’

  ‘Then go with God, carpenter.’

  Outside, he breathed deeply. At the alehouse on Low Pavement he ordered drink, sipping slowly and wondering exactly what he could do. The attack had scared him; with the broken arm he was vulnerable, he couldn’t defend himself properly. The next time men came they’d take care to be certain he couldn’t escape.

  By the time the ale was gone he still had no idea what to do. The coroner had been happy to quietly change his mind again if he could benefit from it. John knew he was on his own, a pawn who could easily be knocked off the board. Before anything else, though, he needed to fulfil his promise to Katherine and work on her house.

  ‘What did they say?’ she asked as she answered the door and saw his grim face.

  ‘Nothing of any use, of course,’ he said, his heart heavy for not telling her the truth. ‘Since I couldn’t identify the men and no one was killed, the coroner wasn’t interested.’ She frowned, unsurprised, and he started to open his mouth and say more, then closed it again. ‘I’ll go back to work.’

  The solar above the hall was crowded with beds. This had been a grand house once, but that had been long before. Now there were many years of use and wear that needed to be mended. He pushed against a shutter with his shoulder to hold it in place as he tightened screws, feeling them bite satisfyingly into the wood. Standing back, he examined his work, seeing small patches of rot in the frame. The timber would need to be replaced, and sooner rather than later, but that wasn’t something he could do with one hand.

  The afternoon passed slowly, each job taking longer than it should. He put the tools away while it was still light, wiping each one as best he could, before walking carefully down the stairs.

  ‘You’re welcome to stay for supper, John,’ Katherine offered. ‘We’d be glad for your company. Walter will be home soon.’ Her look was hopeful, but she understood when he shook his head. ‘I can walk back with you if you’d like. I can leave them alone for a few minutes.’

  ‘People will talk,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘If they’re not already talking there’s no hope for them as gossips,’ she answered, her grin wide and happy as they walked along the street. ‘Half of them probably already have us married off.’ She began to blush.

  ‘Perhaps there’d be worse fates,’ he teased her quietly, seeing her colour deepen as she turned her face away.

  ‘You’ve been very quiet today.’ A few men were making their way home from work, some idling along, other striding purposefully, smiling to be returning to wives and children.

  ‘I just keep thinking about last night,’ he explained. ‘Your brother really did save my life.’ He shook his head sadly.

  ‘Will you be coming tomorrow?’ Katherine asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he answered. ‘I’ve given you my word, hadn’t I?’ She nodded. ‘After dinner, though. There’s something I need to do earlier.’

  ‘Does it have to do with talking to the coroner?’

  He smiled and said nothing.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me, John,’ she told him, her voice serious. ‘You don’t owe me anything, and a man’s business is his own. But please, remember, I’m your friend. So is Martha, so is Walter. We want to help you if we can.’

  ‘Not on this,’ he answered quietly. ‘None of you can.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you trust us?’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘Never mind but.’ Her voice was soft but firm and she held him squarely in her gaze. ‘We care about you. I’d hoped you cared about all of us.’

  ‘I do.’

  She gave a sad frown. ‘Not enough, it seems. Whatever it is you have to do, God go with you, John Carpenter.’ She turned and retraced her steps, never pausing or looking back, her head held high.

  He sighed, hoisted the satchel higher on his shoulder and walked on to Knifesmithgate.

  ‘You look like you’ve found a penny and lost a day’s wages,’ Martha told him.

  ‘I might have lost more than that.’ He went through to the small room at the back of the house, placing the tools carefully in the chest, and then pouring an ale in the buttery.

  ‘Lover’s quarrel?’ she asked when he sat on the stool.

  ‘No,’ he said, and then, ‘I don’t know.’

  She put her sewing aside and folded her hands patiently on her lap. The wimple covering her hair was bright white, her gown dark red, faded by years of wear. ‘I’ve told you before. A woman can look right through a man. If you’re keeping something from her, she knows. That Katherine’s a bright lass.’

  ‘There are some things it’s better to do alone.’

  She considered the thought, nodding slowly. ‘Perhaps you’re right, but it sounds as if she doesn’t think this is one of them.’

  ‘She doesn’t even know what it is.’

  Her smile was kindly. ‘That’ll be why she thinks that, then. She truly cares about you, and if you don’t know that you’re a bigger fool that I took you for. She was here earlier, telling me what had happened last night.’ She stared at him with her clear blue eyes. ‘If it hadn’t been for Walter you could have been killed, you said. Now this. She doesn’t want you dead any more than I do.’

  ‘None of you can help me with this.’

  ‘Maybe we can’t,’ she agreed calmly. ‘You’re the only judge of that, since you won’t tell us what it is. But if we know, we might
have some ideas that can help. Have you considered that?’ She saw his expression. ‘No, I didn’t think you had. It’s your choice, but if I were you I’d be at Katherine’s door in the morning begging her forgiveness.’ She stood wearily. ‘I’ve had my say, now I’m off to my bed.’

  The silence hung heavy in the hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  He hoisted the satchel onto his shoulder and picked up the staff he had cut the other day. Rain had fallen during the night and morning smelt fresh.

  There was surprise and happiness on Katherine’s face as she opened the door.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming until later,’ she said. ‘Come in, come in.’

  ‘I just wanted to leave my tools,’ he told her, watching as her face fell a little. ‘I also need to talk to you.’ He looked down for a moment. ‘And to apologise.’

  She led him into the garden and took his hand, a small, fierce grip. ‘The truth?’ she asked.

  ‘All of it.’ He gave her everything, letting the words flood out quickly so he couldn’t halt them. She listened in silence, her expression darkening, waiting until he had finished.

  ‘You understand what the coroner’s doing, don’t you? He’s using you.’

  ‘I know that. But at least I’m doing something. That’s better than having it eat at me.’

  She sighed. ‘Are you going out to the manor today?’

  ‘I don’t know where else to begin,’ he admitted.

  ‘What do you think you can do there, John?’

  ‘Find something. I hope.’

  ‘Listen to me. Please.’ She pulled at him, forcing him to turn and face her. ‘Someone attacked you in town. Can’t you see how much easier it would be to do that out in the country with no one else around?’

  He nodded.

  ‘At least take Walter with you,’ she said. As he opened his mouth to protest, she continued, ‘I know, he’s not a fighter; but he helped you well enough the other night, and he would do anything for you. People will think hard before they attack two men.’

  He knew she made sense, but he was reluctant to involve the lad. ‘It could be dangerous,’ he said.