The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

Ursula found that she was trembling with excitement and some strange stirring in her body that she could not immediately identify. She pressed her hands together beneath her chin, her fingertips tingling as she imagined that strong firm hand clasping hers. As if he felt it too, Serkan’s gaze suddenly turned in her direction and as their eyes met, he smiled at her – and only at her. She was quite certain of that.

William yawned and stretched. He stood for a moment, breathing in the cool morning air. He felt more relaxed than he had done in months. He hadn’t realised how much tension there had been in his body until now. Only yesterday he had desired a beautiful girl to come to him and that very night his wish had been granted. He felt as if he only had to stretch out his hand for whatever he wanted to appear in it.

He had known from the moment he saw her standing there in her virginal white dress, like one of those martyred saints, that she had been given to him. When the visitors from Bath had begun to depart, she had lingered and when he’d beckoned her to approach she had come joyously. Her wide fawn-eyes looked up at him from under those dark lashes, with an expression of what you might call adoration, though definitely not submissiveness; he liked that, and he was captivated by that little habit she had of tossing her head like a spirited horse.

When he finally led her down the hill she ran laughing ahead of him, unafraid of the perilous slope or the darkness. In a hollow near the bottom, screened by gorse and birch, she turned to face him, her hands clasped behind her back in the semblance of a demure child. But in the moonlight he could see she was trying to suppress a grin, and her eyes were dancing under the stars. And it was under the stars they lay together, naked as Adam and Eve before the fall.

He did not force her. He did not have to; she gave herself to him. Suddenly shy and hesitant, she lay quite still on top of his robe which he had spread on the ground for her. She made no move to touch him, but offered no resistance. Then as he gently caressed her, a passion seized her and she dug her fingers into his bare back, thrusting up at him, her head thrown back and her slender white throat arched like a bow.

Three times he had taken her, before rolling into an exhausted sleep in her arms. When he had awoken sometime before dawn she was gone. He had climbed back up the hill and lain down among his snoring disciples, and sunk once more into sleep.

William smiled to himself. Would she come again? He hoped she would. No, he knew she would.

He was startled by a sudden tugging on his sleeve.

‘Master, Master. You must come with me.’

He turned to see Martin standing behind him, panting and sweating as if he had been running.

‘Come where?’ William asked. Then seeing the fearful expression on the lad’s face, he added, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

Martin’s gaze darted nervously around at the other disciples, but all were occupied with the morning’s tasks of stoking the fires and preparing breakfast. Martin leaned in towards William, his voice low. ‘You must come. She’s… she’s dead.’

William felt an icy hand gripping his insides. ‘Who? Who’s dead?’ He made a grab for the lad, determined to shake the answer out of him, but Martin was already bounding over the lip of the hill and scrambling down the other side. William followed.

It was a miracle neither of them broke his neck in his haste to get down the hill. Martin reached the bottom first and stood aside, pointing towards a clump of bushes.

‘She’s behind there… I was going to fetch water from the river, when… I trod on something soft and when I looked down I saw…’

William swallowed hard, then, bracing himself, he strode towards the bushes. The body of a woman lay on the ground. He couldn’t see her face for a sack had been pulled over her head. But she lay as if she was already in a coffin, her legs neatly stretched out and her hands crossed over her chest.

William’s first emotion was one of profound relief, for even though he couldn’t see her face he could tell at once that this was not Ursula. The woman’s robe was old and torn. Her fingernails were broken and grimed with dirt, but beneath the dirt the fingertips were blue. William lightly touched her leg, hoping that there was still life in her, but the moment he felt the skin he knew there was not. Bracing himself, he kneeled behind the woman’s head and, grasping the corners of the sack, pulled it off. The jerk sent the woman’s head lolling sideways. William gave a stifled cry, scrambling away from the body in horror.

There was no mistaking who it was beneath the sack. Poor Letice lay there, her face frozen in a distorted mask of pain, her mouth open wide as if she had been gasping for breath. It wasn’t the sight of her face, though, that made William cry out, but what lay upon her throat. An adder was wound around her neck, with its head inside her open mouth. And the snake was as dead as the woman.

William’s legs gave way and he sank onto the grass. He knew exactly who had done this. Edgar had been here last night! That fiend, that devil, had finally caught up with him and this was his warning. William stared wildly about him. Had Edgar been hiding down here in the dark, or had he been standing up there on the hill among the people from Bath? William would surely have recognised him in the crowd… but he hadn’t last time, had he, not until it was too late?

He struggled to his feet. ‘Martin, did you see anyone here this morning? A man, did you see a man?’

Martin, still staring numbly at the body, slowly shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Was she trying to catch the viper in the sack and it bit her?’

‘Snake’s longer dead than she is,’ William said dully.

‘Then how did she die?’

William knew the moment he had uncovered her how she’d died. Letice’s lips were blue and he could smell the stench of vomit on her gown. He recognised the signs only too well. He shuddered.

‘Poison,’ he whispered. The word slid from his mouth before he had time to think. As soon as he saw the panic and fear on Martin’s face, he knew he should never have uttered it, but it was too late now.

Martin stared at him aghast. ‘That drink you gave her last night-’

‘No! I didn’t do this.’ William raised his hands as if warding off the very idea. ‘I didn’t harm her. I gave her nothing except water. It couldn’t have killed her.’

‘But everyone saw you give it to her and now she’s dead, poisoned… Master, I know you wouldn’t have harmed her, but the other disciples and the people who came out here from Bath, what will they think? How will you prove you had no hand in this?’ Martin suddenly pressed his fist to his mouth as an even more terrible thought occurred to him. ‘What about me? I fetched the water. What if they think-’

William’s fevered brain had reached the same conclusion even before the lad had finished speaking, and now it raced ahead.

‘She must not be discovered. Go back up and fetch the spade that is used to dig the fire pit and bring it back here. And fetch a fire pot and something that will burn well – tallow, pitch, anything you can find. But don’t let anyone know what you are doing.’

Martin looked bewildered. ‘What are you going to do with it, Master?’

‘Just go! No, wait, help me to lift her over my shoulder… Now go, and meet me at the bottom of the west side of the hill.’

William knew his followers would be gathered round the cooking fires at the southern end of the hill, just above where he was now standing. Although the bushes would screen the body from a casual glance, any movement he made might be enough to draw attention to it. He had to move the corpse to a place where he could dispose of it without being seen.