Baldwin felt a similar tension. He was anxious to prevent another killing. It was a relief when he recognized his quarry in the hall.
The room was almost empty. William sat on a bench near the wall, swinging his legs idly, and his master was seated near the fire. The place seemed unnaturally quiet.
“I was about to find you to confess.”
“You may do so now. It might help.”
“It will,” Coffyn said with conviction. He was a shrivelled hulk, a pallid reflection of his former self. As he spoke, he had a knuckle resting on his chin as if in preparation to chew the nails again should the pressure become too much. “I have nothing to live for now. My men have gone because they know I have no coin to pay them with. My wife has left me. I think she’s gone to her brother in Exeter. My work is finished because she cleared out my strongbox before she went. I have nothing left. God has ruined me, and yet I don’t know why!”
Baldwin sat opposite him, fixing the merchant with a serious, but compassionate stare. He waved briefly at William, who appeared to understand, and went to fetch wine for them. “God would not have been pleased with your behavior, Matthew,” Baldwin murmured.
“Eh? How dare you say that! Of course He would!” the other stated scornfully. “I destroyed a man who was breaking one of His commandments. ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery,’ remember? God would have been pleased with my efforts. And all I did with the lepers was to fulfill His aim of punishing them.”
Baldwin accepted a warmed mug of wine from William, who walked to stand close to his master, although whether to support Coffyn or to hold him, the knight wasn’t sure.
“When did you first realize Godfrey had seduced your wife?” asked Baldwin.
Coffyn shot him a black look before studying his nails. “You think he seduced her? That’s charitable, Sir Baldwin. Personally I’d hesitate to jump to that conclusion. No matter! I never guessed he was interested in her until my last journey on business. Before that, we had never got on particularly well. Suddenly, about four months ago, he began to take an interest in my work. As soon as he heard that things were becoming tough, he offered me some help.
“Now it seems so obvious. It was at just the same time as Martha started preening herself. As she demanded new clothes and trinkets to show off her beauty, my neighbor offered me money. But the more I borrowed, the more he demanded in interest, and the more my wife wanted tunics and jewels. I never thought he would cuckold me, just as I never thought she would disgrace herself.”
“When did you know for certain?”
“I’d heard something in the street about John with my wife. People used to go quiet when they saw me, and some pointed and laughed, but I knew she’d not demean herself to that extent. She’s not the kind to want tender embraces from a miserable peasant like him. No, I realized who was sleeping with her when I came home early one day and heard him leaping from my roof. Some of my men were in the front garden, so whoever it was must have escaped through the back, and that meant whoever it was had got away over the fence into Godfrey’s land. It made me start to wonder about Godfrey. When I went away the next time, the night Godfrey died, I had a man stationed out here. He went to the hall and asked for Godfrey, on the pretext that I wanted to check on a loan from him. But Godfrey wasn’t there. That was when I knew for certain.”
“So you came home, you searched your house, and while you did so, you heard his cry.”
“I heard him shout, yes, but I didn’t realize it was him at the time. My man was here, and told me Godfrey wasn’t in his hall, so I searched my house. I was convinced he was here somewhere.”
“But when you went to his house?”
“I ran round there to confront him, not save the bastard! The place was in a mess. Cecily was apparently coming round, and her maid came downstairs as I walked in. William here was with me. I told him to carry Cecily to her chamber, and while they were gone Godfrey began to groan.
“I was angry. Furious! That’s my only excuse. As soon as he started making a noise, a red rage overcame me. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise; I couldn’t have.”
“You hit him with what—a stick?”
In answer Coffyn jerked his head at the fire. “It was a blackthorn cudgel. I used to carry it with me all the time, but when I saw what I’d done, I couldn’t keep it. The ball of the handle was smothered in gore, and I couldn’t bear to use it again, so I broke it over my knee and threw it into Godfrey’s fire.”
“While your man went off to fetch the constable?”
