Michael JECKS - The Devil's Acolyte

Simon asked tentatively, ‘There is nothing to tie the two stories, is there? Only the fact that Wally was found dead on the moors. In the tale of Milbrosa, the monks hid even that proof of their crime. The Abbot’s wine has been taken – but that may only be a thoughtless prank. How can the two be connected?’

‘The Abbot asked that I should keep this secret even from you,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I cannot maintain my silence. I cannot think of an explanation, not without your help.’

Simon listened with astonishment as Baldwin spoke about Gerard and his sudden disappearance.

‘So just as in the tale of Milbrosa, the Abbot’s wine was drunk and plate was stolen,’ he muttered. ‘And now the supposed perpetrator has been carried away? Was the Abbot sure that this boy Gerard was actually guilty? Perhaps someone else took the wine and things.’

‘The Abbot seemed quite convinced,’ Baldwin said. ‘Another Brother had suspected him.’

‘Did the Abbot say why the lad was suspected?’

‘Not that I recall, no.’

‘Then we should find out,’ Simon said firmly. ‘But before that, I had better reciprocate.’ He related all he had learned, although he refused to tell Baldwin who it was who told him about the club. He had promised Hal he would keep that silent, and he would not break his oath.

Baldwin was drying himself and pulling on fresh clothes, and Simon wiped his face and did the same, shouting for Ellis. When the barber put his head around the door, he passed him some coins.

Just as Ellis was about to leave the room, Baldwin held up a hand to stop him. ‘I am glad to have an opportunity to speak to you,’ he said quietly. ‘Barber, I have heard that you detested Wally because he had got your sister with child. Is that right?’

Ellis gave the knight a sickly grin. He had been expecting to be questioned ever since the two men appeared, and the anticipation had been terrible. When they had told him to leave them, he had thought he was safe, but they had only been lulling him.

‘It was, but I was wrong,’ he said in a choked voice.

‘Oh? Who was this mystery lover of hers, then?’

Ellis’s face hardened a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. ‘Master, I have got myself into trouble once by saying who I thought was her man. I won’t say any more, since Sara herself asked me to keep her shame secret.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘Back to Wally, then. At the time of his death, you still believed he was your sister’s lover?’

‘Yes. Look, I went up there on Friday morning to give him a warning, but I left him alive. He was in a state, because he had been drinking and whoring all night and he could hardly concentrate, his head was so bad, but he was alive. I just shouted at him to leave my sister alone, that was all.’ Ellis hung his head.

‘Did he deny an affair?’

‘Yes. But then I expected him to. Look – I didn’t lay a finger on him, all right?’

Baldwin eyed his razors and knives. ‘I rather think you’d have picked a more simple means of despatch, had you intended murder,’ he admitted.

‘Did you see anyone else up there?’ Simon asked.

‘Two monks. One was Mark, that salsarius . The other one, I don’t know.’

‘Could it have been Peter?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Might have been,’ Ellis agreed after a contemplative pause. ‘Don’t know, really.’

‘Where was this Mark?’

‘He was walking towards the middle of the moor. It was only a fleeting glimpse, but you don’t forget a man like him. He’s so big. You could practically see the glow from his red face!’

‘Did you see him again?’ Simon asked.

‘When I got back, yes. A little while before I pulled Hamelin’s tooth. Mark came back down from the moor alone, and I saw him hurrying off to the Abbey. He was there later when I went to shave some of the Brothers.’

‘So he was up on the moors while Wally was alive,’ Simon said. ‘And came back after you, when you had left Wally in good health?’

‘Yes.’

There was a sudden commotion outside, and Simon and Baldwin ceased their questioning. With Ellis trailing in their wake, they went outside to the court, to investigate.

Simon arrived there first, rubbing a hand over his smoothed cheeks and enjoying the sensation. At the Abbey entrance he saw a horse with the well-wrapped body of Wally thrown over its broad back. Some monks and lay brothers had wandered over to view this arrival, although several of them had retreated from the odour emanating from the blankets. A pair of stolid peasants cut the body free from the packhorse and allowed Wally to slump to the ground like a sack of grain, but the knife must have slashed the rope binding the blankets, for they opened and Wally’s bloated, discoloured face was exposed. Worse, the horse was startled by his load falling, and set to bucking and struggling, making everyone in the yard bolt, all but Ned, who walked over grimly and took charge.

It was just as Ned grabbed the horse’s reins and hauled his head down, gripping it with a finger in each nostril and a fist in its mane and swearing viciously into its ear, that Sir Tristram appeared in the entrance to the stable, looking about him to find the cause of the disturbance. Seeing the body, he peered at it a moment, and was about to walk away, when Simon saw him hesitate, turn, and stare at it more closely.

Simon was about to go to him, when a rotund fellow with an apron tied about his waist with a string came into the court. ‘Is there a Coroner here?’ he asked.

‘Who wants him?’ Baldwin called sharply.

‘I am Nob Bakere, and I’ve been sent by Brother Peter of this Abbey to ask for the Coroner. Hamelin Tinner’s dead.’

Baldwin immediately sent to find Coroner Roger, but Simon stood a moment. Sir Tristram had reached the body and now he stood over Wally, staring down with an expression of contempt twisting his features.

‘What is it, Sir Tristram?’ Simon asked, walking to his side. ‘Do you know this man?’

Sir Tristram looked up but barely acknowledged the Bailiff. ‘This man? Oh yes, I know him !’

‘Where have you met him?’ Simon asked with surprise.

‘He was a Scotch raider up in the March. I fought with him once, but failed to kill him. He was taken in by…’ His voice didn’t alter, but Simon saw that his eyes focused more firmly on him. ‘… by the man who lives here as Brother Peter, the Almoner. This man was one of those who attacked Brother Peter, and raped and murdered his woman. What’s he doing here?’

‘His name was Walwynus. He was the miner found dead up on the moors,’ Baldwin said. ‘Are you sure you recognise him?’ he added doubtfully. ‘His face is badly beaten.’

‘He was a Scotch raider, I tell you. A reiver. I would recognise him in the midst of the fires of hell – where his soul is burning even now,’ Sir Tristram said, and spat into Wally’s contorted face.

While they waited for the Coroner to arrive, Simon told Baldwin what Sir Tristram had said about Wally’s real identity. When Sir Roger de Gidleigh arrived, still wiping his cheeks to rid them of pastry crumbs, Simon and Baldwin hastened with him and the flustered-looking Nob to the alley where Hamelin lay.

Nob was not only hot and bothered, he was also plagued by doubts. In the past he would never have considered divulging information to an official, not unless there was some money involved, but now he was reconsidering.

It was this sudden death of Hamelin. First Wally had found some money from somewhere, and then he’d given it to Hamelin and died. Now Hamelin was dead too. It was too much of a coincidence. As they reached the mouth of the alleyway, he stopped to face Coroner Roger.