Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

‘What then?’

‘Yes, what then?’

And Simon turned and found himself staring into the congested face of Sir Walter Basset.

‘It was awful, Roger. Probably the most embarrassing situation I’ve ever talked myself into,’ Simon admitted the next morning.

They were sitting in the hall. It was the first opportunity they had found to discuss the murders and Coroner Roger shared the same rickety bench as Simon. When either man moved, both had to grab at the wood. ‘Sir Walter forced the groom to admit that Andrew had come away from there shortly afterwards, and then after a long pause, Lady Helen left the place, closely followed by Sir Edmund.’

‘It was not your fault,’ Roger said. He eyed his jug of wine sourly. ‘So what have we learned?’

‘Little enough. We know that many people over the years could have wanted to see Hal and Wymond dead. It’s trying to see who could have wanted them dead now that’s the problem.’

Margaret sat at the other side of the room, feeding her baby. ‘What of the girl?’ She reminded them.

‘Which girl?’ Coroner Roger asked.

‘The wife of that squire who was killed in the lists.’

‘Alice? What of her?’

‘It’s just that I don’t understand her. She was desperately keen to escape from her guardian, to marry Geoffrey.’

‘Yes. She would have done anything to avoid marrying Sir William,’ Roger said. ‘You don’t mean… ?’

Simon stared at his cup. ‘That she killed William to prevent him from marrying her? Why should she have killed the others?’

‘Maybe someone else killed the others,’ put in Sir Baldwin.

‘Baldwin, are you well enough to be up?’ Margaret demanded, surveying him anxiously. Her gratitude to this man would never end, she knew.

‘Do not fuss. I shall be perfectly well, if a little sore,’ Baldwin smiled. Then he said thoughtfully: ‘Look at the wounds on Hal and Wymond – and, from what you’ve said, Benjamin too. All were beaten severely with some sort of blunt instrument. And now we have William stabbed . It is a different approach. Then again, a club is definitely a man’s weapon, whereas a small knife could be a woman’s – perhaps striking in defence rather than in any desire to kill.’

‘You seriously expect us to think that a young woman like Lady Alice could commit murder upon a fellow like William?’ Coroner Roger scoffed. ‘His throat was cut.’

Baldwin reached over to pour himself a cup of wine. He said nothing for a moment or two. Then, ‘Margaret, what do you think?’

‘If I was her, and my lover had been slaughtered in the field, I would be near to insane, knowing that the man who had killed him was now determined to claim me for his wife and claim my family’s lands for his own. Yes, I could easily kill someone who did that.’

Simon spoke quietly. ‘And how much more hatred would she feel, knowing that her guardian killed her own father in the tilt-yard?’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘I have the unpleasant conviction that she would be capable of it. And, so far as we know, she may have had the opportunity to do it, too.’

‘What of the others, though – the men beaten to death?’ Coroner Roger wanted to know. ‘I am more concerned about three rather than resolving one.’

‘A fair comment,’ Baldwin said, rising. Instantly he winced and had to reach out to the wall to steady himself. He waved off offers of support. ‘I am fine. Just very sore. Come, shall we seek the girl?’

Margaret was left on her own as the three walked slowly, in deference to Baldwin’s wounds, out to the castle’s court. All knew that the ward of Sir John should be at the chapel with the bodies of her guardian and his son, but when they entered, bowing and kneeling, crossing themselves, and making their way to the altar, they saw that the two hearses covering Sir William and his father were attended only by a poor man. Lady Alice had not been there, he whispered.

Baldwin led the way to the encampment. At Sir John’s tent they found a man packing clothing. ‘Where is your lady?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Alice? She’s not ours. She’s gone to help Geoffrey’s men.’

‘She won’t come back here, she says,’ a maid somewhat breathlessly assured them.

‘You are?’ Coroner Roger enquired.

‘Helewisia. I was her maid, but now my master’s dead – well… I don’t know who is my master now. I’m going back with Sir John’s body.’

‘Why don’t you stay with your lady?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Surely she is the one to whom you owe your loyalty?’

Helewisia smiled knowingly. ‘I don’t think she’d want me with her. I was only ever the servant of her guardian. Sir John never trusted her too much. That was why he had me installed with her. Not that it did him much good,’ she added sadly. ‘She fooled us all.’

‘In what way?’ Baldwin said.

‘She got herself married to Geoffrey, for a start.’

‘Did you ever hear her talk about Hal and Wymond?’

‘Occasionally. She hated them.’

Baldwin shot Simon a look. ‘Why?’

‘Because she blamed them for the death of her mother and baby brother. They were in a stand which collapsed while they watched a fight – and the fight was between Sir John and her father, Sir Godwin. She blamed them and cursed them. Regularly.’

‘Where is she now?’ Coroner Roger demanded.

‘Up at Geoffrey’s tent, if she hasn’t already left.’

‘That foolish gossip couldn’t find her own arse with both hands,’ Coroner Roger said coarsely as he hurried along the tents. ‘It’s obvious this wench has nursed a hatred of these men for years – and took her chance for revenge when the whole lot were together.’

Baldwin said nothing. His mind was moving along a different course. ‘What of Benjamin?’

‘What of him? She was probably in Exeter with Sir John and killed him there.’

‘Did his wounds look like the sort to be inflicted by a woman?’

‘He was struck a number of times by a cudgel or something.’

‘Swung with force?’

‘Yes.’

Baldwin nodded. They were at the tent now, a plain and simple campaigning pavilion. Outside was a pair of carts, on to which boxes and barrels were being loaded. Soon Lady Alice appeared in the doorway.

‘Gentlemen – you wish to speak to me?’

‘Lady Alice, I suspect you to be the murderer of Benjamin Dudenay, Hal Sachevyll, Wymond Carpenter and Sir William of Crukerne,’ Coroner Roger rasped. ‘What have you to say to that?’

She had paled and now she grasped at a tent-pole as she stared. ‘Me? But why should I do such a thing?’

‘To avenge your father, Sir Godwin,’ Sir Roger said. ‘We know he died at the hand of Sir John… ’

‘Yes. That’s partly why I wouldn’t wed his son.’

‘And the stand in which your mother died was built by Hal and Wymond. You wanted revenge on them.’

‘No! I had nothing to do with them.’

‘And their banker, Benjamin Dudenay, took profit from their building work, so you killed him too.’

‘No! This is all quite mad!’

‘And finally, you stabbed Sir William. Probably because he was trying to force his favours upon you and you protected yourself?’ Coroner Roger asked hopefully. He would be happy to allow her an argument of self-defence in that case.

‘This is rubbish! Of course I didn’t! I wouldn’t know how to kill a man!’

Baldwin watched as Coroner Roger hectored her. Her hand was at her throat as if to fend off an attack, but her eyes were wide and alarmed. Every so often her gaze wandered over the men before her, as if seeking a protector. Suddenly Baldwin was struck with her expression. It was that of a hunted beast. He realised that in a few short days she had lost not only her husband, whom she had thought would be her protector, but also her legal guardian, no matter how much she distrusted him. She had no family, no one to whom she could turn.