The Traitor of St Giles aktm-9

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Why didn’t you bring it in to be impounded?’ Lord Hugh asked. ‘That’s what should happen to a horse found loose.’

  Baldwin answered. ‘Because the horse he found had brands at neck and rump saying it was owned by the Despenser. John Sherman did not want that family to think he might have had a hand in any action against them or their friends so he took it to a dealer for safekeeping.’

  ‘It looks suspicious, though,’ Lord Hugh said. ‘A murderer would steal a horse in the same way, concealing it to sell it later.’

  Sherman felt his danger. He stammered, ‘If… If anyone was guilty it was the priest. He was there, he caught the horse – who else could have killed the knight?’

  Baldwin nodded his agreement. ‘Quite correct – so he was. Father Abraham didn’t pass Harlewin in the road. I think because he found a corpse and went to Templeton through the woods, avoiding the roads where he could. He knew of Sir Gilbert’s Templar connections and Father Abraham hates the Templars, even to the extent of cursing the body of Sir Gilbert as he laid the body in its grave.’

  ‘I didn’t kill him!’

  ‘But you did find the horse.’

  ‘Yes,’ the priest sighed. ‘I found it. And I was thinking about keeping it for myself, but then I saw Sir Gilbert’s body slumped over his dead dog and didn’t want to be associated with a murder. Especially when I saw the Despenser brands. So I set it free.’

  ‘Slumped over his dog?’ Baldwin shot. ‘So you left him in that position?’

  ‘Yes. To my shame. I should have arranged him like a Christian, but I couldn’t. I had to get away from there.’

  ‘So there we have it,’ Baldwin said. ‘And who else saw you in there?’

  ‘Cecily Sherman,’ the priest replied. ‘She saw me with the horse. She was there too and made it quite clear she thought I had killed Sir Gilbert. If it was anyone else I’d have laughed off her words, but I knew Sir Gilbert and knew he was a Templar. If one woman believed I had killed him, others would think I hated his kind enough to kill him.’

  ‘And you don’t?’ Baldwin sneered.

  ‘No! I am no murderer. Cecily promised not to tell anyone, but she obviously thought I was guilty. It scared me, as I say, for if a woman like her thought it possible that I could have killed a man to steal his mount, then any man or woman in my congregation might think the same. She blackmailed me. Forced me to lie to her husband for her, covering up for her fornication. Only this morning she arrived late in my church and demanded that I lie and say she had come to the church for early Mass. I didn’t dare tell the truth in case she said she had seen me.’

  ‘That night, she thought she was being chased, that her husband had lost his mind and was determined to catch her in her adultery and kill her,’ Baldwin said slowly. ‘She was going to meet her lover, but all the noise made her hide in the woods.’

  ‘That was what I feared,’ John Sherman said. He stared at his wife bleakly.

  ‘And you thought she had killed Sir Gilbert, didn’t you?’ Baldwin said softly.

  Sherman’s face was pulled taut as though he was holding the tears at bay with difficulty. ‘I didn’t want to,’ he protested. ‘And when I heard the other woman was dressed in green I knew my wife was innocent. She doesn’t have a green robe.’

  ‘Nonetheless, you thought she was guilty of Sir Gilbert’s murder, didn’t you?’

  ‘Oh, God help me!’

  Baldwin watched his tears dispassionately. ‘Cecily, perhaps you should tell us your side.’

  Cecily stood up from her stool, her mouth working soundlessly, shaking her head.

  Baldwin eyed her remotely. ‘You were there: you saw the priest, you saw the horse. Did you stab the knight?’

  ‘No! No, I swear it!’

  John Sherman threw his hands out in appeal. ‘My Lord, leave the matter to me. I will thrash the evil from her. In future she will be loyal to me, I am sure of it.’

  Baldwin spoke quietly. ‘John Sherman, I suppose you think she killed him almost in self-defence. “I thought my husband was hunting me: a horse came blundering up, and a man dropped from it. I heard him come closer, and then he fell to his knees. I thought he’d tripped and stabbed him to defend myself ”. It is a good hypothesis. What made you so convinced it was she who committed the murder?’

  ‘No… No, I won’t condemn her! She is my wife,’ he said, throwing his hands down like a man pleading for his life.

