The Medieval Murderers - The First Murder

‘How much did Norrys pay you to cause trouble, William?’ asked Gerald. He swivelled round to include Tancard in his icy glare. ‘And you? I know for a fact that you spent an evening drinking together. Luci told me.’

William blanched and Tancard swallowed hard. Both began to deny the charges, but their guilt was so obvious that no one believed them. Meanwhile, Norrys was glowering furiously, and Luci had made himself scarce.

‘Norrys told William to persuade the merchants to raise their prices, and Tancard to make sure the poor were vocal in their objections,’ Gerald explained to the startled populace. ‘And you all reacted exactly as he hoped.’

‘No!’ cried William. ‘He is lying. Norrys never paid us to-’

‘But you did tell us to increase the cost of bread,’ interrupted Jung. ‘You said everyone would have to pay, because they would have no choice, and we could all make a quick profit. We knew it was wrong, but you were very persuasive, and we all like money…’

‘Put the prices back to where they were,’ said Cole tiredly. ‘William and Tancard, you are coming with me.’

‘You cannot arrest me!’ yelled William, outraged. ‘I am too important to-’

‘Do what you like with him, Sir Symon,’ said Jung, eyeing the corviser in distaste. ‘He no longer has our support.’

The mob surged forward, and it was not easy for Cole to extricate William and Tancard from the resulting mêlée. Both were bloody and bruised by the time he managed, and were glad to be incarcerated in a place where they would be safe from vengeful fists. Norrys was nowhere to be seen.

‘Thank you,’ said Gwenllian gratefully to Gerald. ‘You averted a crisis.’

‘All in a day’s work for the bishop elect of St Davids,’ said Gerald loftily. ‘Besides, I do not want Norrys as constable in my See – not a creature who is in the pay of Canterbury. And Cole will return the favour some day. Please make sure he does not forget it.’

Gwenllian was sure Gerald was quite capable of reminding Symon himself.

It was noon by the time the guests returned from inspecting the roads, and all agreed that it would be unwise to leave that day. However, the sunshine was warm, and more rain was expected that night, so they planned to leave Carmarthen first thing the following morning. It meant that Gwenllian had one afternoon and one evening to prevent more murders – and hope that Luci would be willing to share his conclusions. Or perhaps Foliot would have answers, given that he had intimated that he was exploring the matter too.

‘I am surprised you dare show your face here,’ she said coldly to Norrys, when the Hospitaller strutted boldly into the hall for the midday meal. ‘After what you did.’

Norrys shrugged. ‘You cannot prove Gerald’s accusations, and the King will not believe them. He will make me constable, and force Cole to answer for failing to keep the peace.’

Gwenllian was so taken aback by his audacity that she could think of nothing to say as he strode to where the food was waiting. She was about to follow him when Foliot approached, the other guests at his heels. Cole was with them after a morning working on the castle walls.

‘We must do something to repay you for your hospitality,’ he said, smiling shyly. ‘Shall we perform The Play of Adam for the town? We have been practising, after all.’

‘Yes,’ said Robert quickly. ‘But I shall agree to lending you my manuscript only on condition that I can play God.’

‘You play God?’ Gerald gave a short bark of laughter that made the youth glower. ‘I hardly think you possess the necessary gravitas to depict the Almighty.’

‘No, you do not,’ said Dunstan, agreeing with him for the first time since they had arrived. ‘But why should we not oblige the town with a performance? We have nothing else to do for the rest of the day. We shall stage it in the late afternoon, so that darkness will fall as we finish the final scene. It will be very atmospheric.’

‘I suppose the townsfolk will enjoy it,’ acknowledged Gerald. ‘And it may heal the rifts that Norrys has created with his selfish obsessions. It will also give them an opportunity to see that their bishop elect is a man of the people.’

Norrys regarded him with dislike. ‘Do not blame me for Cole’s inability to rule. And I do not think we should perform that play. We owe Carmarthen nothing, except to report its constable’s ineptitude to the King.’

‘I shall be making a report, too,’ said Gerald coldly. ‘One that will inform His Majesty that not only did you plot to see one of his towns in flames, but that you murdered Pontius and Hurso into the bargain.’

‘My knights have murdered no one,’ snapped Dunstan. ‘You did it, so that we-’

‘Enough!’ roared Cole, and Gwenllian saw their carping had finally penetrated even his genial equanimity. ‘What is wrong with you? Do you want me to lock you in your rooms like errant children? Because I will, if you persist with your squabbling.’

There was silence, and Gwenllian wondered whether he had gone too far. It was hardly politic to threaten senior churchmen. Norrys was smirking, evidently anticipating anger from Dunstan and Gerald, but Foliot came to the rescue.

‘Shall we don our costumes? We have much to do if we are to perform today.’

Once the decision was made, the castle erupted into frenzied activity. The players disappeared to learn their lines; Cethynoc and his labourers were conscripted to build a stage; the servants set about preparing refreshments; and Cole and his soldiers went to announce the event in the town.

The task of overseeing everything fell to Gwenllian, and it was not easy to direct helpers and monitor guests at the same time. Gerald was a nuisance, because he was full of hubris from his victory in the market. His remarks aimed to enrage Norrys and the Austins, and they succeeded. Osbert was helpful in keeping the peace, though, and so was Foliot. She would have liked Burchill’s assistance too, but he had gone out, although not with Cole.

During a lull in the preparations, she cornered Luci, and begged him to share what he had learned.

‘Not yet,’ he said stubbornly. ‘What if I am wrong? I would never forgive myself.’

‘But time is running out,’ she said desperately. ‘A t least tell me what you still need to know. I may be able to help you find the proof you require.’

‘But that would entail me telling you my suspect. Do not worry – I am almost there. I shall speak to Cole when the play is finished. Did you tell him to meet me by the walls?’

Terrified that Luci might continue to be difficult if answers still eluded him, she mulled over the killer’s identity in her mind. The germ of a solution glimmered, and she cornered Cethynoc, learning several details that she thought might be important, including the fact that he had known one of the stones in Gerald’s room was unstable.

‘Then why did you not report it?’ she demanded. ‘Pontius might be alive if you had.’

The mason shrugged. ‘I am paid to build walls, not act as a safety inspector.’

He slouched away, and Gwenllian watched him with dislike. No wonder Cole was keen for the project to be finished as quickly as possible – he wanted to minimise the time he was obliged to spend with his obnoxious master-mason!

The townsfolk began to arrive early, obliging her to oversee the provision of food and ale from the kitchens to keep some semblance of order. Then the play began, heralded by a blare from a trumpet. The ‘musician’ was Iefan, who was greeted by an enthusiastic cheer from the audience, many of whom were his family and friends. Gwenllian happened to glance at Cethynoc, and saw him scowling jealously, envious of Iefan’s popularity.