Michael JECKS - A Moorland Hanging

Baldwin nodded appreciatively and smiled. “And Bruther carried on his way. He arrived at the hall where his father lived, as he always did, but that day was different. That day he knew about Sir William’s past, and he thought Sir William had been told to leave him alone and make sure that his men did too. He was free of any fears about the Beauscyr family and friends. Before it had been because of the security of the guards round him, but not now: now he left the guards at the hall’s doors. Why should he have done that if he did not think he was safe?”

Simon leaned back and sighed, folding his arms. He took up the tale. “Because, of course, he thought Sir William had already, that morning, been given the threat. He thought he was free of serfdom, because his father had said that after this day he need not be worried about the Beauscyr family. The good knight’s horse was outside the hall, and so Bruther went in. He insulted you in there, didn’t he, Sir William? Feeling safe from you, I imagine he taunted you too, passing comments about you and your son. And then he walked back toward his works, confident he was in no danger.”

“He was not to know that his father had not yet spoken to Sir William, was he?” said Baldwin. “Thomas Smyth did not return until it was almost dark. It took him some time to get to Bruther’s hut and back, and he arrived a little after you, didn’t he, Sir William?”

“Yes,” said the older knight. His face was pale, and it was almost as if, Baldwin thought, he would be able to see the stones of the wall through the older man’s parchment – like skin.

Simon leaned forward, frowning, but Baldwin held up a hand for silence. “Yes, he was there a little after you, but it was a little after your second arrival, wasn’t it? Bruther came into the hall while you were there and… well, let us say you were unhappy about his attitude. When he realized his father was not there, he walked out again, and you were left there brooding on his words. He knew your past and you did not want that to come out, so you went after him, and lay in ambush. There was no need to let him go too far, you had plenty of time. When he appeared, you jumped on him, strangling him with the first thing that came to hand – what was it?”

“A thong from my saddle. It had been loose for days. I pulled it free when I left my horse up in the rocks and settled to wait for him.”

“I see. And then you thought it would be a good idea to leave a permanent message to any other villeins who thought escape to the moors might be a good thing – so you carried his body on your horse to Wistman’s, and left him hanging there.”

“It’s true,” Sir William said quietly, his face terrible in its pallor. “I hauled him to that cursed wood and hanged him, then made my way back. I swear I never knew he was Thomas Smyth’s son. I thought he was interested in Bruther because it would embarrass me.”

“Will.” Matillida put a hand to his forearm but he shook it off.

“I did kill him. But the law is on my side. He was my villein, damn him, and he had no right to run away and then taunt me and mine. He was my villein, and I owned him. I tried to persuade him to come back, but he rejected my offers, and then, when he began to insult me… me!.. in Smyth’s hall, and threatened me, telling me to keep my son away from his whore or he would tell of my past, I saw red. I had to do something. I chased after him and ambushed him out on the moor, and then I thought that his body would be the ideal symbol to keep others from trying the same thing. Once I had done that, I rode back as quickly as I could to the miner’s hall and waited for Thomas Smyth to arrive.”

“The bottler did not even know you had gone out, you were so quick,” said Baldwin.

“How did you know, then?”

“You were the only person who was alone and without an alibi. We had thought you were with Thomas, but he only got back around dark. Samuel and Ronald finished drinking about dusk and were leaving the alehouse, so you must have been at the hall for ages. They had time to ride to their inn, drink, and then leave again and yet we had been told you arrived at Thomas’ hall a little before him. It was only today, when we heard the bottler had left you alone for a long time that we realized. If it was not for that, we might never have guessed.”

Robert was staring at his father. “But why did you kill him, Father? There was no need to murder him!”

“Brother, I think there is a lot you need to know about being a strong knight,” sneered John. “A strong knight does as he wishes, and ignores the weak.”

“Are you that much of a fool?” Sir Ralph strode to his side, quivering in suppressed rage. “Do you really think that’s all there is to being a knight? Have you understood nothing about chivalry? It doesn’t mean stealing and murder. How can you expect your name to live on in honor if all you’re known for is killing and raping? That’s not what a knight is; a knight is the leader of the flock, the enforcer of God’s will.”

“He may be to you, Sir Ralph,” the boy returned. “You who were always so honest and pure! But not here, not when there are weak serfs to control. You call me a fool, but you deserted your master when he needed you, and…”

The swinging fist caught the boy on the point of his chin, and his head snapped back under the force of the blow, hitting the wall behind him with a loud smack. He was quickly up again, eyes glittering with animal fury and his knife was in his hand. It scythed upward in a silvery arc, flashing wickedly. Simon watched in startled horror, incapable of moving, as it rose straight toward Sir Ralph’s chest.

Not so Edgar. As soon as he’d seen Sir Ralph’s hand forming a fist, he’d grasped his sword, ready to intervene. Now, as the dagger rose, he brought his sword down on the boy’s wrist, using the flat of the blade. He was trying to be gentle, but all in the room heard the bone snap as the two met and John was left staring blankly at his loosely dangling hand while his blade tinkled on the stone floor.

“No more!” Baldwin bellowed, whirling to face the dais. “No more deaths in this accursed Manor! Why did you decide to kill Taverner and Hankyn, Sir William? Was it because they saw you on their way back from the wood that night, and that made you anxious in case they might speak of it?”

Sir William gave another tired nod, his eyes firmly fixed on his youngest son. “Yes,” he admitted heavily. “Samuel saw me, and put two and two together. He told me yesterday. I knew it was only a matter of time before his story got out. They wouldn’t’ve been a problem if it wasn’t for that.”

“So you began a fire to make a diversion,” said Simon incredulously, “then slipped back and stabbed Samuel when he walked into the storeroom, before going over to Taverner’s bed and slaying the sick man while he slept?”

The tired old eyes turned to him, but now there was a degree of contempt in Sir William’s voice. “And what would you have done, master bailiff? Left them to blackmail you? You can be sure that’s what the weasel-faced little devil was planning to do to me. Oh, yes. And, I suppose,” his voice dripped with sarcasm now, “I suppose you would not have raised a finger to protect your name and that of your family?”

To Simon’s surprise, it was Robert who answered. He stared, open-mouthed in his shock. “Of course, Father! Why did they have to die? All you were protecting was yourself, your misdeeds of years ago. There was no need to kill two men who had served you loyally for years. Your honor was false, unreal – so why was it worth three men’s lives? All you managed to do was heap injustice upon dishonor!”

“Shut up, idiot!” Matillida snapped. When she looked at Baldwin, her face was a mask of cold indifference. “Well, Sir Baldwin, this has been very interesting, but not very relevant. It is nearly dark outside, and the gates will be closed already. Tell me, why do you feel we should listen to anymore of this?”