“The alewife told me Elias often came in, and I waited to see if he would turn up. He did, and I sent the alewife to ask him to join me. We talked for a good long time, and then he suggested that we could go to his house and get some food. I was happy to eat, for I’d not had anything all day, so we upped and left. I remember that the compline bell was ringing as we went out. Elias had told me about this pile of rubbish he had to move or be fined, and I asked how much of it there was, because after we’d eaten I could help him ferry it to the midden. So he took me up the alley to show me…”
“It was in there we found Torre,” Elias continued. “He was lying in the pile. I tripped over his arm.” He shuddered.
“He was laid out face down, like someone had just dragged him in by the heels and covered him with the muck,” Lybbe explained.
“On his face?” Baldwin interjected, with a keen look at Lybbe.
“Yes, sir. On his face.” Lybbe sighed. “He was dead, but his head was still on his shoulders.”
“Why did you behead him?” guessed Simon.
Lybbe squared his shoulders with resolution. “I thought-I still think-he died because someone mistook him for me. I’m sure they meant to kill me, not Torre.”
Simon leaned forward, staring at him intently. “Go on.”
“Sir, I have lived in Gascony for twenty years, trading at the markets and keeping a shop in Bayonne. Last year Bayonne had a great fair, and people travelled there from all over Christendom, to buy or sell their goods. The Venetians came-the Camminos. They stayed with the Abbot himself, arranging to buy pewter from all the sellers in the town, always at good rates, using the guarantees the Abbot extended to them.
“All during the fair there were problems. Men were robbed, knocked out in the street and their purses taken. Those responsible were never found, although several were held. On the last day of the fair, a man was attacked-a merchant from the north. I suppose he’d heard of the robberies, for he was on his guard and managed to draw his knife to defend himself, but he was stabbed to death.
“Well, the townspeople were furious. They took to the streets, intimidating anyone they thought could be responsible. The Abbot agreed when the Venetians said they were scared and wanted to leave. I think he thought having them in the Abbey might tempt a few of the hotheads to attack the place.
“They rose early the next day, and rushed off before dawn with their servant, taking all the pewter with them, to the shame of the Abbot. The hue was raised and a posse set off after them. Luckily other travellers had seen them passing, so the men knew the direction to take. The criminals only escaped by releasing their packhorse with all the pewter. Lightened of their load, they could gallop off, while those in pursuit, whose horses were already well nigh exhausted, could only watch as the gap between them widened.”
“They weren’t caught?”
“No, sir. Now, when I was sitting with Elias in the tavern, we saw three men enter. They came in and sat down to wait for the alewife to serve them, and because she stood with us, they became impatient. I caught a glimpse of the older man’s face, and I thought I recognized him, but I couldn’t think where from. I was sure it was not a face I remembered from here. A few moments later, they all left the inn. Only later did I recall their faces from Bayonne.
“It was when we found the body; Elias noticed that the dead man was the same size as me-he had a similar build. Looking at him, lying there, he said it could have been me. That was when I realized where I knew the men in the tavern from. They were the Camminos-the thieves at Bayonne.
“I suddenly thought to myself, what if they had spotted me first? They would know I was a risk to them, as I might recognize and denounce them. If they were trying to defraud someone here as well, they might have felt safer killing me so that I couldn’t bear witness against them. In the dark they might have thought this man was me! If they had seen me in the tavern, saw my face, realized I was in Bayonne when they were, they might well have decided to silence me forever by waiting to spring an ambush.
“This all passed through my mind in a trice. I was sure the man had died in error; and I was equally sure that the men in the tavern were responsible. But at least they now thought I was dead.”
He halted, and Simon prompted him to go on.
“Well, sir, I told Elias what I thought, but he could hardly keep his teeth from chattering, he was so upset. I suggested he go back to the tavern and have another drink to steady his nerves.”
“Why didn’t you raise the hue?” Simon grunted.
“I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind that they’d tried to kill me-and once they learned they’d made a mistake, they might try again. But I had no proof! I could hardly ask the port-reeve to believe that the Abbot’s guests were murderers, could I? And if I did, they might find a way to kill me before I could have them arrested. I just didn’t know what to do-but then I thought, what if they don’t find out they killed the wrong man? What if I could hide the identity of the victim? I couldn’t conceal the whole body, for if I did that they might think they’d not killed me, that I’d managed to crawl away and recover…but if the identity of the corpse was hidden, they might leave me in peace until I could show they were the killers. Then it came to me, I suddenly saw how I could hide their failure: I could change clothes with him. I went back to the alley and swapped his things for mine. But his face would tell the lie. I had to hide his face.”
Lybbe looked up, pale but defiant. “I wasn’t trying to upset the King’s Peace. Only I knew the secret of these three men, and I wanted to expose their villainy. I needed time to find out what new crime the Camminos were involved in. Look-Torre was dead already, and what I did couldn’t hurt him. But his head wasn’t easy to get off.” Lybbe paused to get a grip on himself. “I cut with my knife, but I needed something stronger. I went to my brother’s house and found a billhook, and used that to hack his head off, then covered the body again, but carelessly so it would be easily discovered.”
Baldwin stared. “Did you not think that taking off the head would make the killer suspicious?”
“I had no time to think. All I knew was, they mustn’t find out I was alive.”
“You could have called the watch and had the men arrested immediately. Why this ignoble charade?”
Lybbe was quiet a moment. “Like I said, they were staying with the Abbot-they were his friends. And anyway, I’ve been attacked twice already by the watch. How could I trust them? If the Venetians were to pay them well enough, the watch might agree to arrest me instead of them.”
“I see. Continue.”
“The head was the last thing. I had to hide it. In my brother’s garden I found a sack, dug a hole and buried it. After that, I went back to my stall.”
Simon confronted the baker. “Elias, why on earth didn’t you tell us all this? Why put your life in danger to hide something that was none of your doing?”
“I was scared. I thought you’d assume we’d both killed Torre, and there was no point both of us dying, so I thought I might as well take all the blame rather than see us share it.”
Baldwin nodded slowly. That much made sense. He considered, then looked back at Lybbe. “Why did you leave the sheath with Torre but take away the knife?”
He grinned mirthlessly. “Because I am a fool, Sir Knight. I dressed him in my clothes first, and then when I wanted to cut off his head, I realized I’d left my knife on the belt. Rather than remove the lot, I just pulled out the knife, intending to take the sheath later, but I was so shaken up afterward, I forgot. I shoved the knife in my belt as I dragged his body to the rubbish pile and then went off to bury the head. When I realized I’d left the empty sheath with the body, I foolishly decided to leave things that way. I’m not soft, Sir Baldwin, but that day’s work has haunted me since.”