Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

Without waiting for the response, he started looking about him carefully. If Sir Baldwin had been right, and the stories weretrue, there may be some wax lying about in here. He searched, but there was nothing to be found. Shaking his head, he roseagain and thought wildly. Then his face lightened and he hurried outside to the vegetable plots. At the side of one was alarge rubbish heap, and he ran to it excitedly, prodding at it until he gave a little whistle of glee.

‘Here you are!’

‘What is it?’

‘Wax — like the stuff in my undercroft. The fellow has made some models of men out of wax, I’d guess. He’s going to try tokill someone.’

Baldwin was still glowering with concentration as he left the inn and began to make his way to the bishop’s palace.

Simon was with him. The coroner had been asked to visit the sheriff at the castle because a woman had reported a rape, orsomething, but Rob walked a few paces behind as usual, truculently glaring at all those about him as he went. At one pointhe was fairly sure that he saw one of the lads from his game the night before, but the face soon disappeared in the crowds,which was some relief.

Their path took them down Cooks’ Row, and thence to Bolehille and down to the Palace Gate, and it was as they entered Bolehillethat Rob saw another face he thought he recognised. Hastily he turned his head slightly, and hoped that the simple subterfugewould serve. Fortunately he could hear the master talking to his friend the knight, and so long as they kept on their musingsabout the dead men and all that, he’d be all right. Yes, there was the Palace Gate. Only a matter of a few hundred yards,now. Easy enough.

As he sighed with relief, he felt his legs pulled from under him. ‘Aargh!’

Hands outstretched to break his fall, he felt stone on his palms, the scrape of flesh rasped away and the instant stingingpain. His knees were bruised, and his breath had been knocked from him.

‘We want our money, foreigner !’ he heard as he started to try to clamber to his feet. A kick at his legs made him fall again.

Then there was a chuckle, and he turned his head to see Simon and Sir Baldwin, both standing with arms crossed, Simon witha broad grin on his face. ‘Been upsetting people again, lad? I’ve warned you about this before.’

‘It was a fair game!’

‘You’re learning new concepts, are you?’ Simon asked unsympathetically.

‘I was doing it for you, master,’ he said hurriedly.

‘What?’

Now he had Simon’s attention, Rob spoke quickly. ‘They told me of a rumour while we played last night — it’s said that thebishop doesn’t trust the sheriff. Thinks the sheriff might be disloyal to the king …’

‘Quiet!’

‘It was this one, sir. He’s called Ben.’

Suddenly both his attackers were running away, swift as only rats or city-bred churls could go, Rob thought to himself.

Simon started as though to chase them, but then he stopped and looked back at Baldwin, then both stared down at Rob.

‘Are you sure of this?’ Simon frowned.

‘Why else would they run like that?’ Rob demanded reasonably.

‘Why should they?’ Baldwin asked. ‘All they need do was deny your story. It is foolish, perhaps, but not an offence to seea lad hanged, telling a tale like that.’

‘They got nervy when I asked them how they knew,’ Rob recalled. ‘It was when I asked whether the bishop had a spy in the sheriff’shouse. They went quiet then.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I doubt not that the good bishop has an ear in every important house in the city. Yet that is interesting. Yes, Simon, it is enormously interesting! If the good bishop felt that the sheriff was actively plotting something, he wouldhave done all in his power to warn the king, would he not? And what better means than to send a messenger with a private,verbal message?’

‘But what could the sheriff be planning all the way down here?’ Simon said sceptically. ‘The king is many leagues away.’

‘ Maleficium is supposed to know no bounds of distance,’ Baldwin mused. ‘I wonder if that is what they planned? To have the king assassinatedfrom insignificant little Exeter?’

Simon was eyeing his servant doubtfully. ‘You are sure of this? How drunk was the lad?’

‘Ben? He was the one with the face like a ferret and the smell of a fox on heat. I don’t think he was drunk last night. Heseemed all right.’

Simon looked at Baldwin. ‘Should we go and ask the bishop?’

‘I do not think so. The news that his affairs are common knowledge may not please the good prelate. No. Perhaps it would bebetter were we to keep this information private for now.’

Simon nodded, although he would have preferred to have asked the bishop about his concerns. Politics were becoming a mess,and Simon was trying still to see a way through. As a mere bailiff to the abbey of Tavistock, he was not involved, thank God,in national politics, but every man had to be aware of the currents of power. If a man were to upset even the lowliest servantof a man like Sir Hugh le Despenser, he could find himself either in a very painful place or dead. ‘Does that mean that thebishop’s loyalty is being tested?’ he wondered aloud.

Baldwin threw a casual look at Rob, and, seeing he was far enough away, drew nearer to Simon. ‘Old friend, do not even wonderaloud about such things. Simply listen and draw your own conclusions. This country is grown too dangerous for musings in public. For now, assume that his lordship the bishop will stay loyal to Despenser and the king, for it is in his interests to remain so. His star has waxedwith the Despenser’s, and Despenser has grown fat on the largesse of the king. Yet there are many who do now question theking’s management, and who detest the overweening arrogance and greed of Despenser. Perhaps this sheriff is one such? I donot know.’

They had reached the Palace Gate, and Baldwin nodded at the porter as they entered the bishop’s precinct again. And I hope I learn to read the signs correctly too, he said to himself.

Exeter Castle

Will was appalled to see how the girl was thrown to the floor. ‘Wait! Don’t hit her! She’s been raped!’

‘Sorry, man, but this little innocent slaughtered another maid from the castle yesterday,’ the coroner said. ‘She’s not assweet as she looks.’

‘I didn’t kill her,’ Jen said. She spat in the direction of Lady Alice. ‘She’s right there!’

‘You killed your own friend, maid!’ Sheriff Matthew stated. ‘You killed Sarra.’

‘Me? I couldn’t have hurt her! She is my best friend.’

‘It was witnessed by many people,’ the coroner said calmly, bending to pick up her knife.

‘She was asleep in my hayloft,’ Will said stupidly. ‘I just thought she’d been attacked and went there to hide.’

‘You did well to bring her here,’ the sheriff said.

There was a note of dismissal in his voice, though, which Will recognised. He nodded sadly, walking to the doorway. Yet hecould not help but turn and give her one last look before leaving. She was so much like the girl his daughter might have grown into, and the thought made him want to weep.

The Bishop’s Palace

‘A good day to you,’ the bishop said as he marched into his main chamber. He peremptorily demanded wine from his waiting steward,and sent him on his way. Rob scuttled after him in a hurry, knowing when it was best to make himself scarce.

‘My lord,’ Simon said hesitantly, ‘you seem a bit vexed this morning. Do you prefer that we leave you for a little, or comeback tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow? Hah! It is all well and good for a bailiff to suggest work on the Sabbath, but for some of us that day is alreadythe busiest in our week. No, Simon, I am not rebuking you — do not look so pained. Tomorrow is the feast day of Saint Catherineof Alexandria, though. I shall officiate at the mass to her honour, although God knows well enough that I could do with aday of rest myself just now. I am too old for all this bickering!’