Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

‘By whom?’ Baldwin enquired.

‘The sheriff. He ordered us himself. He said we had to come here, take this man, bring him up to the castle’s gaol, and keepthe body of the dead boy at the house until the coroner could be called.’

‘Right, and now the coroner is arrived,’ Sir Richard boomed. ‘So do you go about your duties, and leave me to mine, eh?’

‘But I am to …’

Baldwin stopped him. ‘You have delivered your charge into my custody. Now return to the house and take care of the poor fellow’s body. I shall see to this man.’

With a nervous reluctance, the beadle finally agreed. He made one last effort to have a watchman or two remain with the knights,but Sir Richard was so scornful in his response to the idea that two armed knights could not subdue such a feeble-lookingpiece of human flotsam that the man soon gave up and submitted to their commands.

‘At last,’ Baldwin said. Coroner Richard was already signalling impatiently to the wench serving at the bar, and Baldwin saton a barrel which served as a stool, and studied the creature before him. ‘Now, what manner of man are you, I wonder?’

Robinet had seen them walk into the tavern, and now he saw the beadle and his men leave the place and begin to make theirway back down to Stepecote Street and the house where the dead servant lay. Making a quick decision, he followed them.

Outside the house there was one remaining watchman, a youth of maybe twenty, who stood nervously eyeing the crowd. Newt couldhear him clearly as he called to the beadle, and even when the beadle was at his side, a hand on his arm, trying to calm him,the lad’s voice remained high and loud enough for Newt to hear every word.

‘They’ve been trying to get past me! There’s some want to stone the place and others will have it burned to the ground… they were going to beat me to get me out of the way, if I didn’t do what they wanted. That one there, look! He’s got a stone! Make him put it down!’

Newt smiled to himself at the sound of the lad’s voice. There was enough anxiety in it to make a whining puppy sound bold. He was not sure what was best for him to do. At first he had an inclination to go to the beadle and ask him whatwas happening, but the sound of a foreign voice in the area might make one or two men wonder where he came from and what hewas doing in Exeter. That was the easiest way to have himself taken and questioned he could think of. And he couldn’t affordthat in case people had seen him with James. Perhaps seen them argue — or fight.

No, walking up to a nervous law officer was not a good idea for him just now. Better that he should leave well alone …and yet he wanted to learn if there was anything about the man who lived here that could suggest he could have been guiltyof the murder of James.

His problem was solved when he saw the beadle jerk his thumb at the youth. Nothing loath, the fellow gripped his staff firmlyand eyed the crowd with the truculence of a rabbit before squaring his shoulders and setting off up the hill towards Robinet.

Newt turned and began to walk slowly up the hill, bent over as he went, his frame the very picture of decrepitude and weariness. When he heard the swift-pacing approach, he groaned and let himself sink slowly to his knee in the street.

‘Are you all right, father?’

‘Ach, fellow, it’s my old feet. They give me gip on occasion. Today I’ve been walking from the coast, and my old bones areweary,’ Newt lied, smiling bravely.

‘You want some help?’

‘Your arm as far as the flat way on top of this hill would be kind. My name is Jan, by the way.’

‘I am Ivo Trempole.’

‘It is kind of you, but I am sure you’ll be busy. You don’t really have time to help an old fool like me. You were down there at that house, weren’t you? Are you with the watch?’

The lad grunted. ‘Not that I want it. I was voted to be the constable here, but it wasn’t my choice. I don’t like having tostand in front of a crowd of angry people for no reason. That lot were ready to throw rocks at me, you know? Why’d I wantto do that, stand as a target for all the hotheads in the city?’

‘It must be hard. Is the man who lives there rich and important, then? Is that why the city has to guard him?’

‘No, he’s not all that important, no. He’s a necromancer ,’ the fellow said, his voice dropping. ‘His servant is dead, and they say it was the master who was angry with his man, andkilled him in a rage, if you can believe that! Imagine!’

Clearly Ivo’s imagination was doing enough work for both of them, or so Newt felt. ‘Terrible. So he stabbed the lad and bolted?’

‘No, he didn’t stab him. He used a thin wire or something, and strangled him. Almost cut through his throat.’

‘But the master has run away, I suppose? A fellow known for using magic would hardly be popular, would he?’

Ivo shook his head. ‘He didn’t run, the fool. His servant was there, still warm. It was obvious as the sun in the sky thathe’d done it. No one else would go and kill a fellow for no reason, would they? No, it was him.’

They had almost reached the top of the hill now, and Newt began to chat about other matters as though the murder was of littleimportance to him, and soon after, when they reached Bolehille, he took his leave of the watchman and hobbled slowly along Cooks’ Row towards the High Street. When he turned, once, to wave, Ivo had already disappeared. Still, to be safe, Newt continuedhobbling and walking slowly until he reached the Carfoix, and only then did he start to walk in a more easeful manner.

There was not much to be gathered there, he reckoned. But he had learned one useful point: the lad had been throttled witha thin ligature of some sort. Perhaps the same weapon as the one used on James; perhaps the same man was guilty of both murders.

Yet so far as Newt knew, there was no one in the world who had any reason to dislike James apart from he himself. James hadbeen a mild man, a calm lad with hardly a bad word to say about anyone. The idea that someone could have taken such a disliketo him seemed incredible. Yet, of course, he had managed to make Newt’s life a misery. If it hadn’t been for those unwarywords of his, Newt would have kept his post, not been thrown in gaol, not suffered for months. And perhaps still be employedeven now.

He looked up and saw how the sun was fading fast. All the shops were closed already, and there was a bustle about the cityas people prepared for night. He must find a refuge.

Yes, instead of being happily employed, here he was. A corrodian from a far-off priory, all but friendless. Fortunately hestill had one friend. Or did have until last night. He must go and make his peace with the man.

North-East Dartmoor

Simon’s feet were out of the stirrups as soon as he reached the first of the trees. There was a low wall, but it had tumbleddown long ago, and his horse trotted cautiously over the remaining rubble before stopping to crop the grass. Simon quicklytook off the saddle and harness, and slipped a halter on him, tying it to a sapling nearby. The last thing he needed now wasto lose the beast.

As soon as that was done, he started to search for timber. The snow wasn’t falling in earnest yet, and he had some little whileto gather firewood. In his breast, between his shirt and his tunic, was a thick handful of tinder which he’d found earlieron their way: old, dry grasses and some fine, thin silver birch bark he had pulled from a tree on the way out of Tavistock. These were wrapped in a fold of cloth with his flint, and he prayed that they would be dry and warm enough after being protectedall day.

There was time to worry about that later. First he had to find firewood. There were several fallen boughs, but each, whenhe touched it, felt sodden. They were too old and had been rotting and soaking up moisture for over a year. However, he sooncame across a tree that appeared to have been recently struck by lightning. It was tall, a good thirty to forty feet, andhe was cautious at first, in case a branch might fall on his head, but when he got closer and gave it a good push to testits strength, he heard the cracking. Grinning to himself, he pushed it, rocking it carefully, until at last it gave a creakingcomplaint, and toppled, crashing and crackling as it smashed through the other trees nearby, until it was down. All aboutit were the branches which had been snapped off, and now he started to hurry about, collecting them quickly.