Bernard Knight - The Tinner's corpse

Inside, John was contemplating leaving his hearth for a lonely drink in his new haunt, the Golden Hind, when Mary put her head around the door screens. ‘I’ve got two battered knaves in my kitchen, saying they want to talk to you.’

The coroner followed her into the vestibule, then down the covered passage to his backyard, where he found his clerk and his officer sitting by Mary’s cooking fire, eating hot wafers. Brutus was crouched adoringly at Gwyn’s feet, having his ears scratched by the dog-loving giant. They jumped to their feet, but de Wolfe waved them down as he joined them on a stool and took a pot of new ale from Mary, who wandered off across the yard to another shed where she did the washing, ignoring conventions about working on the Sabbath.

After enquiring about their various cuts and bruises, John was reassured that both men were recovering well. He was particularly glad to see that Thomas remained cheerful — he even had an air of expectant optimism, as if his recent ‘miracle’ was soon going to blossom into good news. But now he had other news to report, and proudly disclosed the results of today’s spying in the cathedral precinct.

‘After Compline, there was a short mass to celebrate St Botolph, and afterwards some of the vicars and secondaries adjourned to the refectory for sweetmeats and a glass of wine. I managed to get myself invited to both functions,’ he added evasively, leaving the others to wonder how he continually managed to insinuate himself into the ecclesiastical life of Exeter, especially within a day of attempting suicide.

‘Get to the point, midget,’ rumbled Gwyn placidly.

‘Well, one of the visiting guests was the Chagford priest — that fat fellow we saw at the inquest. After a few cups of Anjou red wine, he began telling us of a meeting he attended this morning at a lawyer’s office in Goldsmith Street.’

Thomas then related, fairly accurately as it later turned out, the provisions of Walter Knapman’s will and the reactions of those assembled to hear it. ‘The priest was delighted with the bequest to his church, which will see him secure for a long time — but he described with ungodly glee the reactions of some of the other beneficiaries.’

De Wolfe was intrigued by the account, and Thomas became almost euphoric at the curt praise his master bestowed on him for bringing such useful intelligence.

‘So the inscrutable Widow Joan is not as virginal as she looks, eh,’ chortled Gwyn.

‘That’s what the rest of the family want proven,’ replied Thomas waspishly. ‘According to Smithson, there was the devil of an outburst from Matthew and Peter when she claimed to be with child — and an equally loud condemnation of their doubts from Joan’s brother and mother!’

‘So what happened then?’ demanded de Wolfe.

‘Matthew, with Peter, who are both set to lose about two-thirds of what they would have had if she had failed to produce an heir for Walter, voiced their doubts as to who might be the father. They insinuated that Stephen Acland was more likely to have sired the pup. That provoked much shouting and abuse from the widow’s relatives, but the priest said that Joan herself just sat with that faint smile of hers on her pretty face.’

De Wolfe rubbed his itching cheeks — he had missed his Saturday shave the day before and had had to scrape off a budding beard that very morning. ‘Then what happened?’ he persisted.

‘It seems the old lawyer, Robert Courteman, stuck his own finger in the pie. Obviously he has an interest in the matter beyond his legal obligations, as his own daughter’s fortune would be affected by how much Peter gets from his stepfather’s estate. He claimed that the terms of the testament can only be fulfilled when it is proven that Walter’s wife is indeed with child.’

Gwyn cackled coarsely. ‘Does he intend proving it personally?’

Thomas gave him a prim look of disapproval. ‘He said he could not approve the bequests until the pregnancy had been confirmed by someone of repute.’

‘He only has to wait a month or two for it to be obvious to everyone,’ grunted the Cornishman, but Thomas ignored him.

‘The lawyer insisted that the widow be examined by a woman wise in these matters — and the obvious choice is our Dame Madge from St Katherine’s in Polsloe.’

John recalled the formidable nun from the small priory a mile or so north of the city. She was skilled in all matters relating to women’s ailments and the problems of childbirth. He had had reason to be grateful for her services before, when she had helped him investigate a fatal miscarriage and a rape. ‘So the fair Joan is to be put to the test,’ he mused. ‘But does this help us to put a finger on who is the most likely candidate for Walter’s murder?’

The little clerk had one more titbit of news. ‘The priest said that there was something unspoken going on between the lawyers and Peter Jordan. The young man several times challenged the testament as not being the one he knew about. The old lawyer shouted him down, but Smithson had the impression that Peter was covertly accusing Philip, the younger Courteman, of misleading him.’

De Wolfe gave one of his grunts. ‘I don’t know that that tells us anything. But an expectation of what was in the will might be a motive for killing, I suppose.

‘Walter had been married five months — he was certainly likely to change his will after marrying again. But did he know that Joan was with child when he made this last one?’

‘If she’s three months gone, she herself would know, even though she wasn’t showing yet,’ said Gwyn. ‘But if Acland was the father, she may have kept it from Walter — but not otherwise, surely.’

‘The will was dated earlier this month, which was why Jordan seemed so shocked and upset,’ added Thomas.

‘I can’t make head nor bloody tail of it,’ grumbled Gwyn, finishing the last of the ale that Mary had provided.

‘Maybe Joan had her husband killed before he discovered that she was carrying Acland’s child and cut her out of the will?’ suggested Thomas, half-heartedly.

‘How the hell would Walter know it wasn’t his child, unless he had slept in the stable since his marriage?’ rumbled Gwyn.

‘He would if the infant was born with hair like Acland’s,’ retorted the clerk.

De Wolfe scowled at them both. ‘This is getting us nowhere. As it turns out, neither Walter’s brother nor his stepson have made a great deal from his death, which reduces their motive. And, by the same token, the widow and her hangers-on have increased their share of the fortune and therefore also their incentive to see Knapman dead.’

‘But did they all know that before the testament was disclosed?’

Thomas voiced the obvious objections that were in de Wolfe’s mind.

There was a long silence as they sat around the dulling fire. Then de Wolfe stood up and stretched his long limbs. He was about to announce that he was going down to the Bush for more ale, when the realisation that he was persona non grata there flooded back to him.

‘I’m off to the Golden Hind,’ he grunted, and glared at the other two, defying them to make any comment.

Robert Courteman wasted no time in setting about the verification of Joan’s child-bearing. On the afternoon of the reading of Walter Knapman’s testament, he sent a servant to Polsloe Priory to enquire if Dame Madge would be kind enough to examine the widow. He sweetened this request with a small donation to the priory funds, making a note that this was to be added to his legal fees deducted from the final settlement of the will. The servant returned with the redoubtable nun’s agreement, asking that the lady attend upon her at Polsloe the next morning.