  ‘Sherman, your wife is innocent, I promise you. Why did you doubt her?’

  He gazed at Baldwin blankly. There was an almost crazed hopefulness in his eyes at Baldwin’s words, as if he scarcely dared dream that Baldwin was telling the truth. Slowly he said, ‘It was the inquest. As soon as I saw Sir Gilbert’s body I realised he looked just like me from behind. I thought she had seen Sir Gilbert and struck him down, thinking it was me.’ His voice broke with the horror of what he was saying and he could speak no more.

  Cecily licked her lips but had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘My Lord, why should I have tried to kill this man? I didn’t know him.’

  ‘But if you thought it was your husband, what better way to remove him?’ Baldwin said coldly. ‘You had hidden in the woods fearing that your husband might have followed you, hadn’t you? And then you saw the man before you and struck. That is what your husband thought.’

  ‘I couldn’t have killed like that. I am no murderer.’

  ‘No,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘You are not. The first thing my friend and I thought when we saw Sir Gilbert’s body was that he had been murdered by an experienced man, a professional. This was no frenzied, fearful killing. It was a cold-blooded and deliberate assassination. Only someone with specialised knowledge could have done it.’

  ‘But who?’ Lord Hugh said.

  ‘The murderer was a ruthless man, someone with a definite motive,’ Baldwin continued remorselessly. ‘Someone who wanted to remove a potential threat to his lord. Oh, and someone who knew that Nicholas Lovecok had already met him in a tavern. Someone who knew that Sir Gilbert was the emissary of Despenser. Someone who was alone, who was not seen in the woods when everyone else was there. Harlewin le Poter.’

  The Coroner felt all the eyes in the room move to him and he gave a surprised smile, raising his eyebrows, protesting mildly, ‘But I was at the road.’

  ‘Sir Gilbert never came to see you at the roadside. You heard crashing about in the trees, and went in. Let us give you the benefit of the doubt: probably you wished to try to help. You are a King’s officer. You rode into the woods and in a short time you came across a dog’s body. When a horse came blundering towards you, you hid.’

  ‘He just appeared and leaped down instantly,’ said Harlewin, looking uneasy now. ‘I thought he was after me: I wouldn’t have attacked him otherwise.’

  ‘You stalked the man while he was weeping for his lost dog. While he knelt at his dead hound’s side, you stabbed him.’

  ‘I thought he was going to attack me.’

  ‘Liar!’ Baldwin said coldly. ‘You crept up behind him and stabbed him once, selecting the point which would kill. Then you mounted your house and rode back to the road. Those who saw you there didn’t realise that you had already killed Sir Gilbert.’

  ‘Why? Why should I have killed him?’

  ‘It was something I have heard mentioned a couple of times: your corruption. Your reputation seemed unfair because from all I have heard, you have served the King loyally and without double-dealings, yet the stench of deviousness clings to you. It springs from the occasion when you released a man of Earl Thomas’s from gaol. Some Coroners will take money to do such things, but your reputation seemed to be tied to Earl Thomas’s. And Sir Gilbert wanted Lord Hugh to support Despenser.’

  Harlewin allowed a fleeting frown to pass over his brow. ‘But how could I have known that?’

  ‘You told me yourself – you reported that Nicholas had met with Sir Gilbert. It was hardly surprising that Nicholas, a man who himself supp
orts Thomas of Lancaster, should let you, another supporter of his lord, know that there was a dangerous ambassador in the town who had been to call on Lord Hugh.’

  ‘If you are correct, why should I kill Sir Gilbert? If I knew about their meeting in the tavern, I would also have known that Lord Hugh was committed to the King and wouldn’t change his allegiance.’

  Nicholas cried, ‘I didn’t tell him that!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Baldwin.

  ‘Of course I am! Sir Gilbert asked me about many things and told me he was here to negotiate with Lord Hugh on the Despensers’ behalf, but he never told me the detail of his meeting. He wouldn’t. It was confidential.’

  Harlewin shook his head, but then turned and darted for the doorway. Before he could reach it John Sherman leaped forward, hurling himself at the Coroner. Grasping him about the knees, he brought Harlewin down, and when Harlewin looked up, he found himself staring along the naked blade of Sir Peregrine’s sword.

