Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

‘I agree,’ Simon chuckled with a hint of nervousness. ‘I would like to live to see my wife again.’

‘So would I. And that means we should do all in our power to learn the truth about these deaths.’

‘Do you believe that Mabilla was the target, then?’

‘I believe it is more probable than this story of an assassin who was trying to kill the Queen and then got cold feet after striking another lady by mischance. That is, to me, highly unlikely. So, let us note that point and now go and see what we may learn about the man who was found dead.’

They made their way to the Great Hall, but when they reached it the body had been removed. Baldwin had to stop two servants before he learned that the King’s Coroner was returned; Simon and he were given directions back out to a stone building in the Old Palace Yard.

Inside, they found a pair of servants with their sleeves rolled up, undressing the corpse. Behind, craning his neck to see by the light of a small candle that burned with a smell of beef fat, was a short, dumpy little man with a beardless chin and gleaming blue eyes set in an almost perfectly circular face. ‘What d’you want?’ he grunted rudely.

‘I am Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, and this is my friend Bailiff Puttock of Tavistock. We have been commanded by the King to investigate these two deaths so far as we may, and to report back to him.’

‘You are, eh? Excellent!’ In an instant all his snappishness was gone, and the man walked round, holding out his hand. Simon, glancing at it, saw that it was stained with blood, and winced as the man gripped his hand before repeating the exercise with Baldwin.

‘You must excuse the mess in here. It’s not usually occupied by a corpse, but where else can we store him, eh? No, better to keep him out of the way, that was what I thought. So out here he came. Trouble is, it’s damned dark in here, eh? Still, a candle will serve where the sun won’t! Did you see him in the hall? Nasty business. Who’d do a thing like that to a man, eh? Cut off his tarse and shove it in his mouth. Barbaric, eh? Oh, by the way, I am Coroner John of Evesham, at your service.’

Baldwin was already at the victim’s head, and stood looking down the length of his body. Simon, having a less resilient stomach, had taken up his own station nearer the doorway, where the obscene protrusion from the dead man’s mouth was hidden by Sir John’s thick little body.

‘Was there anything at all about this man that could indicate where he came from, what his usual trade was, or anything of that nature?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Nothing. All deny ever seeing him before, which is hardly surprising, but the porters say that they haven’t seen him before either, which is odd. If one of them had seen him enter the New Palace Yard, they would surely have said so, and it’s not as if there’s been too many people for them to notice recently. No, if they say they didn’t see him, I believe them.’

‘I shall wish to walk about the perimeter of the Palace, then, just to see whether there’s an obvious place where he could have gained entry,’ Baldwin said. ‘Tell me, how easy would it be for a man to learn what the Queen’s movements are?’

‘The Queen’s? Probably very easy. How many hundreds of servants are there here, eh? Any one of them could have been bribed, I dare say. It’s all too common.’

‘And the Queen has a fairly rigid structure to her day, I suppose.’

‘Ah,’ Sir John said, smiling and tapping his nose. ‘Not all that structured, no. All too often she rises at the oddest hours to go and hear Mass, I’ve heard. She likes to keep her people on their toes.’

That made Baldwin frown, but before he could continue, the two assistants had pulled off the last of the dead man’s garments and Baldwin and John leaned forward with professional enthusiasm.

‘Clearly his own tarse, then,’ John said with detachment. Simon felt his belly lurch.

‘Dead first, I’d think,’ Baldwin said.

‘Oh, definitely, definitely. He must have had a blow to the heart which killed him, and then the murderer removed his, um, and shoved it into his mouth. It could have indicated disapproval of the assassin’s way of life, say, if the killer knew him and resented him for being a sodomite?’

Baldwin shrugged off his words. He had spent too much time living in the East, where men would sometimes form close liaisons with other men. He did not find it as fearful a lifestyle as some.

However, Simon was taken by another thought. ‘What if it was an indication of disrespect for someone else, though?’

‘Like who, my friend?’

In another man, this patronising tone would have irritated Simon enormously, but he felt himself warming to the Coroner. Sir John seemed affable, but Simon could sense a strong intellect, and felt that he was covering up a sharp mind with his buffoonery. Perhaps it was necessary in a political household such as this. ‘I was wondering: if a powerful baron wanted to leave a brutal warning to another, perhaps he could do this?’

‘But why?’ John said, a smile still on his lips, but a faintly anxious expression in his eyes.

‘If he was leaving a message for a baron who was a sodomite, that might be the way he’d do it,’ Simon guessed.

Baldwin gave a chuckle. ‘I think that’s more than a little far-fetched, Simon. No, I feel sure that this is a reflection on the man found dead, and his lifestyle. It’s surely a little extreme to think that someone could find the right assassin, kill him, and decide to leave a message for the man who could be his paymaster. Now — what else is there?’

And while Simon was left feeling ruffled at the way the two men had dismissed his suggestion, the Coroner and Keeper bent to study the corpse once more.

‘Distinguishing marks — a large scar over his breast here, as though a sword has taken away a flap of skin. He’s had that arm damaged, too. Look at it!’

Baldwin nodded. At some time the limb had been badly crushed, the bone broken and reset, as was so often the case, slightly crooked. There was a great deal of scar tissue about it, too. ‘He must have suffered every day from that.’

‘I wonder how he did it?’ Sir John murmured. ‘And now, let us roll the fellow over and see if there’s anything else to be learned, eh?’

The two men completed their careful investigation and when they were both satisfied that there was nothing more to be gleaned from the man’s body, they pulled a sheet over him and wiped their hands on a few rags they found nearby.

Baldwin was first to leave, but when Simon tried to follow him, he found the Coroner in his way: the man had sprung into his path. ‘I am very interested in your idea about the dead man, Bailiff. Perhaps we could meet to discuss it further?’ he said, to Simon’s surprise.

Simon gave a grunt of agreement. The two men had so clearly indicated their lack of interest in his suggestion, yet now the Coroner wished to talk about it. It made no sense.

In the stables, Baldwin and Simon found Rob, sulking at the horses. ‘The Bishop said for you to follow on to his house. Told me to wait here for you.’ He gave a long-suffering sigh.

Baldwin nodded, glancing at the activity in and around New Palace Yard. As the sun was sliding down in the west, people were starting to make their way homewards. Some were already installed on benches at the taverns, while the hawkers and vendors were packing up their wares and making for the gatehouse.

‘Come on, you two,’ he said. ‘It’s time we copied them.’

It took some little while for them to reach the Bishop’s house, and on the journey Simon found himself gaping at all the fine buildings, for it seemed to him that every few yards there was a palace.