“Yes. Just as a good citizen should. And when he arrived, I told him I’d found Godfrey already dead while the other two were merely wounded. And I walked home.”
He broke off and glowered at the knight. “I don’t regret it, Sir Baldwin. Godfrey was an evil, money-grabbing bastard. He shafted me in business, and then shafted my wife as well. It wasn’t that he made me a fool, I could cope with that happily enough. No, it was that he took everything I had—money, marriage, everything! I killed him with as little compunction as I would have killed a beetle.”
“And what of John?”
“John of Irelaunde?” Coffyn glanced up uncomprehendingly. “That shady little bugger? What of him?”
“He was innocent of any involvement with your wife, yet you were happy to let others circulate the rumor that he had enjoyed an affair with her … ”
“That was the reputation he had cultivated for himself, Sir Knight.”
“But you were happy to go to his house and beat him, merely to deflect attention from yourself, weren’t you? You knew perfectly well he had nothing to do with your wife’s infidelity when you gave him that savage clubbing.”
Simon let his hand fall on his friend’s shoulder. Baldwin’s voice had taken on a cold precision as the anger began to overtake him. Feeling Simon’s hand, the knight took a deep breath and forced himself to relax a little.
Coffyn sat shaking his head, nibbling hard at a tiny shred of thumbnail. “I had to make sure you thought I was convinced of his guilt. If I did nothing about the Irishman, you might have realized I knew about Godfrey.”
“Yes. That was why you were so careful to let him see you. It was important that he should be able to swear that you were his attacker.” Baldwin stood, and his voice dropped. “Well, Matthew Coffyn, you have made a full confession, but it only serves to highlight your guilt. You were prepared to almost kill John without justification; to steal your neighbor’s plate; and to commit murder. There is only one penalty for all that—the rope!”
Ralph had finished tidying his chapel when Mary entered. She walked quietly to the body at the hearse and stood there, shaking her head with grief.
“Mary, I am so very sorry.”
“He had such a little life.”
“But he has a great life now,” he reminded her.
“I am grateful for that.”
He could hear the doubt in her voice. “Mary, don’t believe what the uneducated say about lepers: Edmund wasn’t evil. He was certainly not a great sinner, for he followed Christ’s teaching. He turned the other cheek; he allowed another to kill him without using his own weapon in defense. He died refusing to protect himself from another’s attack. Christ would revere young Edmund as a friend.”
“I am glad for that,” she said quietly.
Her tears appeared to be a relief to her. Ralph thought her sadness looked overwhelming, but her eyes held gratitude too, as if in the midst of her misery she was glad to have known her man. “What will you do now?” he asked.
“With Jack gone, I don’t think anyone else will make my life too difficult, but I haven’t changed my mind.”
“You will go to the convent?”
“Yes. The Bishop has promised to find me a position with one of the convents in his diocese. I will spend my time praying for Edmund and helping others who are sick. After my treatment recently I feel I can understand the suffering of others. Maybe I can help them.”
“I will pray for you
.”
“Thank you, Brother. That would mean much to me.”
She closed her eyes and knelt before the altar, and Ralph quietly left her. Outside the clear weather appeared to be breaking at last, and heavy gray clouds were hanging almost motionless in the air. He took in the view for a while, tugging his robes tighter around his body against the bitter wind.
Seeing a figure near the gate, Ralph frowned quickly, then strolled over to him. “Thomas?”
“It is no good, Brother. My mind is made up. After what has happened here, I think I would always be a reminder of the attack, and that can’t be good for the camp or for the town.”
“And you fear that you’ll cause her more hurt?”
“What can I offer her? She’s still young. Let her become a widow once more. If she tries to stay with me, she will be devoting her life to suffering. It’s not right.”
“I think you are right. And I wish you godspeed, my friend.”
“Thank you.”
