‘What area do you cover from here?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Oh, I’m supposed to walk from here up South Gate Street, then up along the lane towards the Bear Gate, before turning backtowards here again, coming down to the Palace Gate, straight on south to the wall, then up the alleys between the Bear and Palace gates. Sometimes I go the other way about, for the variety.’
‘So, you would occasionally have to come back here after walking the circuit. I suppose when it was that cold, other peoplewould hardly be about much anyway, would they?’ Baldwin said. It was clear enough what the man was up to. He’d walk aroundthe perimeter of his patch, then stop back at his hovel to warm himself and forget about criss-crossing the smaller alleysand lanes.
‘No one in his right mind would be out on a night like last! It was terrible. All the puddles had frozen. God’s teeth!
This morning when I tried to break the ice in my bucket, I couldn’t: the water was frozen right to the bottom!’
‘So a sensible man would have spent much more time indoors, then,’ Baldwin said. ‘I suppose that you saw absolutely no onewhile you were supposed to be walking your rounds.’
It was there: a not-so-subtle shift in the man’s stance, and then his head dropped a little, and his eyes moved away.
‘In the night, you sometimes see shadows and imagine a man, I suppose.’
‘That doesn’t answer the keeper’s question,’ Coroner Richard pointed out forcefully.
‘Did you see someone?’ Baldwin pressed him.
The watchman shook his head hopelessly, and Baldwin suddenly realised that this was the aspect that had made the man so nervous: it was nothing to do with the fact of being indoors when he should have been walking his territory, it was something else- a man he had seen while out on his walks.
‘Who was it, man?’ Coroner Richard demanded. ‘It’ll all come out in the end, but the fact that you forgot to mention it beforewon’t look good unless you make up for your forgetfulness now, and quickly!’
‘When you’re out, you can imagine things, yes? I wasn’t sure if I saw anyone at all. It was a shadow, that’s all. Just a movingshadow in the moonlight. There was only a brief glimpse …’
‘Where was this “brief glimpse”?’ Baldwin asked patiently, but with a hint of steel in his voice.
The man sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment. ‘I was up past Palace Gate, walking down this way again, and it was towards the middle of the night. I know because of the cathedral bells. They were tolling for Matins when I sawit, so it must have been …’
‘Get on with it,’ the coroner growled.
‘Well, I was past the entrance to the little alley, the second after South Gate Street, when I saw something down in the alley. I looked down it, because I wasn’t sure I’d seen anything, holding my torch up high, and I was almost sure that there wasa flash of paleness.’
‘What does that mean?’ Coroner Richard snapped. ‘Be precise, man!’
‘I thought it meant that there was man down there, that I’d seen his face,’ the fearful watchman explained. ‘My torch couldlight quite some few yards well enough, especially with the moon’s light falling down in the alley too. I thought it was aman in dark clothing.’
‘But you didn’t go down the lane to check?’ the coroner said accusingly.
‘That was it: I did! I was really scared, sir, but I did go in. And I thought I saw a man, but then he disappeared, and when I got there, there was nothing. Only …’
‘Spit it out, man, in God’s name!’ de Welles blurted.
‘There was a cat. A black cat. It yowled at me as I approached, and I almost stained my hosen at the sudden noise. Christalive! If you could have heard that sound down that alley!’
‘I have heard cats before,’ Baldwin said wearily. ‘In many alleys. Even, occasionally, in houses. You were startled, then?’
‘Startled? I was terrified, sir! I had seen a man, and now he’d gone and here was this cat! I tell you, I turned and fledthe place!’
‘Because of a cat?’ Baldwin asked scathingly.
‘There are some say …’
‘Yes, yes,’ Baldwin said impatiently, ‘sorcerers!’
Will didn’t meet his eye. ‘Necromancers can change themselves into cats,’ he agreed.
Chapter Eleven
Exeter City
He had seen her. God in heaven, but she was beautiful! Her face was like the Madonna’s, and her gentle gait was enough to makea man sigh for jealousy that another could possess such perfection.
She hadn’t seen him, of course. He couldn’t let her. Not yet. Better that he wait around here and observe. With a caution that was entirely unnatural,and yet he was learning to use most cunningly and quickly, he set off after her, his long legs covering the ground easily.
Her path was leading straight along the High Street towards the Carfoix. He allowed her to move on a little, and then he gaveher some moments to continue while he apparently lounged idly, all the while watching the people hurrying about. He lookedat faces, wondering whether here there was someone who was taking too much interest in him or not.
No. All appeared safe. He quickly set off again.
It would be easy to overtake her whenever he wanted. All he needed was for the streets to become a little quieter and thenhe’d have her.
Warwick Gaol
It was enough to make him weep with despair when they came to tell him that his master was dead.
Robert le Mareschal had taken his life in his hands when he finally submitted to the voice in his head that told him to confesshis crimes, praying to be treated leniently for attempting to rectify his earlier errors.
He had gone to the Sheriff of Warwick, Simon Croyser, and told the whole story. How he and his master had been approachedby twenty-five men of Coventry, how they had offered John of Nottingham twenty whole pounds sterling, offered Robert himselfanother fifteen. A fortune! And for it, they were to use their skills to assassinate the king, his friends Sir Hugh le Despenser, Earl of Winchester, Sir Hugh le Despenser his son, Henry Irreys, the Prior of Coventry, the prior’s cellarer, and Nicholas Crumpe, the prior’s steward. And they had chosen the poor Sir Richard de Sowe as well, for a trial of their skills.
It was the sight of de Sowe’s petrified expression that had persuaded him in the end. The man had done nothing to harm Johnof Nottingham or Robert, but John and the others had picked him to be the test of their abilities. If they could kill Sir Richard de Sowe, they would have a proof of their strength. That was their reasoning.
But when he saw de Sowe dead, the reality of what he was doing was suddenly brought home to him. This was not some abstractscientific experiment, it was murder.
Croyser acted immediately. Robert le Mareschal was held and kept in a dungeon below the castle, and news of his capture andthe events which he said had led up to the death of Sir Richard de Sowe were sent to London. And within a matter of days,the king’s men were back, and the arrests began.
That was all some while ago. He didn’t know how long. Long enough for his hair to grow rank and greasy; long enough for his clothesto rot in the dank chamber; long enough for his muscles to cramp and shiver. His teeth ached; his flesh crawled with creaturesthat nipped at him.
He could weep to think that all was thrown away. The death of de Sowe had been dreadful, but the man had been a liar. He deservedsome sort of punishment. Dear Christ, though, the man had suffered …
Robert stood and made a slow perambulation, going as far as his leg-iron permitted him. It wasn’t far; the chain secured tothe ring in the wall only allowed a short walk. As he went, his arms wrapped about his torso, he kept his head huddled downin his shoulders.