Michael JECKS - The Merchant’s Partner

Inside, sitting like a queen on her throne, Simon saw Jennie Miller near the fire. She looked up quickly as they came in, but although she registered a brief pleasure – or was it relief – at the sight of them, she was reserved. Looking at Peter, Simon felt sure that his reaction to her news was the cause of her seriousness.

“I understand you’ve already had a conversation with Jennie,” the priest said. “She arrived here just over two hours ago and… Well I shall let her tell her own story.” He walked to a seat in the shadows near the screens and sat. Glancing quickly at her, Simon saw her eyes studying the knight with a kind of suppressed excitement now that Peter was out of sight. As Baldwin sat in front of her she leaned forward to stare at him, as if he and she were alone in the room; friends meeting to gossip about old acquaintances.

“I’ve seen her!”

“Yes? Where? Tell us exactly what happened.”

“I was on my way into town, but I had to stop for a piss just outside. Well, I just finished when I heard these horses coming. There was this pair. She was the one, though. She was wearing the same things I saw on her out in front of Agatha’s place: long grey riding cloak with fur round the edge, with a blue tunic and skirts underneath, and it was the same horse. A nice little mare. Pretty little thing she was.”

“Are you quite sure? You couldn’t have made a mistake? It wasn’t just a similar horse?” interrupted Simon dubiously. She threw him a withering look.

“It’s not only knights can see the difference between a tired old hackney and a good young mare,” she said, then added tartly, “and my eyes are perfectly good enough to tell colours from a couple of yards away.”

Baldwin coughed discreetly, bringing her attention back to him. “That’s good. Can you describe the man?”

“Oh, yes. He’s short in build, not your height, sir. Very dark face, with scars and wrinkles all over. His mount was a palfrey, a grey with dappled sides. Both horses had good leather fittings with brass.”

“Good!” Baldwin stood. “We should be able to find a couple like them easily enough.”

“Yes, sir. I can take you there if you’re worried you’ll lose them.”

He spun around to stare at her. “You know where they are?”

“Of course I do!” she said, seeming amused at his surprise. “I know everyone round here. I’m the miller’s wife.”

Simon grinned at Baldwin’s dumbfounded expression, and asked: “Could you just tell us who these two people are, please, Jennie?“

“Oh, sorry, I forgot. Mr. and Mrs. Trevellyn. They’re from over to the west, at South Helions.”

“Trevellyn?” Baldwin glanced at Simon, who shrugged. “Now that is interesting!”

“Do you need anything else from this woman?” Peter’s voice sounded strained, Simon thought, and as the priest stepped forward into the pool of light from a large candle-holder, the bailiff saw that his friend’s face was taut and pale, and his face registered distaste when his glance fell on her.

Stirring, Baldwin shook his head quickly. “No. Thank you, Jennie. You’ve been very helpful.”

She stood. “Suppose I’d better get on with buying what we need, then, and get on home.” She smoothed her tunic and grinned at the knight before walking out enthusiastically. This was an important day for her. There was the excitement that her story would have for the people in the ‘Moon’ later, as the only person who saw the woman in the trees and who also saw Greencliff with her horse. That should start some heads shaking, she thought with satisfaction. And then there was the interest there had been over the apparent break up between Greencliff and Sarah Cottey. Was that because of Mrs. Trevellyn? She paused at the door, caught by the idea as she pensively straightened her shawl. Now that was a thought!

Inside, Baldwin and Simon stood and prepared to take their own leave when the priest caught them both by the arms. “Wait, I want a word with you two.”

Baldwin was surprised by the urgency in his voice. “What is it, Peter?”

“What on earth have you two been saying about Greencliff? Or Mrs. Trevellyn?”

“What?” Simon was confused, but he ran through the sequence of events that so far made up their search for the killer of the witch, leading to the discovery of the identity of the woman who was involved. “What is troubling you? All we’re trying to do is find Agatha Kyteler’s murderer. What’s wrong?”

“It was what she said. That woman will make sure that this is all over the parish within hours. And what will happen then? Everyone will assume that Mrs. Trevellyn was responsible, whether or not she was. Just as they will all think Agatha Kyteler was a witch.”

“You don’t think she was?”

“God! No, why on earth should I? She was a very pleasant woman, always ready to assist the people of the parish who hurt themselves. No, I’m sure she was no witch.”

Baldwin grinned sidelong at the bailiff. “You see, Simon thinks there may be something in it because of all her roots and herbs.”

“Simon?“

“I’m sorry, and I’ll pray for her if that will help, but so many others think she was, I…”

“Agatha Kyteler was a good and kindly woman. Ignore the rumours. But you see how gossip can spread? What if news of this gets back to Alan Trevellyn?”

“Ah!” Baldwin seemed to understand this, although Simon was left looking from one to the other with growing exasperation.

“Why? Who is this man? Why should this be a problem?”

“Don’t you know Alan Trevellyn?” Peter asked. “I thought you would be sure to… well, he is a powerful man, a merchant…”

“Partner to Walter de la Forte,” murmured Baldwin softly.

“Precisely. They bring wine from Gascony. Anyway, he is known for his boldness.”

Baldwin turned to Simon. “What the good priest is trying to say is that this man Trevellyn is a hard man, known to be cruel to his servants, and who takes the law into his own hands on occasion. I had not thought before, while we were speaking to de la Forte, but now I remember Trevellyn. He almost beat an hostler to death late last year. How will he react, I think Peter is wondering, to us asking if his wife is having an affair with a local farmer?”

Peter nodded dejectedly.

“But surely,” Simon said frowning, “all we’re doing is asking her about what she was doing at Agatha Kyteier’s house.”

Peter and the knight exchanged a glance, then the priest scratched his head while he threw a speculative frown at the bailiff. “I don’t think that will help much. You see they have no children after several years of marriage. At the same time as starting rumours about the faithfulness and honour of his wife, you are asking her why she went to see the midwife – I don’t quite see how that’s going to help.”

“Ah!”

It was not until they were riding on the road to Wefford from the Tiverton road that Simon threw a speculative glance ahead and suggested that they leave questioning the woman until the morning.

“Why?” asked Baldwin, swivelling in his saddle to peer at him.

“At least we’d have a better chance of thinking what we need to ask her that way. If we can frame the questions carefully, we may not need to ask her about things like…”

“Like whether she’s been faithless to her husband, you mean?” Baldwin sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe it would be better. But what if by the time we get there Trevellyn has already heard about the rumours? You know how fast news gets around in these parts.”

“Surely they will not have heard first thing in the morning.”

Baldwin gave him a sour look. “Don’t bet on the fact!” he said. “I once smiled at a serving girl at an inn on the Exeter road. Next day a rumour began that I had used her that night.”