Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

‘There is nothing I can do to help you! I am only the watchman!’

Simon had propped himself against a great timber set into the wall, and now he glanced at Will with a frown. ‘The king’s messengerlies dead, his messages stolen. It will embarrass our lord bishop if those messages are not recovered. If we wanted, we couldhave you arrested and taken to the king to be interrogated by his men. If you do not assist us, we may order that.’

Will shook his head with apparent despair. ‘How might I help you further?’

‘You know something,’ the coroner rasped, and now he crossed the room and gripped Will’s shoulder. ‘Tell us what it is, or as there’s a God in heaven, I’ll take you to the castle and question you more fully there myself!’

The implication of torture was all too plain, and Will paled. ‘I’ll tell you all,’ he protested. ‘Just leave go of my oldshoulder, sir knight, I beg! It’s sore enough.’

‘Come, then. What have you been keeping from us?’

‘Look, a man who serves near the South Gate sometimes will learn things that others may miss. I have been in the city formany years, and I remember something from a long time ago, ten or more years. It was when the men of Bristol rebelled againsttheir tallage — you recall?’

‘Aye.’ The coroner nodded. ‘The city mutinied against the king’s lawful taxes, and he had to lay siege to the city until theysubmitted.’

‘Yes. Many were anxious at that time. And even down here in Exeter there were men who said that we should avoid paying thetallage. The rates were set so high. Well, there was one man in particular, Piers de Caen, who said that he rejected them,and he began to seek support among the people to join with him and refuse to pay. Except a short while after he made his feelingsknown, he was killed.’

‘What of it? Men are killed all the time,’ Baldwin said.

Will’s head was hanging slightly. He looked at Baldwin from beneath lowered brows. ‘There was a man came into the city atabout that time. He was thickset, strong, powerful-looking. He made me nervous just to see him. And as soon as Piers died,he left the city again.’

Simon grunted and sucked his teeth with dissatisfaction. ‘So a man was here when another died? How many others were there?’

Baldwin held up his hand. ‘You are saying that this fellow killed Piers? Was there ever any proof of it?’

‘Piers’s wife. She saw the man. She denounced him before the world, told the men of the hue and cry, told the coroner andthe sheriff … but he was released. It was said that he was a king’s man. He’d been sent to leave a message for all thosewho disobeyed the king’s lawful commands.’

Baldwin gave a sidelong grin. ‘You think that the king of England can command the death of any man he wishes on a whim? Thathe has men who will obey his every little desire?’

‘Ask the sheriff. See what he says,’ Will said seriously. ‘The man’s name was Walter. Walter of Hanlegh.’

‘Aye, and what of it now?’ the coroner asked with frank bewilderment.

‘It is said that he is back here again. He’s been seen in the city. He’s a killer, Coroner, and if he killed Piers, perhapshe may have killed again.’

Exeter City

‘I do not care for that man. I don’t think we can trust a word he says. D’you think he’s told us the whole truth? I feel surehe is holding something back,’ the coroner grunted as the men walked up South Gate Street towards Carfoix.

‘Perhaps he is,’ Baldwin conceded, ‘but after the suffering he has gone through, I am scarcely surprised. And look upon itin this way: if you were married to a woman who blamed you for her own pain and the destruction of her body, as well as thedeaths of her children, and were asked questions before her, what would you sound like? I rather think that if my own wifewere to treat me with such open contempt and hatred, I should also appear to be concealing something. I should think thatthe poor fellow conceals much. He is too distraught to be rational.’

‘This Walter of Hanlegh could be worth finding, none the less,’ the coroner said. ‘Although what he could want to kill a king’smessenger for, let alone a mere comb-maker, is beyond me.’

Simon nodded, but his eyes were narrowed as he considered. ‘Yes. But if this Walter is a genuine killer, perhaps the man Muchetonmerely offered some sort of insult? He could have done so entirely unwittingly, but still have given grave offence.’

‘Eh?’ The concept of subtle affront was alien to the forthright coroner.

Baldwin nodded, considering. He was about to comment when they all heard the shouting and horns. ‘Come! That sounds like thehue and cry!’

The three hurried their pace, and soon they were trotting down the hill towards the source of the noise.

‘Not this place again!’ Baldwin breathed.

‘You know it?’ Simon asked.

‘It is where the necromancer was attacked and his servant killed,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘It is a place of ill-repute.’

Simon grunted. ‘And here’s a lad of ill-repute.’

‘Bailiff-’

‘Speak up, boy!’

‘No, I-’

‘I said speak up! Good God, boy, I can’t hear a word you say over this row.’

Rob looked at him, and then bawled: ‘There’s a man up there who was watching this place when I got here. He looked reallyupset about …’

‘Don’t shout, Rob, you’ll scare him away!’ Simon hissed, his eyes over Rob’s shoulder as he studied the crowds. ‘Point himout to me.’

The noise was appalling, and it smothered the disturbance as Simon pushed his way through the crowd, whistling a little tunehe had heard a while before in a tavern, his hands in his belt, until he was at the opposite side of the street. There heinstantly saw the man Rob had told of.

He was clad in well-worn garments, a thickset fellow who had lived long in that face. Simon drew down the corners of his mouth. The man was fit, but Simon reckoned he would havethe advantage of some decades. With that conviction, he approached the man cautiously and slowly, stepping briskly but quietlyuntil he was only a matter of yards from him.

It was plain as a pikestaff that the man was watching the house. He gazed at it almost hungrily, and as the crowds in frontof him moved he swayed with them, his head straining to stretch his neck so that he might peer over their heads. With hisheight, there was little enough need, Simon thought privately.

Making a decision, he went to the man’s side. ‘What’s happened in there?’

‘Another dead man, so I’m told.’

‘Really? Is that why you were watching the place so carefully?’

The man turned and considered him. ‘There are many watching it now.’

‘Yes,’ Simon agreed reasonably. ‘But you were here long beforehand, weren’t you?’

The man moved abruptly. If Simon hadn’t expected it, he might have succeeded in making his escape, but if there was one activityat which Simon did not excel it was running, and so as soon as his quarry tried to bolt, Simon jumped. He caught the man’sneck with one hand, and gripped his tunic, while the other grabbed him by the belt.

What Simon lacked as a runner, he more than made up for in wrestling, and now he swung hard, pulling the man over his hipand throwing him to the ground. ‘Good! Now, let’s start again, shall we?’

Jen was inconsolable with grief. She didn’t know what time it was. There was no meaningful passage for her: all she knew was thatshe was no longer in the castle which she had come to look upon as her home, and that the man whom she had adored from thefirst moment of setting eyes on him detested her. The ugly old cow he had married must have poisoned him against her.