Michael JECKS - The Leper's Return

But for all his cynicism, it was hard to view her harshly. Cristine was a buxom, cheerful girl of thirty. She was remarkably unscarred by her life as a servant to travellers through Crediton, and her features carried no signs of starvation or cruelty at her broad forehead. A little over average height, she had dimples at either cheek that gave her a happy, if slightly vacuous look.

But that look was a carefully fabricated mask to conceal a sharp mind, Baldwin knew, and he motioned toward a bench, waiting until she was seated before he spoke.

“Cristine, I know that Edgar will have mentioned that I want to ask you some questions. Tell me first what you know about Godfrey.”

She glanced at Edgar, but then held the knight’s eyes as she spoke. “I didn’t know him well, Sir Baldwin. He only rarely came in here, and then he was with someone else. It was not common for him to be here alone, so all I do know is what I have picked up from others talking about him in here.”

When he nodded, she continued. “He came to Crediton some years ago, before I began to work here myself. His household was himself, his daughter, and a few servants. Putthe is the only one left; the others have all gone now. Putthe comes here sometimes, usually with the head groom from Godfrey’s house, but they rarely talk about their master. I get the impression Putthe is a close, cautious sort of man.

“What I have heard is, Godfrey was free enough with his money when it came to his horses, but other people could whistle – although he was known to lend money for interest.”

“What was his temper like?” Simon asked. “Was he the sort to get involved in fights?”

“Not that I’d ever heard, sir. I had the impression he was a bitter, angry sort of a man. He snapped at us in here when we were held up and he wanted his drink, and used vicious language sometimes. I’ve heard he used to beat his daughter, too, but none of that means he’d pick a fight with other men.”

“You mean he was a bully,” Simon summed up for her.

“Yet he was apparently getting into a fight with thieves or others when he was killed,” Baldwin pointed out. Then, “Tell us what you know about his daughter.”

“Mistress Cecily is even more rarely seen in here than her father was, sir,” Cristine protested. “She’s too much of a lady to come into a lowly hovel like our little inn!”

“Yet you must have heard something of her,” Baldwin pressed. “Has she any admirers? Are there rumors about her with men in the town?”

“Not that I know of. From what I’ve heard she’s a quiet girl, keeps herself to herself. She’s known to be kind, though. I caught sight of her in the street only ten days ago, or thereabouts; she saw a leper, and opened her purse to give him money. When he said something, she thought again, and emptied the whole purse into his bowl.”

“Exceptionally generous,” Simon murmured.

“That’s what I thought too, sir. She looked quite pale afterward, and I thought she might have breathed in some of his smell, so I offered her wine, but she refused and went off home.”

“What do other people say of her?” Baldwin asked.

The girl set her head to one side as if listening to the echoes of voices which might have spoken of Godfrey’s daughter.

It was hard to recall all the things she had heard of the girl. Cristine had to listen and make polite conversation with all the people of the town, and usually her contribution was no more than apparent interest while her mind whirled on over other matters. It was nothing to her what a farmer might think of the neighbor’s pig-breeding techniques, nor what a tanner felt about a butcher’s ability to flay a calf efficiently. But some things did come to her.

Who was it? she wondered. It was two or three weeks ago she had heard someone talking…

“The leper master!”

Baldwin blinked. “What of him?”

“I heard him talking to another monk last week. It was on that really warm day, you remember?” she appealed to Edgar, who grinned in acknowledgment. “The leper master and the almoner were here, and the two of them shared a drink out in the garden. I had to serve them, and I did hear them talking about her.”

“What could they have wanted to discuss her for?” asked Baldwin with frank astonishment.

“I think she had spoken to the leper master to ask him about his charges and offer to help him – with money, I believe. Not like some.”

“Who do you mean?”

“There is a girl there already. There are all sorts of rumors about her.”

“Oh, you mean Mary Cordwainer?”

“Yes, poor girl. She’s lost her man, young Edmund Quivil. Lost her husband-to-be; lost her whole future, if you know what I mean. And some people here are putting a horrible slant on her motives. No, I think Cecily wanted to help with money. The master was asking the almoner about her, trying to find out what he could, but I doubt whether the almoner could have told him much.”

There was no need for her to explain her words. They all knew as well as she that he went about the town to distribute alms and often entered shops to purchase items needed by the poor, but the houses he entered were those of the poverty-struck, never the wealthy. In the same way, he could hardly meet Cecily while shopping. The places from which he would buy cloth, shoes or food weren’t the sort that a young lady of Cecily’s class would willingly go into. The almoner lived in a different sphere of the town to her.

But as Cristine considered this, another thought struck her, and she shot a glance at Edgar, wondering whether to tell him so he could bring it to his master’s attention. Even as he caught a glimpse of her expression, Baldwin rumbled, “Yes? Out with it, Cristine.”

She smiled again, her head lowering as she met his gaze full on. “I am sorry, Sir Baldwin, but I was thinking: if you wanted to find out what you could about Cecily, surely you’d be better off talking to the Dean, to Peter Clifford. He’s the priest for the town, and he’d be more likely to know her, wouldn’t he?”

William entered the hall with the careless mien of a man who knows his own position is safe enough. Whatever the reason for his urgent summons, William’s conscience was easy.

He glanced about him as he walked in. Two men were playing merrils near the door, and they nodded to him as he passed. Apart from them there was only one other person in the room – Matthew Coffyn.

William ran through his dispositions: there was the man at the front door, one at Mrs. Coffyn’s private room, and the last two in the stableyard. He had looked to them all a few moments before he was called, and was sure there was nothing for him to be concerned about with them, so he was curious as to why his presence had been demanded. “Sir?”

“Come with me, William.”

William allowed his eyebrows to rise as he followed his master through the door behind the dais. This was the first time he had been permitted to have a view of the special strong room where Coffyn kept his money and plate.

It was a small rectangular cell. A tiny, slit-like window set high in the wall allowed in a gloomy light, and by it William could see that the place was filled. Two large chests sat on the floor, both solid and metal-bound. At each wall were shelves, and on these lay a selection of some of the best cloths William had seen. But that wasn’t all. There was also some silver and pewter, although not as much as William would have expected. His fingers itched to fondle it, but now he was here, he was sure this was a test, and he forced his hands to his thick leather belt, hooking his thumbs over. He daren’t appear too interested. It was more difficult to control his eyes, which sauntered over the plates, goblets and bowls with an almost salacious desire.