Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

‘I shall release him,’ Scut said sulkily. ‘Although he is a lazy devil, and why on earth you want to assist someone like that is beyond me.’

Piers gave a cry of revulsion. ‘We have him!’

Baldwin released Scut and nodded slowly while the man patted down his habit and tried not to look embarrassed. He walked over with Simon to view the corpse as it was exposed, Baldwin in their wake.

The discovery of the body was no great surprise to Baldwin because he had known that Wylkyn was here as soon as he had come to look at the spot with Simon and the Coroner. He could have kicked himself for not investigating properly on the previous occasion, but then he had not enjoyed the luxury of time, and it was only when he had a little pause for reflection that he had been able to see what he had first missed.

‘It is sad to see a man like him brought down,’ he observed to Elias.

‘At least he died quickly, didn’t he?’

‘How can you tell?’

‘All those wounds.’

‘But he could have suffered a great deal while receiving them!’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Like that poor girl Mary.’

‘Her?’ Elias nodded sadly. ‘Ruined, poor chit.’

‘I heard your own daughter was raped.’

‘Yes,’ he sighed.

‘You miss her. She was how old?’

‘About fifteen.’

‘That must have been a terrible loss to you.’

‘It was.’

‘And her death was not so kindly as this man’s?’

‘No. She bled to death, poor child.’

Baldwin drew him away from the others a few paces. ‘But Mary was not raped, Elias.’

‘So?’

‘She willingly gave herself. It was wrong to kill her.’

‘Who says I killed her?’

‘You found her lying by the way, you saw the blood, and you thought she was dead, so you sent her brother to fetch help. You thought someone had raped and murdered her, just as they killed your own child. Except when you went to her, once Ben was gone, you realised she wasn’t dead, but she had collapsed because of the bleeding, just like your girl’s.’

‘The Coroner reckoned my daughter died because the man kicked her and broke something inside her. There was lots of blood, all running down her thighs and legs. My poor lass. It was terrible!’

‘So she was already dead when she was found?’ Baldwin asked gently.

‘No. It took her an age to die. And when I saw young Mary lying there like that, all the blood down her legs, and all, I thought it was happening all over again.’ His eyes were glistening now, and he sniffed as he continued. ‘I sat with her, and then I touched her, and her head just flopped down. Her neck was broken.’

‘You found her alive, didn’t you? You concealed her from Ben’s view so you could kill her.’

‘No. She was dead already.’

‘You took her head and snapped her neck like a rabbit.’

Elias shook his head. ‘ No , Sir Baldwin. I swear she was already dead. Ask Surval. He saw me.’

‘You saw Surval there? You didn’t mention that before.’

‘No, well. Not much point telling of others there, is there? It’d only get him fined as well. The vill can do without more fines.’

Baldwin studied him. He hadn’t mentioned Surval, so far as he could remember. ‘Where was Surval?’

Elias scowled. ‘I saw him over there, leaning on that great stick of his, as I came out of the field. He was up beyond Mary’s body.’

‘So you came out into the road, saw her, sent Ben to fetch help, and sat down patiently to wait?’ Baldwin said.

‘There’s no need for sarcasm. I saw her and shielded Ben from the sight, yes, and then, once he’d gone, I dipped back into the hedge to puke up. It was so like my own little girl’s death. I thought Mary had been raped at the time, but now… well, I reckon she just lost her child.’

‘And then someone broke her neck for her,’ Baldwin added sharply.

‘Yes. But not me .’

When they arrived at the hermit’s hut, he was sitting outside, staring at the bridge.

‘You have spoken to Elias?’ he said.

Baldwin nodded. ‘And I believe him.’

‘No one believes a hermit, do they?’

‘Not always, no. You were the man who killed Mary, weren’t you?’

‘Why do you think so?’

‘Because you were there. We spent so much time thinking that others must be involved, but you were there, and you had the same motive as any others. You wanted to halt her pain, didn’t you? Not because you’d seen your daughter die, but because you’d seen your own woman miscarry and bleed to death after you lost control and beat her up. You couldn’t bear to see another girl die like that.’

Surval nodded. ‘Yes. It’s true. But I only killed her to save her pain. That was all. Only to save her pain.’

Simon could see that Baldwin was inclined to believe the old hermit – and yet there was something that tugged at his mind. He remembered hearing something before – something about this hermit.

‘What will you do with me?’ Surval asked serenely.

Baldwin’s voice was tired. ‘There have been too many deaths. I do not honestly care what happens to you. I think you meant to do her a service, and for that, perhaps, you should be congratulated.’

‘I am grateful, Sir Knight. Not that I can disagree with you, of course.’ Surval smiled and leaned back. ‘It is a grand day, friends. A beautiful day.’

‘It must feel like you’re reprieved from a terrible fate,’ Simon said without thinking.

‘Hmm? Aye, I suppose so.’

‘It was a shame that you did not feel it necessary to defend Mark, though.’

‘True. But how could I reject other men’s accusations against him without betraying my own role?’

‘Poor Mark. And he was related to you, we find.’

‘Yes. He was my nephew. So many are my nephews or nieces!’

‘You once told me you have a child,’ Baldwin said.

‘You know him – Osbert. He is a good fellow. He doesn’t know he is my boy, though. His mother told everyone it was Ralph. I didn’t want to get into trouble with the Bishop, and it was all too easy to believe stories about my late, unlamented brother!’

Seeing him sitting back in the sun, absorbing the warmth, Simon suddenly remembered what he had heard and when, and he felt a cold premonition. It was during the ride here from Lydford. They had got lost and had to cross over the bridge, and Osbert, after they met Surval, had mentioned that Sir Richard had disliked the hermit. ‘How did you like Sir Richard?’ he asked now.

‘He was a good enough man.’

‘Did he support you and your bridge?’

‘Of course. Why shouldn’t he?’

Baldwin was watching the Bailiff as though wondering whether he might have been clubbed on the head during the fighting yesterday, but Simon felt like a harrier which sees its fox starting to flag. ‘I heard he was trying to throw you off here because he thought you were no more than a felon escaping justice.’

‘He had heard of me, I think, from my brother or nephew. They couldn’t keep their mouths shut.’

‘He died quickly.’

‘Fairly, yes.’

‘How did he die?’

‘He had a seizure. Horrible.’

‘You saw him?’

‘I was there for much of the time, yes. I wasn’t there when he actually expired.’

‘No. There was no need, was there?’ Simon said. ‘Baldwin, we have been very stupid. There was only ever one murderer. The same man killed Sir Richard and the girl. Sir Richard because he threatened Surval’s home…’

‘He wanted to report me to the Bishop and have me removed. It wasn’t anything to do with me, though. He simply wished to get back at my brother!’ Surval looked from one man to the other, and saw incomprehension in their eyes. ‘Very well, masters, you don’t understand. I’ll try to explain. I have a home here, a pleasing house, and I have my own altar, at which I abase myself. It is a part of me, this home. It is all I have now. In some ways, it is me! It defines me. My life, my soul, all that I am, is here. And Sir Richard wanted to throw me from the place. He intended sending me back to the Bishop. Not because of anything I had done, but because he thought any man related to my brother must be my brother’s ally. Well, I wasn’t.’