Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

At the gate, he saw Sampson and Surval. The fool was fearful, gazing about him with wide, scared eyes, but Surval met Baldwin’s eyes with a steady gaze. ‘I heard that the Coroner died yesterday. Is that right?’

‘I am sorry to say that yes, it is.’

‘You sound as though you mean that, Sir Knight.’

‘I do. He was a good man and a good friend.’

‘Rare to hear someone say that about a Coroner.’

‘Roger was a rare man.’

Surval nodded thoughtfully. ‘Sir Baldwin, I have a mind to help you.’

‘That would be kind. How, though?’

‘You were seeking the body of Wylkyn. We can tell you where it is.’

‘That is curious. I found his body out on the moors, lying under a pile of rocks near a lime pit – is that what you were going to tell me?’

‘Yes.’ Surval frowned. ‘You found Wylkyn yourself?’

‘It was not difficult,’ Baldwin said. ‘Especially when I saw that there was a lime pit not far away. I think Esmon killed Wylkyn, and later decided to have the evidence of his murder removed. If it were not for the mutiny here, I should have sent for the body before now.’

‘Why should he do that – hide the body there?’

‘I believe he had convinced himself that he was justified in executing Wylkyn, because the fellow had murdered his own master, Sir Richard Prouse. That sort of killing, to a man like Esmon, would be intolerable. He thought an attack on one knight was the same as an attack on the whole class of knights. So he killed Wylkyn – and left the body where it lay. It was carrion, not to be given the dignity of a burial.’

‘But then he had it moved?’

‘Yes. He must have realised that the discovery of a corpse could be at best an embarrassment to him. So he had a change of mind and arranged to have it destroyed. No doubt he ordered that the body should be taken to the lime pit and disposed of.’

‘You think so?’ The hermit began to look edgy.

‘I do not come to accuse,’ Baldwin told him. ‘The body was carried to the pit, but then it was taken away again, by two men. It was put in a field and covered in stones to protect it from wild animals. And I shall tell you this: the men who took Wylkyn there not only buried him with compassion and generosity, they also sought to protect his soul. They crossed his arms over his breast, then placed a cross on them, and I expect they prayed for him.’

‘How would you reckon all this?’

‘I followed their trail. It was easy to follow them to the pit. Then they picked a resting-place that was not far away. I soon found him.’

‘But the praying?’

‘Someone had been there on the morning I visited. There was the shape of a man lying with his arms outstretched, Surval, in the dampness of the grass. And you pray on your belly like a saint of old.’

‘That is not proof.’

‘Did I say it was?’

‘Perhaps they didn’t believe in Wylkyn’s guilt.’

‘No,’ Baldwin said pensively. ‘Perhaps they didn’t. And then again, there are still the questions about the death of Mary. It was obviously not Mark. Who else could have wanted to kill her?’

Surval looked at him from under beetling brows. He gave a short sigh. ‘I want to help you, Sir Knight. I believe you are a good man, especially after hearing your words about Wylkyn’s body. I was near the road myself that day.’

‘You saw what happened?’ Baldwin said sharply.

‘Some of it. I saw Mark argue and then snap. He punched Mary on the shoulder, although not hard enough to hurt her, I’d have thought.’

‘Why didn’t you tell of this before?’ Baldwin asked suspiciously.

‘Many have heard of my offence, Sir Baldwin. Would it be safe for me to expose myself to suspicion by revealing to superstitious villeins that I was there? Once a murderer, always a murderer! No, I thought it better to hold my tongue.’

‘Even though Mark could have been executed?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘He was in no danger of that, Sir Baldwin, was he? He was a cleric – but me? No one believes a hermit is genuine. We are all supposed to be fraudsters, lazy vagabonds who have found an easy station.’

‘There was every danger!’ Baldwin snapped. ‘He was accused of being a false monk!’

‘I didn’t know,’ Surval objected. ‘Not then. If I had, I would have protected him. I would have told all I knew.’

Baldwin doubted that. Surval had not bothered to go to the court held in the castle, when Mark was accused, but then, he would have assumed that even after a murder, Mark would be protected by his cloth. It was logical. And Surval was speaking sense. His own risk was greater than Mark’s.

‘So what did you see?’

‘The whole thing,’ Surval said simply. ‘I saw Mark strike her, but not cruelly, not too hard. It wasn’t like when I hit my woman. That was malicious. My God! I was so evil! How could I have done that to someone I loved?’

‘Mark: he hit her?’

‘Yes. I saw it. The moment he’d done so, he raised his hands to his face in shame. Mary said nothing, just stared at him in shock. He must have felt awful, because he turned away and started weeping silently, and retching as if he was going to be sick, but instead, he simply ran from the place.’

‘And she was all right?’

‘Yes. Perfectly all right. She looked upset, but she wasn’t in pain or anything. A short time later, Sir Ralph appeared. I had been going to her side, but when I heard his horse, I stopped. He and I did not like each other. He spoke to her, and asked her how she fared. She was fine then. He left a little while later. Then I saw her put her hand on her belly, like any young mother, except there was a look of concern on her face. And she had grown pale, a little odd-looking – as if she felt giddy.’

‘What then?’

‘I cleared off. I was not of a mood to stand there watching her. I heard a noise, and when I investigated, I found Sampson. He had seen the argument and left just after Mark himself.’

‘So Sampson could not have killed her? You saw her alive and then saw him leaving the place?’

‘She was alive when Sampson left,’ Surval said with certainty.

‘Did you see anyone else?’

‘No. When I left, I could hear the plough still moving. That was all. I didn’t see anyone else.’

‘Why did you keep this secret until now, then? There is little in this to help us, and little enough to do you harm!’ Baldwin exclaimed. ‘This whole matter is ridiculous! Why does no one try to help find the girl’s killer?’

‘Because it hurts any vill to accept that a man within it could do such a wicked thing.’

There was a curious tone in the hermit’s voice. ‘What do you mean?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Do you have any idea who could have done this?’

‘I know Elias was in the field with Ben. I also know that no one else passed along the lane after Sir Ralph,’ Surval said. ‘Later, I saw Ben running down the roadway to get help. Elias remained.’

‘So?’

‘What if that little slap, the shock of his hand upon her – and, who knows, perhaps the thought that she had lost him? – made poor Mary lose her child? Perhaps she fell to the ground, whimpering and weeping, and Elias found her like that.’

‘What if he did?’

‘A young girl lying on the ground, the soil about her covered in her blood. It would look as though she had been attacked.’

‘Which is surely what Elias thought,’ Baldwin agreed.

‘Elias feels strongly that women should not be molested. He lost his own daughter because she was raped. She died slowly, because she had been kicked in the belly. Wouldn’t he think it kinder to kill her swiftly?’

Baldwin recalled seeing Elias with rabbits, how he stroked them to calm them before speedily breaking their necks. ‘So one could say that Mark did, in fact, kill her. If he hadn’t hit her and made her collapse, she might still be alive.’