Michael Jecks - City of Fiends

In the corner of the room, Wolf was sitting very upright, Thomas before him, and Wolf’s paw on Thomas’s shoulder. As Baldwin watched, his dog very gently bent his head and rested it on the boy’s shoulder, his mouth working quietly.

‘That’s his sign of highest affection,’ Baldwin noted. ‘He can give no higher praise.’

‘I’m sure that the boy will be most grateful,’ Simon said drily.

Baldwin grinned, and then walked over to the boy. Wolf looked up, and would have gone to Baldwin, but he held up a hand and frowned briefly, which was enough to make Wolf remain where he was. ‘You like my dog?’

Thomas shot him a look very quickly, then hid his face in Wolf’s neck.

‘He’s a good fellow. Brave, but kind. It’s what I always look for in a dog, whatever the type. Have you never had a dog?’

‘No.’ Claricia walked over and lifted her child. ‘My family hasn’t had dogs. Henry didn’t care for them.’

Thomas was silent. He was still remembering the man who had caught him, who had held him so tightly. And then, he also remembered that horrible skeletal smile under the shed.

‘There’s a dead man under the shed,’ he said. ‘I thought it was trying to hold me there with it, Mother. I was so scared!’ And he burst into tears.

‘What?’ Claricia asked. She tried to pull him away, but he clung on tightly. ‘What did you say?’

‘Out at the yard, where the shed is – a skeleton. I was hiding there, and I felt this hand on my leg, Mother, and I was scared, really scared!’

She stared at the men in the room. There was a silence, and Baldwin sheathed his sword. ‘Master Thomas, could you show us where this was, if we come with you?’

Paffards’ House

Thomas felt a shrinking sensation as they all walked through the passage, out past the kitchen, where Joan was being fed warm broth by a solicitous Sal, and out to the yard behind.

‘Where was it?’ Baldwin asked gently.

Thomas stared at him. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could say nothing. Instead he tried to cling still more tightly to his mother.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, but he knew it wasn’t. Nothing was right at all. Not since the day his dog had been killed, not since the day he saw his brother in the firelight. Not since his father said he had killed those ladies. Nothing ever could be right. He began to sob quietly.

There was a whistle, and Thomas peered out from the protection of his mother’s neck. He saw Wolf come out and sit by Baldwin, and Baldwin crouched, and spoke without looking at him.

‘A big dog like this will always protect the people he loves,’ he said. ‘And there is no one he loves more than small boys. Did you know that? It’s because they are more fun. They play, and they like to cuddle the dogs. You should come here, and let him guard you.’

Thomas gripped his mother more firmly.

‘A dog like this can make you feel all your troubles are leaving you,’ Baldwin said. He rose and moved away.

Thomas held on, but Wolf was looking about him in an interested manner. He sniffed idly at some grasses. When Thomas looked over at Baldwin, it was clear that the knight was expecting him to climb down and hug the dog again. It was tempting, but he couldn’t. Even as he watched, the dog was ambling towards the shed where he had hidden. He gave a little cry, and hid his face again.

‘Was it there?’ Baldwin asked, looking at the shed. ‘Was it there, Thomas?’

‘There’s nothing there but my ales,’ John said.

Thomas looked at John, and felt again that fear he had known all those years before when his dog had been killed. There was something in his eyes that terrified Thomas. He couldn’t speak.

Baldwin followed his dog towards the shed.

‘There’s nothing in there,’ John said again. ‘Come, I’ll show you.’ He walked to the door purposefully, unlocked it, and opened it with a flourish. ‘See, sir?’

Baldwin entered, and Thomas watched, shivering slightly. He wanted Sir Baldwin to see the body, but he daren’t show him, not himself. That would be awful. The skeleton underneath was terrifying, and John was even worse.

He saw Baldwin come out again, and the knight shook his head, smiling. ‘There’s nothing in there, Thomas. It’s perfectly safe.’

‘There’s nothing in there, master,’ John repeated as he closed the door and locked the padlock again. He looked straight at Thomas. ‘Nothing at all. You just had a nasty dream.’

The people with them began to move away. They all thought Thomas had been making up his story, that he had dreamed it all, just as John said. Thomas himself could not hold John’s gaze. Instead his eyes went to Wolf, who was sniffing at the side of the shed. The side where his plank had come down.

Baldwin was about to call Wolf away, but decided to inspect the side of the shed, where Wolf was sniffing with keen interest. ‘Simon? Could you come here a moment?’

Suddenly there was a flash of steel as John brought out a dagger from beneath his robe. It gleamed wickedly in the sun, and Baldwin had to move back with a muttered oath as it almost sliced his robe. Thomas saw him stumble, and then recover his poise and draw his sword, but before he could attack, Edgar had clubbed John over the head with the pommel of his own sword.

Paffards’ House

John was brought to with a bucket of water from the well thrown over his face. He came to spluttering, angry, and with his head aching badly, momentarily confused as to where he was, and why he was lying on a bench. He tried to sit up, but his hands were tied, and it was impossible to do so without help. Edgar was there, and he pulled on John’s arm to haul him upright with all the grace of a miller heaving a sack of grain.

‘You have much to explain,’ Baldwin said sternly.

The knight was before him, and John recognised the other two knights, Sir Richard and Sir Reginald, the city’s Coroner. Gregory and William were here too, staring at him with loathing. But it wasn’t to them that he looked.

‘I have done nothing but serve my mistress.’

‘You have done her a great disservice. You say that this was all at her instigation?’

‘No. I was acting without her.’

‘Then what do you tell us?’ Sir Richard demanded.

‘She was Evie – a maid. She was a strumpet, a right forward wench,’ John said. He was tired and his head hurt, but he wasn’t going to submit to these fools. ‘She was waggling her arse at the master, and my mistress was upset. So I removed her. I thought it would stop him – after the earlier one.’

‘What earlier one?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Clara. She was the first wench Master Paffard started to swyve in the house. Before that, he just made use of the bitches down at the stews. I know – I saw him there. I was with Agatha when she was little, and we were trying to walk past, but he was lustful and went to spend himself with one of those whores. In front of his daughter! She didn’t realise, I hope, but what if she were to tell her mother what she had seen? Eh? It was shameful! And the mistress must have known. She’s a very intelligent woman, my mistress.’

‘I am sure she is.’

‘So when he started to make his use of the maids here, I saw it must stop.’

‘You killed this Clara?’

‘No. She was lucky. I took things and made it seem that she had stolen them. I showed the things to my mistress, and she was happy to tell Master Henry. He wasn’t going to keep a thief in his house, so he threw her out the same day.’

‘But Evie was different?’

‘She wouldn’t have been so easy. She was a shrewd little vixen, that whore. She had Master Henry so tightly bound round her little finger, it’s a miracle her finger didn’t fall off. She had him paying for new clothes for her, for necklaces, and rings. And all at the time he was ignoring his own wife. The poor mistress was forced to watch all this. And when she complained, did he listen to his rightful wife? No. He beat her with a belt. She was in her bed for days, and the only one allowed in to see her was Evie. She took up the food and drink. That was cruel of the master. I swore then that I’d never let my mistress be so foully treated again.’