‘I love you, Mab,’ he said, but then something glittered in his eyes that was nothing like love. ‘But don’t accuse me of things like murder in a public room. I won’t permit it, woman.’
‘You wanted me back, didn’t you? Thought I’d be a comfort to you in your old age.’
‘I’d like to be comforted by you,’ he grinned.
That was what made her stand and leave. It was that expression of his, as though nothing bad had happened. He didn’t — he couldn’t — understand her devastation. There was nothing malicious about it, it was just that he had no comprehension as to how others might feel.
Walking along the High Street afterwards, Mabilla had a sudden, terrible thought. She had to stop and grip an upright pole, panting as though she had run a great marathon. Will hadn’t denied killing her man. He had no sense of empathy with her, because to his mind, Henry was merely a body which had ceased breathing. To him, that was all other people were: animals that walked and talked. Equals or targets. There was nothing else in his simple world.
It was appalling. She was as sure as she could be that William had killed her man — and she wanted to denounce him, but daren’t. William had no feeling for others. He had killed her man, presumably hoping to win her back, but he would have no compunction in killing her or Julia, were he to view them as a possible threat.
And now she had accused him, that was exactly how he viewed her: as a threat.
Joel stood before his window and gazed out into the street.
Maud was out again, seeking for sweetmeats and other morsels to tempt his appetite. He could have told her not to bother, for there was nothing which could calm his spirit at the moment, but having her out of the house meant he could drop the mask for a while — the mask of a man who was in control and ready for anything. He was Joel the Joiner, in God’s name: Joel Lytell — a man of substance. Yet Maud could sense that he was worried and upset. Christ’s Cods, it’d take something dramatic to make him lose his love of wine and good foods, but since he’d heard of Henry’s murder, he’d had no appetite at all.
That ungodly bastard William! The murder had all his marks on it. Killing Henry in the Charnel where they had murdered the Chaunter just when Henry was going to confess his part in it … William couldn’t bear the thought that his crimes might be uncovered at long last. He was evil.
It was all because of that damned night so long ago, just as Henry had said. Forty years ago now. Joel had thought that the matter was all done and dusted. When they hanged the wrong men, it was plain as the nose on the hangman’s ugly face that the affair was over. The men in the Bishop’s gaol languished there for a while, but not overlong. And by the Fall of Acre, everyone had more important things to worry about. The Cathedral didn’t want to rake up old enmities when they had the news of Moors attacking and capturing the Holy Land. As though that weren’t enough, that appalling famine followed — when so many people died. Joel knew four families which had faded away and expired, the whole lot of them. The Pieman family in particular were sorely missed. Lovely little girls, they were. Four of them. And they all starved to death because Hal Pieman hadn’t any savings to rub together. The cost of flour and grain rose so sharply, Pieman was unable to buy the ingredients to make his pies, and his poor young family suffered. In the end he hanged himself. He was discovered the next morning by his apprentice. His children and wife were all dead by then. Someone reckoned that almost half the population of Exeter died.
No, so many lives had been lost, so much water had passed down the Exe, there was no reason to suspect that some silly arse might refresh people’s memories about those far-off times. Yet someone had. And now, Joel felt doubly threatened. There was the story about his part in the killings, and the fact of Henry’s death; if the matter of the broken saddle were to come to court now, it might well be against him that the German directed his ire. After all, it was the frame that broke. Joel’s frame.
‘Master?’
Joel didn’t hear the first calls. He was still standing before his window, unaware of the breeze that blew in and ruffled the tapestries and hangings. Such rustling and whispering of material was a constant feature of life in a pleasant little hall like this, just as the whistling and chattering of birds and other wild creatures was in a forest. Thus it was that when Vince spoke his name again, he was startled, and span on his heel, eyes wide with alarm. He was off-balance, and had to grab at a curtain to save his fall, and as soon as he had regained his posture, he bellowed at his apprentice.
‘Don’t you ever dare to creep up on me like that again, you little shite! Sweet Christ, it’s enough to give a man a heart-attack! You prickle! What did you think you were doing?’
‘I wanted to ask if I should make a start on that new saddle for Master Ralph, sir?’
‘When I want you to do something, I’ll tell you. Get out of my sight! Just go and clear up the workshop. I’ll bet you’ve left it in a sodding mess again, haven’t you? Go and clean it all, and I’ll come and inspect it. You leave the bloody saddle to me!’
‘I was only trying-’
‘Shut up! By God’s Honour, one more word out of you, and I swear I’ll take a strap to your arse! I’ve never done it before, but so help me, I could beat you to death just now and not give a damn! I’ll bet it was you who used green wood to make the frame for Henry, wasn’t it? I ought to kick your backside all the way around the outer walls of the city for that, you cretin! Go on, get out!’
Vince scampered off as quickly as he could until he reached the relative seclusion of the workroom, and only then did he turn and stare back the way he had come in bafflement.
Joel had never beaten him, nor even threatened to. And as for the green wood used in the frame — well, Vince wouldn’t have used that if Joel himself hadn’t told him to.
Henry was lucky: he could buy in a saddle frame from Joel quite cheaply, add some leather to it, fit it out with the choicest decorations, carve and print and paint the leatherwork, and make a vast profit when he sold it. For Joel, though, there wasn’t enough money per frame. He couldn’t live on that. So instead, he had taken to making cheap frames to sell to some of the other saddlers, the men who were closer to the thin line between legality and illegality. He had Vince manufacture many cheap frames for them.
‘Oh, no!’
He couldn’t have made a mistake and sold a green wood frame to Henry, could he? The lad winced at the thought. Christ in heaven, if he’d done that, and his saddle frame had broken, he wouldn’t be surprised if his apprenticeship was about to come to a sudden end.
For the Dean, it was a welcome relief to see the tall, dark-haired knight in his Close. He hurried over to Baldwin’s side. ‘Sir Baldwin, I am so glad to — ah — see you again. It has been — um — far too long. Yes, far too long. Now, may I offer you some hospitality? A little of my — ah — store of wine, some bread and cheese?’
‘Dean, that would be most welcome,’ Baldwin said, and the two fell into step as they crossed the Close towards the Dean’s residence. ‘Where is the body? May I see it?’
‘It’s in the chapel where it was found. Poor soul. I think it is too late to go and see him now, surely,’ the Dean said, glancing up at the sky. ‘Come and eat and we can discuss what we should do.’
‘He was murdered in a chapel?’ Baldwin exclaimed.
‘Yes. Whoever killed him committed a dreadful act, polluting a holy chapel like that. It shall have to be reconsecrated.’
‘Can you tell me what has happened?’
‘Hmm. Let us wait until we reach my house. All I need tell you is that the body was found in the Charnel Chapel. I have left it there until the Coroner may come to view it. There are guards about the body, of course.’