‘Well, maid? You have been raped?’
It was him! He didn’t recognise her either. Ah, blessed Mary, Mother of …
‘It’s her, husband! Can’t you recognise her? It’s her, I say!’
Jen recognised that voice, right enough. She threw her blanket aside and stood straight again, seeking her enemy. There shewas, up at the far end of the dais. With a snarl, Jen leaped up towards her, but even as she drew her knife and raised itto stab, there was a stunning crack over her skull, and she fell to her hands and knees.
Groggily, she looked up. From here all she could see at first was a shimmering vision of boots and hosen. Her vision swayedand wobbled out of focus as she tried to hold her head still, but it was impossible. And then she saw the face of her beloved. Sir Matthew was peering down at her with an expression of … not love, but horror, as though she was a devil or a witch… She glanced about her, and saw that the men in the hall had formed a ring about her as though they all feared her. Theyhad weapons ready, as though they meant to slay her there and then. They all feared her.
She wanted to shout at them, to declare that they were mad, it wasn’t her, it was the poisonous whore’s whelp who stood therebehind Sir Matthew and held his shoulder, the picture of matronly virtue — but she wasn’t! It was she, Jen, who loved him,she who should be there now, with her man. But she couldn’t work her mouth. It was too hard. She was so tired.
Letting her head droop, she panted and waited for the blow to come that would end her misery.
Chapter Forty
Exeter City
Ivo was tempted to run through the house and grab some friends to come and capture this man, but courage was never his strongestsuit. Having seen how the man had dispatched Michael, he was reluctant to test his own skills as a fighter against him.
‘What is it?’
‘Didn’t you hear me, fool? He’s gone. And so have the figures, from the look of it.’
‘What figures are you talking about?’
He had approached to the doorway now, and could peer in as the foreigner kicked at tables and benches, overturning them alland hunting high and low for something. The dust was rising, and he chewed at his lip as he went about the room, prising witha knife at some of the stones, seeing if they could be moved, then carefully inspecting the floor as though there could havebeen a trap door hidden there, but soon he stood, breathing heavily and staring about him. A shelf dangled from the ceiling,attached by ropes. He slapped his hand underneath it, sending everything atop flying, and kicked at a small phial lying onthe ground. It flew away and smashed into pieces on the wall.
Only then did he seem to calm a little. Standing staring at the wall, he nodded to himself, and then called to Ivo. ‘Fetch me Richard Langatre. Right away.’
Ivo was nothing loath. He turned and hurried from the barn, through the house, where Michael sat huddled on the floor witha bloody rag tied about his ruined hand, being tended to by a maid, and out into the street with a feeling of distinct relief. Up the road he hurried, and pounded on the sorceror’s door.
Langatre had been sitting before his fire and thinking of the man lying dead beneath him when the banging came on his door,and now he agreed with alacrity to go and help the dead man’s friend.
‘I need you to tell me what this man would have been doing in here.’
Langatre eyed the wild-eyed man uncertainly. Although he was a knowledgeable man, there were limits to what he could achieve,and he was close to the limit right here. ‘I don’t know how much I can tell you, friend. This place is in a mess.’
‘He was doing something in here. What can you see?’
Langatre sighed to himself and entered. There was a table-top on its back, two trestles nearby where they had fallen afterbeing kicked, and all about a mess of broken pots and various tools. Some were no doubt used for maleficium, but in the main they looked like gardening implements. It was only as he tentatively lifted the table-top that he gave alittle gasp.
‘What is it?’
‘My bloody knife, that’s what it is! He must have taken it … this must be the man who broke into my house and tried tokill me!’
‘He was desperate to achieve something with the things he took. What else did he remove?’
‘There were any number of things … mainly tools that a man might use in cleansing his soul before … Hey, that’s myleather hat!’
‘So?’
It was possible. There were plenty of magicians who attempted conjurations, as he had told Sir Baldwin and the coroner theother day while he was in the gaol. Yes, some had tried such things, but the chances of success were minimal, and the dangers…
‘Well?’
Langatre scowled at him. ‘I don’t know what you normally do, man, but my job is to be cautious. Leave me to work it out and I shall give you accurate information. Hurry me and you’ll get something that is less use than horseshit. Is that clear enough?’
Without waiting for the response, he started looking about him carefully. If Sir Baldwin had been right, and the stories weretrue, there may be some wax lying about in here. He searched, but there was nothing to be found. Shaking his head, he roseagain and thought wildly. Then his face lightened and he hurried outside to the vegetable plots. At the side of one was alarge rubbish heap, and he ran to it excitedly, prodding at it until he gave a little whistle of glee.
‘Here you are!’
‘What is it?’
‘Wax — like the stuff in my undercroft. The fellow has made some models of men out of wax, I’d guess. He’s going to try tokill someone.’
Baldwin was still glowering with concentration as he left the inn and began to make his way to the bishop’s palace.
Simon was with him. The coroner had been asked to visit the sheriff at the castle because a woman had reported a rape, orsomething, but Rob walked a few paces behind as usual, truculently glaring at all those about him as he went. At one pointhe was fairly sure that he saw one of the lads from his game the night before, but the face soon disappeared in the crowds,which was some relief.
Their path took them down Cooks’ Row, and thence to Bolehille and down to the Palace Gate, and it was as they entered Bolehillethat Rob saw another face he thought he recognised. Hastily he turned his head slightly, and hoped that the simple subterfugewould serve. Fortunately he could hear the master talking to his friend the knight, and so long as they kept on their musingsabout the dead men and all that, he’d be all right. Yes, there was the Palace Gate. Only a matter of a few hundred yards,now. Easy enough.
As he sighed with relief, he felt his legs pulled from under him. ‘Aargh!’
Hands outstretched to break his fall, he felt stone on his palms, the scrape of flesh rasped away and the instant stingingpain. His knees were bruised, and his breath had been knocked from him.
‘We want our money, foreigner!’ he heard as he started to try to clamber to his feet. A kick at his legs made him fall again.
Then there was a chuckle, and he turned his head to see Simon and Sir Baldwin, both standing with arms crossed, Simon witha broad grin on his face. ‘Been upsetting people again, lad? I’ve warned you about this before.’
‘It was a fair game!’
‘You’re learning new concepts, are you?’ Simon asked unsympathetically.
‘I was doing it for you, master,’ he said hurriedly.
‘What?’