  ‘Coroner, you are arrested.’

  ‘Not for long, Sir Peregrine,’ he grinned. He stood and dusted his knees, smiling coolly. ‘As soon as my Lord Thomas hears of my position he will have me released, be assured of that.’

  Lord Hugh walked over to Harlewin, looking him up and down with contempt. ‘He may well do that for so loyal a servant, Master Coroner. But before you celebrate, consider this: I have news which may not be so appealing to you. There are stories circulating in London that indicate Lord Despenser is back in the country at the invitation of the King and the bishops. The exile has been declared illegal.’

  ‘Nonsense! The King wouldn’t dare,’ Harlewin blustered, but his face had gone pale.

  ‘He did so before with Piers Gaveston; he has done so again. And when Hugh Despenser hears that you murdered his favoured ambassador, I think it won’t matter who your lord may be. Guards: lock him up!’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lord Hugh called for more wine for all his guests as Harlewin was led away to be locked in the gaol. ‘I understand the reason for his crime, Sir Baldwin, but why was Sir Gilbert’s servant killed?’

  ‘I confess I wondered about that for a long time too, but if you will call for Toker’s remaining men, they can tell us.’

  Owen entered with dragging feet. As he surveyed the faces ranged there, he wished fervently that he had made his getaway from the castle as soon as Toker had left to follow Sir Baldwin. Even the fear of Toker’s reprisals would have been preferable to this.

  ‘You were one of that band which attacked me?’ Baldwin said sternly.

  ‘This afternoon, yes, sir – but I refused to take part tonight and warned your man.’

  ‘You knew that they were going to ambush me?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Edgar entered with Perkin as Owen spoke.

  ‘Shut up, you bastard!’ Perkin snarled. ‘Don’t tell ’em anything.’

  ‘What of the servant William?’ Baldwin continued.

  Owen told of the encounter in London between the group and William. ‘When we saw William in the courtyard here, Toker said we had to get rid of him. Otherwise he could expose Toker and Perkin for their felonies in London.’

  ‘Did you take part in killing William?’ Baldwin said.

  ‘No, sir. Toker had Perkin with him…’

  Perkin strained to leap forward but Edgar held him firmly. Instead he snarled, ‘Shut up, or I’ll feed your liver to the crows!’

  ‘…It was them two who killed the servant. If they’d found the money, Toker and Perkin would have taken it and gone. They killed the sailor when he wouldn’t say where the money was, and because Toker wanted to punish him for defeating us in London.’

  ‘You did not help in killing William in any way?’

  ‘No sir. Toker wanted the money for himself, I reckon.’

  ‘Why were the Bailiff and I attacked?’

  ‘You kept asking questions. Toker was worried you’d guess he’d killed the servant. Then he realised you’d found the money and he wanted to punish you for taking what he thought should be his. Bloody prat!’

  ‘You can’t keep us. Where’s the Coroner? He can speak for us,’ Perkin suddenly roared.

  ‘Why should he speak for you?’ Sir Peregrine demanded harshly. ‘You deserve no protection.’

  ‘We’ve done nothing wrong. Ask the Coroner. He’ll tell you.’

  Baldwin stood before him and considered him for a long moment before saying, ‘I think your friend the Coroner would not be keen to help you now. You are arrested.’

  ‘Toker might have done wrong, but I’ve done nothing, whatever that maggot says. Get the Coroner.’

  ‘Do you work for him?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘The Coroner is in gaol, awaiting trial for the murder of Sir Gilbert.’

  ‘What? Le Poter? The stupid, fat bastard!’

  ‘He hired Toker to ambush you,’ Owen explained.

  ‘Shut up, you little shit!’

  ‘I rather thought so,’ Baldwin said. ‘Sir Peregrine, I would ask that this Welshman be kept in decent lodgings away from the others. He warned my man and saved my life and that of the Bailiff.’

  ‘Certainly. Take them both away! The sight of them hurts my eyes,’ Sir Peregrine said.

  After they had been manhandled away, Perkin shouting his defiance and cursing all in the room, there was silence for a short while which was gradually overtaken by an excited chattering as people started to discuss the dramatic developments. Sir Peregrine was grinning quizzically, head slightly tilted, but Lord Hugh still frowned with incomprehension.