Ralph noticed that a monk was walking toward them. It wasn’t the almoner, for Ralph would have recognized his bent back and slightly shuffling gait. This man walked with a spring in his step. As he came closer, he hailed Ralph. “Brother, may I speak to you a moment?”
Shrugging, Ralph joined him at the gate. Rodde waited patiently, his attention fixed on the town’s smoke in the distance. When he was called, he was surprised, but he ambled over willingly enough, although the suppressed excitement in Ralph’s voice made him wary.
“Thomas, this brother would like to have a word with you.”
Margaret walked slowly with Jeanne through the knight’s orchard. The clouds overhead tried to cast a gloomy atmosphere over the area, but Margaret couldn’t sense it. She was still filled with delight over the news of the night before.
“When will you arrange the celebration?”
Jeanne giggled. “I don’t know! Perhaps early in the New Year. I would like to wed in springtime. It seems best to marry when the flowers are springing up and the leaves are bright and fresh. A new year for beginning a new life—it seems appropriate, doesn’t it?”
“Most appropriate! And I will look forward to it.”
“So will I. He is a good man.”
“He is,” Margaret smiled. “You have won the heart of a kind and noble gentleman.”
“I am glad you think so too. It would be horrible to find myself attached to another man like my first husband,” Jeanne said with a shudder.
Margaret put her arm round her friend’s shoulder. “You can forget your past now. Baldwin will be a good husband for you.”
They were coming close to the house again, and in the doorway they saw Hugh helping Wat to bring in wood. The dour servant nodded to his mistress, before shepherding the boy inside.
“Is that man always so miserable?” Jeanne whispered.
“Oh yes,” Margaret laughed. “He was born with a sour apple in his mouth and the flavor has never left him!”
They went through into the house and along the screens. In the hall Wat was tending to the fire under Hugh’s supervision. Hugh rolled his eyes at his mistress as the women passed the doorway.
“I think when you are the lady of this house you’ll need to take that boy under your wing,” Margaret murmured, trying not to grin.
Jeanne caught the boy’s glance and gave him a wink. He instantly reddened to have been noticed by his master’s lady, and bent to his task with renewed vigor. His evident embarrassment made Jeanne hurry to the door and out to the open air, where her laughter couldn’t upset him.
But as they came out into the sunlight, her attention was caught by the low cloud of dust on the road. “Is that them? They’ve not been very long, if it is.”
Margaret nodded, shielding her eyes from a sudden flash of sunlight that burst from between the clouds. “Yes. It’s Baldwin and Simon.”
The knight could see the two women standing waiting at the door, and instead of riding through to the stableyard as normal, he cantered along the roadway and reined in before them.
“Is there anything the matter?” asked Margaret.
“Nothing,” replied the knight. “In fact, all is very well indeed. A murderer is in jail. Let’s get inside and we’ll tell you what we’ve done today.”
The fire was hissing and crackling merrily, the wine was warmed and spiced, sitting in pewter jugs on the hearth, the cold meats had been brought out with bread, and the four made a good meal while Baldwin and Simon told their ladies of their morning’s discoveries.
“But why,” said Jeanne, a slight frown wrinkling her brow, “why did Coffyn kill him then? Surely he could have killed Godfrey at any time?”
“Yes,” said Baldwin, “but at any other time he wouldn’t have had his enemy totally at his mercy. There is something about seeing a weak foe that does something to a certain type of man. I think Coffyn is of that kind. He met with Godfrey regularly, and probably passed the time of day with him, always having that vague, niggling doubt worrying at him, but never found the courage to strike at him, or even simply accuse him to his face.”
“Many men would have waited until they could find him with the woman and killed in hot blood,” said Margaret.
“And that was what he planned, I think. A surprise return, followed by a hideous slaughter. But although his blood was up, he couldn’t find his quarry. It was only when he remembered he had heard a shout from his neighbor’s house that he realized Godfrey must have got home, and that was when he rushed next door. And when he found that the man he hated was completely in his power, he couldn’t stop himself. All alone in that room with the man he loathed, and no one to prevent him taking his revenge. No constraints, no restrictions—and best of all, everyone would assume, as they did, that it was a tragic mistake, that the first blow had been the one to kill Godfrey.”
