Michael JECKS - The Traitor of St Giles

‘An assassin’s stroke,’ he muttered.

Baldwin studied the man’s wrists. ‘He was bound, too.’

‘It could hardly be worse,’ Sir Peregrine grated.

Harlewin agreed that they should remove the body up to the castle where it could be more easily inspected. It would be difficult to get a jury to this site.

Baldwin and Simon waited as the body was carried up the slope, Harlewin and Sir Peregrine scrambling up as best they could. Edgar remained with them – he had been Sir Baldwin’s sergeant in the Templars and took the knight’s security seriously. When Simon pointed towards a serviceable path which led towards the bridge, Edgar made off along it, his hand near his sword’s hilt, to make sure there was no ambush.

‘Not easy terrain this,’ Simon noted.

‘No,’ Baldwin murmured. Looking back, the castle sat squatly at the top of the steep hill. He whistled to Aylmer. ‘It is almost sheer. The castle’s builders made best use of this perilous slope. I can’t envisage men-at-arms rushing up it to take the place. Especially while men lived within and could tumble rocks or trunks from the safety of their walls. Look, there’s nothing but grassed slope. Perhaps he was thrown from the wall.’

Simon pulled a grass stem and sucked at the stalk. ‘But who’d want to do that?’

‘Someone who thought he might have killed Sir Gilbert and wanted revenge? Someone who thought William had seen them kill Sir Gilbert and needed to remove an embarrassing witness? Or someone who simply wanted to rob him? Ah, God! Who knows?’

Simon threw away the stem. ‘If he was thrown from the walls, someone should have seen. There are so many men-at-arms about this place, surely someone will have noticed?’

‘I don’t know. At night there are few men about. Only one man is needed up on the walls to keep an eye open. Most guards would be down in the yard or at the gate. If someone wanted to push a man’s body over, I doubt it would be very difficult to arrange. What if it was one of the guards?’

‘We need to ask Sir Peregrine how many men he posts each night.’

‘Before we ask him, I have to tell you what I’ve discovered,’ Baldwin said and told of his talks with Cecily Sherman, her husband and Hick.

The news made Simon eager to speak to Sir Peregrine. They sought him as soon as they entered the castle. ‘Guards on the wall?’ he echoed. ‘I fear that I only have two men out at night: one at the gatehouse, one at the tower. It hardly seems necessary to have a full guard in peacetime.’

‘Even with the threats of war?’ Simon said.

‘Oh, come, Bailiff! If war was declared tomorrow, how long would it take for the King’s army to get here? Marching at ten to fifteen miles a day? Long before they arrived, we’d know of their approach. There’s no need for guards to protect against that. No, the guards are to prevent enterprising villains from throwing a grapnel over the wall and attempting to steal my Lord’s pewter or silver.’

‘Not to prevent an assassin making an attempt on Lord Hugh’s life?’ Baldwin pressed.

‘No,’ Sir Peregrine answered simply. ‘A killer would have to enter the gatehouse itself, through the only door, and then would have to pass by my own picked men-at-arms before breaking down my own door, which I always bar, and then breaking down Lord Hugh’s. There’s no need to leave a guard outside.’

‘From interest, where were you last night, Sir Peregrine?’ Baldwin asked.

The man’s face hardened. ‘I was in the hall for the meal with Lord Hugh, and then did my rounds of the grounds. No one saw me, so if you wish to assume I killed the man and threw him from the wall I would have had plenty of time, but Sir Baldwin, do not dare to accuse me of such a thing!’

‘We have also been told that you were out towards the south on the night Sir Gilbert died.’

‘By Christ! Do you dare accuse me of murder?’

‘I accuse no one. I only ask where you were and what you did.’

‘I had my reasons for going for a ride. That’s all you need know. I am no murderer.’

‘Not when you think that the kingdom’s future could depend upon one man’s death?’

After Baldwin’s softly spoken words the tension was dangerous. Sir Peregrine stood as though frozen, so furious he daren’t move lest his hand grab his sword. Simon stepped back while the other two stared at each other. Before either could speak and hasten their descent into open battle, Simon cleared his throat and asked if he could go up to the wall to take a look.

Sir Peregrine angrily slammed a fist against his thigh, but nodded. Simon walked between the knights, facing his friend, forcing the two men to break eye-contact. Baldwin nodded curtly and walked to the staircase with him.

They were silent until they reached the walkway. Here Baldwin let his breath gush out in a long sigh. ‘I am glad you were there. That was close.’

Simon looked down towards the river far below. ‘A nasty drop. You should be careful in case you find Sir Peregrine behind you one dark night.’

Baldwin grunted, standing with his hands on the battlement and peering down with a puzzled frown.

‘What is it, Baldwin?’ Simon asked.

‘What in God’s name could William have done or known that made his death necessary?’

Behind them, hidden in the shadows of the staircase, Toker watched and listened with Perkin. Speaking in an undertone, Toker said, ‘That bastard knight from Furnshill is too interested in the sailorboy’s death.’

‘You want me to slip a knife in his back?’ Perkin asked seriously, measuring the distance over the yard.

‘While the bailiff’s there? Don’t be bloody stupid! No, we’ll leave them alone for now. But I don’t want the whoreson to keep asking questions about the place.’ He considered. ‘I’ll follow him tomorrow and see what he gets up to. And then, if he carries on asking about the sailorboy, we’ll kill him.’

Jeanne chose not to join them to witness the inquest. She had come all the way to Tiverton with a view to visiting St Giles’s Fair, and if her husband now intended questioning a number of people about a possible murder, Jeanne was content to leave him to it. She returned to store the spices in their room, kissed him, and begged that he should not spend too long at the inquest, but when he asked that she should take Edgar with her if she did walk about the Fair, she agreed happily. She knew Edgar was a useful judge of cloths and trinkets.

When about to leave they saw Wat in the yard watching sulkily as Petronilla fed her child watched by another young mother. Wat jumped up at the sight of his mistress and Edgar, and his expression of desperate eagerness made Jeanne relent. She agreed that he and Petronilla should join her, and Petronilla smiled, passing her boy to the other maid and refastening her tunic while Stephen gurgled happily.

The Fair was only a short distance from the castle and they were soon past the toll-booth and in among the shouting, excited populace. Flags fluttered from strings, children walked about with sugar sweets, mothers gripping their hands as they peered from one stall to another; men chewed pies or drank ale; hucksters of all kinds bawled their wares; scruffy dealers offered dubious goods half-visible within baskets or concealed under their coats while shiftily looking about for the watchmen of the Fair’s court; and all about them were women and children munching on roasted fowl: thrushes, starlings, fieldfares and larks.

At one meat stall Jeanne allowed her empty stomach to direct her. She selected five honeyed larks for herself and Petronilla at one and a half pennies. A board demanded another one and a half pennies for the ‘Fire, paste and trouble’ to put them into coffins, and she asked him to put them all into a pie. Wat and Edgar shared three plump pigeons for another twopence-halfpenny.