Michael Jecks - The King of Thieves

Yet for all that, there was a certain atmosphere among the people who lived there. Women shouted and cackled, young urchins ran barefoot, giggling and shouting, and even the men seemed to be cheerful enough.

‘Ha! Not a bad part of the city,’ Sir Richard considered. He stood looking about him with a satisfied smile, thumbs in his belt. His eye was drawn like a bee to honey to the small tavern only a few doors away.

‘It is not as poor as some districts,’ was Pons’s comment. ‘There are people here with a reasonable income. They may not be so rich as the merchants down nearer the river, but they are better off than many others.’

‘This was his?’ Simon asked when they stopped outside a house and knocked.

‘Yes. This is where the Procureur used to live,’ Vital said shortly.

‘His servant is here?’ Baldwin asked.

It was Pons who responded. ‘For now. I don’t know where he’ll go when he’s better.’

A watchman opened the door, a surly, ill-favoured man with a cast in his eye and a developing hunch-back. He took them up to a clean, bright solar where they found the servant. He was clearly not going to be leaving any time soon.

He lay on a good bed, and Baldwin assumed that in the absence of his master, the servant was installed in his master’s bed.

This Stephen was a very tall man, and well built. That much was obvious from the way that his feet were close to overhanging the bottom of the bed while his head rested on the wall. However it was clear that he had not always been known for his honour and integrity. His upper lip was split — a common enough punishment for criminals in Paris, Baldwin knew.

‘You were the servant to the Procureur, I hear?’ he began his questioning.

‘There was no one else would take me, Sieur.’

‘You were guilty of some offence here?’

‘Yes. I was a successful felon, I fear. However, Master Jean rescued me.’

‘How so?’ Baldwin said.

‘He met me in the street and beat the living daylights out of me. From that moment I thought it was preferable to work for him, than against.’

‘It didn’t help him two days ago, friend.’

A cloud passed over the servant’s face. ‘No.’

‘What do you remember?’

‘Of that evening? We were walking back as usual. My master often had me walk with him, because this is a dangerous city, just as any other.’

‘You were at his side? A little behind him? What?’

‘I was some thirty paces behind. My master was concerned because some short while ago he was almost killed by a man in the street. He felt sure that his life was at risk. And for that reason he wished me to remain some way behind him, so that if I saw a man try to assail him, I would have the space to attack, but the assailant himself might not realise that I was there.’

‘And yet the assassin clearly did know you were there — that was why he knocked you down so swiftly.’

‘It may be so.’

Sir Richard fixed the man with a steady gaze. ‘Did you see the assailant? Did you recognise him?’

‘No. I neither saw nor recognised him. If I did, there is nothing would keep me here in my bed,’ Stephen said.

‘Then can you tell us who it was your master was afraid of?’

‘Sieur Jean was working on a strange affair at the Louvre,’ Stephen said, and explained about the body of de Nogaret. ‘After that, his wife’s body was also found, and my master believed that there was some connection between the two deaths. When we started to investigate, a man began to follow my master — a thin man, wiry. Like one of those who had been forced to starve and never won enough food afterwards — you know?’

Baldwin kept his face carefully empty of all emotion, but he could not help a slight grunt at that name. Guillaume de Nogaret . A man so steeped in villainy, even the devil might refuse his companionship.

If the dead man was that same de Nogaret, Baldwin himself would have been happy to slit his throat.

Sir Richard glanced at Baldwin, hearing his intake of breath. ‘You all right?’

‘I was thinking of the famine,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘Too many on our streets look like that — emaciated.’

‘Aye.’ They all knew of men like that, who had starved and been marked by it during the famine years. ‘A sad time.’

‘Tell us all you can about what happened,’ Baldwin said.

‘The fellow tried to attack my master twice, he thought, so after that he had me follow him wherever he went. He hoped to catch the man. As it was, he found another trying to kill him, a fellow known as Nicholas the Stammerer. We caught him and learned all we could, but then he was found dead. Someone had killed him with a thin blade slipped down from here,’ he finished, touching his finger just above his collarbone.

‘Not a normal place for a killer to strike, eh, Baldwin?’ Sir Richard commented.

‘Hmm? Not that I have seen, no,’ Baldwin said. It amused him to see how Sir Richard had immersed himself in this affair. Clearly it was possible to take the Coroner out of England, but not the urge to investigate from the Coroner himself. From his point of view, the name of the dead man was more intriguing.

‘Interesting,’ Sir Richard said. ‘So you had this other fellow, and he died, and yet the first one was not caught?’

‘No.’

‘What did you learn from the one you did catch?’

‘He was a felon who worked with a small gang, so he said. There was a man who sought the services of a killer, and he said that another was sent to fulfil the contract, but failed. My master and I believed that this failure was the man we both saw originally. And so later this Nicholas was given the contract instead. He took over when the first failed.’

‘And died in his own turn,’ the Coroner said. ‘You say it was while he was being questioned?’

‘Yes. The assassin murdered him while he was hanging in chains in the interrogation chamber.’

Sir Richard gave a low whistle. ‘That shows some balls, eh? Wandering into a torture chamber and slaying the felon there.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What can you tell us that will help us find the murderer?’

Stephen looked at Sir Richard, then over at Pons and Vital. ‘If I knew anything, I would use it to find the man myself. All I know is, the Stammerer told me that the gang had received payment for the murder. So find the Stammerer’s men, and you may find the killer. Then, perhaps, you could find the man who killed my master as well as killed the Stammerer himself.’

‘I will, friend,’ Pons said. ‘If he is in Paris, I shall find him and deal with him.’

He nodded to the others and he and Vital left them alone with Stephen.

Baldwin saw a spasm pass over the wounded man’s face. ‘Would you like some wine?’

‘I just want to sleep and to wake to learn this was all a foul dream,’ Stephen said bitterly. ‘All I ever wanted was to serve my master. Without him, I do not know what I can do.’

‘There is one thing you may do,’ Baldwin said, leaning against the wall. ‘You can tell me all you know of your master’s investigation.’

‘That is easy. His notes are all there,’ Stephen said, pointing to a large chest in the corner of the room.

Baldwin walked to it and lifted the lid. Inside were a number of scrolls, each covered in a neat, delicate script. ‘All these?’

‘Only the one at the top. My master used to keep notes on all the crimes he investigated.’

Baldwin found one with ‘De Nogaret’ clearly marked at the top, and removed it. ‘I thank you, friend. This will aid us. Is there anything more?’

‘No,’ Stephen said, sinking back on his pillow, a pasty, green colour returning to his face. ‘All you need is in there.’