‘But you think that this man was a pander for one of the women?’
‘At least one. If he was working in the brothel, there’d be several wenches dependent on the men he could bring them. Each woman will only have one man a night, usually. So I’m told.’
‘Very good. In that case, prepare a jury for early tomorrow morning. Have someone guard this body until I am back then. You, First Finder: make sure you are also here for the inquest.’
‘I will.’
‘Do you know him, bailiff?’ Sir Peregrine demanded.
‘Yes. He’s Henry Adyn, lives in an alley off Pruste Street, don’t you, Henry?’
‘Then it’s your responsibility to make sure he’s here tomorrow. Fail and I’ll fine you, bailiff. Right: now we must see if anyone’s found this murderer Estmund. Have you seen him, Master Adyn?’
‘Me? No. I’d have taken him if I had.’
‘Good,’ said the Coroner, and left them there to hurry along to Daniel’s inquest.
Jordan filled his lungs and expelled the air with a contented grunt. ‘That was a good meal, wife. I feel ready to hurry off and slaughter dragons now. I’ll see you later. Keep warm for me. I may be needing comfort tonight!’
He rose and reached for his cotte with the fur trimming at neck and cuffs. It had been moderately expensive, but was not too ostentatious. Even the addition of the little strips of cheap fur had been carefully calculated. They were the marks of a successful man of business, but nothing to make another man stop to look again. There was nothing to demonstrate the wealth that Jordan had built for himself.
His wife was quiet again. Good. She had learned. Only a few days before, he’d had to take his belt to her. She would keep nagging him when he had other things on his mind. Actually, it had been the evening he’d been going to see Mick and Anne. She’d told him that he should wear a thicker shirt to keep out the cold, and she wanted him to take a sword as well in case of attack. In the end, he’d slapped her to shut her up. She was more trouble than she was worth. In fact, if she hadn’t improved, he had been going to consider killing her too, just so that her whining would be stopped for good. He didn’t need her body now. There were always his brothels, and if he needed women he could have them sent to him here, to his house. Much easier and less expensive than a wife. The only thing that prevented his taking that action was the effect it might have on Jane. He would never do anything that might hurt her feelings; not unless there was no other choice.
Still, Mazeline had been better today, and he was in such a good mood, he could have gone to see his wench and bedded her again. She was a willing bedmate, and her enthusiasm spurred him on to greater efforts … but she was bound to be tied up with all the legal nonsense that went with a murder. Probably had that new Coroner hanging round her neck. Best to leave her alone for now.
Jane was in the hall as he reached the door. He smiled at her broadly. ‘I’ll see you later, little sweeting.’
‘I won’t go to sleep until you’re home, Daddy.’
‘Good. I’ll come and kiss you, then, if I’m late.’
Turning, he slammed the door behind him and stood a moment in his doorway, staring up and down Correstrete. There was a chill in the air, but to him it merely smelled and felt like a perfect late autumn day. He had always loved this time of year. It was a time when lonely men thought of warm thighs to lie between, and his profits were as good in autumn as in spring. Yes, he’d go to his South Gate brothel first and see how business was since he’d taken Anne back there. She would have given a stern warning to the men and women alike who worked for him.
It was a shame he couldn’t give the same warning to his wife when she misbehaved, but it was safer not to. Far better that he should merely remove her if she grew fractious or difficult to deal with.
Baldwin would have been happier to plead his injuries as an excuse to avoid the inquest, but something made him rise and pull on boots.
‘Do you really have to go?’ his wife asked solicitously. She didn’t like the way he favoured his arm as he pulled on his cotte, his sore shoulder making him wince.
‘Perhaps not, but if I don’t go, I’ll never know what sort of a hash the good Coroner can make of a simple case,’ Baldwin said lightly, but she could see from the way his brow furrowed a moment later that there was something about this case that was giving him pause for thought.
‘Do you have any idea who could have killed the man?’ she asked.
He preferred not to discuss murders with her because her own parents had been slaughtered when she was young; she had been taken to Bordeaux to be raised by relations. He always felt that it must be upsetting to her to discuss other killings when death was so familiar and painful to her.
‘There are some possibilities,’ he admitted with a rueful smile when he saw that she would not give up in her pursuit of the truth. ‘A man who appears to have an unnatural interest in young children for a beginning.’
‘Why is that?’
‘We have not yet managed to speak to him. Perhaps we shall have a better idea about him when we have heard his story,’ Baldwin said. ‘He has apparently broken into many homes in the city, never hurt anyone, never given alarm, just watched the children.’ He stopped and threw her a look.
It was quite exasperating sometimes, the way he sought to protect her from unpleasant truths. ‘And?’
‘And he lost his own wife and child in the famine. The fellow who told me about him said that his mind may have become unbalanced because of the horror of finding his wife’s body. She committed suicide-’
‘The poor man! Their child had died?’
‘That was the reason for her suicide, yes.’
‘I find it hard to believe that a man who has suffered such a terrible loss could think to inflict a similar pain on another family. Perhaps to steal a baby to care for, yes, but not to try to hurt one. Nor to harm the parent of a child.’
‘If he was provoked, if he thought that his own life could be in danger, perhaps then he could strike in order to defend himself.’
‘Perhaps … but why should he? If people knew that he was doing this, as you say, then why should he appear to be a threat now?’
‘A good point: he must know he was not viewed as a danger to others, and he would not expect to be threatened. So perhaps that makes him less likely to have been the murderer than I thought at first.’
‘Who else could have been involved?’
‘There was something,’ he began, then screwed his face into a mass of concerned wrinkles. ‘This is terrible. Please forgive me for thinking the worst of people, my love, but I have to wonder. The man’s wife is concealing something — I can feel it. She has a secret which she has not shared, and which she will seek to hide from us.’
‘It is not unknown for a woman to commit petty treason,’ Jeanne said slowly. Her own first husband had died of a sudden fever, but had he not, she could have been tempted to end his life herself. When they had not conceived a child after many attempts, he had blamed her for the failure. He mocked her and abused her in front of his friends, and had taken to physical punishments. Yes, she could understand women committing that most dreadful of crimes.
‘But why should she do it?’ Baldwin asked aloud. ‘Did she hate him because he was a bully and beat her, or was there another reason?’
‘Perhaps you should go, then,’ Jeanne said. She stood and took a heavy woollen cloak. ‘And I’ll come too, to make sure you are safe.’
Henry curled his lip. ‘So what will you do, then, Rod? Stay with me all the night to make sure I attend the inquest? Will you share my bed?’
‘Shut up, Henry. You whine worse’n a baby. Christ’s pain, I wish my baby daughter was here. She may make a noise and shit her clothes, but she makes less shit than you talk! Let me think.’
The bailiff was not a hard man, and more to the point he had other duties to attend to. It was all very well some bleeding Coroner demanding his time and telling him he had to go and do another job, but there were other people who needed him, and just now he could think of several tasks to be completed which would be impossible with this man in tow. ‘Look, Henry, do you want to go to the gaol?’