Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

‘I cannot be certain, it is true,’ Baldwin admitted. ‘But the blow at his back is low, as if the murderer missed Hal’s head because he was trying to attack him in the dark. Consider: a man stalks Hal and delivers the first blow from behind. Hal falls, wondering what hit him. Obviously he would cry out. This would not have disabled him, only hurt a lot. Afterwards come a number of fresh blows, and these are rained down upon him with great violence and indiscrimination… ’

‘How can you tell?’ Sir Peregrine asked.

‘This one hit his ear and took off a flap of skin, the weapon struck with such force. There are so many wounds, it could only have been done by someone who didn’t want to see Hal get up again. The killer must have been driven by rage or hatred, which could explain the large number of wounds.’

It was a point which hadn’t been missed by Tyler. ‘So a coward struck him down from behind and then beat the life out of him as he lay helpless on the ground. The action of a real hero! I hope you are proud, Bailiff.’

‘Why should Simon do that?’ Coroner Roger asked patiently.

‘Simon didn’t,’ Baldwin said shortly. He was about to speak again when he became aware that the crowd about them had visibly grown. They were at the centre of a thickening ring of spectators. Baldwin had not realised that news of Tyler’s suspicions about Simon had spread so quickly.

Sir Roger was under no such illusions. Like Margaret, he had witnessed how peasants could swiftly turn violent, and now he glowered about him as voices muttered angrily. He looked for men-at-arms, but they were back at the stands, protecting Lord Hugh.

When Baldwin saw his ferocious expression he realised Sir Roger’s concern. Lifting his hands over his head, Baldwin called out in a clear voice: ‘The body of Hal Sachevyll has been found here. Does any man know of anyone who had reason to want Hal dead?’

‘The Bailiff! Arrest him if you want the killer,’ came a voice.

‘Rubbish!’ another snapped, and Baldwin heard Sir Roger give a short sigh of relief as Odo the herald appeared, shouldering his way through the press. ‘Complete and utter balls! Only the illegitimate son of a Breton pirate could believe that sort of shite! This Bailiff is known to be fair and incorruptible. If he needs to draw a weapon, he fights face-to-face. No knife in the back from Bailiff Puttock!’

His loud voice had held the audience quiet, but as he reached the group about the body, Baldwin saw that he had not arrived alone. As he turned and faced the crowd, men-at-arms in Sir Peregrine’s livery appeared, all holding long polearms. Under their silent, threatening gaze, the people began to shuffle. It was one thing to intimidate a few men by strength of numbers, but quite another to risk fighting trained men. Muttering, the crowd began to thin.

‘Thank you, Odo,’ Sir Roger said as the people dispersed and Mark Tyler strode away angrily. ‘Could you arrange for a jury to be gathered and for a guard to be placed upon this body until we have fully recorded all injuries?’

‘Of course, Sir Roger,’ and Odo glanced about, reassuring himself that the crowd was dispersing, before returning to his duties. Sir Peregrine went with him.

Simon did not notice him leave. He stood with a feeling of bewilderment. Never before had he been accused of any serious crime. Once or twice men had inferred that he had taken bribes when they disliked his decisions, but never had anyone dared to suggest he could have been guilty of murder! The accusation had struck him like a shot from the King’s artillery. He was utterly stunned now he realised the enormity of the herald’s words; he couldn’t even trust his voice.

It was not anger. In an instant Tyler had hit Simon in a place he had always thought himself secure: in his pride. Simon valued his reputation for honesty, and the fact that a fellow official who was working for Lord Hugh could suggest such a thing had rocked him. When Hal accused him of killing Wymond, that was one thing: the architect had just lost a close friend and was lashing out at the first man he could – Simon hardly looked upon that as personal – but this, from Mark Tyler, was a studied insult. It showed Simon that he was vulnerable to attack, that accusations, unreasonable and unfair could be set against him.

And the accusation had not been withdrawn, he noted. If Tyler chose to continue to declare Simon’s guilt, the Bailiff would be hard-pressed to defend himself. Tyler was powerful enough, since he would likely have the ear of Lord Hugh.

Simon grimly set his shoulders. No matter who made unreasonable accusations against him, he would continue to perform his duty to the best of his ability. And that was all.

It was as he came to this resolution that a young urchin appeared in front of him. ‘Bailiff?’

‘Yes? What is it?’ Simon barked.

‘A message,’ he said, holding out his grubby hand.

Simon pressed a small coin into it. The lad studied it, then nodded to himself. ‘It’s from your wife. She says your daughter has gone missing.’

Baldwin and Simon hurriedly left Sir Roger with the body and set off to the stands. There they saw Sir Peregrine waiting for them.

‘Sir Peregrine, we have to go. Simon’s daughter has disappeared and–’ Baldwin began, but Sir Peregrine shook his head and looked at Simon apologetically.

‘Bailiff, I’m sorry, but these murders are causing a very great deal of alarm as you can imagine, and people are making all sorts of wild allegations.’

‘We agree,’ Baldwin said. ‘We must investigate this latest killing with great urgency. Two murders and we still have no idea who could have committed them, nor why! We must do all we can to find the culprit. After all, a man who has committed two murders may well commit another. We are fortunate that the Coroner is here.’

‘Quite right!’ shouted Mark Tyler.

Simon groaned as the King Herald appeared. ‘What now, Tyler? Why don’t you return to your duties here?’

The herald gave him a sour grin. ‘That’s just what you’d like, isn’t it, Bailiff? Get rid of me so that your guilt can never be proved.’

‘That’s bollocks, as you well know!’ Simon flushed.

‘Really? Then you won’t mind proving your innocence in front of the jury, will you?’

‘There is no need for that,’ Baldwin said sharply. ‘No one seriously believes that Simon is guilty.’

‘That’s not strictly true,’ said Sir Peregrine. ‘Mark Tyler has come to me to officially declare his belief that the good Bailiff here is guilty.’ He glanced at Baldwin apologetically, then turned his attention back to Simon. ‘I have no desire to be involved, quite frankly, but I have little choice. Lord Hugh has no options either.’

Mark Tyler smirked as Sir Peregrine outlined the position. It was enough for Tyler to have accused this Bailiff, without having to worry about the consequences. He was content with the reflection that he himself had been able to point it out. That would surely weigh heavily in his favour in Lord Hugh’s mind.

The tournaments were continuing, with squires testing their courage in the yard. From duty Lord Hugh remained on his seat, toying with a large mazer of wine, while all about him the stands erupted in cheering or booing as one after another of the contestants tumbled to the ground, for these were the younger squires, the ones with least skill and expertise. It would be many a long month before they had the ability or the strength to challenge a real warrior, but at least they were getting their knocks and being winded, which was always a good experience for a man.

Mark Tyler noted the scene with only a part of his brain. Most of his attention was focused on Odo, the man brought in by Sir Peregrine, he felt sure, to replace him. Devious, lying churl that he was! He’d inveigled his way into Lord Hugh’s household like a slug, slithering in and leaving his slime over all that he touched. Well, he’d better watch out. Mark was too fly for him; he wasn’t going to give up his place at his lord’s side for anyone. No, this odious Odo must get his comeuppance. Mark was no fool and he’d see to the arse.