Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

‘No, I did not! As God is my witness, I would never have harmed a hair of her head. I loved her. I was engaged to be married to Lady Helen when I lost a bout against Sir Walter and Sir John six years ago. Afterwards I was forced to flee and attempt to rebuild my fortunes. While I was abroad, she lost faith in me, thinking I would not return, and wedded Sir Walter. I met her to try to persuade her to join me, but she wouldn’t. She insisted that she had legally given her vows to this monster and wouldn’t consider breaking them.’

Baldwin could see that his bloodshot eyes were fixed upon the woman now lying naked upon a cloak. The cruel sword-thrusts in her breast and flank showed all the more distinctly on her pale flesh. Next to her, the body of her husband was almost an anti-climax. The single broad puncture just under his ribs, where the sword blade had entered and pushed up through his lungs and heart, had ended his life as effectively as all the blows rained upon his wife. Baldwin had seen other men throw themselves upon their swords after losing a battle. He had never, so far as he could recollect, seen such a wound when murder had been committed.

Coroner Roger scowled at Sir Edmund. ‘You deny murdering them?’

‘I told you: I could never have harmed a hair of her head. I loved her more than I love myself.’

‘Yet you were prepared to risk her honour by persuading her to leave her husband?’

‘No. By persuading her to return to her real husband. Me.’

‘It’s too late to talk her round now,’ Coroner Roger said, dragging a cloak over the dead woman’s face. ‘Your behaviour has been deplorable. This sort of hankering after another man’s wife may be acceptable in France and other such places, but in this country it’s not what we expect.’

Sir Edmund said nothing, staring as though transfixed by the sight of Lady Helen’s corpse.

Baldwin cleared his throat. ‘Surely, Coroner, the wounds are consistent with the husband killing his wife and then committing suicide?’

‘Yes,’ the Coroner grudgingly agreed. ‘But what of the others?’

Baldwin drew his brows together before speaking. ‘We know that Sir Walter owed money to Benjamin Dudenay. I think he might have become enraged with Benjamin and his accomplices.’

‘Accomplices? What do you mean?’

‘We have been told,’ Baldwin said, speaking slowly so that the clerk could keep up as he took his notes, ‘that Benjamin collaborated with the others in building their stands and tournaments. He provided the money, Hal the vision, and Wymond the building skills. In return, we have heard, Benjamin was often accorded the best positions for his money-lending stall. Most people thought it was so that unhorsed knights would go to him first – but I think that there was another reason.’

‘Are you sure you are well, Sir Baldwin?’ Lord Hugh called enquiringly. ‘You had a severe fall yesterday.’

‘I am fine, I thank you, my Lord,’ Baldwin said irritably, continuing, ‘The other reason was this: that Benjamin also arranged bets on the outcome of the courses. To know which man he would back, he wanted a good view of the course.’

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Coroner Roger said.

‘No. What was wrong was that Wymond and Hal had damaged some contestants’ lances. They arranged the betting so that Benjamin could win almost every time.’

‘How?’ Coroner Roger grated. His face was growing darker with anger.

‘Simple. When I arrived here, I noticed that Wymond was at the lances. Others we have spoken to saw him there. The night he died, he was there again. Why? I wondered. Yesterday I was in the tilt, riding against Sir John. My first lance was fine, but the second felt odd, as though there was a weakness in it. I could do nothing about it, for then I was in the tilt, but that impression stayed with me.

‘After the tilt, I found parts of my lance. It had been sawn through a short distance from the point. Whenever it touched a shield, it must shiver to pieces. That was what Benjamin was looking for. I think that Wymond used to mark certain lances so that Benjamin knew that the holder was at a disadvantage. He could find his mark, but the lance would break. Then his opponent’s lance could unseat him . Benjamin would take bets and win.’

‘But you say Wymond was at the lances even after Benjamin was dead?’

‘Yes. Wymond was a devious character and a greedy one. I think he decided he’d not let an opportunity to make some money pass him by. He was going to run some bets for himself. He died before he could.’

‘So at least that is ended.’

‘Provided Mark Tyler is not allowed to continue,’ Baldwin said.

‘Explain!’

In answer, Baldwin looked over the crowds. He saw Tyler towards the back, slowly edging away. ‘Tyler, come here.’

The King Herald reluctantly obeyed the command. There were too many people for him to be able to escape to safety. He walked stiff-backed to the front of the crowd and stood gazing about him with an air of superiority. ‘Well?’

‘Why did you command the pages and squires at the lance-rests to give me a lance with a red-painted mark at the handgrip?’

‘Who says I did?’

‘I do,’ said Andrew, stepping forward. ‘I was there at the rests and heard the order.’

‘It was only that I thought the lances were straighter and more fair,’ Tyler said quickly.

‘Did you place bets on who would win the fight yesterday?’ Baldwin guessed.

‘I had no bets!’

‘You ordered that I should be given a damaged lance. That could have been an act of murder.’

‘I didn’t think… ’ Tyler looked away, then past Baldwin to the Coroner. ‘It has nothing to do with this. I will not answer any more questions.’

Baldwin eyed him with a sadness. ‘The worst thing is that I couldn’t understand before why Tyler here was so keen on accusing Simon and protecting Hal and Wymond. Now it is clear: Tyler was making money with them. How else could the position of Benjamin’s stand be confirmed? Tyler confirmed it. Why? So that his own profits could be guaranteed. At every stage Tyler sought to ensure his own profit.’

‘That’s a lie!’

Coroner Roger nodded, then slowly and disdainfully turned his back on the herald. Facing Baldwin, he asked, ‘What would this have to do with Sir Walter?’

‘How would an honourable man feel if he has lost bets and later learns that it was entirely due to a usurer’s double-dealing? Probably Sir Walter learned that Benjamin had won money by giving him damaged lances. Perhaps Benjamin bet against him himself and thus caused many of his debts? Either way, how would Sir Walter be likely to react? Naturally he killed first Benjamin, then Wymond and Hal.’

‘And Sir William?’

Baldwin was silent, but at this point Andrew spoke up. ‘I can answer that, Coroner. I knew Sir William. He tried to molest this woman Lady Helen in this very courtyard shortly after she had been seeing my master, Sir Edmund. No doubt she told her husband of her shame and horror at being so horribly grasped, and that was why he killed Sir William.’

‘Do you have any witness to this?’ Coroner Roger asked.

‘Yes, Sir Roger. That servant there.’

Reluctantly Hugh nodded as Andrew pointed him out. ‘Mmm. I saw it.’

‘Was it a shameful ambush as Andrew implies?’

‘That Sir William, he grappled with Lady Helen, told her to kiss him. Wouldn’t leave her alone. I went to help her, ‘cos she was a lady, and then she kneed him in the cods. That stopped him.’

‘I see.’ Coroner Roger passed a hand over his eyes. ‘So it sounds as though the man had reason to want to murder them all. And he finished his rampage by slaughtering himself and his wife.’