Michael JECKS - The Merchant’s Partner

Simon glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“They’re close friends, aren’t they? Maybe this de la Forte knows Greencliff has done it and wants to protect him. So he told you he was with Greencliff all afternoon when he wasn’t.”

Baldwin grunted assent. “It would make sense.”

“I don’t know,” said Simon thoughtfully.

“The only other people who had a real reason to kill Kyteler were the Oatways,” Hugh continued doggedly.

“But if Kyteler was still alive after she’d been there…” Baldwin began, and was interrupted by Simon.

“Was she? We don’t know that. Grisel Oatway could have killed her. We don’t know for sure that any other person saw the witch alive afterwards. If they did, we haven’t spoken to them!”

“Witch!” muttered the knight with a brief display of disgust, then took another sip at his drink. “All right, so we cannot be certain that Oatway did not kill her. Likewise we cannot be sure that Greencliff didn’t. There appears to be another person involved somehow as well, this strange woman in a grey cloak. Oatway saw her, so did Jennie Miller. Sarah Cottey didn’t mention her, though. Who could she be?”

“There is the other side, don’t forget.” Simon gulped wine, then leaned back and sighed contentedly as he felt it heat a simmering trail in his body. “Why was she carried away from her house up to Greencliffs field?”

“Maybe Grisel Oatway admitted to her husband that she had killed their neighbour and he carried the body away to hide the fact that they’d done it?” said Baldwin.

Hugh looked up. “That’s daft,” he said flatly. Baldwin was so surprised at the contemptuous comment he could not respond, but simply stared at the servant, who suddenly seemed to realise what he had said. Flushing an embarrassed red, he quickly carried on, “What I mean is, sir, that they’re not young, the Oatways. If they were going to hide the body, why would they take it so far away? They’d dump it nearer, somewhere they knew, somewhere they knew other people wouldn’t go…”

“He’s right,” said Simon frowning. “If they had done it, they would hardly carry it so far. And, if they were trying to keep it all hidden, they wouldn’t have left the Kyteler house with blood everywhere, would they?”

The knight mused. “That’s an interesting thought. But the only conclusion must be that it’s even more likely that it was Greencliff. The body was close to his house – maybe he was intending to go and hide it somewhere he knew, but Cottey interrupted his plans? It’s possible.”

“Yes. The only reason for thinking he must be innocent was the fact that Stephen de la Forte gave him an alibi, but from what Jennie Miller said, that wasn’t true,” Simon said. “Which means he must have been lying to protect his friend.”

In the middle of the afternoon they left Wefford and began to make their way back to the manor house at Furnshill. They had to take the journey slowly, for Hugh’s sake, but now even Baldwin did not grudge the servant his speed. It was too clear that the man was in pain.

They were home again by three, and when they arrived, Simon insisted that Hugh stay before the fire for the rest of the day, an order with which the man appeared to be well satisfied. It was the small grin of gratitude that showed the bailiff just how poorly his servant was feeling. Usually he would have expected a grimace and complaint even for such a welcome command.

Leaving him staring at the flames with a blanket over his shoulders, Simon took Margaret outside to where Baldwin stood contemplating his view. Turning, the knight pointed to the house with his chin. “How is he?”

Margaret shrugged. “He seems all right, but he’ll need to stay indoors for a while. He got very cold.”

“It was my fault,” said Simon. “I should have waited while he got his clothes, but I thought he was making excuses to avoid coming with us to Crediton.”

“It’s easy to forget how cold it is in winter,” his wife agreed. “But make sure in future that he’s got his cloak and jacket if you’re taking him with you.”

He nodded grim-faced, feeling the implied rebuke. She was right. The winter here, so close to Dartmoor, was always brutal, as he knew well. To change the subject, he said, “Did Hugh tell you what we have learned today?”

From the look on his face she knew he felt the blame for Hugh’s illness. That was only right, she thought. If they had not been quick once they realised how badly chilled Hugh was, the man could have died. Although he was the son of a moors farmer, and had himself spent much of his youth out in all weather looking after the farm’s flock of sheep, he was not indestructible. The weather here was so cold as to stop a man’s mind. It was foolish not to take the correct precautions when there was time. Now, though, there was no reason to make her husband feel any worse. As she gave a brief nod and listened to him explain about the conversation with Jennie Miller, she studied his features with frowning concentration.

“So you have three real suspects, then,” she said at last.

“Grisel Oatway, Greencliff and his woman, you mean?” said Simon.

“No, Oatway sounds as though she only really bore the old woman a grudge,” she said, frowning. “If she wanted Kyteler dead, she sounds shrewd enough to have persuaded the villagers that her neighbour was a witch, and let them do her work for her; let the mob lynch her. She doesn’t sound like she’s a killer herself.” She shot a sharp glance at Baldwin.

The knight sighed and looked out over the hills as if seeking inspiration. “I know. There’s only the one other suspect. But I find it hard to believe that my friend’s son could have been involved. He was too grateful to this woman to want to kill her.”

“Maybe you’re right, but you’ll need to speak to him.”

“He’s probably back in Gascony by now. He has not been seen since Tuesday. For now, I think it’s the woman who is the problem. How can we find out who she is?”

“Oh, really!” her scathing tone made both men turn and stare. When she saw their puzzled expressions, she said, “The woman lives somewhere near. There can’t be many for you to consider.”

“But we have no idea where she might have come from, Margaret,” said Baldwin, peering at her with a small frown. “It could be from miles away!”

With a small laugh, she shook her head in mock disgust. “You think so? I doubt it! She must be close by – it’s surely unlikely that Greencliff would have taken a lover who lived far away. How often could he meet her if she lived far off?”

“So? How many women do you think live…”

“Simon, that’s not the point. De la Forte said she was well-born, didn’t he? And how well she was dressed! How many wealthy women are there round here. That’s the point!”

To her relief, she saw the understanding dawn. Baldwin looked as though he had doubts, but Simon grabbed her, tugging her to him, and embraced her, hugging her tight.

“I married a philosopher,” he said, gazing into her eyes and smiling.

Baldwin turned back to the hills. It was good to see his friends happy, but… He grinned as he accepted his jealousy.

Noticing the way he averted his gaze, Simon pulled away from his wife. He knew how much his friend wanted a wife and a son, and was sympathetic. It was impossible for him to understand how a man could live alone. But he could not stop himself patting his wife’s belly affectionately, hoping again that this child would be strong and healthy, that the birth would not be difficult. He wanted a son badly, but more than that he wanted his wife to be safe and well. A passing thought struck him. Did this woman of Greencliff’s have children? Then another idea leapt into his mind: was she pregnant? Had she gone to the midwife to get medicines for a birth, like Jennie Miller?