Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

She was quiet a long time, then turned her head away and began to weep. ‘No.’

Ralph was not a physician for nothing. He scowled blackly at Baldwin and jerked his head. It took three goes, but then the knight appreciated his meaning and left them, walking slowly away for some steps until he was far enough distant not to disturb the woman. Then he marched away to speak to Sir Peregrine.

‘Come, now, maid. There is a place where you would feel more comfortable, isn’t there? Is it a place you could go and rest with propriety?’

She said nothing, but after a moment or two shook her head.

‘In that case, do you care about the propriety? Would you like me to find out whether there might be somewhere for you to stay there anyway?’

This time she slowly turned to face him, and told him.

‘I could ask,’ he mused, ‘but I do not wish to leave you here alone …’

Sir Peregrine was happiest ordering men as though in preparation for battle, and it was not until Sir Baldwin appeared at his side that he realized that this was actually the Keeper’s duty. Still, Sir Baldwin smiled at him and indicated that his shoulder was still painful.

He would have this bastard caught by nightfall, the Coroner swore to himself. Jordan was wholly evil, and had to be stopped.

Baldwin was frowning. ‘Sir Peregrine, would you mind if I left you here? I feel a little too tired to continue walking the streets searching for this man.’

‘Of course, Sir Baldwin. Please rest. I hope you’ll soon feel much recovered.’

‘I am sure that I shall,’ Baldwin said.

He walked from the house and set off along the street towards the high street. Here he paused, considering, but his feet soon took him off westwards towards St Nicholas’s Priory. Within a hundred yards, he heard the footsteps behind him. ‘So I can’t sidle away that easily?’

Simon laughed. ‘No. As you know full well, I wish always to be with you at the end of an investigation. And just now we need to know what has been happening with this partnership.’

They walked on past the fleshfold, where the butchers were carving up the carcasses, and on down to the alley in which Daniel had lived.

‘They won’t welcome us,’ Simon observed.

‘Very possibly true,’ Baldwin agreed. He sighed. ‘Simon, this matter is simply a case of hunting down that man. He is a lunatic, surely. What in God’s name could have made him grow to want to inflict so much pain?’

‘You know more about men like that than I do,’ Simon said. ‘You must have seen men behave barbarously.’

‘It is one thing for a knight to charge a man and cut off his head in battle, another to torture a woman. This man must be quite insane.’

‘What do you want here?’ Simon asked as they stood outside the house waiting for the door to open.

‘I feel sure that there is more to learn here. I don’t know what, though,’ Baldwin admitted as the door opened. He led the way inside and soon the two were standing before Juliana.

‘Sir Baldwin, Bailiff — how may I serve you?’ she asked.

There was no coldness in her voice, Baldwin noted, just a sadness that seemed unappeasable. And a little fear. ‘Lady, the man Jordan is suspected as the murderer of several people recently — perhaps including your husband. Would that surprise you?’

She closed her eyes a moment. ‘He threatened us.’

‘Pardon?’

‘He told my husband that he would kill us all if Daniel didn’t stop looking into his affairs.’

‘He said that?’ Simon asked. ‘Just because your man was growing too close to him?’

‘I think so. He hated to be thwarted; Jordan has always been a greedy man. He can never possess enough riches, but always has to seek more.’

‘He did threaten you and your children directly?’ Baldwin pressed.

‘Yes. He warned Daniel, and Daniel told me. How did you guess?’

‘It was the matter of Estmund. Everyone was used to him entering, and no one seemed worried about his visits.’

‘Why should we be? We all knew poor Est.’

‘Quite, but you told us your husband would go downstairs with a sword in his hand. That doesn’t sound like a man who was at ease with Est’s visits. Unless there was another man, of course.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘How logical.’

‘But your husband’s murderer has so far escaped justice.’

‘Yes. I hope you can catch Jordan soon,’ she said, and began to weep once more.

Reginald had not enjoyed a restful evening. The thought that Jordan wanted him to murder the sisters — ‘and the children, don’t forget them, Reg’ — had left him feeling sick. This was infinitely worse than anything he had known before. The idea that he should murder those two women for no purpose was ridiculous, but he saw no means of escape. He could twist and turn, but he was hooked. The man had paid him for murdering Daniel, and Daniel was dead. Now he would have these women murdered, and because he was convinced that Reg had murdered Daniel, he saw no reason to suppose that Reg would fail him in this either.

And if Reg were to refuse, Jordan could announce to the world that Reg was Daniel’s murderer. He would stop at nothing to get his way, after all.

At the knock on his door, he felt his spirit quail. There were only two people who knew of that doorway, and he was tempted to ignore the summons at first, but then he stood resignedly and unlocked it, half expecting the blow as he pulled the door wide.

‘Mazeline!’

Estmund finished butchering the pig’s carcass and left the fleshfold as the light was fading.

It was better. His anxiety was all but passed. He had needed to stand there with his knife in his hand, just as he had for these last years past, every day he could, making use of the skills he possessed. He had few enough skills, after all. And at least here in the fleshfold he could help others. There was a pride in making the right incision, finding the bones hidden under the flesh, and twisting the blade so to move a ball from its socket without damaging the outer appearance of the meat. He was talented with a knife, he knew, but today the excitement was not there for him.

He washed his hands in a trough. Many butchers saw him, and many nodded. They all knew that he was wanted for supposedly murdering Daniel, but none of them had ever believed he could have done something like that. No, much more likely that it was Jordan le Bolle. Everybody said so, and so they had left Est alone. He had lived out at the Duryard for long enough. He couldn’t stay there another night. So he had come back, here, to the only life he had ever known.

But there was still that sad, unwholesome feeling that he had so dreadfully betrayed her. The little girl.

She had been born only a short time after his own little girl. Looked much the same when they were born, the pair of them. If his little Cissy had grown instead of dying all those years ago, perhaps she would look like this one? So pretty, so vivacious, so sweet and innocent when asleep in her bed. So beautiful, so perfect.

He ate a hunk of bread with a jug of ale in the yard behind the Black Hog. The publican there had never thought he could have had anything to do with the murder either. People here were so kind to him. They always had been.

After his meal, the sun was sinking low as he walked back to his little house. He was taken by the sight of a man walking towards him, and he wondered for a moment who it might be. He certainly looked familiar.

Jordan had been right. Since everyone had been told that Estmund was the murderer, and Estmund had fled the city, his house was the safest place in the city for a man who needed a little space to hide himself.

Rested and refreshed, he left the place as darkness fell, and stood in the street a moment or two savouring the air. There was the sweet tang of burning applewood on the air from someone’s fire, and the odours of cooking. Pottages and frying meats wafted on the breeze, and he was suddenly aware how hungry he was. Reg would have some food for him.