Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

Baldwin gave him a weak grin. ‘You should be in church giving thanks!’

‘I’ll go there as soon as I know you’re all right.’

‘I am fine.’

‘Really?’ Simon asked.

He stepped forward and took Baldwin’s left arm to help lead him away, but the hissing intake of breath made him pause. ‘Right, Edgar, you take him up to the castle and tell Meg to prepare a bed in the castle’s lodgings. I’ll go and call a physician.’

‘Oh, in God’s name, Simon! There’s no need for that. No, I’ll go back to my tent and sleep there.’

‘I think you need a physician.’

Baldwin was about to argue when another wave of pain washed over his left side. ‘Tell him to see me at my tent. But before that, go and look at the lance. I think I know why Hal and Wymond made so much money from jousting. I’ll explain later. For now, Edgar, by Saint Paul, take me to the tent.’

Simon stood feeling oddly small and insignificant as the trio made its way towards the pavilions, Edgar supporting the slack figure of Baldwin, his head dangling like that of a hanged corpse.

‘You!’ Simon shouted at an urchin. ‘Fetch the castle’s physician and send him to Sir Baldwin’s tent. At once!’

Simon was torn. There were many things to be done, but he was aware that the investigation must continue, even if Baldwin was unwell for days. Wonderingly he walked to the tilt-area and studied the shards of wood.

It was because he was there that he didn’t see Andrew as he joined Baldwin’s little group. ‘Sir Baldwin? Could I talk with you a moment?’ The squire asked.

Edgar stepped forward. ‘My master is very tired, sir. He cannot talk to you now.’

‘It is about the lances, Sir Baldwin,’ Andrew continued urgently, ignoring Edgar.

Baldwin closed his eyes. ‘Later, please. Or tell some one else. I am too worn out.’

‘It must be you, Sir Baldwin. Because of your sword, I know I can trust you.’ The squire had lowered his voice.

‘My sword?’ Baldwin echoed dully.

‘Yes. The Templar cross.’

Baldwin leaned more heavily on Edgar and paused to spit out a mouthful of blood. He was on fire with pain all over, and his ears still rang with the battle. He could barely speak, for the aftermath of the duel had left him all atremble. ‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘Come to my tent and speak to me there.’

Odo dropped from his mount and patted the mare’s neck as he watched Baldwin being helped from the field.

‘A good fight, by God!’ Coroner Roger said at his side.

‘Yes! I’m glad I didn’t have to ride against Sir John. He was a terrifying opponent.’

‘Yes. And now he and his son are dead,’ Coroner Roger said heavily. ‘Come, we should speak to the Bailiff.’

They met Simon as he was picking up a large piece of wood.

‘What is it?’ Coroner Roger asked.

‘Baldwin told me to look at this. I can’t see why.’

Odo glanced over a timber splinter. ‘This is odd,’ he said. ‘Look, the wood here was cut.’

Simon took it from him and examined it. ‘Why, yes. Someone has drawn a narrow saw through it – why should they do that?’

‘To guarantee the winner,’ Odo said grimly. ‘I’ve seen it done in France. A slight saw cut through the lance weakens it so that it shatters as it hits a man without knocking him down. Sometimes men will gamble heavily on a man’s victory in the lists, and they’ll pay to ensure that the right man wins.’

‘But how could they guarantee that the right man would get the damaged lance?’

‘By having an accomplice waiting at the lance-rack and giving the damaged lance to the man they wished to lose,’ Odo said.

‘It’s always a squire who passes the lances,’ said Coroner Roger.

Simon finished his thought for him. ‘And William used to help in the lists! So there is a connection between him and the other three.’

‘Who would have wanted them to die, though?’ Coroner Roger mused.

Simon felt as though he had a new lease of life. ‘First let’s go back to where the body was found,’ he said, setting off towards the camp.

‘We spoke to all the men about there, but no one saw or heard anything last night,’ Roger said.

Odo recalled his last thought before he was called back to witness Baldwin’s fight. ‘We spoke to the knights and squires, but there was one group we didn’t question: the grooms. If someone was to go that way and pet his horse, no one would think anything of it, would they? And from there it would be a short walk to the river to murder Sir William.’

Simon caught his breath. ‘Of course!’ It would be the perfect excuse, he thought. Nobody would question a man-at-arms who went to ensure that his horse was settled for the night. Unconsciously, his pace increased as he neared the horse-lines.

Odo hurried too. This development had confused him. It made no sense for Sir William to have been murdered.

The great destriers and several riding-horses of quality were hobbled or tethered near the water up by the castle’s bailey. Odo looked about him. Simon did not hesitate but walked straight to a skinny youth clad in a faded and scratched leather jerkin. Odo found himself staring at one of the lad’s eyes because he had a terrible cast in the other. Afterwards he could remember nothing else about him.

‘Were you here last night?’ Simon asked.

‘Yes, sir. I didn’t go to my bed until very late.’

‘Were you alone?’

‘Some of the time, when my mates were eating. We all sleep here, so I was never really alone.’

‘Did you hear anyone near the river?’

‘Not really,’ the youth said, but there was a dryness to his tone that caught Simon’s attention. He was holding something back: he hadn’t been asked the right question and wouldn’t willingly volunteer anything to someone in authority.

Simon had dealt with types like him before. ‘Did you, or did you not, see or hear anyone there?’ he demanded.

‘There were some people walking up there.’

‘Who?’

‘A girl and a man.’

‘Who was the girl?’

The lad shrugged. ‘How should I know?’

Simon suddenly sprang forward. He reached out and grabbed his jerkin.

Odo moved forward. ‘Bailiff, I think… ’

‘Silence, Herald! Baldwin nearly died saving my skin just now, and I don’t have the patience to listen to this fool playing games. Did you hear that, groom? Don’t try to be clever with me because I don’t understand, and when I don’t understand I get irritable. Like this,’ he said, tightening his grip. ‘All right? If you don’t begin to help I’ll choke the life from you. Is that clear enough?’

The youth could hardly speak, but simply nodded.

‘Good. Because I want to know all you know about the people moving about last night, near where Sir William’s body was found today,’ Simon said, releasing his grip a little.

The lad spoke hurriedly. ‘The girl was Lady Helen. She is wife to Sir Walter Basset. There was a man with her. Andrew – Sir Edmund’s squire.’

‘What? Together?’

‘Well… ’

‘Tell us what you saw, you damned whore’s kitling.’

‘That’s all. I saw the two of them walking out to the river together. I thought nothing of it.’

‘This was after dark?’

‘Yes. Will you take your hands away now?’

‘Not yet. What of Sir William? When did you see him?’

‘I didn’t say I did. Ouch!’

‘No, you didn’t. I did. Did you see him before or after the others?’

‘He walked up here a little before them – if it was him. I saw him at the other side of the river, then I saw the girl with Andrew.’