‘I have other sources of wealth,’ Udo said.
‘And no one with whom to share them,’ Baldwin said quietly. He studied the rich German before him. This Udo was similar to how Baldwin had been before he had found his Jeanne. Jeanne, the source of his pleasure, the mother of his child; Jeanne, the woman he had betrayed. The thought made his tone bitter. ‘You have been lonely for many years, looking at other men in the city and thinking: “Yes, they have wives and children, they have meaning to their lives. Yet I here have nothing. I am alone, with no one to mourn me when I die.” That is right, isn’t it?’
‘But I am to marry!’ Udo exclaimed. ‘That is my joy, and the reason why I am celebrating.’
‘It would have been terrible, then, if Henry Saddler had told you in the Cathedral Close that he would not have you as his son,’ Baldwin finished sarcastically.
Udo pulled a moue. ‘What? You think so? I would have persuaded him. Ach! How could he refuse me, one of the most prosperous men in the whole of this city? You tell me he would have maintained his rejection of me after he had had an opportunity to consider? No. I do not think so.’
‘Even though you threatened to kill him?’ Baldwin said.
‘It was nothing. I didn’t mean it.’
‘What did you do that night? Did you remain out there, near the Charnel Chapel, and wait until he came past, meaning to discuss his daughter with him, only to learn that he was steadfast? Did you kill him because he wouldn’t bow to your riches?’
‘I went to a tavern, and then I came home.’
‘Which tavern?’
‘The Grapes in Broad Street.’
‘That is very convenient for the Cathedral Close,’ Baldwin sneered. ‘You could have sat in there, gone to kill him, and returned.’
‘Come, Master Keeper! With one breath you tell me that I was his enemy, saying that he would have nothing to do with me, and in the next breath you tell me that I was able to tempt him to talk to me in a dark alley!’
Baldwin suddenly felt the same strange sensation as he had experienced in the crypt — but this time it was worse. His palms felt clammy, his back sweaty. It was as though the walls were starting to lean inwards to crush him. There was a peculiar panic in his breast.
‘You think you are clever, Master Udo, but I understand you! You wanted the girl, because she is a very pretty thing, isn’t she, that little Julia? And the thought that her father might refuse to allow you to see her, that was like a lance-thrust in your flank, wasn’t it? You’d have slaughtered the whole of the city rather than give her up, once you had set your heart on her. You still would, wouldn’t you? She is beautiful, she’s the sort of woman to whom a man could give his heart gladly. He’d offer to share all his wealth with her — even house her mother, if he had to. And here was her father, the bastard, who had done you no favours, selling you a cheaply made saddle that failed the first time you used it, and he was going to try to keep you from her. What would a man with blood in his veins do? Exactly what you did. You went to find him and stabbed him in the back at the first opportunity, didn’t you?’
He had risen to his feet, and almost without realising it, had crossed the room and stood in front of Udo, who stared up at him with alarm. Baldwin shot a look at Simon, and saw the concern in the Bailiff’s eyes. Only then did he realise how his anger had all but overwhelmed him. He half-turned to go back to his stool, but then he whirled round to face Udo again. ‘Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me you did not in truth murder her father. Tell me!’
Udo swallowed, then gulped at his wine. ‘I tell you I killed no one. I did not wield the knife, and I did not order or pay or ask another to do so. I am innocent. If you want the killer, you must search elsewhere.’
‘What was all that about?’ Simon asked as they left Udo’s house and meandered up towards Carfoix.
‘I wanted to get to the truth of the matter, that is all,’ Baldwin said defensively.
Simon touched his elbow. When Baldwin looked at him, Simon spoke quietly. ‘Baldwin, we’ve known each other many years, and I’ve not seen you like that before. You almost attacked him. What came over you? Should we visit a physician?’
‘No. I shall be fine,’ Baldwin said. ‘It was just …’
He stopped. He had never told Simon about the woman on the islands or his adultery. It seemed the wrong time to talk about it now.
‘Baldwin, I can see you’re upset. Come with me, old friend.’
‘I am fine!’
‘Let’s find a tavern or inn where we can sit down. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I can talk about Meg and try to remember what she looks like. I’d like to remember her,’ he added wistfully.
Baldwin felt a strong pang of jealousy. Here he was, missing his wife and his happiness at his marriage, and here was Simon, who still held his wife’s love, and who felt the loneliness of being parted. Baldwin would have given much to be in Simon’s position, rather than in the dreadful place he currently inhabited.
He allowed himself to be led along the High Street, and in through a low doorway to a tavern. There was a small table in the far corner, and the two men went over to it. Baldwin sat while Simon beckoned a maid. Soon they were taking their first grateful swallows of mulled wine.
‘You know I’ll keep whatever it is a secret if you want me to,’ Simon began, ‘but there is obviously something worrying you. Perhaps I can help.’
‘I don’t think so, Simon,’ Baldwin sighed.
‘Is it Jeanne?’
‘Why do you ask that?’ Baldwin said with genuine surprise.
‘Because of the way you reacted to a man who’s announced his intention of marrying,’ Simon said with a lopsided grin. ‘There was a strong hint of jealousy in your response to him.’
‘We are not getting on very well.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘It is not her. It’s me. I … I still love her, but I cannot …’
‘Then you should make sure that she knows you love her,’ Simon said. ‘It’s the only thing a man can do for his woman. Prove to her you love her.’
‘How?’ Baldwin asked simply. ‘I fear I have squandered her love for me.’
‘You have done nothing of the sort. You’re feeling confused since returning from pilgrimage, that’s all. It was a very different experience, Baldwin, especially for you. You have been to those places before, and you were revisiting your youth. You were excited, weren’t you, when we were at Galicia? It was like rediscovering your past. I could see it.’
‘I am home again now, though.’
‘And she is the same, but you have changed a little. We suffered much on our journeys, didn’t we? It changes a man. Perhaps you just need to relearn how good your wife is.’
‘Again — how?’
‘You trust her judgement, you like her intelligence. Make use of her. Why not bring her here now? Send a man to fetch her. Explain that you’d value her impression of things. You know she would never refuse you.’
‘I can’t!’
‘Why not?’
Baldwin lowered his head into his hands. ‘It would be impossible while that primped coxcombe Sir Peregrine is here.’
‘Yes. I wonder why he is here,’ Simon said.
‘I have a deeply unpleasant feeling that we shall soon find out,’ Baldwin said dejectedly.
Thomas thrust the last of his belongings into his small sack and bound his rolled blankets to it, before washing his hands, soaking the bloody rags to remove them.
Christ Jesus but they hurt! The left hand was marginally less painful. He’d grabbed the rope less hard with that, but the right was dreadful. Every time he moved that hand he broke the scabs again.
He rewrapped the linen bandages, flexing his fingers once or twice with a wince, and then threw his pack over his back and marched from his shed towards the Fissand Gate. He was going to get away from here now. There was nothing left for him here. The deaths of Nicholas as well as Henry would soon be laid at his door, and he had no intention of waiting around for that to happen.