At last, when Osbert quietly opened the creaking door, he set the parchment aside. ‘Apparently good Sir Hugh wants to have a monk killed,’ he said with a dry smile. ‘I suppose he will pay us for this little service!’
Fourth Saturday after the Feast of the Archangel Michael*
Road between Crediton and Oakhampton
‘So, Simon,’ the coroner said as they jogged along in the early-morning light. ‘What do you think the good cardinal will want to discuss with you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Simon admitted with a shrug of bafflement. ‘All I can hope is that it takes a short time to resolve. You saw how upset Meg was to hear I was being called away again so soon. I could take my fist and hit the man for what he’s doing to me.’
‘Your family has definitely been made to suffer enormously.’ The coroner nodded. ‘A man like me, no children, no woman, it’s a damn sight easier for me. You, you have responsibilities. Something to think of.’
Simon nodded. It was a fact of life that when a liege lord demanded help, a fellow like Simon was forced to obey. No lord would have women in his household. His wife, his children, all would have their own establishment, and naturally, though the womenfolk would have maids, and ladies-in-waiting if they were of sufficient status, the bulk of their staff would still be men. And all those men must leave their wives and children behind.
‘I will not agree to another long period away from my wife,’ he grumbled. ‘It is too much to ask of a man that he should keep discarding all those he loves the most. I missed the last months of my daughter’s life before she married, all because I was dutifully serving the queen, her son and the king. I cannot do more.’
He meant it. In the last months his life had been turned upside down. First there was the problem with his position in Dartmouth, which had soured relations with his wife; then the loss of his job when Abbot Champeaux died; and then the journeys to London and to Paris. He had done enough. Now it was time for him to rebuild his marriage.
‘That is good,’ the coroner said. Then he glanced over at Simon. ‘Did you hear the joke about the one-eyed bishop and the courtesan?’
‘Yes!’
‘Are you sure?’ the coroner asked, hurt. ‘I didn’t think I had told you that one.’
‘Perhaps you told Baldwin and he told me,’ Simon said dishonestly. He had no desire to be forced to listen to one of the coroner’s appalling jokes yet again.
‘Really? What, the one where-’
Simon was saved from hearing any more. ‘What’s going on there?’
They had passed far now from Crediton and Simon’s home, and he looked up at the sun, assessing the time. He thought it must be well into the middle of the morning, which meant it was strange to see so many men milling. He and the coroner exchanged a glance and then put spurs to their mounts.
St Pancras Lane
Edith had enjoyed a good morning. It had been a lovely day so far. The sun was filtering in through the clouds of smoke from the morning fires, and when it kissed her face outside on the way to the baker’s, she could have sworn it was summer again, it felt so welcoming, warm, invigorating. It was what a mother needed while her babe grew in her womb, she told herself, and almost laughed aloud at the thought.
It was a daunting prospect and no doubt about it. There were so many dangers in childbirth. Some of her friends were petrified of the birth, talking themselves into a fever over the possibility of death or miscarriage, but for Edith the risks seemed minor. As she reasoned, so many mothers had given birth with ease over the years, there was no reason to suspect that she would be any different. And anyway, she had good broad hips, and the old woman in the next street had said to her that she could deliver a cog for the king’s navy without pain. Edith only prayed she was right.
Still, it was daunting. To think that even now there was a little child growing inside her was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. She was blessed not to feel sick in the mornings like some mothers, and with the baby, she was saved from the monthly griping and pain, which was a cause of relief and joy. She had always suffered badly when it was her time. Having the babe was not a cause for fear, but the thought that her life was about to change even more was … well, curious, really. She had spent so much of her time in the last two years wishing that people would recognise how mature she was, and now that she had the proof beginning to grow, she was aware only of the fear that her childhood was now over. There was no looking back once a woman had a child of her own. She was then no longer a maid.
The road here was broad as it fed into the high street, and she walked along with her maidservant behind her. No respectable woman would think of leaving home without some form of guard.
‘Wife!’
She felt his voice in her breast. A thrilling, joyous sensation that overwhelmed her as much as it always had. Stopping, she closed her eyes a moment, until she could feel his presence at her side. ‘Oh, my husband. I had not thought to see you here.’
‘You lie appallingly, woman,’ he said, and took her hand. To kiss in public would have been shameful, especially in a street so busy as this. ‘I was on my way to my father’s counting house. Would you walk with me some of the way?’
She would never, never be able to deny him anything, she told herself. His smile was so natural, so easy and delightful, he could ask anything of her and she would give it willingly. Even her life. It was all his.
Their time had been nothing short of perfect, she thought. Quite perfect. No one could ever have been so happy, so entirely devoted and blissful as they had been in these few months of marriage. There was surely nothing that could spoil the marvellous relationship they had discovered.
She took her leave of him at the top of the road that slipped down a little east of the cathedral close, towards the wall and his father’s new home, and was making her way back homewards when she heard a strange commotion. Turning back, she saw her husband encircled by a small group of men, and she felt a quick fear that he was being set upon by a gang of cutpurses, but then she saw the breast of one of them and realised that these were no outlaws, they were merely a number of the sheriff’s men.
‘Husband? Are you all right?’ she called.
He turned to her, and in his face she saw a clutching dread. Before he could say anything, she screamed.
She saw the iron-shod staff rise and crack down on his head, saw his knees fold, and his body slump to the road, and even as she tried to force her legs forward to go to his aid, she was aware of the hand of her servant clutching at her arm, and then the cobbles seemed to fade and rush towards her at the same time as she fainted.
Road outside Bow
‘What are you all staring at?’
What the coroner lacked in subtlety, he more than made up for in volume. As he reined in his beast, the men scattered and there was a moment’s pregnant silence as they shuffled before the great horse and the rider glowering down at them all.
‘Well? Who’s in charge here?’
A nervous young man of maybe three-and-twenty sidled forward, his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. He mumbled something, and Sir Richard scowled. ‘Can’t hear a word you’re saying, man! Speak up, in God’s name. He gave you a tongue so you could live to tell your tale today. What’s going on here? Eh? You’re all blocking the road.’
‘It’s a body, sire,’ the man muttered.
‘That’s more like it!’ the coroner said with satisfaction. ‘Where’s the stiff, then, eh? One of you lot kill him, did you?’
‘No! It was no one here, Sir Knight. Must have been an unfortunate accident.’