‘Eight o’clock …’ Melchior murmured when the Commander had finished. ‘So we can therefore say for certain that the murderer fled to the town.’
‘Why are you conjecturing already?’ Spanheim asked. ‘You cannot infer anything, because it was only at dawn that we found the sword and a trail of blood.’
‘The sword?’ Melchior asked.
‘Yes, the murder weapon, the one used to kill Clingenstain. It was an Order attendant’s sword. The killer had stolen it from the castle smithy. The blacksmith was blind drunk, of course, and I have already had him shackled. The sword, though, we found at dawn in the moat near the Short Hill guard tower. Then we spotted a trail of blood on the wall of the Dome Gate as well as on the cobblestones leading from the vassal’s house up to the gate. The murderer had cast the sword aside, but the blade caught the morning sun, and we found it. Now, I would like to know, how have you already deduced what we came to know only later?’
‘The gates are secured at sundown, and no one can reach Lower Town from Toompea after that,’ Melchior replied respectfully.
‘And so?’ queried the Commander.
‘The murderer rushed to carry out the murder before the gates were closed. If the killer resided on Toompea it would have been simpler and more logical to wait until the dead of night when no one is moving about the streets and both Clingenstain and Jochen would have been asleep. But no, he committed his crime before nightfall so that it would still have been possible to slip out through the town gate.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ the Commander replied. ‘He had to exit the gate just moments before the guards arrived and secured it.’
Melchior continued, on a roll now, ‘He likely cloaked the sword in his cape and brought it with him to the gate so that he would have something with which to defend himself had the murder been discovered immediately. We can conclude from this that he has been a soldier or has, at least, been involved in combat. The killer then went through the Dome Gate and cast the sword aside near Short Hill Gate because he would already have crossed into the town jurisdiction by this time. He felt more confident then, as he knew that members of the Order could not pursue him there. Hence the murderer almost certainly entered the town.’
The Commander stared at Melchior in surprise. Dorn remained silent, opening and closing his mouth like a beached fish.
‘We can then say right away that he also came from the town,’ Spanheim said after a pause. ‘There is no doubt of that. No one from the castle trailed Clingenstain through the side portal – a guard is stationed there. The vassal’s home is right next to the moat and by the wall, near the Dome Gate. It was the act of a stranger, a wretched, shameless stranger, who snuck up from the town to wait for the right moment. Oh, fiery demons, I know every man on Toompea and can swear that not a single vassal or anyone aspiring to become one bore such enmity against Clingenstain, the Lord’s peace be with him. No one had even seen him before. The vassals are not even present on Toompea at this time of year, and the Great Castle is only populated by members of the bishop’s household along with bakers and attendants – and I had every last one of them interrogated throughout the entire night. No one is missing.’
Dorn, who had been silent for a long while, now dared to speak up. ‘Yet there is not a soul in Lower Town who might have borne animosity against that particular high-ranking knight. Rather the opposite. We in the town of Tallinn are all grateful towards the Order, thankful that they freed us of the Victual Brothers’ accursed misdeeds.’
The Commander furrowed his brow. ‘You say that, but, Magistrate, someone from that same grateful town still chopped off his head.’
‘Which is indeed strange,’ Melchior interjected. ‘Is it then possible to slip up to Toompea and steal a sword and lie in wait for the proper moment for murder to unfold? Just as the honourable Commander himself just stated, no one either saw or heard anything suspicious. My thoughts therefore lean towards the possibility that the person who committed this dreadful crime might have been someone who knows Toompea quite well, well enough to have been able to conceal himself and steal a sword, someone whose presence could have been a daily occurrence. Not any random captain or cabin boy from a foreign land whose ship is docked in the harbour ends up on Toompea by mere chance.’
‘We drive all vagrants away without delay,’ Spanheim snapped.
That they do, Melchior mused. People from Lower Town did not simply turn up on Toompea and wander about. All unfamiliar faces attracted attention there.
‘Although one vagabond did pass through here yesterday,’ the Commander recalled. ‘That musician from the town. He sang rather well; it was a thrill to hear him. That boy from Nuremburg.’
Melchior was taken aback. Kilian on Toompea?
‘Is the Commander thinking of Kilian Rechpergerin who boards at Sire Tweffell’s?’ he asked.
‘The very same, yes. He wandered up here with Tweffell. Wanted some kind of attestation.’
‘So, Sire Tweffell also visited Toompea? The Alderman of the Great Guild?’
‘Indeed,’ Spanheim affirmed. ‘He paid a call here, yes. He had some kind of trading matter to handle with Clingenstain. As far as I can recall he wished to speak of some ship and then left here in a proper huff. Although, that was already close to noontime, immediately after the goldsmith Clingenstain had invited stopped by …’
The Commander informed Melchior that the goldsmith had been none other than Burckhart Casendorpe, Alderman of St Canute’s Guild. Quite a number of people had called upon Clingenstain at Toompea yesterday. He had wanted to purchase a gift to take to the Grand Master in Marienburg. Gotland’s goldsmiths were said to be crude and miserly, but Tallinn-made jewellery was always of high quality and renowned in every land around the Baltic. Clingenstain had corresponded with Casendorpe by letter and bought a collar lavishly encrusted in gold from the master artisan. It seems to have been an exceptionally expensive piece, and Clingenstain even sent Jochen back to his ship for more money as his coffer had been emptied.
