Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

‘Sweet Christ!’ Sheriff Matthew muttered. It was all too true. ‘You seem to have the ability to understand women better thanmen like me who’ve been married for years.’

‘I am fortunate that many of them wish for the advice that only a man of God like me can give,’ Langatre admitted.

‘Has my wife been to see you?’

Langatre hesitated only a moment. ‘Your wife would have no need of my services, I am sure.’

The sheriff peered at him closely. ‘Very well. I am convinced. You are free, but only if you swear that you will deal honourablywith me. Understand? If I learn that you have been dishonest, I will have your lying tongue torn out and your throat cut. Clear?’

Exeter City

It was easy to find the place, and Robinet was about to walk to the door when his friend took his arm ungently and drew himaway to the farther side of the street.

‘Are you absolutely without brains?’ he hissed. ‘If this is where the murderer is staying, we don’t actually want him to knowwe’re here, do we?’

Robinet nodded. ‘Er, no. So what are we doing here, then?’

‘Watching, old friend. Watching. So that if a man comes here whom we recognise, we can follow him, perhaps knock him downand call the hue and cry to have him attacked, or maybe see to it that he never rises again. Whatever strikes you as the bestoption at the time, I suppose. Whatever else, though, we want him , and that means we have to find him.’

‘Yes. Of course.’

It was while he had been a messenger that he had first met Walter. Back then Walter had been a dour, stolid character, witha black expression much of the time, but Newt had early on seen that there was another side to the man. He was entirely trustworthy,for one thing. Under the old king, and this one, he had been unswervingly loyal, and that was more than could be said for most of the king’s own household.

They had first met because Walter had been in Winchester, and Newt had been surprised to be sent to him with an urgent message. He found the man in a dark alehouse, a foul, noisome little place with nothing to recommend it, and as soon as the messagewas delivered Walter had read it and burned it at a nearby candle. Then he stood and left the room without a word. The factthat such a churlish fellow should be in receipt of messages from the king himself made him fascinating to a young cursor , and when they next met, this time at the king’s household while it was at Eltham, Robinet had been further impressed bythe firm, unsmiling man. Others muttered darkly about him, but none dared to speak directly to insult him. There was a certainaura about him that dissuaded men from being too forthright in their criticism.

It was that which had made Robinet feel he ought to befriend the man. That and an aggressive ambition. A man who was so favouredby the king was a man whose friendship was worth fostering. Accordingly Newt sought him out, being so unsubtle in his methodsthat Walter was instantly on his guard. Then, one morning while walking out, Newt found himself grabbed from behind, a knifeheld at his throat, and a cold, ferocious voice demanding what he was after.

When he confessed, Walter was quiet for what felt, with that knife at his neck, like a very long time indeed, and then Newtgrew aware that the knife was moving. It terrified him for a moment, until he realised that it was not drawing a line acrosshis jugular, but wobbling as the holder laughed silently.

From that moment on, Walter appeared to look on Newt in the same way that a man might view a small pet dog. He was tolerated so long as he never made a mess. Then, as the two aged in the service of the king, Walter’s tolerance becamea genuine affection, and it was reciprocated. The future Edward II himself once told Newt to be wary, that the man he wasbefriending was much more dangerous than he could ever know, but Newt was too sure of himself to be warned. He trusted hisown judgement, and he had never had cause to regret it. Walter was his closest friend.

Now that the two men were retired from their past occupations, it was interesting to look back on their history. It gave aman more perspective, Newt thought.

Walter was certainly a most dangerous man. If ever a fellow wanted a lethal and resourceful opponent, Walter was the ideal. Newt had no interest in upsetting him or causing him grief, but he had seen others who had succeeded in exactly that, andgenerally they regretted it. Some of them for only a very short period.

Any king had need of a man like Walter. He was the ultimate control for the king over his population. Completely focused, Walter would ensure that the king’s most embarrassing problems were removed. When a man preached treachery, or threatenedthe king’s life in some other way, Walter would see to it that the annoyance was soon eradicated. There was nothing personalin it, and he did not kill all the king’s enemies. Often there was no need if the target knew of Walter. Then all he neededto do was make it clear that the king had asked him to speak. That in itself was perfectly adequate for almost all situationsand most men. However, there were occasions when more forceful arguments were required, and when they were, Walter was anexpert with a dagger. He always said that it took only an inch or two of steel to silence for ever an irritating voice. Newt had no idea how many irritants had been stilled in that way by Walter, but he knew it was many tens over a career thatlasted more than twenty years.

When he had been a cursor , eating at the king’s expense, he had always been well fed. No matter what else happened, the king’s messengers had to begiven their fill of the best of all viands. They had been good days for him. For them both.

‘Now, I am proud of my pottage, but there’s no doubt that a little meat sets a man up for the day, is there? And just now,a bit of meat would be good. If there’s going to be some knocking about later, we’ll need our strength.’

Robinet couldn’t argue with that. For all that his belly was filled, he yet felt a little hungry, as though the pottage hadbeen unnourishing, and the thought of a minced beef pie beneath his belt was most attractive.

‘One of us will have to stay.’

‘Aye. You want the head or the tail?’ Walter asked as he flipped a coin.

Exeter City

It was some little while later that Alice’s brother Maurice returned and stood eyeing the dilapidated building over the roadwith a frown of some perplexity.

If he was not outlawed, he would have already blown his horn and chased after the man, but not in his present situation: thatwould be suicidal. And yet he wanted to. It was rare that a man witnessed a robbery or murder, and for him, a man of noblebirth, to watch and allow a felon to go free was at best galling.

He had been here, hoping to see something of Alice again, when he saw the furtive-looking man stand at the way to the rearof the building. Maurice’s attention was taken immediately as the fellow sidled down some stairs which appeared to lead downinto the undercroft, only to disappear in the dark.

Maurice was not the only man who had noticed him. Only a short while afterwards he saw another man, cloaked and hooded againstthe cold, armed with a good staff, move to the top of the stairs and stare down. He descended quickly enough, and Mauriceglanced about him, satisfied that the thief — he must be a draw-latch because from his demeanour he could have had no legitimate business down there — would soon be caught.

For a little while he waited to hear the inevitable sounds of arrest, the blasts of a horn or the hoarse demand for assistance,but to his surprise there was nothing. Instead he saw, after some time had passed, the second man reappear and set off brisklytowards an alley.