Michael JECKS - The Sticklepath Strangler

‘I want cash,’ Alexander said harshly.

‘Take that and be damned!’

‘If you threaten me, it won’t make your position any better, foreigner !’ Alexander taunted.

‘Foreigner? I’ve lived here almost five years, man! I was born in Devon.’

‘Ah, maybe you were, but you and your brother come from the north, don’t you, not from here. Are you sure you have no cash?’

‘No, I haven’t. Now take that and go.’

Taverner had remained silent. Now he glanced at Batyn, and Thomas saw them exchange a look. Batyn he had always thought a fair and reasonable man, just as he had thought Swet all right in his own way. Now he wasn’t sure of anything or anyone.

Batyn’s voice was gentle. ‘Come on, Reeve. Take the pot and be done.’

‘I’ll have the cash, or this fool can go to the gaol.’

‘In that case, I’ll buy it from you, Tom,’ Batyn said. He reached into his purse and brought out a shilling or so in coins.

‘No!’ the Reeve protested. ‘He should pay me now from his own money, or he will have to go to gaol in Exeter and wait for the Justices.’

‘Why are you so determined to get me away from here?’ Thomas demanded. ‘What have I ever done to you that you should persecute me like this?’

‘Take the money from Batyn if you must, and then give me the sixpence the Coroner commanded. And leave Swetricus alone. He learned what you were capable of when he saw Emma’s body.’

‘You can’t think I could kill a little girl!’

‘I don’t know what you could do. You seem mad to me.’ Alexander curled his lip as he looked about the room. Seeing a bowl next to the fire, he stalked to it and stirred it with the wooden spoon. ‘What is this?’

‘It is only pork, sir,’ Nicole said quietly. She had followed the men into her home and now she stood at the doorway, her hands clasped at her apron, her eyes following the Reeve as he stalked about her room. ‘From our pig.’

‘How can I tell that?’ Alexander asked, staring at the meat on the spoon with undisguised disgust. He had heard that human flesh looked and smelled much like pork.

‘Taste it, sir. It is salted pork.’

He dropped the spoon back into the dish, shuddering as though it might in fact be part of Emma, held out his hand for the money, and counted it carefully before sniffing loudly as though disappointed, and marching out. Taverner walked after him, but Henry Batyn stood uneasily a moment.

‘Tom, don’t blame the Reeve too much. He has to get rid of the Coroner and the other two before he can get the vill back to normal.’

‘He knows I am innocent.’

‘He has to get the matter sorted, that’s all.’

Thomas dropped onto his stool and shivered. ‘Henry, I helped you when your house was flooded, didn’t I? I had you here, in my house, and let you and your wife sleep here until you could build another shelter. And you expect me to tolerate a Reeve who seeks to have me hanged?’

Batyn met his eye resolutely. ‘There are ways to protect yourself. The Justices won’t be here for ages, and you know that the church at Oakhampton is a sanctuary. You could make your way there for a market, and then abjure.’

‘Why should I? I am innocent!’

‘You think that matters?’ Batyn expostulated, throwing his hands wide. ‘Look, if you remain here, you’ll be the obvious target. You have to go.’

‘If I go, it’ll be as good as an admission. I’ll be remembered for all time as a vampire.’

‘And if you stay, you’ll be hanged and still be remembered as a vampire. Which is better? One way at least you live.’

‘And what about Nicole and Joan? They will be reviled as the widow and child of a confessed man-eater. You would have that?’

Batyn looked away, unable to meet either Thomas’s or Nicole’s eyes. ‘I could look after them, if you want.’

‘In Sticklepath, where other children would victimise my daughter, where men would insult and rape my wife? No, Henry. I thank you, but no!’

‘Thomas, you must do something. The alternative is death.’

‘Take your pot.’

‘I don’t want it. Pay me back when you can,’ Batyn said. He met Thomas’s gaze. ‘You must do something.’

Reeve Alexander was fuming as he walked away from Thomas’s house. It was frustrating as hell to have to let the man go when he was the perfect suspect for the Coroner to choose. Why that cretin hadn’t arrested him on the spot and had him taken away to Exeter’s gaol was beyond him. Someone like Garde could be left there safely, waiting for his trial, if he should live to see it. After all, so many prisoners died of natural causes in gaol – from cold, illness, starvation, thirst – and wounds caused by other prisoners trying to rob them to buy food. Yes, gaol was the best place for him.

Sighing, he felt the weight of his office crushing him. He knew Thomas was innocent, but that meant nothing compared with Ivo’s threat and bribe. Ivo had seen him burying the Purveyor’s body that night in 1315, and although it was a long time ago, Alexander could be hanged if Ivo was to spread the story around.

What was Ivo’s problem? Fine, so he hated his brother and fancied his sister-in-law, but why go to such trouble to destroy the one and possess the other?

More to the point, who had killed the girls? After all, if it wasn’t Thomas, it was surely someone from the vill. It was confusing, because Alexander had believed the local stories that it must have been Samson. If there had been a shred of evidence, and if anyone in the vill had dared to stand and accuse him, Alexander would have seen him destroyed. But now Emma was dead. It was baffling.

The murders were committed by someone who was in the vill during the famine, someone who was in the place last night. That left it open to almost anyone, he acknowledged.

‘Has my brother paid?’

‘Ivo Bel,’ the Reeve muttered under his breath. Then, ‘Yes, Master Bel. I have his money.’

‘Shit!’ Bel swore. ‘How did you come to let him get off?’

Alexander saw no reason to comment. He was reflecting on the fact that Ivo himself was always in the neighbourhood when one of the girls disappeared. He himself could be the murderer.

‘My brother was always a violent man, you know,’ Ivo said fussily. ‘That was part of the reason why he had to leave home. He left England to go to France, but soon he had to return. I wonder why that was. He might have been forced to leave. After all, he was always getting into fights when he was a boy.’

Alexander stopped. Rebellion overwhelmed him. ‘I can’t put him in gaol for no reason, Bel. You’ve seen the Coroner – he won’t listen to me.’

‘My friend, I don’t know what you mean!’ Ivo said. ‘I would never try to convict an innocent man. Especially my own beloved brother. No, but if Thomas were to get into a scrape…’

‘I won’t have fools causing fights here in my vill.’

‘… and if he were crazed enough, I would think you’d have a good reason to believe him capable of killing poor Emma.’

‘I won’t gaol a man I’ve known for years just because you want his wife.’

‘No. You’ll do it for money and because you want your life !’ Ivo hissed. ‘I haven’t forgotten that grave. Odd, isn’t it? Just in the same place. Anyone would think you could have killed the girls!’

Alexander gaped. ‘You can’t seriously suppose…’ Anger made him sputter.

‘I accuse no one. I only hope my brother can contain himself, but you know what he’s like. I should keep a close eye on him, Reeve. You don’t want any more deaths, do you?’

He turned away and wandered off, whistling under his breath, while the Reeve stood staring after him. He hawked and spat into the road where Ivo had been standing.