The Medieval Murderers - House of Shadows

Bermondsey Marsh

Baldwin had woken Simon as soon as dawn broke, and long before most of the city had risen the two were already on the southern shore of the Thames.

‘This affair is surely not so complex as it appears,’ Baldwin said. ‘Let us return to the place where the bodies were found and see if there is anything about the land which may lead us to an answer.’

The two men were walking away from the marvellous new development of the Rosary, their feet sinking into the thick tussocks of reed amid the meagre grass, before seeing some distance away a figure stalking about.

‘I think that there we can see a part of the answer,’ Baldwin murmured.

Simon followed his gaze. All he could see was a man standing at the water’s edge, sometimes moving slowly about with great deliberation, like a toddler learning his first steps. ‘There?’ he asked.

But Baldwin was already striding towards the priory, and Simon had to hurry to catch up with him.

‘What do you mean?’ he demanded as he reached his friend.

‘Look up there,’ Baldwin replied.

At the gatehouse Simon saw a cart emerge. There was a man leading the pony, and alongside it a monk paced slowly. Even from this distance, it was easy to recognise the figure.

‘Lawrence?’

Baldwin said no more as they approached the cellarer.

‘Sir Baldwin! You are up and about early this morning.’

‘As are you,’ Baldwin said, eyeing the cart. ‘You are off to the city?’

‘There is always a need to keep friends content. We have rights to some fisheries, and every so often we send a gift to friends in the city.’

‘Do you gather them yourself?’

‘Me? Sir Baldwin, can you imagine an old fellow like me on stilts walking about the river’s banks? Better to have a youngster do things like that.’

‘Oh? I’d heard you might have been about during the evening when Juliet and her man were killed.’

‘I don’t know who’d have said that. I wouldn’t leave the priory at night. Not with the ghost about. I’ve told you about that, haven’t I?’

‘Of course.’ Baldwin smiled. ‘And yet we’ve heard that Juliet told of the ghost out here on the night Mortimer escaped. A man could be upset to think that she had reported him – especially if it was her report that caused the good prior to be arrested.’

‘Who would think in such a way?’

‘I wonder,’ Baldwin said coolly, and now he was staring intently at the monk. ‘If a man loved his master and saw him punished by arrest, perhaps he would be so disgruntled and resentful that he might take matters into his own hands. A strong man, though. Clearly an older man would find it difficult to carry a body like Pilgrim’s.’ He glanced at the small cart. ‘Who would these fish be for?’

Lawrence kept his face neutral. ‘Sir Henry. I have been asked by the good prior to have this wagon-load delivered personally.’

‘Ah. The same man who reported that your prior might have been involved in Mortimer’s escape.’ Baldwin smiled coldly. ‘It is not a task to your taste?’

‘Our prior has been installed to replace our poor brother Walter, who has been ripped from our fold. Naturally I seek to obey my prior.’

‘ Naturally ,’ Baldwin said drily. ‘I would think many of your comrades would be as unhappy as you about the turn events have taken.’

‘None of us is content. But we have the gratification of knowing that at least we are serving God in our own way, no matter what the powerful in the land may think or want. And God willing, our prior may one day return to us.’

‘God willing,’ Baldwin murmured in agreement.

‘Was that any help to us?’ Simon enquired.

Baldwin splashed into a puddle and gazed down at his boot in disdain. ‘These were once good leather,’ he muttered inconsequentially. ‘Hmm? Yes, I think so. Do you consider that man to be a murderer?’

‘Lawrence? No!’

‘Nor do I,’ Baldwin said. ‘And I think that itself makes our task more easy.’

Simon glanced at him. ‘What now?’

‘Now we see if another fellow can help us,’ Baldwin said with a smile, and turned to the gatehouse. ‘A man utterly devoted to Lawrence or his old prior. Someone who is stronger, who could drag Pilgrim’s body down into that hollow, but who’s also young enough to be able to use stilts. Ah! Porter! We should like to see the novice, Brother John. Is he about today?’

‘No. He’s off to look at the kiddles.’

‘Let me guess, he would use a small boat to reach them?’

‘Trust a lad like him with a boat? He can make use of stilts like his master the cellarer!’

‘Of course! Tell me, where would I see him?’

‘Best to wait here. He’ll be returning before long. Can I fetch you a quart of ale?’

William looked about him.

There had been a time, when he was a lad, when he had looked about himself in this room and seen only magnificence. There had been tapestries and fine pewter, silver catching the light from the fire in the middle of the floor, cushions on the benches, and great hounds pacing in and out. It had been a place of enormous comfort and elegance.

As he grew older, he came to this little manor less and less. He had the larger properties, and as his mercantile ventures bore fruit he would travel abroad more often, often dreaming idly of times when he would be able to settle down and find a wife. And then he had met Cecily.

She had been the beauty he had looked for all his life. A tall woman, with flashing blue eyes and dark, Celtic hair, she entranced him. So much so that he had mentioned her to his old companion, Henry. And then, the next time he saw Henry, Henry already had her heart. It all but broke William’s.

Over time, he had healed. He had found dear Isabelle, who had been a congenial spouse who had borne him young William and two more children, and William had found his star rising with the influence of his master, Piers Gaveston. The king himself recognized William.

But then Gaveston was caught by his enemies and murdered. It was a terrible shock. Suddenly William learned what it was to lose his patron. Only three years later, the famine struck, and Isabelle and the children died. Christ’s bones, but that had been a black time! Only eight years, but it was as though he had been living a different life.

It was after the famine that Henry grew in influence. And only eighteen months ago, William first clapped eyes on Henry’s daughter, and in her face he saw the woman he had wanted to marry all those years before. Juliet ensnared him with her calm, elegant beauty, her ready wit and cheerfulness. He couldn’t resist her.

There was a thundering on his door, and he tutted to himself. ‘Perce, see who it is.’

When they had been young, he and Henry had been inseparable. The two of them had revelled in the same alehouses, whored after the same wenches in the stews, even fought together in the same actions when they came against pirates. Yet once Henry took his woman, all his love for his friend had dissipated like smoke before a wind. There was nothing left.

There was a shriek from the yard outside, and William spun on his heel in time to see Perce stumble inside. His hand was at his temple, and he walked with a dazed, unseeing expression. He entered, tottered, and then slowly fell to the floor, like a tree subsiding after the axes had hewn away one side, spinning a little to crash down on his back.

The men sent to protect and guard him were at the door, but they were reluctant to stand in the path of the force that entered now.

‘So, William,’ Sir Henry said. He thrust the war-hammer into his belt, casting a look about him. ‘I think you’d best come with me.’

Lawrence walked up the lane towards the bridge, but all the while his mind was fixed on the knight waiting at the priory’s gate. At last, with a sigh, he gave instructions to the carter about where to go with the fish, and with a heavy heart he turned back, walking along the river bank to the kiddles. There was one figure still there, a tall lad with his robes bound up to keep them dry, the stilts he wore hidden under the murky waters.