The Medieval Murderers - The Tainted Relic

She pulled the curtain aside and he walked in, revelling in the nearness of her body as he ducked under the low lintel.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

Annie was about twenty years old, as tall as Rob, but better built because during the famine years she had been in the service of a lord who had seen to the well-being of his servants, and bought in food even as prices rose. Fodder prices rose by six times before the end of the first summer, and buying grain for the serfs of his manor finally ruined him. Three years earlier she had been turfed out when the old man died, brought down by fear of God and the struggle to support his people. His wife, the bitch, hadn’t the same sense of responsibility, and she’d seen to it that all the ‘useless mouths’ were evicted.

Rob first met her on the road from the north, up near Duryard, a mile or so north of the city. She had been a waif-like creature, all skin and gangling limbs, with huge eyes in a skull-like face, and he had at once taken pity on her.

‘Hello, where are you from?’

‘Tiverton.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Exeter.’

Each word had seemed as though it must be dredged up, and each time it took a long while for her to mouth an answer, she was so exhausted.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?’

‘No.’

She was one of hundreds who had come this way seeking employment or merely a roof. At first, when the city had stocks to be shared, people were permitted inside the walls, and the churches thundered the responsibilities of Christian to Christian, but that was seven years ago. When Annie arrived, the same men who had demanded that food and drink should be shared were more cautious. Only those who could help Exeter should be supported, and those who couldn’t must return home. Their parishes should shoulder the burden, rather than expecting Exeter to suck in all those without means.

Rob had been lucky. He and Andrew had been orphaned when he was not yet ten. Andrew was already apprenticed with a metal smith, and Rob was accepted into the household, but Andrew was rowdy and unreliable. The smith kicked them out after Andrew fought another apprentice in the smith’s hall.

It was Rob’s skill with horses which led to his being hired by the stables. That meant good food, a bed and some money, but not enough. He didn’t think he received his due, so when Andrew suggested something more profitable, he’d leaped at the chance.

Annie obviously had a clear idea what she could do in Exeter.

‘Come with me,’ he said as kindly as he could. ‘You don’t want that game. I know a place…’

She was so fragile, like a butterfly; she stirred something warm and protective in him, and Rob responded to it and the hope of companionship it brought. He brought her here to the old friary lands, where a friend lived with his wife, working on the cathedral’s rebuilding. She would be safe here, and in return for a little work about the place, and Rob paying a little rent, she could share their board until she found work.

Annie soon filled out, and now she was a buxom maid, with a tunic of red-stained cloth, and a crimson sleeveless surcoat over it. Her apron was faultless, clean and fresh. Her shining dark hair was decorously braided and wound into a thick bunch under her wimple; a pity, for he adored to see it loose. She had once said, laughing, that he only ever liked to see her wanton, and to be honest it was largely true. When she was naked over him, breasts free, her hair hanging on either side of her face like great raven’s wings, he felt true happy contentment. Yet it wasn’t just lust. No, it was more than that. The sight of her smiling face was enough to send a thrill of pleasure to his heart. To see her content was to fill him with joy.

Her eyes were on him in the gloom, but today there was no delight in them. He hated to see her like this: suspicious and unhappy. Sometimes she could be a little peevish. He only hoped that this wasn’t one of those days. He had enough on his plate.

‘Annie, have you heard?’

‘About Andy?’ she said quickly.

Rob gritted his teeth. ‘He’s missing. I don’t know where. And Will-he’s dead. I found him last night in an alley, and…Christ’s Bones, but it was awful. Someone had cut him up.’

‘Why do that?’ she asked.

There was scant interest in her voice, but that was reasonable. Will had been his friend, not hers. It was one of the things he loved about her, this naturalness and refusal to feign feelings that she didn’t have. At no time would she lower herself to pretending affection for someone when there was nothing there. She’d have made a dreadful whore. He was also glad that she didn’t harp on about Andrew. It was hard enough for Rob without having to cope with her feelings as well.

‘Will had plenty of enemies. A thief who preys on travellers is never without foes. Someone recognized him and killed him,’ Rob said, thinking about the tall, dark keeper and his words about catching foxes.

‘Did he leave many alive?’ she said pointedly.

Rob didn’t answer. Confirming what he and the others had done to win money was unnecessary. She knew what they were. It wasn’t as though she wondered where Rob had won the money to keep her happy. He hadn’t hidden anything; he could have lived on his stable’s income had he not put her up in this shack. It was the money for that which drove him to Will and robbery.

‘I’d have thought there were few enough living to take revenge on him,’ she said. ‘He saw to that.’

Rob knew she was in the right there. There were only a few who wanted to see him dead.

And he had himself been one of them.

When their questioning was complete, Baldwin and Simon beckoned the clerk to follow them, and strode to the Blue Rache.

‘What is your name?’ Simon asked of the clerk. ‘I haven’t seen you about the place before.’

‘I am Jonathan, Bailiff. I hail from Winchester, and it is only a mere chance that I happened to be here. The good dean asked me if I could attend your inquiry, because he was holding a meeting this morning, and it was a great honour to be able to help you.’

‘You mean you have heard of Baldwin and me?’

‘No. But it’s always an honour to help law officers in their duties.’

‘Oh,’ Simon said, a little chastened.

The cleric saw his face fall and chuckled. ‘But although I have not heard of you myself, Bailiff, Dean Alfred was insistent that I should come. You have helped him in the past, and he wished me to convey his best wishes and begs you will advise him of any aid you need.’

‘That’s good to know. Why are you visiting?’

‘I brought messages to the chapter from the bishop.’

Simon nodded. Bishop Walter had been drawn from his comfortable palace in the service of the King, and now spent much of his time in the King’s household travelling about the realm. Naturally he wanted to communicate with his brethren at regular intervals. ‘Have you been here before?’

‘No. Never. It is a wonderful city. It flourishes under the benevolent eye of Bishop Walter.’

Simon grunted his approval. He knew the bishop quite well, and liked him. ‘Where are we going now?’ Jonathan asked after a moment or two.

‘The alehouse where the witness was drinking last night,’ Baldwin responded. ‘I want to confirm that man’s name, and also see why that fellow was so anxious. I think he lied about finding the body.’

Simon waited, but Baldwin was not going to explain his thoughts. For his part, Simon was intrigued about Moll. ‘She was convinced she was safe. She had no fear of being attacked herself.’

‘Perhaps she guesses the identity of the murderer, then,’ Baldwin said.

‘So you are going to make sure of the dead man’s name,’ Jonathan said.