Michael Jecks - The Tolls of Death

Sue arrived with wine and a pot of ale for Alexander, who sat glowering darkly as the others spoke.

‘I have been long in my master’s service,’ Warin said.

‘He is Sir Henry?’

‘Of Cardinham, yes. I am his son. I am here to look over the castle with a view to making it secure. When I am done, it may defy any siege.’

‘I did not appreciate you were Sir Henry’s son,’ Sir Jules said. ‘I’d thought you were a mere squire.’

‘Thank you,’ Warin said, but there was no amusement in his voice or on his face.

‘Nicholas did not tell me you were his master’s son,’ Jules said in a rather sulky tone. ‘I’d have thought he could have introduced us.’

‘He was ordered to keep my position secret,’ Warin said. ‘I’m here to assess the security of this place without great fanfare.’

‘So the people at the castle did not recognise you?’ Baldwin asked.

‘I was sent to Sir Reginald of Goddestoun’s household to learn my duties when I was seven years old,’ Warin said. ‘That was long before most of the men came to my father’s manor.’

‘You arrived a little before Athelina’s death,’ Baldwin noted.

‘Yes. It is very sad,’ Warin said with a notable lack of feeling. Richer bowed his head.

‘You do not sound particularly regretful,’ Baldwin said.

‘Should I? I regret the loss of so many of my father’s villeins. Some are valued, such as Alexander’s brother, Serlo. To lose a good miller is a matter of concern. It will be difficult to replace him in a hurry, and we have grain to be milled.’

‘I miss him because he was my brother,’ Alexander burst out.

Iwan sniffed loudly, hawked and spat. ‘Not everyone knew him so well as you, Alex.’

‘Not many wanted to!’

‘What sort of man was he?’ Baldwin asked.

‘A strong, powerful fellow. He had the muscles of a Goliath …’

‘And the brain of a midge,’ Iwan added.

Alexander stared at him. ‘You insult the dead?’

‘Alex, I insulted him alive — why change my habits?’ Iwan asked.

‘We’ve heard that he might have had enemies, Alexander. Can you think of any who would be bold enough to kill him?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Only one,’ Alexander said.

‘Speak!’

It was a relief. At last he could unburden himself of the story he had just worked out. ‘The way he died. It’s unnatural, to murder and then shove his head into a mill. I think that was a message. It was the killer showing that he killed justifiably, not murdering. This was retaliation.’

‘For what?’

‘Killing the apprentice.’

‘We know all about that,’ Sir Jules said. ‘The apprentice slipped and fell into the machine.’

‘But rumours persisted that the boy might have been pushed,’ Alexander said.

‘Why would Serlo do that to the lad?’ Baldwin asked, adding sarcastically, ‘To save the cost of a meal?’

It was Iwan who responded. ‘No, Sir Knight, it was to get back at the man he thought was making his life difficult: the man whose taxes were striking so deeply into his pocket.’

Baldwin was interested now. ‘Who do you mean?’

Iwan sighed. ‘You asked me about the father of the lad. Well, perhaps you should be told. I can say so while Warin is here, because ’tis something his father should know. The dead apprentice? Most reckon he was son to Gervase, the castle’s steward. Gervase’s been here a long while, and he’s had his fun with many of the women, so ’tis said.’

‘Baldwin, did you hear that?’ Sir Jules said. ‘It was Gervase’s boy, this apprentice Dan. Surely that means that Gervase had reason to want to see the instigator of his son’s death die in just such a painful manner — and not only that, he also had good reason to want to punish Serlo for his behaviour in taking tolls. This was simply a means of getting revenge, after all.’

‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin mused, staring keenly at Iwan. ‘But why did you not tell us this earlier when we asked you? All you said then was that the boy was the son of a rich man. Is Gervase rich?’

It was Warin who responded. ‘Wealthy enough, Sir Knight. He controls much of the business of the manor, and that makes him rich beyond the wildest dreams of many villagers in Cornwall. He sleeps on a mattress on a bed each night, he has a fresh tunic and shirts and robe each year from my father. Yes, I’d say he was very well off.’

‘What would you say, Iwan?’ Baldwin pressed. His eyes hadn’t left the smith’s wrinkled face. The old man stared back at him without apparent fear, but there was something in those eyes, some wariness, like a dog who sees a haunch of fresh meat held out, but wonders whether there’s a stick concealed nearby to thrash it, should it approach too close.

‘I’d say that the father of that boy is responsible for Serlo’s death.’

‘It’s obvious!’ Alexander burst out. ‘Look, my brother is dead, and Iwan’s just confirmed who the killer must have been! Let’s go and-’

‘No!’ Baldwin said, and although his voice wasn’t raised, it cut Alexander short like a whip. ‘There will be no more deaths here which are not sanctioned by the law. If a man is to be accused, he’ll stand before you and declare his guilt or innocence, and he’ll have his opportunity to call witnesses for his defence, just as you’ll have a chance to call your own for the prosecution.’

Baldwin spoke firmly, but he tried to show compassion. It was no surprise that Alexander wanted his brother avenged: the two had been inseparable and now that his younger brother, the brother whom he had always sought to protect, was dead, Alexander’s life, Baldwin thought, was all but over. He couldn’t keep still. Even as Baldwin watched, his fingers were twitching, as though they had minds of their own and wanted to grasp Gervase’s throat and squeeze tightly. The man was twisted like a cable under tension, by his desire to see revenge wrought on his brother’s killer.

‘Come,’ Baldwin added more gently. ‘Better by far that we find the man responsible and make him pay the full penalty. You don’t want the killer to escape, do you?’

‘I want his head for what he did to Serlo.’

‘We understand that,’ Sir Jules said. ‘We’ll see to it.’

‘I want to see him punished! If you don’t take him now, he might escape! What then? The Hue and Cry rarely fetches back a man who escapes into Devon or beyond. What would you do, leave him to run free?’

Baldwin spoke firmly again. ‘Alexander, trust us. We shall find your brother’s killer and bring him to justice.’

‘Justice? Whose justice will that be? Give him to me and let me shove his head into the machinery until his eyes pop. That would be justice ! But you won’t let me, will you? My kid brother is going to go unavenged. He’s only a villein, isn’t he? Not a rich servant to a knight,’ Alexander sneered, and he stood and lurched from the room, more than a little drunk, and very peevish.

‘I can understand his feelings,’ Warin said. ‘I have a younger brother. If someone were to harm him, I would let nothing stand in my way. I would personally punish the man and ensure that he felt that his end lasted a lifetime.’

‘But that is not what will happen here while the good Coroner and I are investigating the murder,’ Baldwin said with acid in his tone.

He was about to say more when Roger entered, panting slightly, his face flushed from the exertion of running. ‘Coroner, I think you should come.’

Pausing, he took in the faces staring at him expectantly, and felt a small surge of pride to be the centre of attention for once. ‘Master,’ he continued with a certain hauteur, ‘the priest has just tried to murder me.’