The Medieval Murderers - House of Shadows

‘Your father hinted as much,’ Baldwin said. ‘Except it really makes little sense. Why should a man like him kill his own son, just to have some form of revenge on your family? He could kill your sister, granted – but why harm Pilgrim?’

‘Pilgrim loved my sister. Perhaps he tried to protect her from his mad father? I don’t pretend to understand him.’

‘You suggest that William the elder could have tried to kill your sister? Have you ever seen him threaten her?’

‘I have not seen him attack her directly, but the man is insanely jealous of my father. He would do anything to hurt him.’

Baldwin eyed him. The fellow was arrogant and bitter, but he had lost his half-sister and such feelings were not unnatural. ‘That is no reason to want to harm his own son.’

‘Who else could have done that to Pilgrim? You saw the body there, laid out with love. Who else but a father could have done that to him?’

‘Not you, eh?’ Simon said.

‘I would have spat on his face and cut his ballocks off for what he did to my sister! She may have been-’

‘What?’

‘My father’s first-born. He loved her greatly,’ Timothy grunted. ‘Look at me: is it any surprise? Would you prefer a son looking like this, or a daughter as pretty as she?’

Baldwin was not to be moved from his questioning. There were, after all, many others who suffered from scars. ‘You say he raped her? That is why you would castrate him?’

‘In a way,’ Timothy said evasively.

‘She knew him? They indulged in the natural pleasures of a man and woman?’

‘Yes! I know, for I saw them together. And it was disgusting ! He had his…anyway, I rushed in, and it was only because she grabbed me and stopped me that I couldn’t actually run him through, the cunning bastard!’

‘Where was this?’

‘In my house, in the stables behind the hall. He had inveigled his way into the place, and she went to see him. It was only because she begged me that I didn’t tell our father. It would have broken his heart to know what they were up to. Carnal behaviour like that, to a man of honour and integrity, would be insufferable. But I swore to her that if I ever saw Pilgrim with her again, I would have his head off.’

Baldwin nodded thoughtfully. ‘His head yet remains on his shoulders, but that does not mean you are innocent.’

‘Me? If I could have, I would have killed him, and done it gladly. He was a ravisher of women.’

He was about to push away from them, but Baldwin placed his hand on the fellow’s breast and prevented him. ‘A few more questions before you go. Did you know that they were married?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘I have spoken to the man of God who listened to their vows. They were married.’

Timothy’s mouth opened, but no words came. Instead he looked from one to the other, and then down at the ground with a frown. ‘But…she couldn’t have…She knew what that would do to Father…Why didn’t she tell me?’

‘You can answer that for yourself,’ Baldwin said unkindly. ‘Are you sure she didn’t tell you that she was wedded?’

‘Never! My Christ, if I’d known that…’ He looked up at Baldwin again, and now there was a fierce, cold rage in his eyes. ‘If she’d done that and not asked Father first, she deserved what happened to her!’

Later, when the two sat to discuss the matter, Simon was unsure of Timothy’s innocence.

‘I’d not be surprised if the poxy fool mused and let the resentment build until he seethed against her. He might have reasoned that the affront to the family’s honour justified a severe punishment.’

‘Perhaps. I am certain of only one thing: that the coroner’s tale is entirely wrong!’

Simon agreed with Baldwin. The coroner’s summing-up had been devastating for the vill.

‘So we come to the essential facts. The two bodies. One, the woman, held the knife. I do not doubt that the knife was the weapon that ended both these two young lives.’

‘Clearly he doesn’t doubt – he didn’t even bother to measure the blade and test the depths of the wounds, the width of the injuries, nor any other comparative measurements,’ Baldwin whispered with contempt.

The coroner had continued. ‘The dagger will be sold as deodand. It is clear enough that the woman killed her lover, and, feeling remorse, she first settled his body into that comfortable posture, and then she walked away to commit self-murder, dropping to lie dead where she was discovered. For these crimes…’

It was at this point, as he was outlining the full total of fines that would be imposed on the poor peasants of the area for allowing this infringement of the king’s peace, that Baldwin nudged Simon and began to make his way from the place, muttering angrily: ‘I suppose that little child was strong enough to pick up her dead lover and dragged him across the mud?’

He paused and stared into the middle distance. ‘We never answered why someone should have killed him up there and then dragged him away. Plainly the idea was to conceal his body. Yet why? Surely the likely reason was to hide him from Juliet when she arrived? So someone planned the murder as a double killing. The man was slaughtered first, his body hidden, but treated respectfully, and then the girl arrived and was killed in her turn. But she did not merit such respect. Instead she was left discarded. Why? Was she being punished for a crime of which the boy was innocent?’

Shaking his head, he continued onwards, glowering at the ground as he went.

Rather than make their way nearer to the river, which was invariably damp, especially nearer the king’s new moated palace, the Rosary, the two walked down to the priory, intending to make their way past it and down to the road that led to the great bridge.

At the gate they saw Brother Lawrence with a carter. Lawrence saw them approach and suddenly grew curt with the carter, sending him into the priory, before standing and waiting for the two to reach him.

‘You left us swiftly, brother,’ Baldwin said.

‘I had no desire to be involved with that whelp,’ Lawrence admitted. ‘Is it as I feared, then? More fines for the poor folk who can scarce support themselves as it is?’

‘You will not find a more stern and forbidding coroner in the country,’ Baldwin said.

‘He is a measure of the government. Was any culprit selected?’

Baldwin showed his teeth in a smile. ‘Who would you have picked?’

‘Me?’ Lawrence looked up at him, then considered. ‘Clearly it is plain that Pilgrim was innocent. Someone killed him, and yet treated his corpse with reverence, so his killer at least recognized that he was a decent enough fellow. He didn’t want to leave his corpse lying there…’

‘Which says little for the man who murdered Juliet,’ Baldwin said. ‘He left her crumpled in a mess.’

Simon nodded. ‘Perhaps someone else came along and the murderer was forced to flee?’

‘It is possible,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘What do you think, brother?’

Lawrence sighed and peered up into the sky. ‘Did you know that this priory has a reputation? Many hundreds of years ago there was an illicit affair between a woman and a chaplain. It is said that the devil came and took them and that the man’s ghost is seen here on the flats occasionally.’

‘Here?’ Simon asked. He only stopped himself from gazing about him with superstitious concern by reminding himself how Baldwin would make him regret such a display.

Baldwin smiled airily and turned to peer at Simon. Saying nothing to the bailiff, he asked Lawrence: ‘How would a woman come to be living here in a monastery?’

‘I believe that she was here for safekeeping…some form of wardship, no doubt.’