Figure of Hate

'Your brother Hugo was murdered and his slayer is still at large. And I have strong reasons for thinking that another man here is a killer.'

'You mouth the same nonsense every time, Crowner! If the murderer of my kinsman is to be found, then we are the ones to find him — not you outsiders. And as for your delusion that Robert Longus was involved with the death of this fairground merchant, I tell you once again, he was within my sight all the time you claim him to be robbing and killing this fellow.'

John was tired of the repetitive bandying of words with this truculent man and pushed past him into the hall, beckoning Gwyn and the other pair to follow.

'I hear that this lordship is once more in dispute. Until the King's justices decide otherwise, I will assume that Sir Odo is the senior figure in this manor. Tell me where he can be found, please.'

Ralph scowled. 'Odo was disqualified months ago by your precious justices, Crowner. Thus by default I am the rightful lord of Sampford Peverel and you will deal with me!'

John slowly shook his head. 'Not so, sir. The courts gave preference to Hugo over Odo, not over you! They may come to a different judgment this time — and until then, I will accept the eldest as the inheritor.'

Ralph went red in the face. 'Then find him yourself, damn you!' he snarled, and walked out of the hall and clattered down the steps.

'Nice fellow, that!' quipped Gwyn, grinning after his retreating figure. 'His language is not fit for the ears of innocent young virgins like you, Eustace!'

The Cornishman had decided to treat the new apprentice with light-hearted baiting, not out of any malice, but to reassure Thomas that he was the old and trusted favourite.

De Wolfe had advanced into the hall and was glad to see the bailiff coming out from behind the serving screens at the far end.

Waiter Hog greeted the coroner civilly and invited them all to sit at table and partake of food and drink, calling for a servant to attend to them.

He sat with them after Eustace had been introduced and brought them up to date on the few happenings that were relevant. The main one was the arrival of Reginald de Charterai and his open courtship of Lady Avelina.

'You say he is now staying in Tiverton? I must call upon him to get news of Matilda's safe delivery to Normandy.'

'I doubt you'll need to go that far, Crowner. He's more than likely to escort the ladies back this afternoon. Beatrice has been acting as a chaperone recently — she seems to relish getting out of this place as much as possible, though usually it's with young Joel.'

When they were refreshed and had made sure that their horses were being fed and watered, John explained the reason for his visit. By now the steward, Roger Viel, had joined them, but there was no sign of any of the Peverels.

'I wanted to know if anything had transpired over the killing of Sir Hugo — and also to question Robert Longus and his assistant, about the murder near Exeter. They will have to come to the city soon when I resume the inquest. I had no time to hold it before I journeyed to Wales.'

Roger Viel shrugged. 'There's nothing new about our dead lord and master. Somehow it seems that it never happened. No one even mentions his name if they can help it — especially his widow, who seems happier than she ever was.'

'That's because she's having this great romance with young Joel,' commented the bailiff,' with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

'There was that business about the grave again,' added the steward, as an afterthought. John looked at him quizzically, but it was Walter who answered.

'You remember the scandal about the shit and the dead rat in the grave … we all know who did that, but no one owned up to it. Well, a few days after the burial, Father Patrick went out early in the morning and found two dead crows, some stinking offal and pig's guts from the village midden draped across the grave mound.'

'He wasn't a popular man,' added Roger, superfluously.

'Do you think there was any connection between whoever desecrated the grave and the killer?' asked de Wolfe.

The bailiff and the steward looked at each other, then grimaced in doubt.

'Who can tell? I'm damned sure the rat and the turd came from either Warin Fishacre, Godwin Thatcher or Nicholas Smith,' answered Waiter.

'They had serious scores to settle with Hugo for raping Maud Fishacre and unjustly hanging Godwin's son,' added the steward. 'But it doesn't prove that any of them killed him.'

There was the sound of hoofs cantering into the bailey outside and Gwyn wandered over to the door to look out. He groaned and looked back towards de Wolfe.

'You're going to like this, Crowner! Your brother-in-law has just arrived. He's talking to brother Ralph outside and doesn't look pleased at what he's hearing!' A moment later, the dapper figure of the former sheriff stormed into the hall, his face like thunder. He was closely followed by Ralph, and the pair advanced upon de Wolfe. Gwyn stood stolidly alongside his master, but Thomas and Eustace slunk back a few paces.

'Can't you leave these people in peace, de Wolfe!' snarled Richard. 'Everywhere you go, you stir up trouble. For Christ's sake, mind your own business. Go back to Exeter where you can play at being God with that lazy oaf Furnellis, who that mad justiciar appointed in my place!'

'That mad justiciar? I must remember to give him your opinion of him when I next see the archbishop,' said John mildly. 'He is the prime agent representing the King in this country, so are you saying our sovereign is also out of his mind?"

De Revelle opened his mouth, then closed it again, defeated by John's frequent ploy of dangling the threat of sedition over him whenever he spoke out of turn.

Ralph pushed forward and glowered at the coroner. 'What do you want here? I had hoped that after this blessed respite when you stayed away, you would have forgotten us.'

'The Chief Justiciar sent me to Wales at the King's personal command — together with William Marshal, Earl of Striguil and Pembroke,' he retorted, deliberately dropping in the great names to emphasise that they should not attempt to push him aside like some petty local officer.

There was a pause while they digested this, then Ralph continued in a somewhat less belligerent tone. 'We have no more to tell you, Crowner. There has been nothing new forthcoming about my brother's death since you were last here.'

'That damned whore from the laundry is the culprit, I'm sure of it!' snapped Richard de Revelle. 'The time has come to try her at the manor court and get her hanged out of the way, the dangerous bitch.'

De Wolfe glared at him. 'That's utter nonsense, and you know it! She had neither the weapon nor the motive to repeatedly stab the victim.'

He jerked his head at Gwyn to follow him towards the door.

'I came to question your armourer and his assistant again. They will be required. in Exeter the day after tomorrow for a resumed inquest on the murdered silversmith. You will make sure that they are there an hour before noon at the courthouse in the castle. This man Longus failed to appear last time, but if he flaunts this attachment that I have placed upon him, you'll soon be looking for a new armourer!'

With his team trailing after him he marched out, ignoring his brother-in-law completely. Out in the bailey, he stopped and rubbed his stubble thoughtfully.

'Before we go looking for Longus and his crony, I may as well have a word with the girl Agnes. I suppose she'll be around the back of the house in one of those huts.'

Gwyn was most familiar with the domestic arrangements, as at every place they visited he made a point of rapidly getting on good terms with the domestic servants, especially the cooks.

'The wash house is next to the main kitchen,' he declared, striding around the side of the manor house. They found Agnes, together with another girl who worked at laundering and mending the Peverels' linen, dumping a batch of washing into a large wooden tub. A ten-gallon cauldron hanging on a tripod over a firepit supplied hot water, and Agnes was rhythmically prodding the soaked fabric with a club-like stick. The other girl, little more than a child, was throwing in a handful of crude soap, made from goat's tallow boiled with beech ash.