‘It sounds more and more likely that Mabilla herself was the real target,’ Simon mused. ‘A curious idea, though. Everyone is convinced that someone is trying to kill the Queen — so why should someone attack the lady-in-waiting?’
‘Ah, now that is something for you to learn,’ Peter said easily, leaning back against the wall. ‘I am only a mere functionary, friend, performing a service for the Queen.’
Baldwin and Simon looked at him. It was Simon who broke the doubtful silence. ‘You are very bold for a humble servant, friend.’
‘You think so? Perhaps I ought to learn more humility. I thank you for the suggestion.’
‘Do you know whether Mabilla had any enemies, then?’ Simon tried again.
‘Have you had a look about this court yet? It is a hotbed of intrigues and intriguers, full of parasites, rogues, ruffians and the sort of man you would not trust with your purse, let alone your silver. Under the King, these all fight for position, and try to stab each other in the back — and only sometimes do they try it metaphorically!’
‘That has no bearing on the death of a lady-in-waiting,’ Simon pointed out.
‘When there is unrestrained sexual abandon, when man and wife are likely to couple with others, and ignore the order which God in His wisdom imposed upon us for the good and benefit of all mankind, then yes, there is the potential for murder, even of a young woman like Mabilla.’
‘Was she free with her favours, then?’ Simon asked.
‘Mabilla? I don’t think so. But that in itself could be dangerous for a woman in a place like this. If she was so courageous as to refuse a man who desired her, who can say what she might suffer?’
‘Do you know who could have desired her, then?’ Baldwin asked bluntly.
‘I believe the Earl of Kent was rather infatuated with her. I do not know, you understand, but I saw the way he looked at her on occasion, and judging by the way she did not look back, I should say there is a possibility that he could have wanted more than she was prepared to give.’
‘There have been cases of women who have been captured by those who want them,’ Baldwin began.
‘But to capture a maid in the King’s palace and spirit her away — that would be courageous. The King does not forgive very easily.’
‘You paint a picture of a court that is almost out of control,’ Baldwin said.
Peter waved his mazer in an encompassing gesture. ‘Spend a little time here and see what you think afterwards. For me, it is a view of hell. And that is as a relatively safe outsider. For you? You will both be in danger the whole time.’
Simon and Baldwin left him in his vestry cordially waving to them, and made their way out of the chapel. Baldwin paused a moment at the woman’s body, and then shook his head with a frown and walked out.
‘You want to have her unclothed and study her wounds?’ Simon asked.
‘I considered it, but unless we propose to suggest that the Queen herself and all her ladies-in-waiting have lied about the incident and the murder, which I think could be foolhardy, I think we should take their evidence at face value.’
‘I agree,’ Simon chuckled with a hint of nervousness. ‘I would like to live to see my wife again.’
‘So would I. And that means we should do all in our power to learn the truth about these deaths.’
‘Do you believe that Mabilla was the target, then?’
‘I believe it is more probable than this story of an assassin who was trying to kill the Queen and then got cold feet after striking another lady by mischance. That is, to me, highly unlikely. So, let us note that point and now go and see what we may learn about the man who was found dead.’
They made their way to the Great Hall, but when they reached it the body had been removed. Baldwin had to stop two servants before he learned that the King’s Coroner was returned; Simon and he were given directions back out to a stone building in the Old Palace Yard.
Inside, they found a pair of servants with their sleeves rolled up, undressing the corpse. Behind, craning his neck to see by the light of a small candle that burned with a smell of beef fat, was a short, dumpy little man with a beardless chin and gleaming blue eyes set in an almost perfectly circular face. ‘What d’you want?’ he grunted rudely.
‘I am Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, and this is my friend Bailiff Puttock of Tavistock. We have been commanded by the King to investigate these two deaths so far as we may, and to report back to him.’
‘You are, eh? Excellent!’ In an instant all his snappishness was gone, and the man walked round, holding out his hand. Simon, glancing at it, saw that it was stained with blood, and winced as the man gripped his hand before repeating the exercise with Baldwin.
‘You must excuse the mess in here. It’s not usually occupied by a corpse, but where else can we store him, eh? No, better to keep him out of the way, that was what I thought. So out here he came. Trouble is, it’s damned dark in here, eh? Still, a candle will serve where the sun won’t! Did you see him in the hall? Nasty business. Who’d do a thing like that to a man, eh? Cut off his tarse and shove it in his mouth. Barbaric, eh? Oh, by the way, I am Coroner John of Evesham, at your service.’
Baldwin was already at the victim’s head, and stood looking down the length of his body. Simon, having a less resilient stomach, had taken up his own station nearer the doorway, where the obscene protrusion from the dead man’s mouth was hidden by Sir John’s thick little body.
‘Was there anything at all about this man that could indicate where he came from, what his usual trade was, or anything of that nature?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Nothing. All deny ever seeing him before, which is hardly surprising, but the porters say that they haven’t seen him before either, which is odd. If one of them had seen him enter the New Palace Yard, they would surely have said so, and it’s not as if there’s been too many people for them to notice recently. No, if they say they didn’t see him, I believe them.’
‘I shall wish to walk about the perimeter of the Palace, then, just to see whether there’s an obvious place where he could have gained entry,’ Baldwin said. ‘Tell me, how easy would it be for a man to learn what the Queen’s movements are?’
‘The Queen’s? Probably very easy. How many hundreds of servants are there here, eh? Any one of them could have been bribed, I dare say. It’s all too common.’
‘And the Queen has a fairly rigid structure to her day, I suppose.’
‘Ah,’ Sir John said, smiling and tapping his nose. ‘Not all that structured, no. All too often she rises at the oddest hours to go and hear Mass, I’ve heard. She likes to keep her people on their toes.’
That made Baldwin frown, but before he could continue, the two assistants had pulled off the last of the dead man’s garments and Baldwin and John leaned forward with professional enthusiasm.
‘Clearly his own tarse, then,’ John said with detachment. Simon felt his belly lurch.
‘Dead first, I’d think,’ Baldwin said.
‘Oh, definitely, definitely. He must have had a blow to the heart which killed him, and then the murderer removed his, um, and shoved it into his mouth. It could have indicated disapproval of the assassin’s way of life, say, if the killer knew him and resented him for being a sodomite?’
Baldwin shrugged off his words. He had spent too much time living in the East, where men would sometimes form close liaisons with other men. He did not find it as fearful a lifestyle as some.
However, Simon was taken by another thought. ‘What if it was an indication of disrespect for someone else, though?’
‘Like who, my friend?’
In another man, this patronising tone would have irritated Simon enormously, but he felt himself warming to the Coroner. Sir John seemed affable, but Simon could sense a strong intellect, and felt that he was covering up a sharp mind with his buffoonery. Perhaps it was necessary in a political household such as this. ‘I was wondering: if a powerful baron wanted to leave a brutal warning to another, perhaps he could do this?’