Michael Jecks - The Chapel of Bones

‘What of the second killing?’ Sir Peregrine asked.

‘The case of the Friar, I confess, is strange. We think he died in the crypt,’ Baldwin said and explained his reasoning about the movement of the body.

‘That must mean that the body was moved to make it more conspicuous,’ Sir Peregrine said. ‘After all, it would be safer not to move the friar when he was dead. Why run the risk of being caught in the act unless there was good reason? And what was Thomas’s motive to kill Henry?’

‘I do not know. My suspicion is, like yours, founded solely on the man’s sudden disappearance. Why kill the friar? Perhaps because Nicholas saw him kill Henry. And as for Henry — I cannot tell why that should have happened, unless there was a longstanding feud between them.’

‘What of the mason Saul?’ Simon asked.

Baldwin shook his head. ‘I can only assume that he was another man who knew Thomas.’

‘You mean that Saul recognised him from the past and threatened to disclose his identity?’ Sir Peregrine demanded.

‘I suppose so,’ Baldwin said. ‘Thomas may have feared the disclosure of his part in the murder of the Chaunter.’ He frowned. ‘Although dropping a stone on Saul’s head would be an unorthodox method of murder.’

‘But effective,’ Sir Peregrine said.

‘More lucky than effective, if he meant to murder,’ Baldwin commented.

Simon was still considering the motive. ‘Why would this Thomas suddenly fear recognition? The mason Saul was not a local man — so how could he have recognised Thomas? And Henry Saddler was an accomplice of his, so why should Thomas kill him? As for the friar — well, I suppose he could have seemed a threat, but what if we were right and Nicholas was himself one of the assassins? We thought he might have been in on the plot, didn’t we? What could have made him so uniquely dangerous to Thomas? Also, surely the saddler himself, or the joiner, or even the corrodian, would have the same motivation? I do not understand why Thomas should have decided to enter this killing spree.’

‘We may not understand until we have him in our hands and can question him,’ Sir Peregrine said.

A short while later, Baldwin and Simon decided to leave. As Baldwin said, they would need their sleep that night, if they were to rise early to help a posse seek the missing mason.

As they walked along the road, Simon threw Baldwin a look. ‘Were you persuaded by his protestations?’

Baldwin smiled. ‘Am I so transparent, Simon?’

‘Only to one who knows you, Baldwin!’

They were only a few scant yards from their own inn when they heard the scampering of feet, and Baldwin’s hand went to his sword.

‘Easy, old friend, it’s only a lad,’ Simon said.

‘It is the sound of running steps; they always raise my hackles,’ Baldwin admitted. It was not only the noise and the reminder that even here in Exeter there were footpads, it was the dislocation he still felt — the feeling that he was farther apart from his wife than ever — and the curious menace he had sensed at the Charnel Chapel.

The boy hurried past them and went into their inn. There was a sudden calming of the noise of talking and laughter, and in it, they heard the boy calling for the Keeper of the King’s Peace.

Baldwin glanced at Simon, then pushed his way inside. ‘I am Sir Baldwin,’ he said. ‘I am the Keeper of the King’s Peace. What do you want, boy?’

‘It’s the man who killed my father — he’s tried to rob us, and we need someone to come and take him,’ Dan said, trying not to cry.

Udo had not enjoyed the talk with the Keeper of the King’s Peace and his companion. He was not used to such treatment from strangers, and the thought that the men could have been so suspicious of him was worrying. As an outsider, he knew full well the risks he took in remaining here in a foreign country. If there was to be guilt attached to any man, the population would rather pick a stranger than a local man.

He could ride that storm, he hoped, but what about the assertion that someone had heard Henry rejecting Udo’s offer of marriage? If that should get back to Julia, there could be only one course for her to take, which was to obey his last dying wish, surely? Udo must not let her learn of her father’s words.

So he had the two problems now: the matter of his own guilt being decided by his neighbours in preference to their selecting someone from among their own, and the fact that Julia might discover that her father had set his face against her marriage to Udo.

And the two men, the Keeper and his Bailiff, were the interfering cretins who had exposed him to these problems. He could grow to dislike them both.

Thomas came to with his head feeling as if someone had dropped a mallet on it from the top of his own scaffolding. As soon as he had opened his eyes he had to snap them shut. The light was too bright.

Where the devil was he? Then he realised: he was still in Sara’s house. He was sitting with his back up against one of the two posts in the middle of the floor. The light came from a small tallow candle that smoked repellently over his left shoulder. His legs seemed to have gone to sleep, and he knew that he must move them. He had to get up and run from this place. Whoever had hit him could return at any time.

He tried to lift a hand to shield his face from the deadly beam of the candle, but his hand was stuck behind him. When he jerked his wrist, he felt the pain simultaneously in his palm as well as the wrist, and it was so sharp, it was like pulling against a razor. Giving a cry of pain, he started to topple to one side. To break his fall, he threw his other hand out, only to find that that too was securely bound. Cursing and sobbing, he slid to the side, his arms slowing his painful descent, until his head struck the packed earth of the floor, and he could lie there with the pain throbbing in both wrists, his heart pounding with fear and a feeling of sickness.

‘You wait there,’ came a harsh and unsympathetic voice. ‘You try and rob a poor widow, you deserve all you get.’

‘I haven’t tried to rob anyone,’ he protested, squirming to see who was talking. Peering over his shoulder, he saw that it was the woman, Jen, who had taken his wine on that first day when he brought news of Saul’s death. ‘Woman, why have you done this? I’ve never robbed anyone in my life!’

‘You robbed this family of their father and husband. I’d say that was robbery,’ she said equably. ‘’Tis a shame, too. You bought good wine,’ she added, smacking her lips.

‘Can I have a drink of something? My throat is parched.’

‘Be glad you’ve got one. The boy would have cut it as soon as look at you. You’re lucky I saved you and only sent him for the crowner.’

‘The crowner?’ he repeated dully. If the Coroner was on his way, there was little point in struggling. He was dead already — just like his father. He too would die on the scaffold and be displayed at the Southern Gate. Not for his own crimes, but like his father, for those of other men. ‘Come on, maid, it can’t hurt anyone to let me have a mouthful of water, can it? I’m dying of thirst here.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have come here to take her money, should you?’

‘I didn’t! I left her my money to try to help her!’

‘I found you in here and clobbered your head with a stick, so don’t lie to me,’ she snapped.

‘I’d taken the pennies from my purse to give to her,’ he said with resignation, knowing she wouldn’t believe him. ‘I felt guilty about her man’s death, and I wanted to give her something to help her get by. I was going to leave the city and find somewhere else to work.’