Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

Edgar coughed. ‘They say you were paid exceedingly well, Bailiff.’

‘But that is ridiculous! Why should Lord Hugh want to punish them? Has anyone an explanation for that?’

‘They say that the collapse of the stands reflects badly upon him personally. Even the failure at Crukerne, which was paid for by Sir John, enraged Lord Hugh because he had guests of his own in the stand. And any man who insults or steals from Lord Hugh’s vassal is stealing from Lord Hugh himself. He is proud of his status.’

‘You see how these things get about?’ Baldwin grumbled. ‘We must solve the matter as swiftly as possible – not only as a matter of justice to the two dead men, but also to wipe the dirt from your name, old friend.’

‘I have paid a fellow to ask questions at the taverns and alehouses, and one innkeeper says he saw Hal in his inn, drinking with another man. He didn’t get a good look at the man that Hal was with, but the pair of ’em left late at night. Where could they have gone?’ Coroner Roger asked, adding thoughtfully, ‘We haven’t yet spoken to the watchman who guarded Hal’s tent.’

‘A good point, Coroner,’ Baldwin said. ‘What facts do we have? We know the killer must be fit and healthy. Anyone who could carry Wymond down from the hill and back inside his tent must have a certain amount of strength.’

‘Wonderful! So almost anyone among all the contestants here could be the man,’ Simon said sarcastically. ‘ And the servants, and most of the local farmers – and many of the townspeople. That makes our task so much easier.’

‘Simon, calm yourself. We shall prove your innocence,’ Baldwin said seriously.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve never felt like this before,’ Simon muttered, passing a hand over his brow. He felt fractious and peppery from lack of sleep and a surfeit of worry.

Baldwin said patiently, ‘Let us just whittle the possible culprits down a little, shall we? We know that Hal and Wymond could have been at the site at any hour of the day or night. Who else could have been there? At night there is a nominal curfew, and no one but Lord Hugh’s men should be in the area.’

‘So?’ Simon demanded.

‘The watchmen may have seen someone. Surely if there was a stranger about, they’d know.’

‘And what if they didn’t?’ Coroner Roger scoffed.

‘We have a number of possible motives for these murders,’ Baldwin said slowly. ‘We know that the three were thought of as spies, which would have made them enemies; we know that people reckon Lord Hugh could have wanted them dead… ’

‘That’s rubbish!’ Simon protested.

‘Possibly,’ Baldwin agreed, ‘but we have to consider it nonetheless. Then there is the point that these men have all in their time been involved with building stands which have collapsed.’

‘What of it?’ Coroner Roger said.

‘I cannot stop myself from returning to the idea that there could be a desire for revenge, and that it is that which is causing these murders.’

Odo saw them leave Baldwin’s tent and was tempted to join them, but decided against it. He had passed a cold, lonely night, wishing that he had a warm, comforting woman in his bed with him.

When he had told Baldwin that he needed only a tune, his ready wit, some poetry and a purse of money, he hadn’t counted on having all four thwarted by a malicious King Herald. Most of the diseurs were living up at the castle, but not Odo. Mark had set him to stay in the field in his inadequate tent, keeping an eye on the people to stop fights while Mark himself took full advantage of Lord Hugh’s hospitality and wine.

No, Odo had woken up, shivering and lonely. He wouldn’t be good company for anyone. Besides, Simon and Baldwin had the appearance of men who were about to perform an unpleasant duty – especially since they were joined by the Coroner – and Odo was happy to leave them to it. He already had enough on his mind from the previous night.

Poor Alice had been overwhelmed when she heard of Geoffrey’s death. She had fallen to the floor and had to be carried out and taken to a chamber in the bailey, which had necessarily dampened the festivities. People whispered that she would be unlikely to survive her young husband’s death by many days. Odo, who had acted as the couple’s go-between, was upset to see such beauty devastated by so great a sorrow.

Still, the sun was already warm, even this early, and he had bought a pot of warmed wine and a hot pastry to break his fast. To Odo there was nothing more delightful than a good breakfast, with the knowledge that the day held little in the way of work. After all, no one in their right mind could call the job of diseur strenuous.

It was pleasant here near the river. The water rushing past was noisy but comforting. Even at night it was soothing, although Odo would have preferred to sleep at the castle, which he would have done, had it not been for that fool, King Herald.

‘Talk of the devil,’ Odo murmured to himself as a shadow fell over his open tent-flap.

‘Still eating?’ Mark Tyler snapped. ‘You’ve got work to get on with.’

‘I am just finishing my meal,’ Odo said calmly.

‘Didn’t you eat enough last night?’

‘No, I didn’t have time. As you well know.’ Odo had been ordered by Mark to play music to Lord Hugh and his guests, and when he had finished there was practically no food left. Another of Tyler’s little jokes. Mark himself had retired early.

‘Oh, I was thinking that perhaps you didn’t sleep well, and that gave you an appetite!’

Odo smiled. ‘It was very quiet here, King Herald. All the knights and their squires were tired and slept soundly, and so did I. Any noise was drowned by that lovely river. It smothers even the loudest snores.’

As he had expected, a tremor of annoyance passed over Tyler’s face on hearing this, and with a stern command to finish his food and get to the field ready for the day’s jousting, Tyler whirled around and – well, if he had been a woman, Odo would have said he flounced off. Tyler wanted Odo to sleep badly. That was why he had installed him here, in the midst of the squires and knights.

Mark Tyler had instinctively disliked Odo from the first moment they had met. He had let his eyes run slowly down the other herald’s tabard, taking in the rich cloth before sneeringly asking how long he had been a herald, as if its freshness was proof of his incompetence. His words to Odo had been insulting, sly digs at his background and training. Mark Tyler had been in the Courtenay service for many long years, whereas Odo had learned his trade in the King’s continental lands, wandering from one lord to another.

Yet for all Mark’s apparent contempt for Odo, his fear of him was almost palpable. He was petrified that he could lose his position, and saw Odo as the threat that could topple him from his perch.

This privately amused Odo. He had not taken any interest in Mark’s position when he first arrived. He was happier wandering, as so many heralds and diseurs did, learning new songs, new tunes, and constantly looking out for deeds to record, new coats-of-arms to memorise. Every so often he would hear of a tournament and ride to it, offering his services to the lord who was patronising the event. He would remain there a while, partaking of the lord’s generosity, but always happy to be moving on again.

Mark’s antipathy towards him had made him react, and once having sensed the possibility of taking over the post of King Herald, he was tempted. Lord Hugh looked after his men, and those in his household lacked nothing: good food, new suits of clothing each year, quantities of wine or ale each day… and wherever the Lord stayed, warm rooms and even palliasses. As King Herald, Odo could even expect a decent bed on occasion. The prospect was appealing.