Michael Jecks - The Tolls of Death

Adam was with her, and he had a hand set upon her shoulder in much the way that a brother would. It was good, Roger thought, to see a priest who apparently believed in the vows of chastity. This man did not look the sort who, in other circumstances, might allow his hand to fall and fondle her thigh or buttocks. If anything, there was a hint of distaste in his face — but Muriel was not looking her best. Although she wore a clean dressing about her head, she appeared pale and unkempt. Today of all days she had taken no care with her looks, and no surprise. The poor woman was, as Roger had predicted, all but beside herself with grief.

Seeing Sir Jules, Aumery snivelled and grabbed hold of his mother’s skirts, as though he expected the knight to whip him like a cur from his path. The knight was an intimidating figure, without doubt, and as a lad even Roger would have been alarmed by such a tall, stern-faced man marching up to him. In Aumery’s case, the appearance of dread was increased by his silence. Tears ran down his face from his wide eyes, but he made no noise, as though so much pain had been piled on his shoulders that even death itself held little fear for him.

His mother looked up on feeling her son tug at her skirt, and followed his gaze. She stared at Sir Jules unblinking.

‘Good woman, I have to ask you about your husband. Do you know who killed him?’

Roger flinched at the sound of his voice. Usually Sir Jules was nervous in front of a crowd, but here, in among the women and children, he sounded like the worst chivalric bully. It little mattered that he felt deeply for Muriel, that he hated being here, that he loathed having to intrude on her grief: he felt it was his duty to demand answers, and so he would ask his questions.

‘You come here to hector me?’ Muriel asked hoarsely. ‘Leave me to my poor angel! He can’t be dead! He may wake yet. Look at him — he looks well enough. Perhaps he’s only sleeping.’ There was a panicked tone to her voice, as though she knew already that all hope was vain, but still she refused to admit defeat.

‘Your husband was not liked. Most men here hated him. Do you know which could have killed him?’ the Coroner pressed on, his left fist clenched about his sword-hilt as though it was the only thing that kept him upright.

‘I know of no one who could have done this to us.’ Muriel began to weep. ‘No one could want to widow me. What have I done to be punished like this? All my life I’ve tried to be good. I’ve struggled to be a worthy daughter, then wife, then mother, and now all is taken from me!’

‘Woman, the Church will protect you,’ Adam said soothingly, patting her shoulder while glowering malevolently towards Sir Jules.

‘Protect me how? If there’s no food, I’ll starve, and so will Aumery. Poor boy!’

Roger saw how Aumery clutched his mother’s tunic, his eyes still fixed upon Sir Jules. There was terror in his face, the terror of incomprehension, of confusion. His mother was in such a lunatic, frenzied state, his father was gone, and his brother dead too. All in a few short hours.

‘Sir Jules,’ Roger whispered. ‘We can do no good here.’

‘Can you think of no one, woman? No one who could have done this to your husband?’ Sir Jules pressed relentlessly.

She sobbed into her forearms. ‘I know no one! No one!’

Aumery didn’t quite understand what was happening. Father was dead, like the hog last year. That had died too. But Aumery wasn’t sure what death was. Father had simply stopped being Father. He lay there like Father, but with his face blood-encrusted, and without the movement that made him Father. No noise, no breath. It was odd, and only scary when he thought about it. Hamelin was the same, all flat and breathless like a little doll.

Somehow Aumery was sure that it was this tall, intimidating man asking questions that so upset Mother. He was nasty; he was scaring Mummy, just like Daddy used to scare Aumery. Remembering that, Aumery felt a little quiver in his tummy. It wasn’t nice to remember that. Daddy had told him never to mention it again. He said not while he lived. But Daddy didn’t live. Rebellious and half-fearful, Aumery steeled himself, and then he glanced at his father’s corpse before muttering his daddy’s words like a spell.

Sir Jules saw the movement as Adam’s head snapped around. ‘What was that?’

‘Nothing. He’s confused. What can you expect when the boy’s treated in this way while his brother and father lie dead before him?’ Adam said scathingly.

‘What did he say? Boy, what was that?’

Aumery swallowed, but the eyes of the Coroner were strangely intense and he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘It was the castellan. The castellan. Because Father said, “If he learned that another man knew his wife, he’d kill the man”,’ Aumery said defiantly.

Muriel sobbed into her hands now. Sir Jules looked to her, and waited, and after a little while she looked up at him brokenly. ‘It’s true: Athelina saw them, Lady Anne and Gervase, in the meadow while the castellan was away. My husband believed Nicholas would kill anyone who spoke of it.’

‘Christ Jesus!’ Sir Jules breathed.

Alexander gingerly touched his throat. ‘You could’ve killed me,’ he croaked sulkily.

‘And you could have caused the death of your master’s son,’ Iwan said easily. ‘Better bruises than a hempen rope. It gives terrible skin-burn.’

‘I had nothing to do with your brother’s death,’ Richer said wearily. ‘I was suffering from a migraine when I left here. Yes, I realised that he had said something about my family, but he didn’t actually say he had killed them. He was taunting me.’

‘So you saw little need for revenge,’ Iwan nodded.

‘That’s right.’

Iwan allowed his gaze to drift over the men who still stood about them. No weapons were visible, but the old smith wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t reappear as soon as his back was turned. ‘I was there at the harvest the year Richer’s family died,’ he told them all. ‘The older folks like me were making sure none of the children grew so drunk they’d hurt themselves. I was up there, and I saw Serlo coming to join the rest of us. It was him gave the alarm, told us all there was a fire. When he shouted, I looked back, and there were the flames. God’s holy pain, I could see them. Terrible, red flames through the trees, some appearing above the trees. I saw them, and that means Serlo could have been there; he could have fired the place.’

‘You knew that and didn’t say anything?’ Richer demanded harshly.

‘Easy, boy!’ Iwan said sharply. ‘I saw Serlo had appeared late, I saw him call the alarm and I saw flames. I didn’t see him with a burning brand in his hand, nor did I see him throw a torch through your window. Maybe he simply saw the flames and ran to fetch us to help quench them.’

‘Serlo was no murderer,’ Alexander said, sniffing, his head hanging.

‘So apologise to this lad, for suggesting he was,’ Iwan said curtly.

‘I don’t know he didn’t.’

‘You don’t know he did !’ Iwan stated.

Alexander averted his head like a man who had been slapped. For a while he could say nothing. Then he gave a short nod of acquiescence.

‘That’s good,’ Iwan said. ‘Sue? Bring ale to celebrate this peace! The castle will pay, I reckon.’

Warin saw the shrewd old eye fixing upon him and gave a grunt partly of approval, partly of admiration. ‘I think my father would be happy indeed to pay.’

‘Thank you, master. I’m sure he will,’ Iwan said as he held up his large pot for Sue to refill.

‘So who else could it have been?’ Alexander demanded quietly as men laughed off their tension and washed away their anger in good ale.