‘Thus three persons from Lower Town called upon Clingenstain,’ Melchior pronounced thoughtfully. Not one person for five days and then several in succession on the very same day that he was slain.
‘And if Tweffell was here then his servant Ludke was certainly in his company, as the old merchant does not venture anywhere without him, not even to church or the Town Hall. Ludke sometimes even carries him up the stairs,’ Dorn said.
‘True, the servant was also present. A strong and sturdy man down to his very bones – even taller than our Grand Master of the Order himself to whom no men of comparable stature can be found. Hand a poleaxe to the likes of him and send him into battle, and he will hack through opponents with the might of three men. Why would a lad like that take a position as a servant?’
Melchior was forced to admit that he did not know. Alderman Tweffell and Ludke seemed inseparable, although he had rarely been able to coax the latter into conversation. Ludke, who was not of German descent, was not exactly the most talkative servant in Tallinn. He had a somewhat childish disposition but was on par with Goliath in terms of might. Melchior tried to think whether he had ever heard Tweffell mention his acquaintance with the Commander of the Order in Gotland. True, Melchior dimly remembered hearing something about an argument involving Gotland and of a vessel, but the Apothecary could not recall it in any greater detail. Melchior’s ears suddenly pricked up at the Commander mentioning Prior Eckell.
‘Baltazar Eckell, Prior of the Dominican Order?’ Melchior asked in surprise.
‘Damn it all, that’s what I just said,’ Spanheim snapped curtly. ‘He came to express his reverence, and Clingenstain – the devout, Godfearing knight that he was – requested that he hear confession. Clingenstain thus received forgiveness for his sins right there in Dome Church on the same day that he perished. But all this, Melchior, has not even the slightest connection to his murder.’
‘In the name of St Andrew, that I hope,’ Melchior murm
ured.
‘What are you mumbling about?’ the Commander demanded.
‘Nothing at all, nothing at all … But is it not strange that he requested the Dominican Prior hear his confession and not the Pastor of the Dome Church?’
‘It is not at all strange. The Teutonic Order has favoured the holy Dominicans for a very long time – Clingenstain used to hear the brothers’ sermons at St Nicholas’s Church in Visby. As I recall, Prior Eckell had also been at the monastery there – and, what is more, Melchior, it was the Dominicans who built the Dome Church.’
So it is indeed said, Melchior recollected. Many years ago, when the Dominican Order first arrived in Tallinn, they settled on Toompea and built their first church on the very spot that the Dome Church now stood. It was also on this plot of land that horrendous bloodshed unfolded between the Danes and Knights of the Order. The Danes were hacked to pieces within the church and stacked their corpses on the altar … And was that not the very same time that the Order drove the Dominicans out from Toompea? Yet nearly two hundred years had passed since that time, and this knowledge would not help to find Clingenstain’s killer.
‘Five townsmen of Tallinn …’ Melchior spoke. ‘We have five men who came into contact with Clingenstain yesterday. No more townsfolk walked about Toompea, perchance?’
‘Well, some miller’s journeyman or a cobbler’s apprentice could have been here, of course,’ the Commander huffed impatiently, ‘but I do not recall any of them having had dealings with Clingenstain. Oh yes, before the Prior’s arrival that lay brother from the Dominican Monastery was on Toompea collecting alms, as you would expect – but then he walks through here all the time.’
‘Ah, Brother Wunbaldus?’
‘That’s likely his name. That hunchbacked lay brother.’
‘That is he, Brother Wunbaldus,’ Melchior confirmed. ‘A hunchbacked, poor and devout brother who visits my pharmacy from time to time and always consents to recite prayers for me in exchange for medicines. He is said to be a fantastic brewer. The Dominicans’ beer has acquired a wholly new character since Brother Wunbaldus’s arrival. The Commander did not happen to notice whether Brother Wunbaldus also had any contact with Clingenstain?’
‘Ha, he exchanges words with everyone he happens upon when making rounds with his alms basket. Clingenstain no doubt dropped something in it for him, too. Yes, I’m quite certain that he gave alms.’
The Commander remembered one other matter just before he finally ordered the men to depart. He asked Dorn what Tallinn’s executioner would take for a hanging.
‘The fee was once four silver coins and a cask of beer, although it was some time ago that we last had to arrange a hanging,’ the Magistrate replied.
‘Four? That’s daylight robbery.’
Several days earlier the Commander had allowed Toompea’s own executioner to return to Wesenberg, where his father – a farmer in a village near the castle – was said to have fallen gravely ill, and his son wished to see him one last time. It was a sorrowful tale indeed, and it meant that Toompea did not have its own executioner at present. The Commander reckoned that Tallinn would have to loan its own man to torture the murderer and hang or quarter him, depending on the court’s ruling.
