The Medieval Murderers - King Arthur's Bones

‘Right, then,’ the coroner continued. ‘Who was last to see the man alive?’

This elicited the response that Ulric, Hob, Father William and two or three others had remained in the pardoner’s company. He had grown sleepy some hours after dark, and had gone to his palliasse in the brewhouse before the others had left. Hob had taken the pardoner at his word and continued selling beer on his account, assuming that he would be reimbursed the following morning. Soon his snores could be heard, and then gradually the men had parted. First to go was the priest, then Ulric, and Hob was forced to stay up with the others until he grew bored of their company – and singing – and threw them out in the middle of the night. He had tidied the room, doused his fire and then went to make sure his guest was all right. A scratching noise had made him wonder whether there was a rat in the chamber. As soon as he found the corpse, he raised the hue and cry.

There was more evidence to hear from the men who had been drinking, but little more could be learned. All pronounced themselves moderately drunk and had gone home to their beds.

Baldwin nodded and glanced at the coroner. But there was something in the tavern-keeper’s tone which made him a little suspicious. He felt the man was concealing something. But who in these days of violence and hardship had nothing to hide?

‘In that case,’ Coroner Richard declared, ‘this matter is unsolved. I find that this pardoner has been murdered by a man or men unknown, and that he is not of this parish. The murdrum fine will be imposed, and the weapon used to kill him must have been a knife or dagger. I will say the weapon was worth at least a shilling, and that much is deodand. And now my inquest is closed.’

Father William left the coroner’s court with a feeling of sour disbelief.

There were not many men in this vill whom he would trust, but Reeve Ulric was one. He was an astute man, with the clear sight that most others lacked. He was standing up near the entrance to Hob’s tavern now, and the priest crossed to him with a determined expression on his face. ‘I am sorry that they didn’t listen to you. You were right, I believe, in God’s name.’

‘Well, the coroner didn’t seem so sure,’ Ulric said, still smarting. ‘But I know these Welshies. You can’t trust them. Not that he’d listen.’

‘I’ve known enough knights who couldn’t find their ballocks with both hands,’ Father William said shortly. ‘These two are no different. You going to the fields?’

The reeve nodded, and Father William fetched his own hoe from the shed at the bottom of his chapel before the two men walked to the fields together. ‘You saw how the man broke into the back room?’

‘The hole under the eaves. Must have been easy.’ Ulric shook his head. ‘If that wasn’t a clear proof of the Welshman’s guilt, nothing was. The fellow must have woken and seen his mate climbing in, and thought he was there to make up.’

‘You think so? I’d have thought the pardoner didn’t wake at all. No, if he’d come to and seen the Welshman slipping in, he’d have raised Cain. They separated angrily, didn’t they?’

Ulric nodded. They had both heard the pardoner tell of his fight with his companion, and how he believed that the man could have meant his threat. ‘But I don’t think that mother-swyving-’

William shook his head. ‘Enough. I won’t listen to such language.’

‘Apologies, Father. I forgot I was talking to you. It just makes me angry to think of one of those Welshmen making fools of good Englishmen.’

‘You were out in Wales for a while, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. I saw my own son killed. Some Welsh ambushed us on the way to join the king. He was slain before he had even time to draw a knife.’

‘I am sorry – may he rest in peace… Of course. I had heard – but that was before I came here myself,’ the priest murmured.

The two stood at the edge of the strips, gazing down the lines of vegetables. Mud lay thick and bright, and the rainwater was puddled like blood on the paths between.

Ulric shook his head. ‘Look at all this. It’s wonderful land, this. Perfect. Any man could make a living with it. Rich, fertile land. And what good is it?’

‘You mustn’t upset yourself, Ulric.’

‘Why not? This kind of land is perfect for a man to pass on to his son. Here am I, a freeman, and yet I have no son to inherit my land. No one. What is the point of life when there’s no one to take over, no one to carry on?’

‘You have suffered much, Ulric.’

‘Aye. And for what? It is the saddest thing, to lose your child, to see him die before you.’

‘At least you know his suffering’s over.’

‘Perhaps. I knew there was no good to come of a pardoner’s visit.’

The priest gave him a long, measuring look. ‘I didn’t hear you complain while he was here.’

The reeve wouldn’t meet his eye, but kept his gaze fixed on the weeds. ‘Aye, well, there are some folks you shouldn’t argue against. He might have been an honest pardoner, after all. One of them may be.’ He shrugged and began to trudge to his own strip. ‘I just haven’t met that one yet.’

Baldwin and the coroner demanded some food, and a girl soon brought them a little meat pottage with a loaf of rough maslin, a cheap peasant bread made from wheat and rye.

Coroner Richard eyed the fare sourly. ‘This the best you can do? I am a king’s coroner,’ he grumbled, but set to with gusto nonetheless. ‘What of him?’

‘Him?’ she said, and glanced at Huw. ‘He’s no money to pay for food.’

‘Then put it on my slate,’ Coroner Richard said with a low malevolence. His spoon stopped, hovering near his mouth as he stared at the girl with a fixed determination. ‘ Now !’

Reluctantly she went to fetch food for the prisoner. She had been about to get only dry bread, but catching sight of the coroner’s glower she amended it to the same as the two knights themselves were eating.

‘I am thankful, Sir Coroner,’ Huw said hesitantly as the girl disappeared inside again.

Coroner Richard snorted. ‘I’ll still hang you, man, if they find you guilty.’

A little later Baldwin walked back inside the tavern to ask for more ale, and saw Hob in the corner, near the great window that overlooked the village green.

‘Was he successful here, this pardoner?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Did he make much money?’

‘He took many pennies from the people around here. Some women even threw him their rings and bracelets. I saw a gorgeous enamelled-’

‘His purse is still full. What of you? Was it a good evening for you too?’

‘He paid me a little, which I have here-’

‘Show me,’ Baldwin said.

Hob opened his purse and withdrew six silver pennies and a ring. ‘I liked it, and he threw it to me for his food last night and this morning. The coin was payment for ales last night. He bought drinks for others.’

There was a strip of vellum in his purse too. Baldwin nodded at it. ‘A pardon?’

‘I gave him his own ales last night in exchange for this,’ Hob said defensively.

‘You did well,’ Baldwin said with a low whistle.

‘He was a generous man,’ Hob said. He shot a look through the window at Huw. ‘Which is why I want his killer to pay.’

‘It wasn’t me!’ Huw exclaimed indignantly, his mouth full of maslin.

‘Someone shaved his throat for him,’ the coroner said unperturbably.

Baldwin had returned and shared Hob’s words with them. Now he jerked his head back towards the tavern. ‘The pardoner’s purse is still full, so it does not look as though anything was missing. It’s unlikely he was murdered for money. Perhaps someone gave him a trinket for an indulgence, which he later regretted, and he came here to take it back?’