Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

This last was said with a particular fervour, and Baldwin smiled. ‘You are not enjoying a peaceful time just now?’

‘Just now? Just now , you say? Sir Baldwin, I am hedged in upon all sides. There is the master mason who looks daggers at me because I refusedto agree to order thirty cartloads of marble when he admitted to me that he should only need twenty-three. My labourers areall complaining that there is not enough light for them to work, and, of course, they won’t do a thing when it rains! My… but I can see that you are not very interested in the affairs of a bishop with the rebuilding of his church. At least I have my throne made and ready. It fits me perfectly. And a good thing too.’

Baldwin smiled, but politely did not mention the reason why the Bishop had demanded so extravagant a seat. Some assumed it was onlyto make sure that the bishop went one better than his peers, but in reality it was in order that he should be as comfortableas possible. He was a prey to haemorrhoids.

‘So! You are here to bring me more news? What can you tell me?’

‘Little enough,’ Baldwin said. ‘There was another murder last afternoon, when an innocent man was killed. We assume that hehad surprised the assassin, and had his throat cut for his pains.’

‘Who was this? Anyone of importance?’

‘I do not think so … although his past appears to be rather a mystery,’ Baldwin admitted.

Simon knew that the bishop knew many in the city. ‘His name was Walter, my lord. Walter of Hanlegh. He came here recently,so we understand.’

‘I know of him, yes,’ the bishop said. ‘Hmm. He was a worthy man in the king’s service. I knew him before …’

‘Is it true that he was an assassin?’ Baldwin asked bluntly.

‘Yes. He was one of those who in past times would remove obstacles to maintaining the king’s peace. If a man sought to upsetthe king’s equanimity, this Walter might sometimes be sent to chastise him. And occasionally, I fear, simple words were notenough.’

‘We have spoken to Robinet, who was once a messenger like James, and who appears to hold the same regard for Walter.’

‘Sir Baldwin, do not judge the man entirely by your own code of chivalry. In God’s name, I can swear that there are many dangerous men in the realm who would do the king harm if they but had the opportunity. Walter saved the king, very likely,and possibly that could have impacted on your life too.’

‘He worked down here, then?’ Simon asked.

‘I recall hearing that he was here once at the outset of the famine, and because of his efforts the city was saved from disaster.’

‘I wonder what led him to try to arrest the magician,’ Simon said. ‘A fellow like him should have overwhelmed a poxed oldman like this fellow. Perhaps he was lured into a trap intentionally.’

‘We may never know. Let us only pray that no more men need die and that you soon find the stolen message.’

‘We shall if we may. If God wills it,’ Baldwin said irreverently. ‘Have you had a demand for money?’

‘No. I should have told you if there had been any such thing.’

Baldwin frowned, but it was Simon who voiced his thoughts. ‘In that case, I really wonder whether there has been some sortof error. The pouch was still with the messenger, wasn’t it? Were there other messages in it?’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘This was the only one we know of that was missing.’

‘Was it the only written message you confided to him?’ Simon asked.

‘Yes,’ the bishop said, with a sidelong look at Baldwin.

‘Then if it was so important that it alone was taken from the pouch, I do not understand why someone has not yet asked youfor money to return it. It makes little sense.’

‘It was important — but perhaps the thief did not recognise its value.’

‘Then why take it? Why not cast it away and find another message more interesting to him?’

‘Who can say?’ the bishop said uncomfortably.

Baldwin enjoyed his discomfiture. There were two messages in James’s safekeeping: the one about the trustworthiness of thesheriff, if his guess and Rob’s information were correct, and another that proposed further persecution of the queen. Eitherof them could have caused great pain to others. If he was wrong, the sheriff could have been condemned without the opportunityto defend himself; his suggestion that the queen should be made to suffer still more indignities and humiliation was unchivalrousin the extreme.

Baldwin said, ‘I told you when you first asked me to help that it would be a difficult task. I do not know whether the messagestill exists or has been destroyed, whether it is in the city or has been spirited away … nothing! For me to find it, I shall need a miracle of some sort. But we will stretch every sinew to rescue it if we may.’

The bishop’s wine arrived, and he smiled wearily. ‘I thank you for that at least.’

‘Shall we come here again tomorrow to report what fortune we have enjoyed?’

‘No. Tomorrow you must attend the mass. It will be a beautiful service, and with the work you have undertaken, you need yourday of rest. Perhaps we can meet afterwards to discuss matters of lesser importance?’

Exeter City

The man who had murdered his friend was gone, but he could find out where with some luck. He was back in the house as soon ashe realised what the magician had been attempting. Squatting in front of Michael, he eyed the bloody mess of cloth wrappedabout his hand. ‘You should learn to talk more quickly.’

‘Please — I don’t know how to help you. You must believe me!’

‘Ah, but I don’t.’

‘I cannot tell you anything more.’

The girl had returned. She held a large bowl of warmed water from the copper, and she stood in the doorway with a terrifiedlook on her face.

Michael shook his head at her. ‘Go! It’s not safe for you here!’

‘Oh no, I think she ought to see to your wounds,’ Robinet said with a flash of his teeth. He had the knife in his hand againnow. Against the wall, he saw one of the fingers, and he picked it up and studied it. There was a crash, and when he glancedround the girl had fainted again. ‘You should get her viewed by a physician. She seems too phlegmatic for words. Now — youwere going to tell me where he’s gone.’

Michael looked up into the man’s eyes and saw nothing there but a cold intensity that spoke of his determination. ‘I don’t know anything,master.’

‘You can do better than that. You will have to.’

‘Master, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!’ Michael pleaded.

‘A man with no fingers is a sad sight. You know that?’

Michael withdrew his hand as his torturer reached for it.

‘Now, naughty. If you don’t help me, I may get angry, and look to something other than your finger. Do you want that?’

‘Please! I don’t know anything.’

‘The only thing that looks worse than a man with hands but no fingers is probably a man with no fingers and no eyes.’ He wasspeaking ruminatively, with a pensive expression that sent ice into Michael’s blood. Gently, he reached for Michael’s bleedinghand, and took it, pulling the linen away as he did so. ‘Ah, good, clean cuts. I thought that knife was good and sharp. Now- you’ve lost those two already. What is it to be next? The thumb or the next finger? What? Not sure? Shall I decide for you?’

‘The bishop! He’s going to kill the bishop, God save me!’ Michael burst out, pulling his hand away and weeping.

‘Enough!’

Michael was close to puking. The interruption gave him the moment’s respite he needed. He turned his head and retched emptily. There was nothing more to come.