Michael Jecks - The Malice of Unnatural Death

Exeter City

It was only a short walk to Will’s house, and once there, they asked Will to accompany them to where he had found the first bodyagain, away from his wife. She appeared distressed to see Will being taken, but Baldwin was not of a mood to take much noticeof her.

‘I’ve told you all I can, masters,’ Will said when he saw them standing in his doorway.

‘We want a little more.’

With a bad grace the watchman jammed a hat upon his head, took up his staff, and joined them.

‘Do you go the same route every day?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Yes.’

‘It reminds me of a story. A man who had lost his family in a fire. Every day this man walked past his home. Every day herelieved that nightmare. Simon, how would you live with yourself if you had lost Meg’s love and Edith and Perkin in the samenight? It is hard to imagine how any man could cope. But he did. Until one night when he snapped. He was walking past hisruined old house, when what should he see but a man pissing in the ruins. It enraged him. Made him mad with anger, and hedrew his knife and killed the man.’

‘Not pissing. He’d puked. Right there where their bodies had lain.’

He could see that scene again in his mind’s eye as though it was only last night. There was the little line of three bodiesnear the alley itself, all set out neatly, their faces yellow in the glow from the flames as his house burned, and then, asthough there were only moments between the two occasions, he saw Mucheton heaving again, vomiting over them. Except no — theyweren’t there by then. It was some years since they’d died. ‘But I thought he was throwing up over them. I couldn’t bear it. It was right where they’d been. And here he was … Well, he fell back against the wall. I went up there, and peered throughthe slats in the fence, and I could see where he’d done it. So I turned to speak to him and almost fell flat on my face. Hewas right there, passed out. So I … I don’t know why, it was just in my head to do it. I drew my knife and ran it abouthis throat.’

Simon studied the man. He remained still now, his hands gripping the slats of the fence as he stared in at the house wherehe had once been happy. And now all was lost.

‘I have one more question, Will,’ Baldwin said. ‘The man you killed in the undercroft. Why was that?’

‘You think you know so much, don’t you? You know nothing. Michael, his father came from Warwickshire, all right? And Michael is an old friend. When John tried to kill the king, the Sheriff of Warwick was one of the conspirators. So when the whole thing went wrong, he declared that John had died in prison,and freed him. He told John to come here. He thought Exeter should be safe enough for him. And then, of course, he arrivedonly to see the messenger he’d last seen in Coventry. He assumed the man must be here to warn the sheriff and others abouthim.’

‘Which was a concern?’ Simon questioned, thinking about the bishop’s suspicions about Matthew.

‘We didn’t want him to learn about John any more than the bishop.’

‘So you assisted John in killing the king’s messenger?’

‘We saw him with that other man,’ Will said. His voice had grown cold, quieter and more distant, as he stared back at thehouse. ‘I hoped it was his friend. But I didn’t know then … we knocked him out when we took the messenger, and John cutoff his finger to learn what was in the purse and what the man had in his head. We knew that there was something worth knowing- but he wouldn’t admit it. So we had to kill him. John was an expert in that. Throttled him with a little weighted cord,and then hid the body in the garbage heap.’

‘And you found him there,’ Simon said. ‘Why? That must have brought attention to you.’

‘I was sure he was a friend to that assassin. I wanted him to suffer loss as I had. And to make him fear. John said to leavehim concealed, but I would not. Why should I?’

‘This man, the messenger’s friend,’ Baldwin said. ‘How did you know he was the one who had burned your house?’

‘People saw him here about that time.’

‘I see. And who told you?’

‘Michael. He was trying to help me.’

‘Of course he was,’ Baldwin said sarcastically. ‘He was so keen to help you that he destroyed any vestige of peace you couldhave found. So — did John kill the man in the undercroft?’ Baldwin was listening carefully to each word, Simon saw. He didn’tlook at Will’s face or eyes, he was noting every cadence of his voice instead, his eyes picking up on every twitch of Will’shands and feet.

‘Oh, John had nothing to do with that. He left the room for a few moments, and I saw that man going in. I wasn’t planning to killhim, I swear, but as soon as he sidled in, it was obvious he knew what John was attempting. So I followed him in. You knowwhat was ironic? He thought I was only there because I was one of the city watchmen. He opened the door and let me in properlywhen he saw me. So I cut his throat for him.’

‘Just so you could silence him,’ Simon said, but then he understood. ‘No! Because you thought he had set fire to your house!’

‘It was him …’

Baldwin snapped: ‘How do you know that?’

Will waved a hand, but then stated firmly, ‘The messenger — James. He confirmed it. Said the king sent an assassin to Exeterto destroy someone who was creating trouble — me! The king didn’t need that, not when he had just lost battles against the Scots, and had suffered from Bristol’s rebellion. He didn’t want any more trouble from the west. So he sent a man who killedmy children. Well, Keeper, I’ve repaid him.’

Simon and Baldwin exchanged a look. It was Simon who wondered aloud, ‘James the messenger told you that was the man?’

‘No! He denied it, the lying snake! But he couldn’t deny that the man had been here when my children died. I remembered seeinghim just at the time, although then he was wearing the livery of a messenger for the king. It was clear, though. James coulddeny it was him, but who else could it have been? There was no one else in the city at the time. Didn’t matter how much pain John gave him, he wouldn’t change his mind, even though we knew the truth. He could deny that messenger’s part all he wanted but I knew the truth.’

There was no one else in the city at that time who was so plainly a stranger, Baldwin told himself. That was why Newt wasdead. It made him feel a dreadful heaviness of spirit to think that Newt could have been killed for such a reason — becausehe had been remembered in the area at the time of Will’s disaster. And the man who was truly responsible, Walter, had escapedbecause he was unnoticeable. As a spy and assassin should be. His invisibility was his protection — and caused Newt’s murder.

He preferred not to dwell on James’s end. The poor fellow had tried to protect his friend, and his ever more desperate defenceof Newt had only meant his death had been more painful and slower. At least it showed that James was a man of honour.

‘What now, Will?’ Simon asked.

He smiled. ‘You arrest me and I hang. What else is there?’

Baldwin thought of this man’s wife, scarred and maddened. Where was the profit in killing Will too? He shook his head bitterly.‘So you want to die too? What then? No. You go home, Will. There’s been enough death already. But there is one thing I dowant to know. Where are the other models which John made? Do you know?’

‘No. He took them with him when he left the undercroft. I don’t know where he went with them.’

Baldwin nodded, and waved dismissively. ‘Go. There’s nothing to be served by having you punished any further. Go away andtry to have a life again. See if you can’t cease hating, and try to start forgiving.’