‘Quartering costs more,’ was all Dorn could say. ‘For a quartering the executioner must be paid six silver coins and two casks of beer on the spot.’
‘That executioner of yours is a downright extortionary Jew,’ the Commander fumed. ‘If I received six silver coins for every head on the battlefield then I’d buy Toompea outright for myself.’
‘Cutting off a head is apt to be difficult work – not something any shepherd boy could do,’ Melchior said.
‘A shepherd boy,’ Spanheim grunted. ‘You know, Magistrate, the Grand Master would be more pleased if Clingenstain’s killer turned out not to be someone – hmm, how should I put it? – the sort of man who is closely connected to the town, a dignified and moneyed man … you understand. Neither I on Toompea nor the councilmen below in Lower Town need any kind of dispute between the Order and the town. The murderer was certainly some ordinary vagabond or a thief, the kind that sometimes dock at our harbour. Some foreigner. Catch him quickly, lend us your executioner and let us resolve this matter straight away, just as we have managed to resolve all previous matters between the town and Toompea.’
‘Let it be so, and may St Victor aid us in this task,’ Dorn quickly agreed.
They were already making their way out of the reception hall when one more detail came to Melchior’s mind. He bowed. ‘If the Commander will allow, then I seem to recall hearing that some kind of coin was said to be stuffed into the late Clingenstain’s mouth …’
Spanheim raised his eyebrows. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘That man of the Order who came to find me in the town this morning. I also let slip a few words of it to Melchior,’ Dorn admitted.
‘Cursed blabbermouths. They might as well have gone to the market and proclaimed it there. Jochen found the coin in his lord’s mouth when he removed Clingenstain’s head from the hook. That murderer is a corpse defiler, a profaner and a despicable desecrator. He drove Clingenstain’s head on to the wall and stuffed that coin into his mouth. When Jochen found the head the coin dropped out. And I told those attendants not to gossip carelessly. Why should the town know how a brave warrior’s corpse was defiled?’
‘The Commander might not, perchance, have laid the coin aside somewhere?’ Melchior asked.
Spanheim walked back to his writing stand and removed a coin from the chest.
‘It’s a Gotland coin, an old Gotland ørtug,’ Melchior noted with surprise. ‘It is extremely rare for these to be seen in Tallinn.’ He thought for a moment and added, ‘If the Commander would allow once more, then I would say this is not exactly the behaviour of an ordinary thief – this man kills to give money to the victim. Robbers and thieves customarily relieve their prey of gold’s heavy burden. Our killer here has, on the contrary, made his victim wealthier. Was anything else of value stolen from Clingenstain? What, for example, became of that gold collar that Clingenstain purchased from Casendorpe?’
‘Do I look like his steward, Apothecary?’ the Commander shot back in reply. ‘He strutted around with that collar after Casendorpe delivered it, wore it around his neck for half the day and later said that he returned it to his chambers before taking confession. No doubt it is somewhere there locked in a chest … or, no, wait, I remember. He wanted it taken back to his ship.’
‘So the Grand Master’s gift is safely under lock and key on the Clingenstain’s vessel?’
‘Oh, hell and brimstone, Melchior, no doubt it is. You don’t actually think that the murderer … ’ the Commander’s words trailed off. ‘No, how could the killer have known that Clingenstain had the collar? Absolutely not. He definitely had it taken to the ship,’ Spanheim murmured unconvincingly.
‘Then we are also sure that the Grand Master’s gift is in a safe place. This is good to hear, if the Commander asserts it is so,’ Melchior reasoned.
‘I will ask Jochen. Yes, I’ll certainly ask,’ the Commander vowed. ‘Now, however, my time is up, Magistrate. The Toompea councilmen await me. I repeat – I want the town to apprehend the murderer as quickly as possible, and it would be best were he some useless vagabond so that good relations between the town and the Order will not suffer.’
10
RATASKAEVU STREET
16 MAY, AFTERNOON
MELCHIOR AND DORN parted ways before the Town Hall. The Magistrate had to rush to meet the Council and pass on the news. Then he was further required to inform the town and harbour watchmen that they were tasked with searching for a murderer. Thus the Magistrate was very surprised when Melchior insisted that they meet at the Dominican Monastery that afternoon.
‘We have to start somewhere,’ Melchior explained, ‘and we will begin by speaking to every townsman that saw Clingenstain yesterday.’
‘You do not truly believe
that the Goldsmith, the Prior, Sire Tweffell or that Meistersinger might have dispatched Clingenstain, do you?’ Dorn objected.
‘I am unable to believe anything at this stage. I only know that each one of these men might have something useful to say or know something that we do not.’
‘So you think they might have spotted a vagrant?’
‘Vagrants cannot gain access to Toompea; they are expelled immediately. No, Magistrate, the murderer could not have been a vagabond or an ordinary thief because, as we both know, such men do not wander through Tallinn very often.’
Apothecary Melchior and the Mystery of St Olaf's Church Page 7