“Even the leper Quivil thought his blow had killed him,” mused Simon.
“I wonder whether his servant was persuaded, though,” said Baldwin.
Margaret paused with a morsel of meat at her mouth. “Why?”
“He has the look of a man-at-arms. Even John noticed Godfrey didn’t appear dead, and John had only very limited experience of warfare. William, Coffyn’s guard, seems much more experienced. I think he must have known Godfrey wasn’t dead when they first got to the hall.”
“True,” said Jeanne. “But just thinking Godfrey had died after they arrived wouldn’t mean he’d automatically assume his master had murdered him. He’d probably only think Godfrey had suffered some sort of collapse.”
Baldwin shook his head. “I think it’s more than that, Jeanne. He must have realized his master’s stick was missing; I suspect he noticed Godfrey’s wound was worse than when he first arrived. I expect he’d never admit it, but I think he knew perfectly well who was guilty.”
“Which leads us on to the other leper,” said Margaret. “He is the man I am most sorry for. And how his poor wife must feel! What a love she must have for her man, that she can still adore him when he is so hideously disfigured.”
Baldwin grinned and took a sip of wine. “That is the other thing. Thomas Rodde is not actually very revolting. Oh, he’s got lots of sores, and he looks a bit of a mess, but what can you expect from someone who lives in a lazar house?”
“But to think what he will become! And this Cecily still wants to stay with him and tend to him. She must have great courage.”
“I think she has to be one of the most loyal women imaginable,” said Simon frankly. “Don’t look at me like that, Meg! There’s no point denying the fact that most women would desert their spouse if he developed that disease. Yet this woman wants to make sure she doesn’t lose him again, and she appears to be utterly determined on that score.”
“And now, thanks to God, I think they may be able to live together,” said Baldwin.
Jeanne stared at him. “You mean the leper master has agreed to let her live with him?”
“I fear not. Brother Ralph is quite det
ermined too, in his own way.”
“So they will leave the town together? That’s a shame. But maybe it’s for the best. There are so many sad memories for them both in Crediton.”
Baldwin let both arms fall to the table, and shook with laughter. “No, Jeanne! That’s not it!”
It was Simon who explained, while the knight chortled. “You see, this odious knight of yours has travelled widely. He has been to the Holy Land, and while he was there, he saw many lepers. But there are different kinds of skin disease.”
“There are two forms of leprosy,” said Baldwin. “Morphea alba and morphea nigra. It is hard to tell them apart, but if you prick the skin with a needle—”
“Baldwin!” Margaret wailed, pushing her trencher from her.
He gave her a grin of apology. “Let it be said, then, that there is an easy enough test, but morphea alba is curable. It is not the true leprosy, for that would kill even a strong man in less than eight years, and we all know what an old leper looks like. Yet this man told me that he had carried his disease for over nine years already. It struck me that his illness couldn’t be the black morphew.”
Jeanne stared. “You mean all the time the poor fellow has been living in leper camps he has been free of the disease?”
“Exactly. He is no more a leper than I am. And soon I think I should be able to have him declared clean by the Dean. As soon as that happens, he’ll be free to take up his life again. And so will Cecily.”
“So the murderer is arrested, the leper will be cured, and all ends well,” said Jeanne.
“Apart from poor Quivil,” said Margaret. “He went to his death thinking he had murdered a man—in fact, it was probably why he allowed himself to be killed. If he had felt innocent, surely he would have defended himself.”
Baldwin eyed her thoughtfully. “Perhaps,” he said. “But then, how can we tell? It was undoubtedly a better death for him than the slow and lingering one fate was holding for him, and for that I am sure he was grateful. Especially since he died without defending himself, just as Christ taught. That must be some solace to his soul.”
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