At his side, Jeanne felt the same. It was hardly a surprise that Karvinel’s business should fail, she thought, when the proprietor was so oily and unpleasant. She would never buy gloves from so unsavoury a character. He reminded her of a snake preparing to strike.
After a moment or two Karvinel replied, ‘They all turned and ran down the road beyond the Maudlin. Like the cowards they are!’
‘Does anyone know who they are?’ Jeanne asked.
‘Oh, their leader styles himself a knight; he has some fifteen or so men with him. All sorts, all ages, all characterised by their willingness to flout the law. It’s a disgrace.’
‘You called the Hue and Cry when you returned to the city, of course?’
‘Well, of course I did! What else would a man do when he has been robbed?’
‘I was merely wondering. Vincent told us that you saw one of the men in a tavern or somewhere, and had him arrested immediately.’
‘Yes, I caught the devil myself. Hamond. God’s blood, but the cheeky sod said he hadn’t been down that way at all. It didn’t do him any good; he was known to be a man of manifest guilt. He was indicted for going about at night-time with a weapon some years ago.’
‘Ah!’ Baldwin said. He recalled his first thoughts on hearing of the hanged man’s background. This Hamond had been so well-known for his nefarious behaviour that when a crime was committed, he was the first to be arrested. Men in his position were often found guilty because the jury who presented them to court thought they were the most likely culprits. So long as someone in the Hundred was convicted of a crime, the King’s Judge would be content, and any jury would prefer to see a useless or dangerous man removed rather than risk a prolonged investigation which would invariably prove still more expensive.
By now, Baldwin was growing to actively dislike this Karvinel. The man had a face rather like a toad’s, with small narrow eyes placed rather widely apart; his nose was thick at the base, broken before the nostrils and badly set. He had not been shaved well, and his stubble was thicker on the left than the right, which made him look sloppy. Normally Baldwin would not think to condemn a man for his dress or toilet, but today was Christ’s, celebrating the infant’s birth and although Baldwin himself was very ambivalent in his attitude to the Church since the destruction of the Temple, that did not affect his adoration of Christ.
When he studied Karvinel, the merchant looked away, a trait which Baldwin had learned to mistrust in any man, but Karvinel added to the knight’s feeling of unease in his presence by staring at Baldwin’s shoes. It was not Karvinel’s fault that Baldwin’s shoes proved how wet and muddy the roads were, but irrationally it made Baldwin feel that an intentional slight was being offered.
‘I assume this man’s family stood up for him?’ he asked stiffly.
‘I don’t know where he came from,’ Karvinel said dismissively. ‘I shouldn’t think anyone else did either.’
‘Vincent told me he was a local,’ Baldwin remembered.
‘I am surprised Vincent knew of him,’ Karvinel said, and his expression confirmed his words. He frowned after their host doubtfully. ‘The lad had every opportunity to defend himself, but he couldn’t get away from the fact that my clerk and I saw him there. We actually saw him with the gang.’
Baldwin set his head to one side in exaggerated surprise. ‘You mean his face was not masked or covered? He must have been the veriest fool in Christendom to attack travellers and not try to hide his identity.’
‘Perhaps, but such is how it was.’
‘What of the rest of the gang?’
‘They were masked.’
There was a lightness to his voice which could have indicated boredom, as if he found the repetition of his attack infinitely dull – or maybe the man was simply ashamed of the attack. But that was foolish. How could a man be embarrassed about being set upon by fifteen or so men? ‘They were all armed, I suppose?’
‘All with sticks or axes. Some had billhooks. It was terrifying, I assure you.’
A whole band armed with such weapons would be a fearsome sight. ‘I wonder why this one had no face covering.’
‘He was a fool.’
‘It is merely odd. In my experience, outlaws would happily kill a traveller to prevent their being recognised later – especially if they are local and could be seen by another local man.’
Karvinel shrugged but said nothing.
‘And your clerk has died too, hasn’t he?’ Baldwin continued after a moment. ‘The young Secondary, Peter?’
‘Yes.’
‘You saw him in a tavern a few days ago – the twenty-third, I think. He turned from you as if angry – why should he do that?’
‘He never avoided me.’
‘But I heard…’
Karvinel had been surveying the other guests but now he turned to face Baldwin, and the latter could see the naked rage that simmered under the polite exterior. ‘Are you suggesting that I am not telling the truth, Master Knight? Do you call me a liar?’
‘No, Master Nicholas,’ said Baldwin with a suave smile. ‘Of course not.’
He had no need to when Karvinel’s manner convinced him of the fact.
The Bailiff was enjoying himself immensely as his drinking horn was topped up once more. He stood, a beatific grin spread over his features, the horn gripped tightly in his right hand.
Some of the guests were sitting at low tables and playing merrills or backgammon while servants brought in harps and other instruments ready for more singing. Simon was all in favour of gambling and singing, especially after a good meal, and now he leaned against a table, eyeing the throng with a benevolent expression on his face.
Baldwin saw Simon swaying gently and smiled to himself. Walking over, he nodded at the drinking horn. ‘It is my fervent wish that you should regret your consumption tomorrow, Simon.’
‘Me? Hardly had more than a few. No, I can handle my drink.’
Baldwin curled his lip. More than a pint or two of wine and his head was unbearable the next day, not to mention the acid in his belly.
‘The dancer was talented, wasn’t she?’ Simon continued pensively. ‘She could tempt a man, that one.’ In his mind he recalled the tall, slim woman springing up onto her hands, then backwards onto her feet again. The thought of such suppleness brought a happy smile to his face. ‘Yes, she could tempt a monk, that girl. God’s balls, but she can move!’
‘Sad, considering her man is in gaol,’ Baldwin said, explaining that Mary was, in fact, the baker’s daughter: Elias’s girlfriend. ‘You should consider yourself lucky she hasn’t looked at you, anyway,’ he chuckled. ‘After all you’ve had to drink, you would hardly manage a smile even if you found her tucked up in your bed!’
Simon blinked slowly as he considered this. ‘That,’ he slurred carefully, ‘is an entirely unwarranted comment. I can father children with my great sword.’
Baldwin’s bellow of laughter made others in the room turn. ‘Great sword? I should think after all that drink it would be more like a bent knife that has been used too often for cutting leather. Old, weak and blunted.’
‘Hurtful,’ Simon said sadly, shaking his head. ‘Anyway, whatever you think of it, and since I doubt that I will be able to prove my virility with that girl, I shall go out and use it for its secondary purpose.’
‘Walk cautiously, then,’ Baldwin smiled as his friend took a slightly indirect path for the doorway.
Outside, Simon immediately felt more clear-headed. The plot was long and narrow, with vegetables growing near the house and a small enclosed arbour concealing a farther garden. He walked to this and lifted his tunic, peeing contentedly against a fruit tree. When he was done he was loath to return immediately and instead strolled a little further, enjoying the quiet.