Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

Baldwin walked to the fire and stood with his back to it. ‘We think that we are coming closer to solving all these matters,’ he said, and explained what they had learned from Gervase and Peter de la Fosse, then what they had been told by Reginald.

‘You think that this Reginald is in league with Jordan le Bolle, then?’ Sir Peregrine asked. He took his seat on a bench. Drinks had been ordered from his bottler already, but the man appeared to have the speed of a hobbled donkey. Still, Sir Peregrine tried to concentrate on Sir Baldwin’s words. The man was a very good investigator, as he had told Juliana.

The mention of her name in the confines of his mind was enough to make him lose the train of thought. She was so lovely, so sweet and kind. The way that she had taken her daughter and cuddled her after that poisonous maid her sister had sulkily stormed from the room, that was the action of a truly loving mother. A lovely sight. And such a contrast with her older sister.

At first he could think of no topics which they could discuss, but then, slowly, they had begun to speak. He had chosen to tell her of the investigation first, their lack of success in finding Estmund, his hopes that he might soon learn where the man was, if he hadn’t fled the city with his guilt so obvious. Then he told her a little about the death of the pander Mick.

She had apparently wanted to hear nothing of death, though. Perhaps it was because the children were there, or maybe because the death of her man in this very house was still too close. It made him wonder whether the two children would be sleeping in her bedroom tonight, and the thought quickly led to another. The idea of her undressing for bed was painfully erotic, and he had to force his mind away from the delightful scene … There was one thing of which he was absolutely convinced: he would not shame this woman by attempting to persuade her into his bed. She was so wonderful, so sweet and kind and lovely, that he could no more think of propositioning her than flying. She was so far above him in every way.

And then, haltingly, she had started to talk. Almost as though he wasn’t in the room, she spoke of her marriage, how her man had won her when many others competed for her affection, how she had reciprocated his interest and finally accepted his offer. They had lived through the misery of the famine, and even when men like Estmund were burying their dead, she and Daniel had prospered. Their wealth had grown as the wills had proliferated, and at the end of that dreadful time they had been moderately well-off, although more recently they had been less fortunate.

She told him of Daniel’s fixed hatred for felons who preyed on the weak and foolish, crimes which were so repellent to him that he sought to destroy those who had committed them, and how he had gradually become morose and uncommunicative. ‘It felt as if I’d lost him. Another man had taken his place.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘It didn’t happen in a flash, and we didn’t lose our love for each other,’ she said. ‘That is the truth, Coroner. I still loved him, you know, and that never changed. It was just that he became so obsessed with these crimes.’

‘Which crimes?’ Sir Peregrine asked, noting the line of her throat as she kissed Cecily.

‘Those caused by a man’s venality or greed. He hated them most of all. When a weaker man was injured by a stronger. That was why he …’

Sir Peregrine scarcely noticed the break in her speech.

‘Henry Adyn was badly hurt by Daniel. I know he hated my husband for that terrible wound, but Daniel thought he was in danger, you see. That was why he bought the cart and a pony for Henry, so that he’d have a means of supporting himself.’

‘He did? That was good of him.’

‘He was a kind man,’ she agreed. Cecily was on her lap, and Juliana put her arms about her shoulders. ‘He had made his mistakes. He knew everyone could.’

‘We all make errors; sometimes they have unexpected consequences,’ he agreed. Then, ‘Is it possible that there is any offence he was investigating that could point to his murderer?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If he was looking into any specific crime, where the man concerned could have taken fright at learning that Daniel was investigating him?’

Juliana looked away. Sir Peregrine saw her close her eyes a moment. When she opened them again, she looked from Cecily to Arthur.

‘There was one man,’ she said.

Baldwin was almost certain that Sir Peregrine had fallen asleep, but when he mentioned the name the Coroner’s head jerked up. ‘Who?’

‘Jordan le Bolle.’

‘That is the man whom Juliana accused tonight,’ Sir Peregrine said. ‘She said Daniel had been trying to gather enough evidence to arrest him for an age.’

Juliana had looked away. ‘He is evil, evil !’ she said, and she drew Cecily to her and hid her face in her neck.

Mazeline was nervous when the harsh banging came on her door. She remained in her seat in the hall when the noise started, echoing about the place, and it was only when she heard a voice demand that the door be opened at once that she stirred herself.

The bottler was already there, and he cast an anxious eye at her as he hovered near the door. ‘Open it,’ she commanded quietly.

‘We want to speak to Jordan le Bolle,’ the first man said.

‘You are the Keeper? I recognize you. These others are?’

‘Sir Peregrine de Barnstaple, the Coroner, and Bailiff Puttock from Dartmouth,’ Baldwin answered. ‘Lady, your husband, where is he?’

‘I do not know,’ she said.

And nor did she care. After Agnes had left, while she tried to hold back her tears, he had stumped about the place, and then stormed out, angrily telling her to cool her temper.

‘A woman should be a delight for her husband, not a muling, whining bitch forever weeping.’

‘Did you love her?’ she had said. In God’s name, she had no idea where that question had come from. It seemed to leap into her mouth without bidding, and she felt her eyes widen in shock even as he spun towards her, his fist clenched under her nose. Mercifully, he didn’t strike.

‘ Love her? No! But she was useful. I wanted to know about Daniel, and she was the source of my information.’

‘You did kill him, didn’t you?’ she whispered.

‘Everyone thinks that,’ he spat, and he put his hands to his head with a grimace. ‘Why does everyone think I did it? I have plenty of men will swear that I was nowhere near the place that night. I wasn’t there! It wasn’t me!’

‘Did you ever love me?’ she asked, in a voice so small she could hardly hear it herself.

‘You?’ His face cleared and lifted and he frowned at her as though surprised to hear her question him on such a matter. ‘We have been happy, haven’t we? We have a lovely daughter, and we’re content with our lives. I find money and food for you, don’t I? What more do you want of me?’

He left soon after that, and if there was satisfaction that for once he had not beaten her, there was a strange, fresh desolation in her heart.

In all those early years she had lived with the man believing that she had been wrong on occasion, and that he had been justified in correcting her when she was. For her, the fact that he loved her was the overriding point. It had made all the suffering, the humiliation and the pain, somehow bearable; to know that in fact she meant nothing to him was appalling. It made a mockery of her whole life as his wife.

Recently, needing companionship and compassion, she had fallen into the affair. It was by no means intentional, her oaths before the altar meant that her soul was endangered already, but when she began to fall in love with poor Reg, it had seemed both natural and inevitable. Both sought escape from the same man … the same terrors. Even then, she had thought that Jordan still loved her, that his beatings and cruelties were proof of his love.