Black would never have looked away as though already cowed. He’d always meet a man’s eye, no matter what the station of the man concerned. There was something about the hunter that made him confident in the presence of anyone. That couldn’t be said for any of the fellows here. There was a consistency in their nervousness in the presence of strangers that seemed wrong. It was almost as though they were petrified of any man in authority.
Baldwin snorted and dropped from his mount. ‘You! Come here.’
The large man glowered, but obeyed. ‘Sir?’
‘I am Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, Keeper of the King’s Peace. I have heard that there’s a dead woman here. Where is the body?’
‘Sir Geoffrey has taken it, sir.’
Baldwin was still for a moment as he digested this. ‘Where has he taken it?’
‘Back to the manor, I expect. He wants to have an inquest as soon as possible, I think.’
‘Interesting,’ Baldwin commented. ‘He wants an inquest, so he removes the evidence first.’ He could feel the anger beginning to boil within him. This was intolerable! Everyone knew that a dead body should remain where it was until the coroner had been to view it. That was the king’s law. He made to return to the saddle, but Simon shook his head and slipped from his own mount.
‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I am called Beorn.’
‘A good name. I’m Simon Puttock. Show us where she was found.’
Beorn led them to the brackish pool, what was left of it. ‘She was there.’
‘How?’ Simon asked ‘On her belly or her back?’
‘Back. Her hand stuck up, as if she was waving to tell us she was there. It was terrible. Poor young Martin found her.’
‘Is he here? Can he tell us more?’ Baldwin asked eagerly.
‘No, sir. He threw up three times, and now he’s back at home. I saw her there, though, and helped bring her to the land, so I can tell you all you want to know.’
‘You know who she was?’
‘Lady Lucy of Meeth, yes.’
‘And she was a widow?’
‘Her husband died a while back in battle, yes. She’s been making the best of things ever since, so I’ve heard.’
‘She disappeared a while ago?’ Simon asked. ‘That was what we heard in Iddesleigh.’
‘Yes. She went to Hatherleigh market, and on her way back we reckoned she was attacked.’
Simon shook his head. ‘She was alone?’
‘No. She always had a servant with her, usually a swordsman. That day it was her steward. He was found by the side of the road later. There was no sign of her, though.’
‘Was she the sort of lady who would trust a stranger?’ Simon asked.
‘No woman is that trusting, is she? No, she was taken against her will. She must have seen her man die, and then she was taken away. And later killed.’
‘Do you think she’d died a long time ago?’ Baldwin said.
‘No. You know how a body can be when it’s been stored under water? She was foul-looking because the skin of her hands and feet was loose and ready to fall away, but for all that she was well preserved.’
‘It is scarce surprising,’ Baldwin observed, looking about him and blowing in his hands. ‘It is so cold, any body would survive well.’ He gazed about him at the land again. ‘This is a curious place. It is far enough from the house. Where is the nearest homestead?’
‘Probably my own, sir, over there beyond those trees to the east,’ Beorn said.
‘And you saw nothing, heard nothing recently which could have been a man bringing her here?’
Beorn’s dark features rose to Baldwin’s. ‘If I’d heard someone bringing her here, I’d have told you by now.’
Simon burst out, ‘What about when you found the body, though? Would you have sought out a king’s man to catch the killer if we hadn’t appeared here?’
Beorn met his stare calmly. ‘Of course not. If I was to go to any man it would be to him, Sir Geoffrey. This is his land.’
Baldwin smiled drily. ‘And no point going to a murderer to tell him about one of his victims, is there?’
Sir Geoffrey supervised the carrying of the body to his hall. The peasants had gone to Beorn’s house, which was nearest, and fetched his front door to use as a stretcher. Sir Geoffrey had them take her through the door at the rear of his hall and deposit her in his solar. He stood at the back of the little chamber as the men gently set her down and glanced at each other with that embarrassment which men have in the presence of death when the dead bore no relation to them. When Sir Geoffrey gave an irritable gesture with his hand, they all trooped out.
‘You poor fool,’ he whispered thoughtfully, looking down at her. ‘You couldn’t do what was safe, could you?’
It was sad. He left her there and went into his hall, pouring himself a large mazer of wine and moodily throwing himself down into his chair. The discovery of her body boded badly for him and the manor.
A man walked past the door and peered inside. Seeing Sir Geoffrey seated there, he hurriedly removed himself, and the knight felt a slight grim satisfaction that at least his reputation was intact. None of the men would dare to infringe his privacy.
Not yet.
But there were signs that his grip on the place was starting to dissolve.
Whenever a man grew to power, there were always others who desired his position. Here Sir Geoffrey had a number of men who were vying for his post. Some, like Edmund Topcliff, were content to wait until Sir Geoffrey was already gone before trying to grab the stewardship; Nick le Poter was less patient. If he had an opportunity, he would pull a dagger at Sir Geoffrey’s back some day, and try to take the place by force. That was the true reason why Sir Geoffrey had punished him the other day. The damned eunuch was as much use as ale without malt — he wanted power here, and would do anything to undermine Sir Geoffrey to win it. Well, Sir Geoffrey wasn’t going to let him take his seat.
They were such cretins! Idiots the lot of them. It never seemed to occur to them that a man like Sir Geoffrey, who had fought in a hundred battles and skirmishes, who had controlled men all his adult life, would understand their plans. He had seen through Nick’s little attempt to remove Sir Geoffrey’s closest sergeants almost before the fool had cooked up the scheme. And what was the point? Maybe he’d succeeded in killing Ailward, but Sir Geoffrey had simply replaced him with someone who was nothing to do with Nick’s camp.
And Nick was certainly a snide little man. Clearly determined to advance himself, Sir Geoffrey thought. He’d happily see the estate ruined for his own profit. If it was down to him, he’d have captured Lady Lucy and tortured her an age ago, determined to rob her of all her property and inheritance. All the men knew how the Despensers had treated Madam Baret. Sir Geoffrey had been forced to explain to them all that Lady Lucy was a useful buffer for now, and if they were to attack her it would provoke Sir Odo. He would have the approval of all, including Sir John Sully and Lord de Courtenay, if he was to espouse the chivalric excuse of protecting a defenceless widow who’d been attacked by an unscrupulous man in the pay of Despenser.
No, Sir Geoffrey believed that to harm her could only serve the interests of his master’s enemies, and sought to persuade his men that they should leave her alone.
Nick wouldn’t have had the gumption to do that. Just as he hadn’t the intellect to see how necessary it was that they should maintain the attacks on the de Courtenay estates, but meanwhile continue holding discussions with Sir Odo. Odo was no fool, and he’d know that it was a means of holding him at bay, but while they kept up the pretence of discussions, neither side could entirely satisfactorily claim to having a reason for a fight. And Sir Geoffrey could bide his time until he was ready to launch an attack on Sir Odo. Meanwhile, Odo’s men were demoralised and irritated, seeing the regular attacks by Geoffrey’s men going unpunished. Sir Geoffrey had heard that three or four of Odo’s men had left the hall recently, disgusted by what they saw as the pusillanimity of their master.