The Medieval Murderers - Sword of Shame

‘She has her talons in another man now.’

‘Who?’

‘Until the news today…I know she had already won the heart of Roger…I had thought he would kill me. I welcomed it. The end of the guilt; the end of the memories of poor Godfrey’s face…’

‘Where is she?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps in the hall.’

‘Let us seek her out, Sir William. It is time this whole matter was done.’

‘Yes. Yes, it is time.’

Later Baldwin recalled guessing the truth in those moments on the way to the hall, but all Simon was aware of was an emptiness in his heart. Sir William was a broken man, his soul ravaged because of the terrible crime he had committed for this woman; killing his closest friend. His brother had been tempted by her, and now was dead because he sought to win her love. Now, apparently, a third had been polluted by her.

Deceit, treachery, and death. They had trailed her footsteps like shadows, and all who crossed her would suffer.

‘Husband! I was worried about you,’ she said. She was sitting in the hall, a jug of wine at her hand, and she stood and smiled sweetly at the men.

Baldwin was in front, but he paused before crossing the room. This was to be a difficult interrogation, the more so because her husband was the man with the real jurisdiction here in his own hall.

Sir William, too, slowed as he entered. His pale features were drawn and anguished. ‘Madam, you have seen to the murder of your last man.’

‘Which man is that?’ she asked, her face pale. ‘Please, husband, I know you feel unwell. I’ve seen it in your eyes. It is that fearful sword. Cast it down, and come and rest with me. Let me pour you some…’

‘Poison? Is that what you have there?’ Sir William grated. ‘You have no wish for my companionship any longer, do you?’

She stood quietly, a brittle smile on her lips, and then poured a large measure into the mazer beside her, and drank it off in one draught. ‘No poison, husband. I have no need of such things.’

‘Everything about you is poisonous!’

She shook her head, the picture of humility and hurt pride. ‘Husband, dear, all I have ever sought is your advantage. You are mistaken if you think that I am trying to harm you. I love you.’

‘Even when you flaunted yourself before Roger? When you ordered Hob to bring the sword back here after you gave it to him? When you asked me to murder my own best friend so I could gain you for myself?’

‘Why should I do that?’ she asked sadly.

Simon leaned against the table. ‘Madam, you wanted to marry into Sir William’s family because you were offended to be allied to a man without your approval. Sir Godfrey died for that familiarity. Coule had to die because you knew that once that sword was gone, your husband would take himself to the monastery and insist that you went to a nunnery too. And Roger has died because…why? He rejected your advances?’

Her face was white. ‘I have killed no one. I have no reason to want Roger dead-what reason could I have for wanting him harmed? It would be ridiculous! I made no advances to him. He kept making advances to me!’

‘Perhaps that was why Roger died, then. Because you were seen with him, and your lover could not bear to see you in his arms?’

‘That is…’

‘Enough lies, woman!’ Sir William snapped. ‘You made Roger kill Coule because you wanted me gone, and now you’ve brought this thing back since Roger’s dead. You think I didn’t know? I saw it in his room, but how you had it “discovered” by Hob, I don’t know!’

Baldwin suddenly felt his mouth fall wide. ‘Stand back, Sir William!’ he commanded.

‘She must die!’

‘One problem with Roger’s death is there are so many roads from Down St Mary. How could someone know his route?’

‘Who cares?’ Sir William blustered.

‘His brother might, if his brother had travelled that way with Roger. As you did while you were both young. You alone knew his way.’

‘She did too!’

‘You think so? She was with Sir John’s brother in those days, not you. And when Godfrey died and you stole his wife, you lost all contact with Sir John. You didn’t go that way, did you? She never knew your brother’s favourite paths to Down St Mary.’

‘Enough of this!’

‘You found the sword in Roger’s room,’ Baldwin repeated. ‘You killed your brother, because he had killed Coule and thwarted your plan of retirement. It was you, Sir William, not your wife!’

Sir William’s face grew ferocious with rage, and he turned to his wife again. The tapestry rippled behind Baldwin, and he shot a look over his shoulder in time to see the blade appear, stepping back to give himself fighting room, drawing his own sword in one fluid movement as Denis ran at Sir William.

Sir William was bearing down on her, the sword still in his hand, lifting it to strike. As Simon watched dumbstruck, Denis swung his sword inexpertly. It was not sharp, and slammed into Sir William’s upper neck, slashing a thick wedge of muscle from his skull down to his shoulder, then Denis raised the sword again and brought it down on Sir William’s head, breaking open his skull.

There was a fine explosion of blood, and Baldwin heard Madam Alice scream as a spray jetted across her face.

Then Baldwin was on him, and his peacock-blue blade flashed as he lifted it and slammed the pommel hard onto Denis’s head a little above his left ear. Denis gasped, and his body stiffened, just for a moment, before collapsing like a poleaxed ox, falling vertically to his knees, his haunches dropping to rest on his ankles, and then toppling slowly to his right to fall over Sir William’s still-twitching legs.

‘I want a rider to fetch Sir Richard de Welles immediately,’ Baldwin said. ‘You! Get wine and a bowl of warmed water. Hurry!’

He had resheathed his sword, and now he took charge in the room, striding across the floor to where Madam Alice sat in her chair, her face marked with a streak of crimson.

‘Madam, I am sorry for all that has happened,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I was determined that your husband would confess. I had no idea that Denis was there.’

No, he had had no idea that he was there, but he should have anticipated it, though, as he told himself angrily. ‘You will wish to leave this room until the coroner’s inquest. There is no need to remain in here with the corpse.’

‘I shall…shall go to my chamber,’ Alice said weakly, and stood, only to slump back in her seat as though drained of all energy.

‘Where is this lady’s maid?’ Baldwin bellowed, and soon a pair of women were helping Alice through the door. She paused once in the doorway, her eyes going to the body on the floor, the messy puddle of blood about his broken skull, and then she coughed, or it may be she sobbed, and was led from the hall.

‘CAN YOU ALL HEAR ME?’

Baldwin winced at the dull bellow. In a confined space Sir Richard de Welles was deafening. ‘They can hear you, Sir Richard.’

‘Very well, I call you all to witness this…’

After so many years as Keeper of the King’s Peace, Baldwin was perfectly used to the routine of an inquest, and his mind wandered until he was called upon to state what he had seen that afternoon when Sir William died.

‘I believe that Sir William intended to kill his wife in front of us.’

‘Why d’you think that?’ the coroner rumbled.

‘Sir William was eaten with guilt for a murder which he committed many years ago, in order to win the hand of this beautiful lady. He murdered his own best friend, her betrothed, and that crime has remained with him ever since. Every time he looked at her, she reminded him that he had killed to win her. In the end, he persuaded himself that she was herself responsible, I think. His mind was weakened with shame and guilt.’