Edward Marston - The Serpents of Harbledown

His first visit was to the castle to see if his men were safely lodged and to give them their orders for the morrow. Finding them well-fed, flushed by wine and in noisy good humour, he treated them to a burst of vituperation in order to remind them that marriage had not entirely blunted the edge of his temper. Having asserted his authority, he felt able to go in pursuit of his friend.

His horse moved off at a steady canter toward the rural peace of Harbledown.

Gervase Bret was halfway down the hill when he caught sight of Ralph. The pounding hooves soon closed the gap between them.

Ralph reined in his mount beside Gervase.

“Where the devil have you been?” he demanded.

“To the hospital of St. Nicholas.”

“Consorting with foul lepers when the city is full of comely wenches? Speak to my men. They only arrived at the castle this morning and already they know the whereabouts of every brothel in the city. Seek pleasure for once.”

“I have other things on my mind, Ralph.”

“What is more important than a warm woman in a soft bed?”

“Solving a cruel murder.”

Ralph was jolted. “Murder?”

“The girl they found dead. Bertha.”

“But she was killed by a poisonous snake.”

“It was made to look as if she had been, Ralph.”

“The cause of death has been confirmed. I talked with the doctor myself. He examined the girl’s body and spoke with assurance on the matter.”

“You have met Helto the Doctor?”

“Yes,” said Ralph. “He was called to the house when Eadgyth’s grief was too much for her to bear. His visit calmed her. Helto was going on to perform a like service for Bertha’s father. He, too, is suffering the agonies of the bereaved.”

“How would you describe this doctor?”

“Helto?” Ralph inhaled deeply before giving his judgement.

“Difficult to like but just as difficult not to respect. A sound physician, certainly, and with more compassion than first meets the eye. Osbern the Reeve could not speak too highly of him.”

“An honest man?”

“Honest and straightforward.”

“Capable of dissembling?”

“On my short acquaintance, I think not. Why do you ask?”

“We came to the conclusion that Helto was lying. It may just be that his postmortem examination was careless.”

“I would doubt that.”

“It is the only way to explain his mistake, Ralph.”

“What mistake?”

“Bertha was strangled to death.”

“Who says so?”

“Brother Martin of the hospital of St. Nicholas.”

“On what evidence?”

“Let me show you some of it.”

Ralph dismounted and Gervase took him back up the hill to the clump of holly, recounting on the way how he and the old monk had first begun to question the apparent cause of the girl’s demise. Tethering his horse, Ralph pushed his way down into the hollow to take a close look for himself. Gervase slowly built up the web of detail for him.

“We have another case to judge,” commented Ralph.

“Case?”

“Monk versus doctor. Whom do you favour?”

“Brother Martin. You have heard my reasons.”

“I warrant that Helto is the truer physician.”

“Even the finest doctor can err at times.”

“If that is what he did, Gervase.”

“Rule out dishonesty and it is all that is left. Who knows?

Helto may have been too lax or perfunctory in his work. And the morgue at St. Mildred’s may be partly to blame.”

“In what way?”

“I am told it is a small chamber with no window. Perhaps the candle threw inadequate light for Helto. That was why he did not discern the bruising on the throat.”

“Brother Martin worked by the same flame.”

“True.”

“Helto’s eyes are keener than those of an old monk.”

“Instinct comes into it as well, Ralph.”

“What does yours tell you?”

“There has been foul play.”

Ralph nodded. He remembered what Helto the Doctor had said about a stone hurled into a pool. Bertha’s death had already caused violent ripples to spread. If the girl was indeed the victim of a murder, those ripples would become huge waves and they would wash through the very house where Golde and the two commissioners were staying. It would not advantage their work in Canterbury.

That was a secondary consideration in Ralph’s view. Now that the crime had been brought to light, it had to be reported and investigated. Someone needed to be called to account for what appeared to be a calculated murder.

“The sheriff must be informed, Gervase.”

“I was on my way to do exactly that when we met.”

“Let us go together,” suggested Ralph. “But when you have reported your findings, you must hand over the inquiry to the proper authority.”

“I am bound to retain a keen interest.”

“Your interest must be concentrated on the problems we were sent here to resolve. They will keep us busy for a week or more before we can quit the city. Forget the girl.”

“How can I?”

“You are not involved.”

“I must be, Ralph. He is depending on me.”

“Who is?”

“Brother Martin. He is the crucial figure here and he is ready to speak up before the sheriff and to challenge the opinion of Helto the Doctor. That will place Brother Martin under great strain. He is old and no longer as clear-minded as he would wish to be. I can support him. Encourage him. Buttress his evidence with my own observations.”

“Not while you are sitting in commission with me.”

“I will contrive to help somehow.”

“Gervase-”

“I am sorry,” interrupted the other, “but I cannot turn my back on this crime. There are things that I might learn which would be beyond the reach of the sheriffs officers.”

“Give me an instance.”

“Alain’s testimony.”

“Who is Alain?”

“The leper who found the girl. I am sure that he knows something which may provide a vital clue. I sensed it when I spoke to him. He was holding something back from me.”

“Let the sheriff shake it out of him.”

“He would not dare to go within ten yards of Alain.”

“That sounds like a wise precaution to me.”

“I could do it,” said Gervase. “If I can win Alain’s confidence, I am sure I can draw the truth out of him.”

“And what is happening to affairs of state while you are running off to Harbledown to befriend lepers?”

“You will not find me shirking my duties.”

Ralph held him by the shoulders. “The girl is not your problem, Gervase. Let her go. You did not even know Bertha.”

“I feel as if I have got very close to her in the last few hours.

For someone so young and innocent, she had a profound effect on others. Brother Martin talked at length about her and I saw for myself what she meant to the lepers at the hospital. They looked upon her as a kind of saint.”

“You must speak to Helto the Doctor.”

“Why?”

“He examined the girl’s body at the morgue.”

“And?”

“In one respect, Bertha fell short of sainthood.”

Osbern the Reeve was too responsible a man to allow any domestic problems to interfere with his official duties. Everything was in readiness for the commissioners on the following morning.

The shire hall had been cleaned, a table and four chairs had been set out, and benches had been put in position for the various disputants and witnesses who would come forward. Mindful of the wearying length to which such deliberations could go, Osbern had even organised some interim refreshments for the visitors.

While the reeve was absent, Golde took over the care of his wife.

The sleeping draught had allowed Eadgyth to pass the night in restorative slumber and she awoke in a far less agitated mood.