The Medieval Murderers - Sword of Shame

‘Why would Roger wish to take back the sword that can guarantee him a manor of his own, then?’

‘Perhaps he reckoned to keep it for himself? I would not be surprised to hear it. It’s a valuable weapon. Maybe he chose to take it, keep it safely concealed, and then, once his brother was safely out of the way, he could bring it out and have it for himself again?’

‘You think he would be so devious?’

‘There is little which would surprise me about that man,’ Sir John said coldly. ‘He came here yesterday to ask me to help him. He wished me to agree to keep the sword. He offered it to me, so long as I kept it secret until his brother had left the manor.’

‘He admitted he had killed your reeve?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘He said he saw Walter leave the castle with something hidden as he rode back himself. Roger went to the hall, saw the open chest and guessed at Walter’s theft. That is what he told me. And he killed Walter because he thought the man had robbed his brother. Only later, he said, did he realize that the disappearance of the sword would serve him quite well, so he hid the body and concealed the sword. It makes sense. It’s the way he would act-the damned fool!’

‘You said that to him?’

‘In my own hall I see no need to conceal my feelings, Sir Knight.’

There was a noise at the tapestry behind him, and Sir John turned. Seeing his son, his face broke into a broad beaming smile, and he reached down to the toddler before he could fall. ‘Careful, Matt! Walking at that speed is too dangerous for a boy.’

‘It’s hard when they’re that age,’ Baldwin observed.

‘You have a son?’

‘A daughter. My friend here has a little fellow.’

‘Yes,’ Simon grinned. ‘But he’s a fair amount older, and I don’t worry about him when he falls.’

‘We all fear for our children, though, don’t we?’ Sir John said, sitting with his boy on his knee. ‘We wish them to be safe and happy.’

Simon nodded, and then frowned musingly. ‘Is that why Sir Humphrey brought back that sword? Did he think it would ease Sir William’s mind?’

Sir John shook his head. ‘I don’t think he ever believed the thing was the same as the one that killed St Thomas. He merely thought it a pretty thing with a good balance.’

‘That would make sense,’ Baldwin said. ‘I’ve seen nothing to suggest the sword was the same as the one lost by Tracy’s ancestor. Tell me: we have heard that Sir William was a close friend to you and your brothers. Is that true?’

‘He was-and Roger. But William was closer to my oldest brother, Godfrey. He drowned many years ago now. After that, Sir William stopped seeing us. I felt…’

‘What?’

‘That he was embarrassed. You see he snatched Lady Alice and married her as soon as it was known that Godfrey was dead. I think he was ashamed of being so quick. But who could blame him? She was, is, beautiful. Any man would be keen to win her.’

Simon stopped making faces to amuse the toddler on his lap, his expression suddenly stilled. ‘You mean you think he could have killed to win her?’

Sir John’s face retained its smile, but his eyes had no humour in them. ‘I have never seen anything to prove that.’

Baldwin was frowning. ‘So you consider it possible?’

‘Sir William had an alibi. He was with someone else when my brother died.’

‘Do you remember who?’

‘Alice, his wife.’

Simon was watching Baldwin, and fleetingly he saw an expression of shock on his face. Simon pointed out, ‘It is Roger who admits killing Coule. Not Sir William.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘Sir John, we have heard you made no enquiries when Coule didn’t turn up when he was dead. Why was that?’

‘He had said he must go for a short while. He had asked to go on a pilgrimage to Canterbury.’

Baldwin and Simon exchanged a look. Simon said, ‘It’s just as he said last night, then.’

‘Who? What was said last night?’ Sir John demanded sharply.

Baldwin eyed him measuringly. ‘I should prefer that this remains between us, Sir John. Yesterday Sir William told us that he himself paid your reeve to steal the sword because once the thing was lost, Sir William would feel free. He wanted to be able to go into the convent with an easy heart. He told Coule he wanted the thing taken to Canterbury, there to be given to the church. He wanted the guilt to be expiated in the manner best suited to the crime. He wanted it to be kept there, secure.’

‘So he paid my man to enter his hall and take it?’ Sir John said wonderingly. His face hardened. ‘And then Roger killed him!’

‘Sir William told us that every time he touched it, it made his skin crawl,’ Simon said.

‘He appears very concerned about it,’ Baldwin muttered. ‘Your brother-when he was found, there were no stab wounds, I assume?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Were there any wounds on his person?’

‘He had a bruise on his head, but that was from where he fell into the water. I think that’s why he drowned, because he fell on a stone.’

‘I see. So he died and soon afterwards your neighbour became engaged to Alice. Now that Sir William wants to go into a convent, the sword is stolen and the thief was killed by Roger.’ He frowned. ‘There must be some sense in all this! If it’s gone, where is it? Sir William wanted it gone so he could join the convent, and so did his brother, presumably, so he could inherit the manor. But Sir William’s wife wanted it kept safe so she was safe from the nunnery, unless I misread her…’

‘I don’t understand,’ Sir John said.

‘It’s a common difficulty for those who try to speak to him,’ Simon said understandingly. ‘I find it’s best not to worry.’

Baldwin frowned. ‘Why did Roger want to come here to offer you the sword?’

‘He said that it had been moved while he was journeying to fetch you two. Someone had found out where he had hidden it.’

‘Gracious God!’ Baldwin stood, his face suddenly pale. ‘Simon, we may be too late! We have to find Roger-quickly, man! Sir John, I thank you for your hospitality, but we have to leave immediately!’

Denis was strolling from the hall to his small chamber when he heard the excited chattering from outside. He stopped, wondering, and then made a decision, and walked out to the doorway that gave out on to the court.

In the little space inside the wall, five grooms, a brewer and a smith were talking animatedly with Hob. Denis eyed them with a frown. There was no sign of the Keeper, nor of his master. ‘What is this? Why all the noise?’

Hob, flushed and anxious, bowed his head respectfully. ‘Master clerk, I found this today by the road.’

Denis felt his mouth gape as Hob unwrapped a filthy piece of old sacking, and brought out the stained and marked sword.

‘But how could you have…?’ he spluttered.

Sir William had arrived in the court with his wife, and now he stared bleakly at Denis, then at Hob. He motioned with a jerk of his chin towards the sword. ‘Where was it?’

‘Under a bush near the place where Coule was killed, sir,’ Hob said deferentially. He glanced up at Sir William, then Denis and Madam Alice, who stood a little way behind the other two. ‘It was well wrapped and covered in leaves, sir.’

Sir William nodded, eyeing the weapon with chill disgust. When he heard the calls from the court, he had been in the process of composing a letter to the abbot of Tavistock, Robert Champeaux, requesting that he might be permitted to join the convent. He had felt, for the first time in many years, as though a weight had been lifted from his back. And now it was back, he would be damned if he would give up that hope. Its shame could never be fully expunged from his family, but the sword itself could be. He knew now what he must do, before any more blood was spilled over it.