It mattered not a whit what he wanted, though. His life was already too bound up in Jordan’s concerns. His existence depended on the regular acquisition of women to replace the stales who had to be thrown from the brothel because they were too old, too worn, too tired, or just because they had fled the place. Many did, and each time Jordan exerted himself to find them again. They should be made an example of, he said. They should be shown to have failed, so that others wouldn’t try the same trick.
That was the whole idea with Anne, of course. It still made him feel sick to think of it. Killing a man quickly and without fuss, that was one thing; torturing a girl like that was different. That night he’d seen more clearly than before just how different Jordan was from him. Some men had consciences, but Jordan certainly didn’t.
‘Glad you’re here, Reg,’ came a voice, and he stiffened as he recognized Jordan’s tone. There was an undercurrent of excitement in it, as though he was suppressing his exhilaration.
‘Jordan,’ he responded listlessly.
‘Christ’s nuts, Reg, you look as if the world’s shat on your head!’ Jordan said and laughed.
‘Sabina has run away. She took my boy with her.’
‘She took Michael?’ Jordan whistled through his front teeth. ‘That’s bad. Do you want me to find them and bring him back?’
‘I can do that myself,’ Reginald said. He knew full well what Jordan was offering.
‘Well, after what you did for me with Daniel, all you have to do is let me know,’ Jordan said with a smile, but then he closed his eyes.
‘What is it?’
‘My head. It hurts so much sometimes … just now it’s worse than ever … You remember that little maid who I was seeing to try to get at Daniel?’
Jordan put his arm about Reg’s shoulder and began to lead him out to the yard at the back. There was the sound of raucous singing from the hall, the rattling of knuckles in a back room, screeching from the cocks in the pits out at the back, and the ever-present chinking of money. Men and women rutted in corners, on the floor or in beds, according to their fancy, and the noise assailed Reg’s ears. He grew quite dizzy, as though he had been drinking strong wine all day.
They went out to the separate little house, just one room and a small chamber above, in which they conducted their business. Jordan went to the cupboard in which were several large pots of wine and selected one, pulling out the stopper and sniffing appreciatively.
‘What of her, Jordie? This wench?’
‘Daniel’s sister-in-law? She came to my house today and started acting like a wife! In front of Mazeline, too, as though the tart had some sort of claim on me!’
‘What did Maz say?’
‘She was a bit surprised, I think, but you know her. If she stood next to a statue of her in ice, you’d be hard pressed to tell which was real!’ He laughed and drank wine. ‘But the worrying thing is, Agnes made some comments a day or two back about Juliana knowing I’d killed her old man. Now we both know I didn’t, but that wouldn’t stop rumours. You know, I had a meeting a while back with the city receiver, and he didn’t come to greet me? Wouldn’t shake my hand or anything. Just a curt nod from the other side of the room. If Agnes or Juliana took it into their heads to accuse me, I could show I wasn’t anywhere near Daniel’s place, but it’d be embarrassing even so.’
‘So hope they keep quiet. You said you’d threatened Juliana: surely that’ll scare her into silence. She wouldn’t risk her children’s lives, would she?’
Jordan shook his head in an unconvinced manner. ‘I don’t know. I don’t like to think that they both have so much information about me. Perhaps it would be best if I were merely to have them removed. Without Daniel, there’s only them who are a threat to me, after all.’
‘You can’t kill them, Jordie! What if you were seen? It’s one thing to kill a man like the sergeant — I mean, anyone could have wanted him killed, from Ham’s friends, to Henry or Est … any number of people. But to kill Daniel’s wife as well, that would be too much …’
‘If you reckon. Still, it’s your neck, I suppose,’ Jordan said easily.
‘Mine?’
‘I wasn’t there when Daniel died. I was here. But you weren’t. Sabina would vouch for you, I suppose, not tell the truth about where you were? She’d back up your story, wouldn’t she? Yes, if you think it’s safe enough for you to leave the women alive, that’s fine. It’s your life at risk. Not mine.’
Jordan smiled at him, but not this time, Reg swore to himself. He had submitted to people all his life — Jordan, Sabina, others — and all that had happened was, he had lost his son. He was done with doing other men’s bidding.
He wouldn’t kill for Jordan. Jordan could find another assassin.
Early the next morning Baldwin woke to find himself alone in bed. He opened his eyes and glanced about the room, only to see Jeanne at the window, a loose-fitting tunic about her, staring out at the dawn.
He stood and went to her side. ‘I miss Richalda.’
‘I do too,’ she said.
There was a soft sadness about her which he hated to hear. ‘My love, I want to get home as soon as possible.’
‘Good. Just finish your business here, and we’ll return.’
‘I will … if it cannot be cleared easily and quickly, I shall tell the Dean that it is beyond me. What can I do, after all?’ he asked with a sudden frustration. ‘There is one man I should speak to, this Estmund, but he has disappeared. His friend Henry may know where he is, but he will not tell me. Unless I speak to Est, I cannot learn what happened there in Daniel’s house. Why should I stay here any longer to torment myself? I may as well be in Crediton as here. Estmund has probably fled the city. Ach! And then there is this dead pander too, and his whore … My arm hurts, my heart aches, and I want to see you happy again. Jeanne, when we return, we shall go for a long ride each day. We could ride off to your estate — we haven’t been there for a long time. Would you like that?’
She looked up at him. ‘You mean that? We could go and visit Liddinstone?’
‘I swear it. I will do anything to bring back my happy, smiling, cheerful wife again.’
‘Then you have succeeded,’ she said.
‘Good. My love, it is good to see you smile again,’ he said.
They broke their fast in the hall of the inn with Simon and Edgar. Baldwin was without his sword as they ate, but before Simon and he left, he sent Edgar to the room again to fetch his little riding sword. It was only two feet long, maybe a little more, and had a blade of peacock blue that caught the sun whenever he drew it. It was a perfect balance for his hand, and he took it from the scabbard now, studying it to make sure that there was no dirt or rust on it.
‘Expecting trouble?’ Simon asked lightly.
‘Today, speaking to this man Jordan, yes, I think I am,’ he answered, and told Edgar to remain with Jeanne.
He led the way from the inn, with a backward glance at his wife, who lifted a hand in farewell, and then he and Simon were out in the daylight. Baldwin was glowering at the roadway as he walked, and Simon knew better than to interrupt his thoughts.
They stopped to collect Sir Peregrine on the way, and then the three of them walked down the road to Jordan’s house. Two men were slouching about outside.
‘Any sign of him?’ Sir Peregrine demanded.
‘No, sir. Stayed here all night and no sign of him at all. If he was down at the brothel over by the river, he’d not be able to get back inside the city anyway. He’d be locked out after dark.’
‘True enough,’ Baldwin said. He went to the door and knocked politely. ‘Is your master at home?’ he asked the bottler, who shook his head.
‘So what now?’ Sir Peregrine asked as they stood at the bottom of the road eyeing the two sentries.
‘I would suggest that we ought to go to the friary and see what this man Guibert has to say. But first …’ Baldwin said, and he paused. Walking back towards the watchmen, he beckoned a young boy and leaned down to speak to him, then passed a coin to the watchman nearest him. ‘This man will give you that penny when you return and tell him the reply. Is that clear?’