Bernard Knight - Figure of Hate

'Because the voices were ours,' muttered Alexander. 'It was Robert Longus who stabbed Lord Hugo to death, We found him sleeping in the ox byre — Robert made me come along to help him in case he struggled! '

'But why should you help him?' demanded the coroner.

Crues shrugged hopelessly. 'Because I always do what he wants. He's my master — and he gave me money.'

Henry de Furnellis looked confused. 'Why should he want to murder Hugo Peverel? He was his personal armourer, I thought they were on good terms.'

'I don't understand what was going on, sir, I think Hugo wanted Robert to do something he didn't wish to do — and something about taking away our protection. '

He suddenly dropped to his knees on the stony floor and wailed into his tied hands, 'He dragged me into his schemes against my will, I don't know what he was up to! 1 don't want to hang, I want to turn appealer against him,'

Slumped against the ground, the massive shoulders began to heave as he sobbed his heart out, but the coroner had not yet finished with him.

Motioning to the guards to pull Crues back to his feet, he continued, 'What was this "thing" that Longus did not want to do for Hugo?'

Alexander's agonised face stared back blearily through his tears. 'I don't know, sir. I think he mentioned Lady Avelina once, but I'm not very quick at catching on to people's meanings.'

Further questions from the sheriff and constable took them little farther, and with a grunt of annoyance de Wolfe waved to the soldiers to drag the man to one side, He went across to Thomas and, with Eustace peering around him, looked at the newly scribed parchment lying on the barrel.

'The man's a brainless oaf, but did you get that down, such as it was?' he demanded. Thomas nodded, but Eustace broke in with an intelligent question that made the official clerk scowl.

'If Longus killed the girl, Crowner, why was the strap found in Alexander's lodging?'

De Wolfe barked the query at Crues, and the man raised his head and gave a slow shrug. 'That's where it came from, so that's where I put it back.'

'Damned fool!' growled Gwyn. 'He's too stupid even to commit a murder properly.'

Now Robert Longus was brought out again, and he was a different proposition altogether — a moderately intelligent, certainly a cunning, journeyman, He again wrestled his way from the cells in the grip of Gabriel and a man-at-arms. Although he had been in the cells only for one night, he was dishevelled and dirty, his jerkin and breeches stained and scattered with bits of stinking straw, After a few more slaps and punches had quietened him down, the sheriff took up the interrogation.

'Your accomplice has turned appealer and we know the broad outlines of your crimes, so there's no point in these continual pleas of innocence,' he said brusquely. 'We now want the details to record and place before the King's justices.'

But cajole and threaten as much as they would, all they got from the armourer was a litany of oaths, abuse and denials, mostly to the effect that Alexander Crues was a warped mental defective who, for personal reasons, was producing a vindictive tissue of lies against him.

After five minutes of this, everyone was becoming restive, especially as Henry was having difficulty in finding a break in Robert's tirade to get in his own questions.

'That's enough!' yelled de Wolfe eventually. Not the most patient of men, especially on a day like this when his-spirits were low, he appealed to de Furnellis. 'Sheriff, this man seems immune to reasonable questioning. Has the time not come for more persuasive methods to arrive at the truth?'

Henry nodded, having seen the slight wink that John gave him as he spoke.

'I agree, Coroner, Do you think the peine forte et dure would be appropriate?' He was referring to a form of persuasive torture in which heavy weights were progressively piled on the victim's chest until he could no longer breathe.

'Either that, or perhaps the Ordeal might also be appropriate, as it is intended to determine guilt or innocence, We now have two priests here, though only one is necessary to validate the process.' He pointed at both Brother Rufus and Thomas de Peyne, which greatly pleased the little clerk, in spite of the doleful circumstances.

Robert Longus fell very quiet at this exchange, looking from coroner to sheriff and back again, to gauge how serious they were,

'You cannot torture me, I'm a freeman and a craftsman!' he cried. 'It's illegal, you cannot do this!'

'Who's to say that we can't?' retorted the sheriff calmly. 'We are the law in this county and can prosecute it in any way we think fit!'

He turned to the gaoler, who was standing by expectantly, his piggy eyes gleaming in the poor light from a few guttering torches on the walls.

'Stigand, have you made the preparations I ordered?'

The lard-faced Saxon, almost bald and wearing a filthy apron stained with blood, grinned to show his few blackened teeth. '

'The water is on the boil, sir. And I have irons heating in the brazier, in case you prefer them!'

'Right, bring him over to the wall,' commanded de Furnellis,

Longus began screaming as he was dragged across the floor towards a large iron vat that was supported on stones over a wood fire in a shallow pit. It was full almost to the brim with murky water that was bubbling under the scum on top. Near by was a latticed iron brazier filled with glowing charcoal, into which were stuck several branding irons.

'Robert Longus, this is your last chance to confess,' snapped de Wolfe. 'You know the ritual of the Ordeal — you will plunge your right arm into this vat and pick out this stone.'

Stigand handed him a round stone the size of a large apple and John nonchalantly tossed it into the boiling water.

This part was an obvious bluff, as the Ordeal was not intended as a means of extracting confessions, but was an ancient test of guilt or innocence, If the scalded arm healed without peeling or suppuration, the subject was judged innocent; otherwise he was' deemed guilty 'and hanged. The Church was becoming uneasy about this unchristian ritual, which smacked of magic, but the Vatican had not yet actually banned it.

John wagged a finger at Stigand, and he drew one of the irons from the fire and spat upon the crossshaped end, the spittle hissing on the red-hot metal. 'The choice is yours, Longus. The cauldron or the brand!'

As the man was hustled nearer the fires, Thomas averted his eyes and Eustace ran back to the steps up to the doorway to watch, as if distance might lessen the awful spectacle. The rest of the onlookers, including Brother Rufus, stood impassively, waiting for a result.

A closer sight of the boiling scum and the glowing iron suddenly broke the armourer's will.

'No, stop! I'll tell you all!' he screamed.

As with Crues and the water trough two days earlier, the imminence of intolerable suffering overshadowed the more distant prospect of the gallows. Half an hour later, Thomas had it all inscribed on his roll and the two men from Sampford were back in their squalid cells to await the next visit of the Commissioners of Gaol Delivery and the certainty of a hanging.

Back in the sheriff's chamber, the same officials gathered to consider what they had learned in Stigand's parlour down below.

'It's extraordinary how all this links together,' enthused Brother Rufus, who was a jovial busybody and liked to be in on any intrigues that were going on. 'Three murders for different reasons, all by the same men.'

'Really only one man, in that that poor dolt Crues was just a blind tool of Robert Longus,' said Ralph Morin, 'Though he'll hang for it, just the same.'

'It's such a tortuous tale that I need to get this clear in my mind,' growled Henry de Furnellis. 'I gather that Hugo Peverel paid Longus to interfere with his father's saddle-girth and then kept close behind him at the Wilton melee, so that he could trample him to death when he was unhorsed?'