It was a strange bundle, bulky and ungainly, and that it was heavy was clear from the way the donkey moved, slowly and painfully. The beast must have carried it a long way.
‘What’s in that?’
‘Christ and His angels may know, but I don’t,’ Reg returned.
‘I want to know!’
‘Jordie, wait!’ Reg hissed, but Jordan was already crawling off through the undergrowth like a snake. Reg was unwilling to follow — the men looked competent at defence. The larger of the two had the look of a fighter, like a strong man standing at the door to a lord’s chamber. What Jordan could do against two like them, he had no idea. They had always tried to avoid excessive violence, if for no other reason than that they were too enfeebled by hunger to be able to effectively attack anyone other than the weakest wench.
The rain was falling fitfully today, not so heavily as it had in the past, and Reg could clearly see the trail as Jordan slithered away down the slight incline towards the men. Then there was nothing until, a few moments later, Reg saw Jordan staggering towards the roadway, his face a reddened mess, one arm cradled firmly in the armpit of the other. As he came up with the travellers, he raised his free hand to the heavens and sank to his knees in the mud.
‘It was perfect, Reg,’ Jordan gurgled later as they sat back drinking. ‘They thought I’d been attacked, and all they wanted was to know where the miscreants were so that they could run the other way! The fat one prodded me with his staff until I told them a story about the gang who’d robbed me, and then they went into a huddle. As soon as the fat bastard turned his back, I was on him and beat out his brains with a rock! The other one tried to get away, but he was torn between staying with the donkey or bolting, so I knocked him down too. It was easy, Reg. You saw it!’
Yes, Reg had seen it. He had watched as his companion killed the burlier of the two, and then bound the lighter man, waving to Reg to join him all the while. And Reg had hopped from foot to foot, wondering what he should do, for he had no idea. He wanted to run — but if he did, he would die. Jordan would reward his betrayal in the only way he knew. God’s bones, how had he ever got into this?
The men down there had been rich. That much was obvious, and wealth meant food. In the end that was all it came down to. Reg was starving. The men had money, and he could eat. So he followed Jordan’s path down the hill, past the patch of bright red soil where he had smeared his face, and on to the road.
‘Jordan, what have you done?’ he burst out when he saw the long knife.
His companion looked at him hard for a moment, then wiped the thin smear of red from the blade. ‘You wouldn’t want them to come after us, would you? Anyway, don’t worry, Reg. They were only pardoners. No one’ll miss them.’
Chapter Five
It was Sunday, and Baldwin was up early. He and his wife dressed and made their way to the cathedral, Edgar strolling behind them. Ever since Baldwin’s injury, it had been hard to persuade him to leave his master alone for a moment.
Jeanne was delighted to be at the cathedral again. The last time she and her husband had stayed in the city was at Christmas some two years ago, and then much of his time had been taken up with a series of murders. At least this time she had him to herself.
After his journey to Santiago de Compostela, she had been convinced that he was unhappy. He had been short-tempered and fractious, entirely unlike his normal self, and rather more like her first husband, a brutal man who sought to punish her for what he saw as her failure to give him a son and heir. He had died from a fever, a sad and embittered man, but his death was no loss to her by then. His beatings and insults had long before corroded any residual affection she had held for him.
Thus when she had later met Baldwin for the first time, he had felt like a saint and a saviour. She was reluctant to offer her heart to any man, but within a short while she found herself forgetting her misery and rediscovering the delight that giving and receiving love could bring.
That was why, when he returned from his journeying with such a different appearance and a new temper, she had been distraught. Perhaps she had overreacted at the time, but she had felt that it was her fault, that it was impossible for any good man to remain in love with her because she didn’t deserve it. And when Baldwin returned to his normal good humour, she was overjoyed. The feeling of relief was overwhelming, and it had not passed. She was sure that she was more in love with him with every passing day. It was impossible to conceive of the hideous eventuality that he might die or leave her. To lose Baldwin would surely mean her own death.
The cathedral was chill in the morning air, and she stood near the aisle, watching the other folk there.
It was an interesting cross-section of the men and women of Exeter. Of course many would go to their local church rather than making the journey to the cathedral. There were twenty-odd parish churches in the city, after all. But among the more wealthy and those who wanted to demonstrate their piety to the world, or perhaps those who wanted to exhibit a new tunic, there were many who wished to be seen at the cathedral church.
Jeanne, from past visits to the city, could recognize several people, and she nodded and smiled to a few familiar faces, while reflecting to herself that some of them appeared to have their minds on matters other than the mass.
First among these was the man who entered with his wife as the bell stopped tolling. Jeanne was sure that she had met them before although she could not call their names to mind, so she smiled welcomingly, but as soon as she did so, and saw how Juliana’s eyes passed to her and through her, she realized that this was not a good morning for talking to them. They had clearly had an argument before leaving their home that morning, or perhaps on their way to the cathedral.
Daniel walked over to the men’s side, and Juliana went to stand alone near one of the great columns, looking to neither one side nor the other, but staring straight before her at the altar. Jeanne was struck by her paleness and apparent nervousness.
Before long, Jeanne saw another woman join her, and recognized Agnes, Juliana’s elder sister. The two said nothing, but Jeanne saw that they held hands, and then Juliana turned slightly towards Agnes and momentarily rested her head on her shoulder. In that moment Jeanne felt sure that Juliana was one of those sad creatures who was married to a man who beat her. Jeanne was suddenly convinced that Juliana’s husband was much like her own first man. It made her feel sad to see the woman standing there so courageously, her hand in her sister’s. At least Juliana had a sister; when Jeanne was herself suffering so dreadfully, she had no one to turn to. All her family had died many years before when a gang of thieves and robbers broke into her parents’ house and murdered them.
When the mass was over, she joined Edgar and her husband out in the close. Baldwin smiled to see her, but then she saw his expression harden as he noticed someone behind her, and she sighed to see that it was Sir Peregrine. She wished that her husband could learn to tolerate the fellow. It was understandable that he should be wary of politicians, it was true, but Sir Peregrine was only attempting to do his job in the best way he might.
At least today Sir Peregrine was not of a mind to discuss matters of high politics.
‘There are times when I wonder what sort of men we promote to keep the peace in a city like this,’ he growled as he approached. ‘Have you heard about our most senior sergeant?’
Baldwin shook his head, but his manner was easier as soon as he heard that Sir Peregrine wished to discuss business. ‘What of him?’