  ‘Tell me one thing, Sir Baldwin, he said. ‘This man Dyne… He must have been there. He must have seen Sir Gilbert’s body, for how else could he have taken the purse and the knife?’

  ‘I should think he did,’ Baldwin agreed sadly. His mood was growing dark again. He was pleased to have solved the murders, but a black depression was clouding his mind and he longed for the forgetfulness of inebriation. ‘Who can tell when he found the knight? I think that while he tried to escape from the posse on horseback he stumbled over the man and his dog. He saw that the knight was dead and arranged his body neatly, only taking the knife and money because they were of no further use to the dead man.’

  Lord Hugh was quiet for a moment, sadly considering the story. ‘He is the only man who comes out of this whole sorry tale with any credit, isn’t he? Dyne was innocent of any crime, and when he found a dead man he treated the corpse with respect; whereas the priest tried to steal the knight’s horse, Sherman hid from the facts because he was a cuckold, Carter was a murderer and incest, and God knows what the others were.’

  ‘You have come out of the matter with honour, my Lord,’ Baldwin reminded him gently. ‘When Despenser made an attempt to bribe you with a vast sum you didn’t accept it.’

  ‘No. And I was glad to have done so.’

  ‘Why, my Lord?’

  Sir Hugh grinned crookedly. ‘As I said before, Sir Gilbert was not so convinced of the Despensers himself. He thought that they had left the Kingdom for good, so he planned to travel north to Carlisle where he came from.’

  ‘And join Earl Thomas’s ranks?’ Baldwin said.

  ‘Yes – with the jewels.’

  Baldwin whistled. ‘So he proved a traitor to his master,’ he said disappointedly.

  ‘Don’t judge him too harshly, Sir Baldwin,’ Lord Hugh murmured. ‘You may find yourself in a similarly difficult position before long. If the Despensers have returned we will all have many tough choices to make.’

  ‘True,’ Baldwin said. Then he frowned briefly. ‘Why, then, did Sir Gilbert wait around? Why didn’t he just head off north as soon as he had seen you?’

  Lord Hugh cleared his throat and spoke in an undertone, with every appearance of embarrassment. ‘He was waiting for me to prepare a message for Earl Thomas,’ he said quietly. ‘You see, even if you think I have come out of this well, I am not so clean as I appear. When
the Kingdom is this close to war, a lord must seek the most advantageous alliances he may. And at present the Earl Thomas seems strongest. So you could say that I, too, am a traitor.’

  He walked away shortly afterwards. Baldwin thought he was ashamed of his confession, but it didn’t affect the knight. He was exhausted mentally and physically, and now that the murders were solved he felt himself sinking into a torpor.

  John Sherman had stalked out while Baldwin talked to Lord Hugh, and Baldwin wondered where he might have gone. He could feel some sympathy for the man. Sherman now had proof of his wife’s infidelity: the knowledge must be devastating. Of course it was mitigated by learning that Sir Gilbert’s death was not a failed attempt by his wife to murder him, but Baldwin was not sure that was enough of a consolation. Sherman’s wife had still betrayed him. Looking at his own wife, Baldwin wondered how he would react to learning that Jeanne had committed petty treason of that kind. Not well, he was sure.

  Seeing his dejected look she smiled and joined him, linking her fingers in his. ‘Are you truly all right?’ she asked.

  ‘I am fine.’

  ‘I was terrified when I heard you had been attacked,’ she whispered. ‘I was convinced I was to be widowed again.’

  There was a break in her tone, proof of her renewed fear that she might lose her man so soon after finding him. Baldwin squeezed her hand. ‘Do not fear for me, Lady.’

  No, he told himself. No one need fear for his personal safety while he could still wield a sword – but Baldwin recalled vividly that rending, tearing of flesh and bone as he hauled his sword up into his opponent’s chest and the memory made him wonder for a moment what sort of man he was. He had always looked upon himself as a model of rational, humane behaviour, seeking to protect those who were weaker than he, and to prevent persecution and violence towards those who were unable to protect themselves – and yet he had exulted in the killing of that man. It had been a delight to end that life.