Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

His voice had dropped, and now it petered out altogether. He swallowed painfully once more, and took a long pull of the strongale which Coroner Richard had ordered. ‘The bastard will be long gone now, I suppose.’

‘Perhaps so,’ Coroner Richard agreed, ‘but in all of this, who do you know who is enough of an enemy to hire a man to killyour boy and then try to kill you? What on earth would someone gain by killing you?’

‘You think it was a paid assassin?’ Langatre asked, visibly paling.

‘Hard to see who else it could have been,’ the coroner said imperturbably. ‘Surely you’d have known who it was, if it wassomeone who hated you that much, eh?’

‘I never saw his face.’

‘You don’t need to, do you? The smell of a man’s coat, his sweat, his breath … if it was someone you knew well, you’dhave recognised him, sure enough.’

‘Perhaps, and perhaps not,’ Baldwin said. ‘However, I am intrigued by something I was told. The people opposite your housestated that they heard a scream and as a result people began to flock to your door.’

‘That must have been when I hit him with the alembic,’ Langatre guessed.

‘So I would presume.’ Baldwin nodded. ‘But in that case, it is scarcely likely that he ran away from the house. A man appearing,dripping with some foul concoction of yours, and clearly badly scalded, would have excited some comment, I think, unless yourstreet is very different from all the others I know. He alerted the neighbours with his scream, according to your story. How else could he have escaped from the place?’

‘Well, he couldn’t. I only have a small house, and there’s no way out at the back.’

Baldwin was suddenly tense. ‘You mean there is no exit at all from the rear?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘In that case, we should hurry back there! The man might still be inside the house!’

The beadle was surprised to see them all back so soon, and he eyed the necromancer with suspicion. ‘I thought you were goingto take him to the gaol for me?’

‘Complain to the sheriff,’ Coroner Richard snapped. ‘Have you searched the house?’

‘Searched the … no! Why?’

‘Because the murderer may still be here,’ Baldwin said sharply. ‘Come!’

Leaving the nervous beadle at the door gripping his staff with both hands as though clinging to it for life itself, Baldwinand the others walked inside. Once over the threshold, Baldwin rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and looked to Langatre.

The man was staring down at the body on the ground at their feet still, but he nodded grimly, and led the way into his workshop.‘This is where he attacked me.’

Baldwin could see the mess where the alembic had been smashed. There was a foul odour of mustiness and sourness, much of whichcame from the pool of solidifying stuff among the shards of pottery.

The room was a good size, but the accumulation of curiosities had made it appear to shrink. There were shelves along one wall, filled with various forms of herb. Above theirheads were gathered dried and wilted leaves, while a table groaned under the weight of skulls and parts of dissected animals. Another table held the tools of his trade: there was a needle, a staff, a sword — all strange items that stank with the samesmell.

‘What is that foul odour?’ Coroner Richard demanded, picking up a black tunic with strange symbols on it and sniffing at itdoubtfully. He drew it away from his face with a wince. ‘Christ’s bones, that is foul!’

‘Do not blaspheme!’ Langatre hissed. ‘You have no idea how dangerous such behaviour can be in a place like this! I dependupon God’s good mercy to protect me when I am working. I will not have myself endangered because of a coroner’s insolence.’

‘Fine — but what is that smell?’

‘I have to fumigate all the instruments before I can conjure up … it is just to cleanse everything, that is all.’

‘It smells disgusting.’

‘I seem to remember I thought the same the first time I smelled it. When you become a wise man like me, you tend not to noticesuch things any more.’

‘Rots your nose, does it?’ the coroner observed, and walked about poking at things periodically, before grunting to himselfthat there wasn’t space for a man to hide in there, and leaving the room.

‘Is he always like this?’ Langatre asked, watching him go.

‘N-o-o. Today he is being well behaved and inclined to kindness,’ Baldwin answered honestly. He gazed about him. ‘Is thereanything missing in here?’

‘Look, what would a man take from …’ Langatre noticed Baldwin’s cold expression, and decided that his words could be saved. He made a show of walking about the place, casting aneye over the tables, but it was only when he was almost back at Baldwin’s side that his face took on a frown. ‘That’s strange…’

‘What is gone?’

‘My daggers. I have two knives — one black-handled, one white. They’re used in some of the magic preparations … they werehere, but … my hat! Where’s my hat? There was a white leather hat here when I was taken by that moronic beadle!’

He was at a table far from the door. Baldwin glanced at it, then at the mess on the floor where the alembic had smashed. ‘Youwere here? So after he attacked you, this man would have had to step over you to steal them? Could he have done?’

‘No! There is no possible way … but why would anyone want them?’

It took little time to search the rest of the house. The place was small, with a larder and buttery opposite the door to hismain room. At the far end of the building was a narrow wooden staircase which led up to the solar area. Warily, Baldwin lefthis sword sheathed, but pulled out his dagger, and cautiously ascended.

The chamber was a tiny space up in the eaves. Here the smoke from the fire rose and tainted all with the scent of charredlogs and tar. Gripping his dagger, Baldwin climbed quickly inside. There was a palliasse on the floor with some blankets thrownmessily to one side, and a small chest stood in the angle of the wall. Baldwin gazed about him, but there was nothing to see. No one could hide in this small space without being instantly spotted.

He returned to the ladder, and began to climb down again, but there was something that caught his attention: a faint odour catching at his nostrils. Stopping, he hesitated, and thenclimbed back.

‘What is it?’ the coroner called.

‘He was up here.’

Exeter Castle

Matthew was too unsettled to sit and drink. He went out into his court and, crossing over it, entered his kennels.

The dogs were slumberous after a long run with their master that afternoon, and although some eyes opened, and four tailstwitched, there was little more by way of acknowledgement.

It was impossible to concentrate. His wife was lying to him, going and visiting that damned magician, just at the time whenit was vital that they were quiet and avoided any such people. She was in enough trouble because of her family, and he wasin a potentially lethal position because of this affair of the necromancer from Coventry. There was little he could do tocontrol matters. They were controlling him.

At least there was one thing he could do. It would cause some anger when she heard what he had done, but he couldn’t explainwhy it was so perfect. He had ordered that fellow Langatre to be arrested on suspicion of killing his servant. That was fine,but the man wouldn’t be held for long, unless Matthew could continue to have him removed from the city entirely. And how betterthan to have him sent to the king to be questioned in case he had any part in the assassination attempt. Yes, Matthew wouldhave him gaoled here, and send a man to take a message to the king.